The Question . . .

Once in a while, I read a line in a book that stays with me. This one comes from a book I read in college, American Pastoral by Philip Roth:

“Never in his life had occasion to ask himself, "Why are things the way they are?" Why should he bother, when the way they were was always perfect? Why are things the way they are? The question to which there is no answer, and up till then he was so blessed he didn't even know the question existed.”

It's the truth. We are all so blessed that when senseless things happen, we ask, "Why?" It's easy to forget that so much of human history has been utter misery. Mumps, measles, whooping cough & polio once took a deadly toll on children; now they are all easily preventable by getting vaccinated. 

Once upon a time, if a mother's blood type was incompatible with her baby's, both their lives could be in danger. There could be a miscarriage, or the baby could be born with Rhesus Disease. Some historians think this is why Anne Boleyn was never able to bear a living child after Elizabeth I was born. Now a shot can prevent this from ever happening.

There have been times when I had to choose between buying gas for my car or groceries. If I chose groceries, I ran the risk of not being able to get to work and missing out on 8 hours of pay. If I chose gas . . . well, I already knew feeling hungry wouldn't kill me. Even then, though, I knew I had a sort of safety net. I could ask my family to buy a few groceries to get through to payday.

In short, in America we have been born into a land of abundance. I'm not saying there's no one that went to bed hungry in the US last night, or that we're not plagued by violence, death and sickness. I'm saying we've been told that this abundance is the norm, it can go on forever, and we will always keep improving.

I don't think we can. My generation has been taught to consume. That we don't have to give back. That we can leave it up to others to change things, now cut out that press conference and get back to that "Modern Family" rerun. What will happen when we're in charge? 

It's almost criminal how we don't give back. We look at all the blessings of our life, and our answer is, "More. I want the man/woman that I want and I won't settle for anyone else. If they reject me I will never let anyone else in. I want a well-paying job with health insurance and paid time off and if I can't get exactly what I want, well I'm too good to flip burgers." We believe that our possessions will show people what we are; we're right, but not the way we think we are.

So what is the question that the title refers to? For me, it's "What can I do?" What is it I'm supposed to do? Do I even have the ability to help others? Because I believe we should be helping each other up, not tearing each other down. We have this abundance, we are able to fall back. We should be giving back.

Looks Like Up to Me

I haven't been myself lately. I didn't recognize why right away, maybe it was wishful thinking. With depression, you always hope it doesn't come back.

I know that I have not had it as bad as some of my friends and family who have also struggled with this. When it got to be too dark for me the last time, I went to a counselor for talk therapy. I changed some things in my life around, and for the most part, it has worked. 

I never had to be on medication for my depression; I was aware that there would be a lot of side effects  and that I might have to try a few different ones just to find one that would work for me. I didn't want to go that route because I felt for my depression, much of it was due to patterns of behavior and thinking I had gotten into. When I was able to break those, the dark moods were beatable.

This week, though, I started out Monday feeling like a wreck. It was my day off and I wanted to try to accomplish something, but that was not happening. I tried to blog and barely got through a single paragraph. I ended up watching TV most of the day and had a glass of wine around 3 to get through the rest of it. I even cried just a little. That was the sign to me that something was off. This could just be due to hormones, it is around "that time." That's what I'm hoping.

I haven't been taking very good care of myself either. I'm out of shape and that discourages me. I'm going to try and get a bit healthier and see if that will help stabilize me. It helps that this isn't anywhere near as bad as when I went through it before.  I'm also prepared to face it down in any case. It will not define or beat me, I kicked its ass once before.

Solitude

"I never said 'I want to be alone.' I only said 'I want to be let alone!' There is all the difference." - Greta Garbo

I don't play well with others. I will never be considered the life of the party. My idea of a good time is a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, tucked into a good book or video game. Being around other people demanding my time can overwhelm me.

There is, however, a difference between solitude and loneliness. To me, being lonely means I'm wanting company, a friend or my boyfriend, and for whatever reason, they can't be there. I'm wanting human contact and not getting it. 

Solitude is a chance for reflection. To learn something I didn't know before, about the world or about myself. It's almost like meditation. In a demanding world that measures you by what you can give it, solitude is how I recharge.

Writing about Writing

If I don't at least attempt to write something today, I will probably stop posting altogether. This is how a lot of my writing projects end up: I start off strong, get a few pages together, take notes. I can see the story perfectly and it's just begging me to bring it out, to be born.

Then, doubt creeps in. The characters start to seem flat or cliched. The story starts to say, "Not tonight, dear, I have a headache", or yawns when I start talking. It used to seem so interesting, and now I just wish it would go away and leave me alone instead of this back-and-forth crap. The magic is gone.

One story died because it was associated too strongly in my mind with one of my exes. I have as much desire to revisit those emotions as I do to stick my foot back under a lawnmower.

Most of the time, it's because the words I commit to paper seem so inadequate to tell the tale. It doesn't match up with what is in my head. That dissonance is enough to make me want to give up. Up until now, that's what I've done.

So, I have five pages of a story written, and it all looks like utter crap to me. If it was printed out, I'd burn it. I'm tempted to smash up my netbook and throw it in a river so the file can never be recovered. I've been wanting a gaming laptop anyway. 

This time, I'm not giving up. I'm going to write as much as I can. Let's see where it goes.

Hey, look at that. Another blog post.

Better With Age

Sixteen days from now, I will be 29. The last twenty-something birthday I'll have. This is the time of year I begin to freak out, have crying fits and generally refuse to interact with anyone whatsoever. This year?

I couldn't care less.

My birthday used to be a tallying of what I had accomplished compared to what I desperately wanted to be done. Around here, it's not unusual to have married your high school sweetheart and start a family before most people have graduated college. Three of my friends were married by age 20 and another was with the man she would eventually marry.

Me? Not so much. My first date was around 19ish. After that, nothing until 24. I failed hard for the next 3 years and it hurt a lot. Part of why was because the margin for error seemed razor-thin. Some things you don't learn until you actually do them; dating and relationships definitely fall in that category. When I did make mistakes in that area, I got the feeling from a lot of people as if they were saying, "You should have known better! Get with it already!" How was I to know without doing it?

Books? Movies? TV? They all have a happy ending and the message is "If you just try hard enough it'll happen."

My friends? See the second full paragraph here. Not getting a long-term relationship and eventual marriage in your early twenties was the exception where I used to live, not the norm.

Contentment came when I quit judging my life against what I thought was my ideal life. I stopped listening to people that had their own opinions of where I should be. I quit trying so hard to be something I wasn't and just let what I truly enjoyed doing bubble up. 

My job isn't what a lot of people would think is a good job, but here's a secret: I love it and I take pride in doing it well.

I'm mostly debt-free with only a car loan and no student loans and have a tidy amount saved up against a rainy day. I'm in a good place to actually help others beyond, "You'll be in my good thoughts" or "I'll pray for you".

I'm with an awesome man that respects me. We keep our word to each other and there's no secrets. Relationships are so much better between a man and a woman vs a boy and a girl.

No, I'm not where I thought I would be at 29. And I would not trade it for anything, not in a lifetime.