Easy choice?

5:51am, pacific standard time, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, USA, Wednesday morning, April 27, 2022. I am torn between the choice of being a chaplain and being an executive. You would think it would be an easy choice; go back to being a chaplain, leave stress behind, remove uncertainty, stop being lonely and embrace the more natural, positive energy. But I tell you, deeper forces are at work. Being an executive is addictive; I enjoy, even crave, the challenge, the money, and the ego boost. However, like any addiction, there are negative consequences as well; I live far from my family, I have lost more money than I have made because of frequent job changes, periods of unemployment and even underemployment. And the constant stress is starting to physically wear me down. When I think about being a chaplain my spirit opens like a blossoming flower. When I think about being an executive a steel blade of anxiety rips my guts. You would think it is an easy choice to become a chaplain again but, life is rarely as simple as making an easy choice.

What is the point of continuing?

5:52am, pacific standard time, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, USA, Tuesday morning, April 26, 2022. I was out of the office marketing yesterday afternoon. There were a couple of good conversations with physician office personnel but, ultimately I didn’t make the most important connection; getting a referral for a new patient. At this point I am ready to call it quits. The situation not improving and I am frustrated. What is the point of continuing if the results never change?

It isn’t easy

6:11am, pacific standard time, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, USA, Monday morning, April 25, 2022, 1st day back to work. Have to go in and do payroll and get ready for an operations meeting at the end of the week. There are multiple things on my plate. I still constantly think about going back to being a chaplain; really doing it, not just using it as a mental escape to ease anxiety. If I choose to be a chaplain again there are logistics that need to be resolved, it isn’t so easy to change careers.

Last day of vacation

6:06pm, pacific standard time, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Sunday evening, April 24, 2022, last day of vacation. My vacation has drawn to a close. I will go to work in the morning and engage in familiar tasks. I do not dread going back as much as I suspected; having too much free time was getting old. Nonetheless, I do not feel particularly committed to the company, nor do I feel committed to. That makes things awkward. It should be an interesting week.

Truly going home

5:18am, Friday morning, April 15, 2022, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, U.S.A. Today, after work, I am leaving for Southern California to take a much needed vacation. The trip will last 10 days, culminating with a return to Arizona next Sunday. It has been a long time since I had the feeling of truly “going home.” So long in fact that I didn’t believe it was possible to feel it ever again. But this morning on the walk, and sitting here preparing for the day, I am blessed to say that is what I am experiencing now.

Feeling of tranquility

5:50am, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Monday morning, April 11, 2022. Not sure how or why, but last night a feeling of tranquility washed over me and has remained. I have been able to let go of stress and not focus on problems. I am going to work hard this week, enjoy time off with my daughter next week and take everything one day at a time. I talked with my mom last night. She is going to come visit the first part of May. I look forward to spending time with her.

Might as well be Sunday

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.

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.

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.