Almost a year...

Somehow I feel like it's important to not let a blog go an entire year without posting on it. That crosses some type of line where it goes beyond, I've been busy to I don't care about expressing myself at all. But the silence in this space mirrors the difficulty I've had over the past year in knowing and expressing the way I feel about things.

Time has continued picking up speed as it rolls downhill into the future. I have a 5 year old daughter, who is almost ready to turn 6 and will head for first grade in the fall. She has her own opinions about things, is quick to argue for the things that are important to her, and I'm sure she picks up more than I know. I have no idea how we got here.

My wife and I have been married for almost 16 years. We've had ups and downs, like each other most of the time and keep on trying to do life together. It's always a learning experience. I have no idea how we got here.

I've worked at the same company for almost 21 years and keep finding myself in new and challenging circumstances. I've probably never had to deal with more responsibility, and I find that even though I may be temperamentally and experimentally suited for it, I feel less qualified or knowledgeable than ever. I have no idea how I got here.

So the last year has continued to be a stretching time, but I think overall a good time. There have been negative experiences or perspectives, often of my own making.

There have been interactions with family that have been uncomfortable and full of pitfalls, yet there have been strongly positive interactions that make me appreciative of the friendships I have with family. Even that most complicated, challenging, and scary relationship of all has shown slight glimmers here and there of something strangely resembling hope. I don't trust it yet. I still talk myself into a dark place when it seems like it doesn't matter. But if I view positive interactions as building blocks, then I begin to have a little pile to begin to stack together.

One descriptive word that I embrace as applying to me is skeptical.

I view myself as a skeptic when it comes to religion.
I am skeptical when things are going well that it's going to last.
I'm skeptical of nice things said about me as being either a lie or a lightly held idea that will inevitably be swayed by reality.
I'm skeptical of those relationships that I value. The past has reminded me of how fleeting they can be.
I'm skeptical of my own actions. Every day decisions must be made about what is most important. I don't ever want to get to the point where I stop struggling and stop doubting my own choices. That's how you know things are important.

Anyway, I'm not convinced of the efficacy of pseudo-philosophical ramblings. Just a few things that occur to me this morning.

527 Miles and Death's Cold Hands

I wanted to be a long way from here tonight. I wanted to be 527 miles from here. I wanted to be traveling, to be with people I care about and seeing new things with my family. I wanted to help celebrate. I wanted to encourage and approve and be proud. I wanted to be there.

I wanted to be looked for. I wanted to be checked on. I wanted to be invited, to be thanked, to be valued. I wanted to be missed. I wanted to be cared for.

One of my favorite people was recognized tonight. It was an award honoring hard work and perseverance and sterling character. It was earned, and it was exciting,

But instead, I found myself driving to the viewing of an old friend. Someone I've known for a long time. Someone who was quiet and smiley, and friendly. He made me feel like our friendship was important. He was older, but way too young to march into the past. I saw him last week, waved, smiled, visited for a short time at the office. I miss him. I grieve for his family. I hate that he's gone.

And yet in struggling to make sense of relationships, that years of struggle and heartache have brought nary a single element of appreciation, I find that perhaps death is the appropriate experience to mull over.

No matter how much I wish him back, my friend will never show up again to say hi or ask about family. No matter how much I feel like I should have future experiences and chances to interact, that just won't happen. Death's hands are cold. They don't do favors, just because we are earnest or well-meaning.

As I watched a relationship die, I held on to the hope that the future would bring more opportunities, that next time I wouldn't be held as distant and as casual. I refused to let go of the chance that it would change and the relationship would be revived and return to health.

I'm not sure that I've yet given up on those things.

But tonight I know that death is cold. And death of a relationship is cold and hard. Hope becomes a distant idea, and stress and the expectation of sadness and disappointment become the companions I walk with every day.

Congratulations! Condolences! Curses...

I just don't know

It's been a long journey, and I kinda thought I would be getting there by now. Well I'm not there, and to be fair I'm even less sure where "there" is than I've ever been. I don't know if I've made progress, or slipped backward, or maybe even fallen completely off the map. I'm leaning toward that last one. There have been good times (Every moment with Baby X, late nights with friends and one libation or another, and a few tiny moments where a hug here or there made things seem almost normal.) But there have been a lot of not so good times (struggling to pay the bills, struggling to make sense of the landscape at work, disappointing parents, being ignored by loved ones, and having both of the couples who were our closest friends move to other states)

So right now I just don't know. I don't know if things are better right now or worse. I know we have a beautiful daughter who we'll do anything for. I don't know how much longer our families will stomach my "far-out" take on life. I know that the relationships with siblings has changed. I don't know if there is much room for me in the lives of those siblings who I used to feel close to.

I suppose that the dark days of depression are farther at bay than they have been in a while, but I know also know that my uncertainties need very little to rise up and choke me anew.

I suppose the thing to do is keep on going, even though I don't know where or for how long I can keep going without something changing. Trying to anyway...

Trying to Continue... or Continuing to Try

As the saying goes, we all have our demons. This summer has been a tough one for me, struggling to find my way through perceived rejection, times of loneliness, and a sense of abandonment by people I love. It hasn't been easy and I'm not out of the woods yet.

In many different circumstances, I am proud of the way that I keep on trying, even if it is discouraging, painful, or seemingly bereft of value. I don't quit. At times, this has defined me, as someone who refuses to quit, even on lost causes.

Yet this summer, several times, I have felt like there was nothing left to do but quit on relationships. It bothers me that my once indomitable spirit is broken so easily. It bothers me that I considered quitting to be an option, and sometimes felt like it was the only option.

After spending a number of weeks waiting for others to notice my struggle and remind me that our relationship was important to them as well, I decided I couldn't just sit and wait for them. I realized that I needed to give up my "expectation" that love would be shown to me, but be willing to show love to them without expecting it to be returned. This is not a ground-breaking development in relationships, it's one I thought I had learned long ago. But when every interaction seems to point to the futility of even trying, it's easy to forget this most basic aspect of relationships. I feel like I'm in the middle of re-learning how to love someone unselfishly. And often it feels that loving unselfishly merely means showing love without any response or reminders of love. So my struggle to feel accepted has turned into an internal struggle over whether or not I truly show love without strings attached.

Since refocusing on this inner struggle, it has been easier to relate to the people around me, but I still often struggle with feeling included, or loved based on how people treat me.

But it is much better to feel like I'm still trying, instead of just giving up. So the battle with my demons has certainly not been won, but there still is a battle, and that gives me just a glimmer of hope.