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.

Wedding anniversary

6:23pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Thursday evening, March 31, 2022. Tomorrow, April 1st, is our 22nd wedding anniversary. I thought about leaving early to get to California in time but, I am not sure it matters. While we are still legally married, we aren’t romantic. Consequently, the day serves as a reminder of lost promises rather than loving commitment. I will say this, through it all, we survived. Barely. Time didn’t destroy our bond as much as left it gravely wounded. We are nice to each other, supportive, even friendly. However, just below the surface, deep scars run both ways. Scratch too deep and resentment easily bubbles to the forefront. There still hasn’t been a discussion about celebrating, or even acknowledging, the milestone this weekend. We probably won’t bother. The day is awkward and has been for some time now. Best to let it pass quietly, then continue existing in the familiar and muted cordiality that has come to dominate our current lives.

I want your opinion!

5:41am, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Thursday morning, March 31, 2022. I have been fiddling with the headline for this blog the last couple of days. Today I changed it to “an ongoing quest to overcome stress and live the best life possible.” That is the fifth iteration of the change. It might stick for a while. (What about “eradicate stress?”) Last Friday, I scheduled a post for Saturday morning instead of publishing it on the spot. The reason being I had been writing around this time (5:30am) and wanted to remain consistent. But I wonder if it matters? Does anyone care if they get a post at a specific time? Does consistency make you more likely to read? The other issue I am contemplating is having the time, date and place stamp at the beginning of each post. Personally, I like knowing the circumstances when something was written, but it comes with a price. The punch of the first line, which is really the only hook for someone to read, it compromised. Also, it is confusing on a post that is scheduled to publish later. I am working on solutions but, figured I would ask for your thoughts. Do you have any suggestions, comments, feelings (about these topics or others)? Anything you would like to see more of? Less of? I want your opinion! It means a lot that you take the time to subscribe, read, like and and share the content of this site. If I can make your experience more enjoyable please feel free to let me know. Thank you, Mike

I hate this job

Monday was filled with despair; threats of closing the site down, unfulfilled promises and constant haranguing about revenue left me drained. Perhaps I am getting too thin skinned to be in such a positions. For years I have worked at publicly traded, for profit organizations and constantly faced such demands. This seems more extreme. Then again, I don’t know if I dealt with it all that well in the past either. I hate this job.

I have a fantasy about quitting my job

I have a fantasy about quitting my job. There would be no notice, no communication and no plan; just go in early, drop off my keys, box of my personal effects and leave a note behind. From there I would head west to Las Vegas through Lake Havasu and Bullhead City/Laughlin before staying the night in Henderson. It would be glorious. No stress, no worry, no overwhelming frustration. Just me on a new adventure, waking up in Nevada, going for a walk, working out and sipping coffee before getting back in my car and driving to Wyoming. I haven’t been to Wyoming in over a year. There I could relax, recharge my energy, get my head straight and truly replenish before making one last drive down the hill to Utah; the place of my happiest memories and greatest professional triumphs. The place where my energy flows strong and positive. There, I could reclaim what I have lost and be me again. I would have my power, my spirit and my energy in alignment and…then what would I do? The whole thing sounds great up to that point. Then I become uncertain. What is the last piece? What would I do that is meaningful, enjoyable and productive? The scenario is like a classic tile slide puzzle. I can move the squares around and even get most of the tiles in place but, I can never quite bring the entire picture together.

Always ends up being wrong

Written 6:09pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Tuesday evening, March 29, 2022. The office will permanently close soon. Two tense meetings yesterday pointing out a “lack of viability” made that clear. What does it mean for me, my family, our future if this office closes? I could stay in Arizona, get a new job, see what next year looks like. I could look for a job in California like I planned, but last month I applied and interviewed for a job in Orange County and it wasn’t a great experience. I could pack everything up, go to Wyoming/Utah, be close to my mom (she will be 80 this year). I could try someplace new (Las Vegas?) I am frustrated. I can’t keep looking for-and taking- jobs I don’t have the talent or desire to do. I am caught in a vicious circle; my resume and financial needs keep me looking for executive jobs, and I am good enough to get them. But after a year (if not sooner) we are sick of each other and disappointed with the results. It is absurd. I need to make a change. There is creative energy that flows pure in my heart. I want to honor and pursue that. Where does it lead, if anywhere? Can I set ego and practicality aside? Am I selfish for wanting to change? No matter what the choice, it always ends up being wrong.

The flow of water reminds me

Written 5:52am, in my apartment, Chandler, Arizona, Monday morning, March 28, 2022. When I am stressed at work I evoke my creative spirit. With that, peaceful images of water flowing through my chest calms me. This is evolution. Previously, I sought solace in escape, nostalgia, or giving up; unproductive acts motivated by fear. Now I know, the path forward is creativity and, more importantly, community. For decades I did not interact with others that held similar interests, nor did I engage an audience. I remained alone, vacillating between a past I could no longer obtain, while lamenting a present I never enjoyed. But I can be happy, do something I am passionate about, all while working with motivated and inspiring people. I don’t need to waste another minute regretting my choices. The world holds a beautiful, new, glorious destiny, and everyday the flow of water reminds me.