Monday, March 23, 2015

46 or something

March 23, 2015 @ 10:41pm. Home and listening to my childhood 70"s Pandora station.

Darkened living room.  A rough couple of days. Although not today.
No excuses.  Anxiety has been on high lately.  Strange when my compulsions bring me no comfort in these times...Damn you talk have changed me!!

I am now 46.  Not 39 and not 50.  Just at this point where I know exactly where I am but feeling lost.  I no longer really give a fuck of others' opinions, yet others can still wind me up.  It is a strange place to live.  I think perhaps it is specific subject matters and encounters that wind me up more than opinions.

The last year taught me a lot about people.  Much of it not really great, but there have been moments of shining illumination.  I no longer feel the complete insecurity of a chubby and innocent 13 year old in comparison to the same 13 year olds who looked 15 moving towards 22.  My experience has been unique and yet completely common place.

People still seem to assess based on superficial values and and judge situations based on their own experiences superimposed onto others without trying to understand what most of the time, can never truly be explained or even justified. I am tired of trying to explain when in reality there has never been any reason that I had to explain, only my misguided sense of trying to soothe a challenging situation or in a harsher light ,justify my own actions.

fuck that shit.

I have discovered in the last couple of weeks that I gain very little solace from trying to explain why I am feeling anxious.  Often it makes it worse.  I am not saying that I want to shove those closest to me away, just that I am going through another change in some fashion.  Maybe I am not as interested in discussing my issues with many.  I have spent much of my life being what, in our family, have called a poll-taker. I think I am starting to step away from that space.  Maybe it is because I am 46.

What I do know is that any of my change is based on my thought process and the action that comes from it.  I do care what those closest to me think, yet at the same time, that weight is not as heavy as it used to be.  My core values haven't changed particularly.  The best I could say is that the world is a great deal grayer than it used to be and gets more so every year that passes.  I think the old adage is some thing like ...the older I get the less I know...

I regularly do not know totally what I want.  I am for the first time really thinking about what it means to get older.  It is completely fucking scary at times.  I have a life full of experiences, which I hope doesn't change, but in our ever complicated social/economic climate I feel a bit scared.  Scared for myself, scared for my son and nieces.  I try not to dwell a ton on only becomes counter productive.  I now find myself thinking ....well shit....retirement? What the fuck is that?  Is it even possible for much of my generation?  Sadly I am not sure that it is.  What does that mean? I simply don't know and I don't have any magic answers.  It completely distresses me these days.

So lately, I am trying to focus on the positive.  Focus on what I can do.  I keep looking for the work that will keep me and my family above water, and maybe try to figure out how to make it go a little farther.  I try not to be critical of myself for times past, as it really does no good.  I mean, it isn't like I can go back in time and reroute money into a retirement fund.  I don't really want to go back in time and take away the trips I took or the other experiences that my work financed.  Those were my choices.

Ah well...enough of this ridiculousness that keeps me awake.  Besides, I have some books to read, cheap wine to drink and my fantastic 70's station that probably would be a cause for ridicule and judgement.  Whatever...I listen to this music and it is July in Point Loma in 1977.  The pool out back is where I want to be and I know that Mom will have lemonade and popcorn for me when I get out from swimming and I can lay down on a towel on the warm concrete and here this music leaking out from an FM radio in the house or garage or even the neighbor on the other side of the fence.  It is good to be 8 one more time when retirement and society inequities had not captured my innocent mind.