Wandering thoughts

I've been away for a while, but such is the way of things in the summer.  Having a new house gives me no end of projects to direct my energy toward.  I would rather be elbow deep in that, than staring blankly at this screen, but 40 hours a week depends on these screens so here I sit.  My last update had to do with balancing everyone's happiness over my own.  My own happiness being dependent on my ability to please everyone else.  It feels like a lot has happened since then.  The stress of home buying has settled down, and I can sleep through a night without dreams of the purchase falling through.  I have resumed a normal routine: get up, go to work, come home, work a project, make dinner, shower, bed...and repeat.  This is the rhythm that keeps me sane, and probably will for the next 40-50 years, God willing.

As a reward for surviving the stress of moving between March and May, the wife and I planned a trip to Myrtle Beach to get away and unwind. There are 2 things I have learned over the past 30 years when it comes to vacations: 1) You get a better insight into yourself when removed from the safety and familiarity of your daily routine, and 2) This applies to anyone who goes with you.  We set out on the evening of May 27th and were gone until June 1st.  All told, a good time was had and the stress of the past 10 weeks forgotten in short order.  My daughter experienced land's end for the 1st time.  We built sand castles, which she demolished shortly after.  I watched her take on the Atlantic with no fear, squealing and laughing all the time.  We ate our weight in seafood, enjoying all the Grand Strand had to offer every night.  For some this could be considered paradise, perfection even, and by all accounts I should agree; as the vacation wore on, however, the shine wore off, and my mind wandered in the vacuum where day to day responsibilities and routine were put on hold

As of late, say the last 6 months, I have learned my two biggest weaknesses are fatigue and hunger.  The heavier either of them weigh on me, the grumpier I become to those around me.  Pair them together, and I feel down right ill. This was my situation the last 2 nights of our trip.  Looking back on these episodes, I can say now that I interpreted the world around me differently as well.  For example, a dinner table including my wife, daughter, and in laws did not appear to me as a group of people cutting up and having fun.  What I saw was a working family unit, that didn't include me...Didn't NEED me.  I was the odd shaped cog that didn't sit right with the group I was a part of.  I felt like the scene would continue uninterrupted if I was erased from the picture.  My daughter had her place, she fit...hell, she powered the machine with her smile, and laugh, but what did I contribute?  My sister in law had half jokingly said, soon after my daughter was born, "You've done your job, you can go now."  17 months later, and joke or not, I remember that phrase clear as crystal.  Sitting around the table the night of May 30th, it rang inside my skull loud as cathedral bells:  YOU CAN GO NOW...YOU'RE NOT NEEDED.

The following day my mood was visibly impacted.  While my thoughts and feelings were no longer affected by hunger or exhaustion, my skewed view of the prior evening had left its mark.  My wife had seen this before in other vacations we had taken with her family.  I'd reached a point where she seemed more like their daughter and less like my wife.  She has told me on prior occasions I am choosing to feel that way, and it is not true.  I hear her words, and I want to believe them, but the picture of the working family machine, and my being the odd piece out remains.  Add my daughter to the equation and everything my in laws do seems like an attack on my ability to be a dad.  So now I am not only a 2nd rate husband, I am a 2nd rate father as well.  I isolate myself, I don't want to be included.  I don't want to be a part of THEIR family.  I want my wife, and my daughter...I want MY family, but that's not the point of taking a joint vacation, now is it?

The argument ensues that night as it has every time we have gone on vacation together.  She is upset that I can't see how wrong my viewpoint is and that if I tried to include myself it would all work out.  "Is this how it's going to be every time we take a family vacation?" she asks, half crying, half fed up with me, "because if so, I don't want to do it again."  I can't tell her that trying to include myself won't work.  I can't say that I want no part of her family, that I want her, and my daughter, and NO ONE ELSE.  It's too selfish, too hurtful, and in that moment it would be spat from my mouth with malice and intention to cut deep. I retain control, I don't say it.  I stare off, unable to meet my wife's eyes.  I am mad, I am upset and there is no way for me to impress on her how this feels.  She will never be unneeded, a child always needs their mother.  I lie on the bed, my daughter asleep on my arm, and I think while my wife gets ready to lie down, herself.

In the dark and quiet of our 12th story resort room, my thoughts return to feelings of not being needed.  Those are followed by anger at my in laws for being right there, leaving me no cause to engage my daughter because they already have whatever she may need well in hand.  I am not needed, I am superfluous.  12 stories up... I am unneeded, but I remain.  Life would continue without pause if I ceased to be a part of it.  12th story balcony...  A wicked smile spreads across my face.  What would stop me from sliding that plastic patio end table to the side of the balcony, stepping up so I could sit on the mottled brass rail, and then rolling back into the dark?  My wife is in the bathroom.  It would be so quick and quiet, no one would miss me.  Would they even register I was gone at first?  In my mind these thoughts formed a black tar that coated everything.  I looked at my daughter, less than a foot away and didn't feel fear, or remorse for what I was considering.  I saw it as an opportunity to remove an unneeded  piece from the game.  I had concluded it would keep playing out whether I took my turn or not, so what was the point?  It would be so easy, 90 seconds at the most, and I would never have to feel unneeded again.  Never feel again.  It would be so easy...

I sat bolt upright in bed as if I'd been shocked, and just above a whisper I said, "These are not my thoughts.  I don't think this way.  These are not mine.  JESUS CHRIST HELP ME.  Lord rebuke you, Satan. Get behind me!  The image of tar in my mind was cut through with a shaft of light, and I felt that I had recovered my senses.  My breathing eased, I hadn't even noticed it was labored moments before.  I prayed for forgiveness, and mercy for what I had just planned and was on the verge of executing.  I felt worthless, but not for trivial reasons.  I was ready to punch my own card, to give up.  That is not an option, nothing is ever easy, not for me, but that is the road I walk.  If it is easy, really truly easy, then it is not something I am meant to be a part of.  My Father in heaven started my work day on a muggy September 17th.  He gets to say when the day is done. 

Until we meet again
-Chase

Easter week blog off - Part 2

Today's topic, a time where you were so lost that prayer was all you could manage, as when Jesus prayed in the garden before being betrayed by his disciples.

I suspect the stock answer to this question should involve the death of a loved one or other comparable personal tragedy, but in my case, all the death I have experienced in my lifetime came before I considered prayer a viable option.  While I was taught to pray for those I loved as a child, the older I got the less of a habit it became until finally prayer left my routine altogether.  It just didn't feel necessary to me.  What do my thoughts matter in the grand scope of the world.  A grain of sand on an endless beach, perhaps?  I'd wager even less than that. 

Fast forward to Christmas 2011 and a promise I made to my wife to give church and religion an honest, open minded shot.  Fast forward again, a year later when I stood before my congregation, new friends and family and proclaimed myself a believer.  Now prayers mattered to me.  God mattered to me, and that assured me he was listening.  Fast forward to now.  I feel I can hold a wide open conversation with my Lord about anything that's on my heart; good, bad, weird, or embarrassing doesn't matter.  He loves me, and as long as I honor him he's listening.

Now, when was I so far off the reservation that all I could draw on was prayer? The 1st week of August 2013.  Days earlier I had been in a T- bone car accident. My Jeep Cherokee had been the hammer, and a pale blue Dodge Neon, the anvil.  My 7 month old daughter was riding in the back seat, and while we had walked away without a scratch, both vehicles were bound for the compactor.  Big deal you might think, at least you were safe.  You can always replace things, right?  Sure you can, but when you lose things, a bit of you goes with them.  I had bought my Jeep just prior to high school graduation in May 2003.  Do the math, and my ride was a decade under my command.  How long have you had yours?  I had repaired it, changed its oil, tires, O2 sensor, and headlights, with my bare hands.  It carried scrapes, scratches, and dings from all the adventures it had taken me on across 5 states. I felt more comfortable in the driver's seat than I do in my bed. The interior smelled of mulch, flowers, stone and sweat, and I loved it.  That Jeep was my transportation, my armor, and an extension of my own personality.  I called her Mags, and on the last Thursday of July 2013, I stood by and watched her die at the entrance to a retirement village after saving mine and my baby's life.  With that image in your mind, tell me again how you can always replace things.   Mags was not a thing, she was a friend.

A week later I was driving home from Sunday night dinner in a borrowed Toyota Camry.  Nothing felt right, nothing smelled right.  I was a pilot without his ship, and I felt lost.  I began crying freely as the weight of the week's events crashed down on me.  I called to God for an explanation, for comfort, and for mercy. I thanked him for my life and my daughter's. I understood this was all part of His plan that I never get to see, and couldn't possibly comprehend. I asked for direction and opportunity to go forward with my life however he saw fit.  I was prepared to give all control over to him.  Free will be damned!  It took 22 minutes to get from my in laws' driveway to my own, and I rose out of the uncomfortable and unfamiliar Camry feeling somehow different.  The cathartic, ranting had left me exhausted in all sense of the word, but the stress and apprehension I'd been carrying were almost non existent.  God was listening and he took my fear from me that night.  I gave my control and trust to Him, and He answered with comfort and mercy.  I slept better on August 4th than I had in days.