Tonight, I began reading an excellent book at approximately 8 pm. I finished it a few minutes ago, six hours later.
No regrets, of course, but it wasn't the wisest choice.
29 April 2014
19 April 2014
I hear the children in the living room, being delightful. It's not that I don't want to be with them, sharing in their good day, it's that I can't bear the thought of inflicting myself upon them.
I confine myself to the bed not because I don't want to be in the world, but because I don't want to be perpetually seeing flaws where I should be seeing everything else. If I leave this bed, I will complain, groan, sigh, and spend all of my time scrubbing, throwing things away, and organizing instead of playing games or getting out of the house.
When I was in high school, I had limitless options. I took tests that were designed to tell me what to do with my life and they were all useless, because they all said I could do anything I wanted to do. I was a decent athlete. I had as many friends as I wanted (at least as long as I stayed active in Boy Scouts and youth group). I got good grades with minimal effort. My body looked the way I wanted and it felt good, my relationships with people were uncomplicated, and my path ahead was clear: I was going to go to college and then change the world.
I look back on that time as a 32-year-old man with bad knees, a bad elbow, a job where I have maxed out the pay scale unless I do graduate work in a field that I don't really want to enter, and a family that looks great from the outside but where there are major struggles for a variety of reasons. I want economic security. I want fulfillment from my work. I want time to do meaningful things with my family. I want a home of our own where I can knock holes in the walls or rewire an electrical outlet without asking anyone for permission.
Sure, my job is secure and I am respected by my bosses, my colleagues, and the kids with whom I work. Sure, most people would envy us having the kids we have. Sure, we're struggling with money but always seem to somehow find enough. Sure, we rent from great people and have a pretty nice place despite it all. None of that changes the fact that I feel profoundly unsatisfied. I want to feel that I am doing grand things. I want to have a social life that doesn't feel forced. I want to feel like I have options again.
Incidentally, it is devastating to have the kind of day that feels like this and to sit on my computer typing, knowing that nobody will reply to this post and that I will likely not have any other conversations with any other people. I know that I am not good at maintaining communication over distance (largely because of time zones and timing), but I desperately want to have the kinds of friends who read what I write and know how to respond.
I confine myself to the bed not because I don't want to be in the world, but because I don't want to be perpetually seeing flaws where I should be seeing everything else. If I leave this bed, I will complain, groan, sigh, and spend all of my time scrubbing, throwing things away, and organizing instead of playing games or getting out of the house.
When I was in high school, I had limitless options. I took tests that were designed to tell me what to do with my life and they were all useless, because they all said I could do anything I wanted to do. I was a decent athlete. I had as many friends as I wanted (at least as long as I stayed active in Boy Scouts and youth group). I got good grades with minimal effort. My body looked the way I wanted and it felt good, my relationships with people were uncomplicated, and my path ahead was clear: I was going to go to college and then change the world.
I look back on that time as a 32-year-old man with bad knees, a bad elbow, a job where I have maxed out the pay scale unless I do graduate work in a field that I don't really want to enter, and a family that looks great from the outside but where there are major struggles for a variety of reasons. I want economic security. I want fulfillment from my work. I want time to do meaningful things with my family. I want a home of our own where I can knock holes in the walls or rewire an electrical outlet without asking anyone for permission.
Sure, my job is secure and I am respected by my bosses, my colleagues, and the kids with whom I work. Sure, most people would envy us having the kids we have. Sure, we're struggling with money but always seem to somehow find enough. Sure, we rent from great people and have a pretty nice place despite it all. None of that changes the fact that I feel profoundly unsatisfied. I want to feel that I am doing grand things. I want to have a social life that doesn't feel forced. I want to feel like I have options again.
Incidentally, it is devastating to have the kind of day that feels like this and to sit on my computer typing, knowing that nobody will reply to this post and that I will likely not have any other conversations with any other people. I know that I am not good at maintaining communication over distance (largely because of time zones and timing), but I desperately want to have the kinds of friends who read what I write and know how to respond.
one of the problems with me, or why I'm grumpy today
Like most people, I have an internal discussion/monologue going on at most times. This internal voice debates the various outcomes of different actions and attempts to keep me out of trouble. My problem is that, even when it is really accurate, I have a tendency to ignore its advice.
An ongoing problem is that I will find myself bothered by something and wanting to say or do something about it. As soon as I start thinking about it, though, I can tell that digging any deeper will not result in any increase in my personal happiness. Nothing will be positively resolved in a short amount of time and I will likely cause myself to have a bad day from that point forward. However, I am the kind of person who simply cannot choose not to pick at that sore spot. Once I have identified something that bothers me, I have to either confront it and be made less happy by the confrontation (which, as noted before, I knew wouldn't help) or I opt to suppress my irritation and not make a big deal about it, in which case it festers beneath the surface and makes me less happy by not confronting the issue.
It's really a no-win situation, except in the (very) rare cases where speaking out or acting results in an immediate positive resolution.
An ongoing problem is that I will find myself bothered by something and wanting to say or do something about it. As soon as I start thinking about it, though, I can tell that digging any deeper will not result in any increase in my personal happiness. Nothing will be positively resolved in a short amount of time and I will likely cause myself to have a bad day from that point forward. However, I am the kind of person who simply cannot choose not to pick at that sore spot. Once I have identified something that bothers me, I have to either confront it and be made less happy by the confrontation (which, as noted before, I knew wouldn't help) or I opt to suppress my irritation and not make a big deal about it, in which case it festers beneath the surface and makes me less happy by not confronting the issue.
It's really a no-win situation, except in the (very) rare cases where speaking out or acting results in an immediate positive resolution.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)