I just want to escape.
To a hotel room in the middle of the night. In total darkness and with a strange foreign TV show on (that I can’t understand).
No need to check out in the morning. Free from any obligations or responsibilities. Enough food and drinks in the mini-fridge.
Total quiet all around. Except for an occasional passing car in the distance.
And never enter the outside world again.
Nope, not any of this summer’s national political conventions (thankfully). This week, I’ll be making the modest 200 mile drive to the national sportscard show.
It’ll be just the second time I’ve gone. The other was when I was just 15 and had started my small business of buying/selling cards in high school. We centered the family’s summer vacation around it that year. And…how things have changed since. No, not going to go there again now.
I bought the pass late last year, which was right after I left my job and still had some lingering hope about repairing my future. But since that hope is now gone, I really considered not going. Especially since I have no desire (nor the finances) to be buying much now anyway.
The show pass is non-refundable though, and I’ll meet up with my closest friend in the business. And since I will probably have to make a much more concerted effort to liquidate some of my collection soon, it’ll be good to see for myself how the industry looks during its biggest yearly event.
So, despite my usual desire to avoid spending any energy anymore (especially when it comes to being around other humans), I’ve decided to keep the plans. It’ll be interesting to see how I’ll react to being at such a madhouse though. That’s the last thing a depressed recluse wants to deal with, but hopefully it’ll be worth the effort.
Plus it’ll be interesting to see how how my mood is there. This will be the first time I’ve had any social interaction since I pretty much gave up on life earlier this summer. So as bleak as this sounds, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to enjoy much of anything now. We’ll just have to see how I react to it, and if I can forget my troubles long enough to have a good time with my friend.
Especially since I don’t want to put a dent in HIS vacation by being a wet blanket. That’s naturally another part of being so depressed that keeps you stuck in a cycle of isolation: you don’t want to bring others down with you, so you just avoid meeting up with people in general.
Crossing my fingers. We’ll see what happens.
Been about a month since I resigned myself to the fact that I’ll probably never fix most of my major issues or experience happiness again.
And I wasn’t sure how I’d react to that. Would the depression become even more difficult to manage? What major changes would I feel daily? So far, the best way to describe it is this:
It’s like I’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness (and have already accepted my fate). But without the timetable of dying any sooner.
I know that doesn’t make much sense. But that’s how it is.
This has both some good and bad. The good is that I feel a little more at peace. Not much, mind you. But every little bit helps. At least I don’t feel any more unstable. And it relieves you of the pressure to try and fix yourself.
Actually, that last one could be bad instead. Oh well.
On the downside, you feel that much more empty and hopeless. Which dents the motivation to do the more necessary self-improvement aspects of life that much more. Pretty much the last thing I need, but an unavoidable result.
So, we’ll see how this continues to go. I doubt any big changes will happen anytime soon, but you never know.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to float through existence for now.
I’ve always identified with the sounds of a seagull flying overhead. One reason is because of how I’ve associated them with the beach. Not only does that bring back memories of summer vacations as a kid, but I’ve also been drawn to the ocean.
The warmth of the Atlantic Coast (from Myrtle Beach to Florida). Feeling the sand and water on your feet. The waves crashing and looking out into the seemingly endless water. It’s the closest thing to a calming effect that any atmosphere can have on me.
There’s also the music with them. The Boys of Summer. And one of the videos for “Sailing”.
Yes, I know that yacht rock is considered so soft and cheesy. I don’t care, and will always love that song. Especially that particular video. As the last chorus ends, you see a single seagull flying over a sunset-filled ocean backdrop.
And whenever I see that, my mind stops for a few seconds. And is taken away to the ultimate feeling of escape, bliss, no worries, and freedom.
Despite how extremely unlikely it is, one day I hope I become that seagull. Finally at peace.
As it flies away here:
I recently wrote about some experiences in my life when I just didn’t reciprocate the interest of someone around me.
But more often than not, that shoe has been on the other foot.
I started to realize this even more when I was on the phone about 10 years ago with my best friend from college. The one I painted in a not-so-flattering tone not too long ago (and, well, this isn’t going to make him look any better).
He really is a great guy. I swear. Sooo…..
During that phone convo, I mentioned how we once sat on the floor outside my room in the dorm (our freshman year), belting out “End of the Road” in awful voices and without a care in the world. He had no memory of that at all.
I know, I know. You could definitely consider that one of those random moments that most people would forget. But the thing is, it signifies our entire friendship. Because I could always tell that our college times meant more to me (than they did to him). He had a much more balanced, healthy existence before and after those years. So to him, it was just another life phase.
To me, though, those first three years of college were the best I’d had since early childhood. Or since.
This represents a lot of my more meaningful moments with others. Sadly there haven’t been many. But when they have happened, the other person just isn’t on the same level as I am. And of course on the flipside, there are also a few more examples of an experience meaning more to them instead. Even though I could count those on one hand.
And despite how little contact I keep with anyone anymore, this can still happen nowadays. It actually just did. Today a friend asked if I was going to be there for our tentative plans to meet up next month. But he’ll have his stepson with him and needs to focus most on that part of his trip. As usual, I’m the secondary part of someone’s life.
It’s all a part of how I’ve usually been so distanced from the world. As if my being incapable of feeling deep bonds isn’t enough, there’s also that poor timing or fit (during the times when I’ve come closest to connecting with others).
Tonight as I drove home, you couldn’t see a single star overhead. Just the moon (as it swung back and forth with my turns across the night sky). It looked all alone in the universe.
I know how it feels.
I’ve written plenty about how I’m just not capable of having really close connections with people (including significant others). But I’ve never mentioned much about my parents and grandparents.
Let’s just say that unfortunately, they weren’t any better at it than I am.
My parents were married for 52 years until my father passed away five years ago. But despite how the marriage was always stable, they were only companions. The two of them were even less built for genuine love than I am, so there could be no actual connection (especially since they had nothing in common either). Not to mention how that was still an era when you simply married the first person you dated for awhile (and hadn’t found a reason to break up yet).
They never would’ve admitted that. Though you could argue that they were never self-aware enough to even consider it much to begin with. And it’s not like other problems didn’t come from it. Once she hit around 40, mom started harboring more depression and drinking more every evening. Which only got worse until dad died. Since then, the drinking hasn’t been quite as bad. Because while she doesn’t enjoy the new loneliness, subconsciously she prefers it to the unsaid discomfort of a constant attachment to a partner that you’re so emotionally distanced from.
As far as my grandparents, it was mostly similar. Married until death, but no substance behind it. Except for the addition of my paternal grandfather being a drunken wife abuser for many years (up until the drinking almost killed him one day in his 40s, which forced him to change). Definitely no storybook golden years.
And you know what’s sad? I never saw these connections in any of my parents’ closest friends (and their lifelong marriages) either. It was just never those couples who got lost in each other’s eyes, finished each other’s sentences with a bright smirk, or just laughed together w/ pure happiness at inside jokes in their own little world. So whenever there was a group function, it looked more like aging people having their first dates.
I know that it’s possible for two people to be genuinely in love. And I’m always really happy for a couple (the occasional times when I see it). But I’m telling ya, it’s very tough for many human beings to even be capable of, much less find.
Especially during the aforementioned dating constructs of prior generations. People often claim that their elders were “those” lucky couples, but I’ve found that they’re usually way too biased to see their family’s situations clearly, or that they delude themselves about the harsher reality that so many (like my parents and their friends) actually experienced.
So for the few reading this: I hope you beat the odds and actually do become one of those lucky ones. It’s a life joy that most of us will never experience.
In a few months, I will turn 50. At a time when my mindset has hit yet another new low. And this one is scarier than ever.
As the mid-life crisis continues to rage on, it’s easy to continue looking back at the troubled existence that I’ve usually had (and how the downhill trend has really accelerated in the last 15 years):
Age 20: Depression is starting to quickly form. The final stages of competitive spirit and possible happiness. But no lost hope.
Age 25: Loner lifestyle becoming established. A lot of unusually big ups and down for someone that age. Becoming clear that the depression is embedded pretty deep, despite the initial reason for its severity now being gone for good. Still hope.
Age 30: The height of career success and adult pride. Though still not mentally healthy enough. Odd amount of new anger appearing sometimes. Hope still not a problem. Despite much more lifetime success than failure at that point, a somewhat tenuous grasp on it.
Age 35: Success vanished. This time for longer than ever before, and therefore (for the first time) wondering if it can be regained. These first lingering failures starting to weigh on how you feel about yourself. Hope starts to become tarnished.
Age 40: Failure has become a staple. Not yet too bothered by loss of youth, but naturally aware of it beginning to happen. For the first time, no clear definition of career future either. Negatives about life situation are now easily outnumbering the positives like never before. Hope becoming shaky.
Age 45: At this point, the failure has lasted enough years that you’re very close to accepting it as your fate. Youth obviously completely gone (and having a tough time accepting it), so midlife crisis in full effect. Hope hanging on by a thread.
And now….almost 50: Failures have reached more damaging levels than ever expected. Some very useful 9 to 5 job experiences leading to possible new opportunities for awhile to salvage something about life, but being too unstable and miserable to take much advantage of it (especially since I’m still spoiled by all the years of supporting myself). Feeling like every year is aging you by a few.
But the worst part: for reasons I won’t elaborate on now (but have started to mention in recent entries), any hope of ever improving myself or my life is now mostly gone.
That’s what is so scary. Naturally without that hope, my depressive state could reach newly dangerous levels. I’ve always been able to function moderately with it, but now that might not last. It feels like something bigger may give at any point. And if it does, those new depths could lead to problems that’d be that much more drastic.
Regardless of the consequences, I don’t think I can stop this. So I just wait to see what happens.
And if I’ll be able to survive it. Literally and figuratively.
I was asked this (thankfully along with a couple other people) by the boss at my new job a few weeks ago.
A question that a depressed person never wants to hear.
Especially in that atmosphere. You then think: do you really want to know my answer to this?
Not like it was her fault. As mentioned in my last entry, no one there knows about my troubles. And even if they did, it’s understandable that she wants her team to be emotionally invested there. Especially since they want to build the department’s future around us.
But that enthusiastic “yes” ain’t happening. As any person in my boat knows, there isn’t much of anything in your life that could get that reply.
And as someone who is the furthest thing from a 9 to 5 worker, I’m that much further removed from caring. At some point, that might show. You’ll see most people at my level there (almost management) or above sometimes sport the company collared shirt. So eventually, it may be noticed that I never do.
Or that I don’t even own one. Or never will, unless my job would somehow depend on it for a function or whatever. Even the thought of putting one of those on makes me smirk derisively.
At this point, I probably sound like a terrible employee. Not the case, though. I will do what you ask me to, and do it accurately and efficiently. I won’t call off or cause issues with others. And even though I may be more apt to stretch my lunch a little or sneak in some personal time on my phone, you’ll still be able to count on me to be prepared for whatever comes my way in the office.
But is that cause I’m a company person and invested in how the organization does? No. It’s because it’s the right thing to do. If you pay me a good salary for my position and treat me well, you deserve that value in return.
Just don’t expect me to be “excited” about it.
I’ve written about some of my athletic past. And about the accomplishment of winning the student tennis tournament during my senior year at my university.
But I never mentioned what happened after that. Until now, it never hit me about the underlying significance of my next tournament match.
The following fall, I was still enrolled and taking a few post-graduation classes. Those classes were not going well, because I did not want to still be there (but still hadn’t started a job). That was what I wrote off my unusual academic decline there to.
Turns out there was much more to it than that.
It was also time for next year’s tennis competition, so of course I signed up to defend my title. Was never the type to focus a ton on “repeating” accomplishments, but naturally I still expected to have my head in the game.
Because I always did. Well, had.
My first match was against a freshman who came out very nervous. I could tell he had some skills, but he was missing shots everywhere and I coasted to an easy first set (in the best of three).
But then in the second set, things unexpectedly started to change. He found his game, and I just wasn’t as sharp as I normally was. Which led to him evening up the match and forcing a deciding third set.
This did not phase me in the least, though. It was standard for me to occasionally drop one of the first two sets to someone I should beat. And when that happened, I’d go into the final set without even a thought of losing the match. Because my focus might slack some here and there, but over the course of three long sets, I was just too consistent for you to beat me (unless you were simply better). And while this dude was no slouch, I had endless experience getting the best of players just like him.
Again…..for the first time, that day was different.
My usual perseverance was not happening, and it wasn’t until I was in deep trouble late in that third set (when the realization hit me that, contrary to everything I was used to, I did not have enough to win this match that I should’ve). And I didn’t.
I left the court befuddled. Obviously everyone is going to have a surprising loss occasionally, but there was more to it. Something felt so off. Which is why I will always remember that match.
At the time, I just attributed it to the aforementioned lack of motivation and everything else during that fall that was a little off track with my focus and otherwise. But I never realized the true reason until now:
Depression was starting to take me over. And I was only 22.
That ended up being about the last competitive sports I ever played (at least that I cared much about, anyway). Before long, I moved to a bigger city to start my first job, became mostly a hermit, and let that depression have its way even more.
Just like it has ever since.
Funny thing is that now, the court that I lost my competitive edge on that evening (about 26 years ago) is just a few miles down the road from where I live.
If only I could get it back.
I don’t wanna go to sleep. I wanna stay up all night. I wanna just screw around.
I don’t wanna think about what’s gonna be after this. I wanna just live right now.
(Yes, this 48 year old man just quoted Kesha).
Have never talked much about music here. And when I have, it’s usually about something from the ’80s. But my tastes are a lot more diverse than that.
Especially when it comes to those occasional songs that you both love the beat AND hit you hard for a personal reason at the same time.
Enter “C’Mon” from Kesha.
Always loved how infectious that tune was. But as this midlife crisis widens more and more, the message of the song reaches the core of me too. Not because of some deep philosophical meaning; obviously a dance track from the 2010s isn’t likely to be about that eh. Sometimes the simple things mean the most though.
And that’s the case here. Its message is summed up in the lyrics above.
Enjoy your youth. Live in the moment. Make the most of those times. And when the opportunities come to experience that one-of-a-kind passionate young energy with others…..if you’re in the mood, then take advantage.
Because at this stage in life, I’d give anything to be in my 20s or 30s again. To have that spark and energy. And give someone that look that says (as I quote her once more):
Let’s go for it just for tonight.
Mister A's domain 