It has come to my attention that some of my life's expectations are unrealistic. For instance, I've finally recognized that I will never be an Olympic gymnast or figure skater. And I can probably take trapeze artist off that list, as well. In fact, as I think of the things I believed I would become/do, but never will, the list is not short:
1. House flipper
2. Skydiver
3. Famous musician
4. Some sort of artist--maybe a sculptor
5. Mathematician
6. Inventor of a thing no one can do without
7. Writer
8. Explorer
9. Archaeologist
10. Therapist
11. Big rig driver
12. Software developer
13. Meteorologist
14. Journalist
15. News Anchor
16. Radio DJ
17. Audiobook Narrator
18. Chef
19. Chocolate consultant
20. Dog surfing instructor
21. Waterslide or amusement park ride testor
22. Island caretaker
23. Pilot (plane AND helicoptor)
As I said, long list.
Naturally, some of the careers had to go because with two bionic hips, the chance of on-the-job injury would increase exponentially (gymnast...skydiver... ). Some had to go because I just don't have enough years left to finish the necessary schooling/training. Or because I've finally figured out I don't have the natural talent and/or the drive necessary to accomplish them. Some have lost their appeal. And there are the ones that require enormous amounts of cash or luck to achieve them. But the real truth is, I'm no longer certain that I can do anything I choose, regardless of what it is.
This leaves me wondering what, if anything, is left. There are still things on that list that I would do if the obstacles were removed, and others I would add if I put more time and thought into it. I've never been altruistic or the list would have things like Peace Corps, service missions, or other volunteer work. That's not to say I don't give service when I can. It's just not part of my bucket list. Natalie wants to save the world. She would clean oceans, build schools, and cure all disease. I prefer testing amusement park rides and eating chocolate. Clearly, we're not cut from the same cloth.
Maybe what it boils down to is the feeling that there is an expiration date on my life's adventures. Hmm...I don't love that.
I still feel a need to climb mountains and explore caves. Deep sea diving seems like something I would enjoy. Or maybe just snorkeling in shallow water. I'm not supposed to skydive, but paragliding seems like a good option. Or maybe riding in a hot air balloon. And I still want to see the world. I'd absolutely hike through Europe and be the old lady who sleeps in youth hostels and eats bologna sandwiches. Or maybe peanut butter. I don't love bologna.
As I look over my list, the feeling that I still want to do many of those things is persistent. And I know I can't. It's not possible for anyone, let alone someone halfway through life.
Aaron is ready to settle down for the rest of his life. Retirement with occasional fishing trips and vacations sounds like a great life to him. It just sounds boring to me. I'm wondering how he'll feel about being dragged along on my pending adventures. I'm wondering how I'll feel about convincing him he wants to be dragged along.
A wise person would acknowledge that there will have to be some sort of compromise. It's unfair of me to assume what I want is better than Aaron's desire for the next 50 years to be filled with relaxation and serenity. Still, fair is not something I do well. Nor is compromise. And wisdom isn't even a possibility for me. It is a mystery how I have remained married as long as I have. A less patient man would have left long ago.
In the meantime, I'm gearing up for my next adventure. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm doing it. I'm thinking I might need to purchase a couple of motorcycles and do a cross-country trip with someone. Aaron already said he's out, but I'm betting Natalie will go with me. Aaron can go fishing while we're gone. And sit in a recliner. And sleep. He really likes to sleep.
Tuesday, July 9, 2019
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
Jealousy
Prior to going through therapy, I don't think I experienced this feeling. It requires that one feel somehow entitled to something, or that one aspires to something. I don't really know how to explain it, I guess. Perhaps the best way would probably be to explain my view of myself.
Vocationally: I felt that I was competent and capable, but not to the extent that I surpassed anyone else in any field. If I could do something, in my head, so could everyone else. I was unremarkable. Therefore, if someone achieved or was promoted or honored for something I had also worked on, it seemed completely logical that they would be lauded. Because I was unremarkable, there was no reason for me to believe that I might also be exemplary.
Socially: Feeling unremarkable bled through in this area, as well. I interacted with many people. I liked them. I believe they liked me. But I was just one of many. It was unlikely that I would be chosen for my company over anyone else. If I was present, I was welcome. If I was not, I was invisible. For awhile I struggled with this. It felt right to be invisible and colorless. But there was a part of me that was lonely. Aaron always chose me. I didn't really understand why. I supposed it was because I lived with him, so I was always there.
Creatively: I don't believe I felt unremarkable in this field until I met hundreds of others who were just as talented as I. I was an exceptional musician--but only compared to non-musicians. I was an excellent writer - in comparison with people who never write. I was an idea person, an inventive cook, a problem solver - until I was put up against those who actually embodied those attributes. And so, with time, I resumed my unremarkable role.
Being unremarkable removes one from the possibility of being amazing. Not being amazing negates the possibility of being chosen.
Time has presented me with people who see me differently from how I view myself. Some have indicated that they wish to choose me. I don't know how to feel about that.
There is a part of me that hopes they choose me because they actually do see something amazing in me; something that sparks creativity and excitement in themselves. But the overarching feeling is that they have become comfortable having someone unremarkable in their lives. I will always be less than they are. I am the perfect foil against which they stand out. And that's a completely uncharitable belief about people who love me. So perhaps the reality is that they accept my unremarkable-ness and love me in spite of it.
Which brings me to jealousy. It's difficult to feel envy when one doesn't really feel deserving of anything.
Except, occasionally, one of those people who say they love me points out another, truly remarkable person. They say why that person is admirable. And something inside of me wonders why I can't be admirable in some way, too. Maybe that's jealousy? I just don't know. But it makes me uncomfortable. It's a feeling I nip in the bud - not one I care to investigate very closely. But I think I feel it more often now, even though I'm not sure if that's what I'm feeling. This is all very confusing. But I'm left vulnerable and frightened when the feeling comes. I don't know what I'm frightened of, nor do I understand where the vulnerability is coming from.
My therapist always told me he found me amazing. I'm good at doing therapy. Somehow that doesn't seem to be a badge of honor anyone wants to wear. There were some crappy things that happened to me, but I'm very good at getting up in the morning, going to work, coming home, having dinner, sleeping through the night, and doing it all again the next day. That sounds very much like what everyone else in the world does. We all have things that cause us distress. We continue to live our lives. But it's nice that someone finds me amazing. He doesn't practice anymore, but he still lets me email him occasionally and ask him to remind me.
Vocationally: I felt that I was competent and capable, but not to the extent that I surpassed anyone else in any field. If I could do something, in my head, so could everyone else. I was unremarkable. Therefore, if someone achieved or was promoted or honored for something I had also worked on, it seemed completely logical that they would be lauded. Because I was unremarkable, there was no reason for me to believe that I might also be exemplary.
Socially: Feeling unremarkable bled through in this area, as well. I interacted with many people. I liked them. I believe they liked me. But I was just one of many. It was unlikely that I would be chosen for my company over anyone else. If I was present, I was welcome. If I was not, I was invisible. For awhile I struggled with this. It felt right to be invisible and colorless. But there was a part of me that was lonely. Aaron always chose me. I didn't really understand why. I supposed it was because I lived with him, so I was always there.
Creatively: I don't believe I felt unremarkable in this field until I met hundreds of others who were just as talented as I. I was an exceptional musician--but only compared to non-musicians. I was an excellent writer - in comparison with people who never write. I was an idea person, an inventive cook, a problem solver - until I was put up against those who actually embodied those attributes. And so, with time, I resumed my unremarkable role.
Being unremarkable removes one from the possibility of being amazing. Not being amazing negates the possibility of being chosen.
Time has presented me with people who see me differently from how I view myself. Some have indicated that they wish to choose me. I don't know how to feel about that.
There is a part of me that hopes they choose me because they actually do see something amazing in me; something that sparks creativity and excitement in themselves. But the overarching feeling is that they have become comfortable having someone unremarkable in their lives. I will always be less than they are. I am the perfect foil against which they stand out. And that's a completely uncharitable belief about people who love me. So perhaps the reality is that they accept my unremarkable-ness and love me in spite of it.
Which brings me to jealousy. It's difficult to feel envy when one doesn't really feel deserving of anything.
Except, occasionally, one of those people who say they love me points out another, truly remarkable person. They say why that person is admirable. And something inside of me wonders why I can't be admirable in some way, too. Maybe that's jealousy? I just don't know. But it makes me uncomfortable. It's a feeling I nip in the bud - not one I care to investigate very closely. But I think I feel it more often now, even though I'm not sure if that's what I'm feeling. This is all very confusing. But I'm left vulnerable and frightened when the feeling comes. I don't know what I'm frightened of, nor do I understand where the vulnerability is coming from.
My therapist always told me he found me amazing. I'm good at doing therapy. Somehow that doesn't seem to be a badge of honor anyone wants to wear. There were some crappy things that happened to me, but I'm very good at getting up in the morning, going to work, coming home, having dinner, sleeping through the night, and doing it all again the next day. That sounds very much like what everyone else in the world does. We all have things that cause us distress. We continue to live our lives. But it's nice that someone finds me amazing. He doesn't practice anymore, but he still lets me email him occasionally and ask him to remind me.
Saturday, March 2, 2019
What Happened Next
I didn't get better for a very long time. I was ill until May, at which point, my sinuses had had it. I started getting nosebleeds that lasted longer and longer until I ended up in the ER where they tried several different ways to stop the blood and ended up shoving packing up my nose. The pain was immense. And when the packing was removed a few days later, the bleeding started again. Fortunately, I was being seen by an ENT who knew how to cauterize and who very gently removed the packing (still hurt beyond words).
And then I finally started getting better, probably because school was out and I was no longer being showered with germs from 500 students every day.
I started looking for a new job immediately. I couldn't face another year like the last one. And through the help of Gareth, I was able to land a job at the Huntsman Cancer Center. It was a pay cut, but the benefits (including retirement) were amazing. And I was now in the University of Utah health system which allowed me to see the surgeon of my choice about my ailing hip.
Today I'm 8 weeks post-surgery and sporting a matching set of bionic hips. Everything went well and I'm in the process rebuilding. I ran right up until the day of surgery. Now I'm focusing on bodybuilding and preparing to run again. And I liked my new job so much, I called Chris and encouraged him to apply. His cubicle is right by mine now.
I've been well for almost a year now. I'm still not sure I'll ever catch up on everything I missed out on, and my house might never be clean again. But I'm well. I feel better. I have a good job where I'm valued. Now, if would just stop snowing...
And then I finally started getting better, probably because school was out and I was no longer being showered with germs from 500 students every day.
I started looking for a new job immediately. I couldn't face another year like the last one. And through the help of Gareth, I was able to land a job at the Huntsman Cancer Center. It was a pay cut, but the benefits (including retirement) were amazing. And I was now in the University of Utah health system which allowed me to see the surgeon of my choice about my ailing hip.
Today I'm 8 weeks post-surgery and sporting a matching set of bionic hips. Everything went well and I'm in the process rebuilding. I ran right up until the day of surgery. Now I'm focusing on bodybuilding and preparing to run again. And I liked my new job so much, I called Chris and encouraged him to apply. His cubicle is right by mine now.
I've been well for almost a year now. I'm still not sure I'll ever catch up on everything I missed out on, and my house might never be clean again. But I'm well. I feel better. I have a good job where I'm valued. Now, if would just stop snowing...
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