It’s been a weird day. Some days are like that, but today is
different, the stresses I have in my life, the recent past, the distant past,
the immediate future and the distant future… everything is weighing heavily
upon me. It’s Father’s Day, 2014, and I am far away from my boys and my father, but
that’s not it, either. We have had formal Father’s Day celebrations in the
past, but it is hardly a yearly tradition. This year the day was marked with a
call to my father this morning, a call from my middle son this afternoon and
text messages from the other two. I didn’t expect or not expect anything more
or less; we all talk to each other all the time, we all love each other all the
time, and as much as I miss them, I know they miss me, too. There is nothing
about this day that changes any of that. From a Father’s Day perspective, it
was fine.
But this life I am living today is not fine. I am not fine,
though if I asked I would say I am. I am not in any danger, I am not “unhappy,”
per sé, I am not deprived of anything, I am not in need of anything. I should
be “fine.” But I’m not. Some days I am finer than others, but for the past year
or two anyway, I haven’t really passed the midpoint on the “fine” continuum.
And today I can’t even see it from here. Is it depression? Demoralization?
Frustration? Regret? Overstimulation? Understimulation? I have not a clue, but
whatever the cause, the result is decidedly not fine. So much has happened in
the recent past, so much will never be the same. I went from the high of highs,
from looking forward to a future filled with new hope and possibilities to
having the rug yanked out from under me in what feels like one humungous “what
the fuck?” moment. Maybe I haven’t quite caught my balance yet. Maybe I never
will.
And maybe I never had it in the first place. Maybe that’s
what I’m feeling – the loss of something I never could quite grab ahold,
something that was once again within reach only to see it fade into a
nonrecoverable past – the loss of something I’ve never had. That process turned
my entire world on its head – more than just one relationship was
permanently destroyed. Although I can “go back home,” home will
never be the same. And as much as I have a home and feel at home in Louisiana,
that was not the plan as recently as one year ago. I would have been back home
by now, teaching and working on my dissertation from there. Now there is no “there,”
not even physically; my old home is now just a house, an asset, it makes me
money, that’s all. Little things like trading in my (California) motorcycle for
a new one that is registered in Louisiana, changing my car registration over to
this state, no longer getting any mail forwarded from my old home, getting used
to the weather here, a divorce proceeding that is finally proceeding, hearing
from some of my old friends less and less frequently - and a hundred other little
things – none of that was ever part of any plan I had.
And now I am faced with a very unsure future. It’s not unsure
in terms of whether I will “make it” or not. Even if I can’t overcome the two
very large hurdles between a PhD and me, I will be “okay.” I have sufficient
credentials to be able to work and earn a decent living almost anywhere. That
is not the issue. The issue is that I am tired of starting over again all the
time. I am tired of not knowing where I will be even as little as one year from
now. And I find myself wishing I didn’t try to take on so much, wishing I
didn’t purposely complicate my life so much, wondering why I am doing this and,
sometimes, who I am doing it for. In a nutshell, I can’t seem to figure out what
the fuck happened and why it is so hard for me to find any real stability. And,
it’s not really even that, because, technically, I am “stable” and have been
for a while. Sometimes I just wish I had a regular old job where I went to work
Monday through Friday with maybe a little overtime on the weekends; one where I
could come home and forget about it until I went back to work the next day; one
where I knew, exactly, what my job would be and what it takes to get it done. I
have enough “adventures” under my belt to fill two lifetimes; all I need is the
time to write the book… I’m just tired of it all. I want off this ride.
Tomorrow will be better, but probably not fine.
