11:25am, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Sunday morning, April 10, 2022. The usual Sunday anxiety is bad today, even more so than usual. No matter what I do there is no respite. Ironically, that has made me productive. I worked on my personal expenses, then filled out an application for ecclesiastical endorsement in preparation for pursuing Chaplain work. After that I cleaned the house a little. There is nothing to feel bad about, so why do I feel anxious? It is easy to blame the stress at work but, honestly, that isn’t the issue. Maybe there is no explanation. In the end, some day of the week has to be the worst, might as well be Sunday.
Month: April 2022
Going back
12:14pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Saturday afternoon, April 9, 2022. One of the biggest sticking points about going back to being a chaplain was the question of where I would live? I couldn’t afford a place by myself on a Chaplain’s salary and living full time with my daughter’s mom (estranged wife) is not an option. But this morning on the walk I decided not to focus on barriers. I am going to be a chaplain again. If that means living with roommates then so be it. I will make it work. I have waited nine years to arrive at this point. The time has come to get back to who I truly am.
I am sick of the stress
7:55pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Friday night, April 8, 2022. Going for a walk right after I wake up is therapeutic. The physical exercise and quality alone time contribute to what I consider my greatest happiness; enjoying solitude in the pre-dawn dark, sifting through treasured memories and anticipating a future yet to be lived. On a really good day, when I am reviewing familiar musings, my spirit soars and I feel contentment. The trick is to see how long I can stay in that joy until negativity pierces the cocoon. Once that happens everyday garbage floods my thoughts. Then the effect is ruined until I can wake up the next day and do the whole routine again. Often, I think back to when I was a chaplain. The job was demanding but, there was enough down time to stay in prolonged moments of bliss. The job I have now violently destroys the very things that make me happy. I am sick of the stress. I don’t want to spend every morning dreading what I have become.
Do I want to get fired?
7:25pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Thursday evening, April 7, 2022. This morning I speculated about being put on a performance improvement plan at work. It wouldn’t have been surprising; when things are going bad a change in leadership is often necessary. Alas, it didn’t happen, but is that a good thing? This site has been struggling for years and frankly, I am tired of being associated with it. I want to get back to my daughter, take some time off and recharge my energy. The problem is I don’t have the guts to give up and quit. What if I resign and things aren’t better? What if I go farther into debt, or take another job that ends up being worse? I would have to live with the fact I made a terrible mistake. Getting fired is a different energy; if I get fired I am not the idiot that quit a decent job because he couldn’t handle a little pressure. Rather, I am a guy forced into a tough situation doing whatever is necessary to survive. What I really want is for someone to make a difficult decision for me. Being forced out sucks but, I find pretentious indignation a far more motivating energy than calculated withdrawal.
3 Thoughts
5:42pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Wednesday evening, April 6, 2022. Three thoughts: 1. Since I started scheduling posts, (as opposed to ripping them off any time I felt like it), my writing habits have changed. In the past, an idea was worked anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour then published immediately. The results were spotty and often pretty shallow. Now, since a post is already lined up for publication in the morning, I no longer race to finish something just to get it out there. I start with a thought early in the day, flesh it out by afternoon, then put the final touches on it at night. It has only been a week but, it makes my writing more reflective. 2. I am going to change the tag line of the blog again. The “ongoing quest…” vibe isn’t working for me. I don’t want to go back to the Arizona/California angle. I am thinking international. Is it presumption to call it “The All-American Man”? That is declarative. I consider myself quiet and subdued, that is a different energy all together. I will change it and see how I feel next week. 3. Question: Should I stop publishing everyday? Maybe go to weekdays? Weekends? Two or three times a week? I am conflicted. On one hand I feel publishing everyday makes me a better writer. On the other hand, it seems a little much to put something out everyday. I have made a decision; I am going to stick with everyday for now. Let’s be honest, I don’t have a huge audience, most people don’t care either way, and this is more a personal writing exercise than a valuable piece of literature. I hope you get pleasure reading but, I will keep being self-indulgent if it is all the same to you.
Not perfect, but proud anyway
8:11pm, lying in bed, apartment, Chandler, Arizona, Tuesday night, April 6, 2022. Not everything we create is valuable. Most of the time it is to us, less frequently to a few others, and, on rare occasions, a vast audience. There is nothing wrong with missing the mark on occasion, sometimes things just don’t click. Yet, the very act of creating serves a valuable purpose; namely, cleansing the soul. I have written a few clunkers over the past year. That used to bother me. I wanted everything I wrote to be recognized and praised. But, now I know obtaining perfection every time is not possible, nor does it matter. Rather, the most important thing is partaking in act of creating itself. I am proud of who I have become this past year. Not because of the occasional post I believe is “good,” but, rather the fact that I wake up everyday and put something I made out into the universe. I am not perfect but, I am proud of who I am and what I do.
I miss who I once was
There was a time, many years ago, back when we lived in Utah, that my energy was entirely peaceful. That was a conscious choice and something I diligently strived to achieve. You see, as a hospice chaplain I entered hundreds of homes where patients and families dealt with the final stages of terminal illness. They did not need gregarious, over the top energy, they needed calm. It was important to convey a quiet presence when I entered a families sacred space. Therefore, I would spend hours training myself to be still; closing my eyes, slowing my breathing and repeating the mantra, “Relax, don’t worry, everything will be alright.” That was so many years ago. Now it is hard to believe that is who I used to be. These days stress is ever present, sucking my soul dry and grinding down my will to live. I can’t relax, I don’t enjoy what I do and I certainly don’t provide peace to those I meet. The man I cherished being has been lost to a swath of hazy memories. We are born to die, and losing our innocence is part of the bargain. I accept my fate but, oh how I wish I could go back. I miss who I once was, and never will be again.
Divorce?
6:23am, apartment in Dana Point, California, Sunday morning, April 3, 2022. The mood this weekend was awkward. Shortly after arriving in Orange County, my daughters mom made it clear she was in a bad mood and would be staying at a hotel. She didn’t say why but, it being our anniversary weekend surely was a contributing factor. I struggle with how to be supportive. On one hand, we are still married and, in many ways, still committed to each other. But it is obvious the best years of our relationship are in the past. We have drifted apart and frankly I don’t have the desire or energy to engage with her. I am no longer sure what we are accomplishing by being together. Maybe we need to make a complete break and divorce.
Waves of the collective ocean
4:47pm, at a trampoline park, Orange County, California, Saturday afternoon, April 2, 2022. The human soul is prone to sink by default; constantly threatening to drown in defeat, suffocating under embarrassment and flailing through uncontrollable loss. We are fated to a life of learning how to existentially swim as it were. That is, develop our own personal technique to rise above this un-chosen destiny. It is the only way to achieve anything that approaches true happiness. Of course, peace is not found through aggressive defiance. Constantly fighting negative experience simply burns a person out. No, true happiness is found when we accept our circumstance without giving in to it; floating along on the waves, being one with the collective ocean, available to the rare times tranquility finds us and gives us respite. After all, perpetual joy can’t be found and human suffering is never eradicated, but the few times we do accomplish such things are worth the effort life asks of us.
My audience is disappearing
6:44pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Friday evening, April 1, 2022. Like most people, I have kept a running dialogue in my head with an imaginary audience since I was old enough to remember. Over the years that audience has consisted of many different entities; a vaguely defined cluster of friends, a camera crew, even God. It was cathartic believing someone, or something, cared about my most inner thoughts. After all, very few people have the time to listen, or regard, what others say. Consequently, to truly feel known, I didn’t see much recourse other than creating an eager fan base, imagined or otherwise. That started to change over the last couple of weeks. Writing consistently has alleviated my soul’s lonely drowning sensation and the need to concoct acceptance. My imaginary audience is disappearing. I am known (on some small level, but known nonetheless) through taking the time to write this post and share it with you.
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