I don't know if it's anger or sadness. I can't figure it out.
My ability to cope has been challenged lately, and I suppose I can argue that I'm winning, but I worry that there's no end in sight. The human body has limits -- physically, mentally and emotionally -- I'm nowhere close to my emotional limits, but the wear and tear isn't doing me any favors.
Some people break down when they are pushed to their limits, and for some it doesn't take much pushing to get there.
Some people recover quickly from setbacks in life, and rebound stronger than ever. Emotionally I am slow to recover. I've said it before, I'm less debilitated by personal disappointment than I was in years past, but that doesn't make the recovery process any quicker. Lately I have been having recurring bouts of sadness and anger, after going weeks without them. I never feel crippled by them, and somehow I'm emboldened by them, as if this is the last time I'm going to have suffer through such personal disappointment.
They say time heels all wounds. It probably does, but I don't have enough time left on this world for my latest wound to heel.
When I was driving north on the Fourth of July to spend the week with my friends at their lake place, the thought of making that drive, alone, for the next 10 years and sponging off the generosity of my friends just didn't hold much appeal to me.
On the night before I headed back to reality I was out on my buddy's boat, enjoying beers while he unsuccessfully fished for walleye. As I stared at the relatively calm water as we were returning to shore at sunset I couldn't help but think about how much Minnesotans value the ability to cruise around a lake in a motorized vessel. I stared at the water and thought about how many people would cherish a moment such as that, and how ungrateful I was for it.
Since my vacation I have found myself dwelling on one fact of life, my life is relatively meaningless, and will never be anything more than that. I have waited 40 years for a purpose to my life, and I don't have one. That's because there ain't one, and there isn't going to be. If you're the type who prays to a god you probably believe your god has a plan for your life. My god has a plan for the lives of almost everyone I know. Yet somehow I was left off the list when purposes were being assigned.
I am a friend to many, indispensable to no one. My life is meaningless. I am blessed to have as much as I do in the world, but all the blessings in the world don't change the fact there's no scar tissue left. I am no longer able to heal.
Sometimes people make a full recovery following surgery. Other times people are crippled for life, despite the best efforts of their medical team. Some people are as good as new after knee surgery. Others are slowed down, hobbled or crippled by their knee.
I want to believe that this wound will heal. I want to believe that the happiness I had in 2010 can be recaptured. I want to believe my life is not disposable. But I'm not much of a dreamer. I have collected enough evidence to know better. It's time to let go. I'm holding onto so little, but it's hard to let go. But it's time. It's time.