Infernal duel

Yesterday was the anniversary of a day ill-fated. On november 11th 1995, my father and I had a physical fight, yes: sin admitted and already redeemed and forgiven now. After that day everything changed for better, instead of for worse, regeneration came after redemption, and the redemption came spilled over a large piece of my life, not only that particular act of aggression. When that happened I was almost 23, and living through hell. Cannot be specific. After the night of november 11th, at that age, just that old, I stopped being unconciously immature.

On this last four months of caretaking my father, I've been told how of a good son am I... It has been a tortuous road, I can tell. In my naturally immature way to be, I've had to introduce random and concious acts of goodness just to feel "normal". Also I've done many things to maturate, as feeling pushed by circumstances and people to be more mature... in spite of that, something of it always remains, exactly like a child inside not wanting to give up its faith in santa claus. After many years, these last weeks of intense self-questioning brought yet another immature thought: "Well, buddy, may be this is the most you can maturate without losing your personality". Hm.

There are some things that I can understand perfectly, from which I can see why they happen and what their consequences are... those are notions about how to lead a healthy life, a healty relationship with others, how to interrelate with mankind, with feelings... although, in the observation of the details of those notions, I cannot learn to behave according to their ethics. Are simply inappropriate to me.
I've always paid much attention and had so much respect for the opinion of others about how life should be lived (that contradicts my actions towards my father in the past) that, because of that, I've been also fighting one infernal duel between these two fields: how others consider a life should be lived; and how I am plus want to be, or can I be. My morality, and my way of learning, are not taking the shape of many regulations instituted, after all these years. There are always been something rebel and uncombed in me. So at eight very different moments of my life I've went to see a psychoterapist to take one personality test, based on the Carl Jung's psychological archetypes, or Myers-Briggs's or whatever, only to face eight times the same thing: INFJ, one person between 0.5% of the world population. Great way to feel less alone. :-/

As twelve years on the past, -in that infernal duel with my lovely dad: this struggle -that became another infernal duel, now with society morality and values- it must end with my redemption -acceptance. Big question: how moving my strictness which is directed onto myself, to a more productive area, when being self-strict it is part of my temperament -a constituting part of my own self? Do you understand now why a person can be immature at 34?
Whatever, I might be wrong. And I'll be moving out of this.

If a good man were ever housed in Hell
By needful error of the qualities,
Perhaps to prove the rule or shame the devil,
Or speak the truth only a stranger sees,

Would he, surrendering quick to obvious hate,
Fill half eternity with cries and tears,
Or watch beside Hell's little wicket gate
In patience for the first ten thousand years,

Feeling the curse climb slowly to his throat
That, uttered, dooms him to rescindless ill,
Forcing his praying tongue to run by rote,
Eternity entire before him still?

Would he at last, grown faithful in his station,
Kindle a little hope in hopeless Hell,
And sow among the damned doubts of damnation,
Since here someone could live, and live well?

One doubt of evil would bring down such a grace,
Open such a gate, and Eden could enter in,
Hell be a place like any other place,
And love and hate and life and death begin.

Edwin Muir, "Thee good man in Hell".