Steppenwolf and The Sadness of Letting Go

Did you ever feel that you were one person made up of two conflicting personalities? I don't mean this in a clinical way, i.e., in the book Sybil where full multiple personalities lived in one body, a situation created by intense trauma.

My opinion is that this happens often. For the human race to be civilized most people must quell their anti-social instincts and follow the expected route for their time, place, and sex.

It was when I, at 19, first read the book Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse, where Harry Haller fully realizes that he is the "wolf of the Steppes," an anti-social creature who trots alone--I had that overwhelming feeling that "this was me." It was as if somebody turned on a light. In high school I would find myself at a dance, then suddenly want to run away. I was taught to eat in a polite and feminine manner, only to find myself occasionally tearing a loaf of bread to pieces. On the outside I wanted what everybody wanted for me; beauty, a feminine and flirtacious manner, intelligence up to a point, a folding into the safe confines of the majority.

Barely under the surface the Steppenwolf lived and demanded meat and bones and was not satisfied with cookies and crumbs. It was, in a humorous way, the best of me and the worst of me. The Steppenwolf is strong and powerful and competitive. It wants to prove to the world that he/she can take on the hardest tasks life hands out and emerge smiling and unscathed. The more difficult the task, the happier is the Steppenwolf. When I went to live by myself after my first marriage in a down-at-heel neighborhood in Oakland, the Steppenwolf got control. I stopped wearing womens' clothes, didn't style my hair, worked in the basement of an aging brick building at Mercy Hospital in the Hill District. I wore a white lab coat over my man's-style blue jeans. The Steppenwolf was free to do and think what it wanted. I stalked the busy streets of Oakland, always alone, sniffing and watching others around me like a good wolf does.

The conflict never got resolved. It is not meant to be resolved. However, the Steppenwolf gave me its strength when I first began to work with mentally retarded adults. No situation was too ridiculous, too taxing, or too gross for me to handle and I received praise for this. Being able to do this work was something I was proud of. For four years I worked in a group home for MR adults at night; all night I was alone in the house with four helpless adults. Was I scared? Lonely? The wolf was satisfied. While the whole world slept the wolf trotted back and forth and kept watch.

These and other related experiences led me to earning my CNA (Certified Nursing Aide) certificate. And I have learned that the wolf is ageing, the wolf is tired, and the wolf is as satisfied as it ever can be. I can't give 300 pound men showers anymore, and put diapers on them.

The wolf will never die. As it ages it doesn't lose its dignity. What it wants now is respect for the strength it gave me in enduring and resolving adult problems.