Sometimes I wonder what all of this is for, the writing. I wonder if it’s a way to work out some of my own issues, to encapsulate them. Is all of this meandering about you and I, or is it just completely about myself? When did it come to be that way. Am I being selfish, or is this how it was always meant to be. You getting to see me for who I am, with some censorship, of course. I don’t really know if you’re ever going to read all these words anyway. Does that make this a foolish enterprise?
When I was much younger, I knew that I had a way with words. I could string together sentences in a way that some could not. I could display some sense of talent when I sat at a keyboard. Maybe because it was because I tried for it, I worked at it. I am no longer working at it. When I was not too much younger I was absolutely sure that the best way to be a writer was to be miserable. You had to dwell in a state of discontentment, near anguish. But part of me reveled in it, because I had not truly stepped forward into the world. I had time to fuck up and miss and change my bearing. I was still bowling with the bumpers.
Now I am freshly 32 years old and the world continues to grow heavier, kiddo. Depression has begun to become an intolerable burden, a burden I gladly carried in some regards as an idealist—despite as it may have seemed in my writing my entire life leading up to now, I was still idealistic; I was certain that a new and bright future was just ahead; I was still just waiting for long enough to have the perspective to see everything fully. I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I am, despite my best intentions, in a place I never wanted to be.
I wanted to be an artist, in some regards. I wanted to be able to see the world in a different way than everyone around me. I wanted to be able to transcribe those sentiments into words for others to feast on, to aspire to, and to fear. I wanted to be deeply intellectual and still pleasant and charming and full of love and compassion. But I have ended up with very few of those things now, at least all the things in very small degrees.
This all sounds so dire and final, but I know it’s not. But, it’s hard to see too far ahead when the road winds so terribly.
I recently experienced the greatest heartache I have ever felt. Something that has changed my world so drastically. It’s been 5 weeks now, and I still don’t quite know how to deal with it, because I am still grieving, in my own way. I can’t really tell you about it because it’s not really my story to tell. I am just a passenger along for the ride, in the back seat on the roads that are winding so terribly. I don’t know what it all means yet, or if it even means anything at all. There will be a time when none of this matters anymore, and maybe it was all for the best. But I can’t see that yet, kiddo.
Then I find myself here, in this very moment questioning if I am perfectly fucked for life. If the emotional baggage of my lifetime is now all of a sudden coming up the conveyor belt to the carousel. I have no choice but to carry it all, because it’s mine. My luggage is a part of me, ingrained for life, so there’s no leaving it, spinning haplessly on the conveyor because it must come with me.
30 was much harder than any other birthday. It signaled and end of many ambitions and dreams. I would never be a pro-athlete, I would not be a millionaire in my 20’s….. It meant a turning point. You were just 9, and it was a difficult time. I wanted more and more, but hey it was the 90’s. The Rolling Stones had some lyrics which sums it all up.
I was on that career path; the work ethic. Putting the career first. Putting your heart and soul into work knowing that it would be recognized and lead to better things. You can climb to the top, but remember half-dome? You summit, then what’s next? You must descend. Two choices? Fast or slowly. 28 years and out, what is the encore?
What I missed along the were the most important things. Now that I have the time to reflect, family, kids, faith and fun are far more important. Its all about balance in life. Think of it as a wheel. If there is more importance (pressure) placed in one area the wheel becomes out of round and the ride becomes bumpy.
You may feel like you are the only one who is having a bumpy ride, but no matter the outward appearance, EVERYONE has the same ride. Sometimes its a rocky road, sometimes its a major washout which requires a detour. Its never entirely smooth.
Anxiety is tempered by my faith. It is otherwise crippling. Remember the past is done, and over. Don’t let it paralyze you. Move forward, take the challenge head on. Do the soul searching and make a list of what is most important in your life. Keep it balanced!
1. Do your personal inventory. What is great, capitalize on that. Flush the bad. 2. Write your personal mission statement. 3. Define your ethics statement in writing. 4. Determine where you want to be. 5. Define the gap from where you are currently and where you want to be. 6. Define your objectives and goals. 7. Take action. 8. Reassess periodically as life can bring you unplanned surprises. 9. Make time for real fun with those you love.
Don’t be disappointed as that is just one human flaw. No matter our station in life, we covet more. But, there are many who want to be where you are at. Does that mean settle, NO! Just remain flexible as we can not control everything.
Do I have regrets, you bet. If people were honest, we would know everyone has them.
Keep your chins up, know that we are always proud of you, and true love is never failing.
This is the point where I ask for your forgiveness and the opportunity to reconnect and love on your family.
I don’t think you need to ask for forgiveness, Dad. The way I live my life is entirely constructed by my desire to achieve happiness for myself and for Holden. Sometimes, admittedly, selfishness comes with the territory I guess. I am focused entirely on building a good life for him and I. It some regards, I realize I am wearing blinders, but I don’t really know much of a better way to remain so focused on the end goal, which is stability and comfort and, eventually, happiness for us both. Granted, he doesn’t need much help in the happiness department, but it just needs to be fostered and cherished.
The whole point of this blog, I suppose, is for one day him to know a deeper side of who I am and how I became this guy that doesn’t let him do some of the things he wants, the authoritarian, the hard-ass, in some regards. It’s a preemptive olive branch, if you will. Maybe the hard times and the good times will give some clarity as to why I have been molded into the person I will be by the time he reads these words.
I do realize that the hard times are fleeting, such as the good times. I know that everything, eventually, will end up being reflected in a shade of off-white. When I feel so desperate and so disparaged I have to let it go, release it, and this is the format I am most comfortable. Which works as a time-capsule, also, really.
I do agree that everyone has their own fires to put out. Everyone has their heartaches and struggles. Also, they have their highlight-reel, which is what we largely see online. Everyone is suffering in their own way over their own thing. Mine just happens to be the biggest and most obvious cliche, two times now. I get that my experiences are different, but they are definitely not unique. But I am doing the best I possibly can to make the best possible life out of the ashes. I make a lot of mistakes, and I realize that friends and family are caught in the crossfire. But I am really doing my best to try and “fix” everything and create something new and wonderful and domestic and fun and simple and honest and wonderful. I just have to believe that I am on the right course.
Thanks for your message. I really like hearing your thoughts.