Lost?

It's a halfway beautiful day. I might go out side.

When I was a little boy, I am pretty sure I had dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up. I think I wanted to be a scientist for a while and maybe even an astronaut. Nothing too unusual for a child to dream. I really can't remember specifically what I wanted to be way back then. I don't remember a lot about being that boy, either. Except I was loved and adults, with whom I spent a lot of time ( I was sick a lot when I was small), thought I was special and that great things were in my future.

I lived most of my life with that thought in mind: I am special and great things are in my future.

Funny thing.

Turns out that I'm still waiting for that future to kick in. I'm special and there are great things in my future. I've lived what might well turn out to be half my life waiting for evidence of what makes me special and those promised great things of my future.

Meanwhile, I've lived pretty well. I had friends growing up and I had family and a relatively nurturing environment. I've been educated at a fairly good school. I'm even reasonably intelligent. I think I've had a lot of fun over the years. Certainly, I've worked at that. I have saved a life, more than once. I have worked and worked hard to be the best at whatever job I have been employed over the years.

I've made a life with a woman who loves me and has born me two fine sons. We have made a good home together and I love my family dearly. I am thankful to God and all those who went before me to have helped me become what I am today. I've never truly wanted for anything material, up to this point.

I've never really lacked for anything, except for a sense of purpose and self-validation.

I am a modern man.

That little boy with his long-lost dreams dreams never dreamed of what he would become.

What I am now.

I am 48 years old and have no direction and no job and no likely prospects. And I think this is mostly my fault. Am I now heading into a midlife crisis? Possibly. I'm certainly in a professional crisis.

Now what?

There must be something. There must be.

Something.

Maybe, somehow, I will be able to generate a self with purpose and meaning, so that my family will not lose everything because of choices I have made or failed to make. There is no one to help me now. No mother, no father, no ancestors: I must do it on my own. Because it turns out I'm really not all that special and no great things await me in my future. Unless I can make them happen.



Pax,
Nelson

Today is another day

It's a beautiful day outside and I think I'm going to go out and enjoy it. I recommend you do the same.

Thoughts?

Pax,
Nelson

Morning

I have an almost overwhelming urge to get stinking drunk today and stay that way. So far, I haven't given in to it. But it's only gone just half past noon, so the day is, as they say, young.

It started off dark. I awoke to the unfamiliar sound of my wife's alarm clock going off. Unfamiliar because, usually, it sounds its wake-up alarm with the radio. So the current buzzing was unsettling. I made some appropriate, sleep be-fuzzled remark along the lines of 'what the hell?' and my lovely wife mumbled the power had gone off. And so it had. My CPAP machine was idle and there was no ambient light in the room beyond the pale gray of pre-dawn. I pulled the mask off and tried to go back to sleep.

The baby began to stir and then subsided. This was a good thing.

I managed to make it to the second irritating series of buzzes and then the baby awakened in earnest and voiced his displeasure at his current situation in no uncertain terms. He was HUNGRY.
I made a hasty toilet in the dark, hoping my aim was true and made my way downstairs in search of light and the makings of a bottle of formula. Both were located and put to proper use. Fortunately, our water is heated with gas, so when the electricity departs, we still have hot water.
Bottle and flashlight in hand I searched for, found and lit a candle, and went back up to retrieve my now wailing son.

Who didn't want the damn bottle anyway. Too hot, I guess. I had another one pre-made in the 'fridge for the night and it was still cold (God bless GE appliance makers) and that turned out to be more to his liking.

Baby fed and returned to his mother for eventual dressing, I went to awaken my first born to ready him for daycare. I was searching for his toy camping lantern with my flashlight when he informed me that he had it in the bed with him. I told him he could use it to get dressed as the power was out and he wanted my flashlight, instead. I told him to make do with the lantern and went in search of more candles to light our dark little world. I had just installed one in our bedroom, when my son appeared out of the darkness again demanding the flashlight. We fought that battle for a while until I realized it really wasn't worth the effort and gave it to him. Learn to pick your battles when you have a five year old, that's my motto.

Besides, I had found yet another candle.

I went back downstairs to make up the baby's bottles for the daycare folks by candle light. Finished up some other morning chores and went back upstairs to retrieve my youngest who had resumed his wailing. It seemed he needed Daddy and not Mommy just then.

Fine.

Back downstairs we go, for the second round of formula. This time, cold wouldn't do AT ALL and we had the warm bottle and a little snuggle. Which was kinda nice.

Eventually the whole family made its way into the living room and we managed to get the baby changed and dressed, the eldest squared away with cereal and milk and Mommy ready to go to work and me ready to take the children to daycare. We even called them (daycare) to be sure they had power and were open. Thankfully, they were.

L. went off to work and I managed to get the children safely delivered into the hands of the daycare folks (wonderful people).

I got back to my car and on a whim, called home to see if the answering machine would pick up, thereby signaling that the power had been restored. It had! I called my lovely wife at work to relay this news. She informed me in somber tones that my therapist of the past three years (who had recently contracted pancreatic cancer) had died on the last day of last month.

The air went from me.

I knew it was probably only a matter of time. No one I have known or ever heard of has beaten this particular type of cancer yet but still... I had prayed for his recovery only yesterday (and the day before and the day before that, et cetera), because I am a believer in the power of prayer. I'm not sure why I still am a believer, but I am. As it turns out, my prayers had already been answered and I didn't know it.

God does answer our prayers: unfortunately, sometimes the answer is NO.

I tend to forget that once in a while and it makes believing just that much harder, but I still believe.

Anyway, I will miss you DW. You have helped me in many ways and for that I thank you. Although it may not be appropriate for me to count you as or call you one, you were my friend as well as my therapist and I will miss you.

May God grant you safe journey and swift passage.


Pax,
Nelson