Taking care of my grandparents wasn’t just a task or a responsibility; it was also a privilege. But it did take its toll, & when 2010 came around I was pretty tired, & not just physically. I couldn’t remember what it was like to have my own life; to have dreams & goals. I honestly had forgotten. I couldn’t remember the leisure of my own company.
I also had a little difficulty remembering what it felt like to be rested. In 2010 I got my sleep back. I got a decent handle on my insomnia & my frustrating Anxiety Sleepus Interruptus. Part of this was aided by the occasional Xanax & regular visits to a psychotherapist; part of it was just time & giving myself time to feel safe with my eyes closed again. Yet another part was defeating my caffeine addiction (probably the hardest of all). I’ve managed to recover a somewhat normal approach to sleep again. Now when I lay me down to sleep, I actually sleep. December has been slightly different because I’ve got a puppy in housetraining here, but my internal sleep issues appear to have been resolved. Hallelujah. I’m allowed one (1) energy drink per week for recreational use & that’s it.
This year I gave up a friendship because I felt that it was less of a friendship than an addict-dealer type of relationship. Friendship is serious business for me; it’s got to be real. I won’t take less than real. If it’s not real, I’m ok with letting it go. Who knows, maybe things will come around again some other time.
I also renewed a friendship that had gone stale almost to the point of dissolution. We’d drifted apart; we’d pursued interests in somewhat opposite directions. I thought that was going to be the end of it since we no longer had anything in common, but when she said she felt I’d exited her life, I agreed & said that I didn’t think we fit into each other’s lives any more. And somehow by acknowledging that we had fallen apart, we found that the common ground of wanting to keep being friends & being able to talk about it was somehow enough to put us back together. In spite of having pretty much nothing in common any more we still have a lot to talk about. Kind of a miracle, if you ask me. I have things to be grateful about all the time.
I started playing guitar again this year after over a decade of being too scared to put myself out there. Not only did I start playing again, but I started doing it on a stage. I stopped caring whether or not I was good enough just long enough to actually take a step. The 2nd step was a lot easier. The 3rd step was even better. I have a good feeling about this.
This year I acquired a copy of the Oingo Boingo Farewell Tour dvd. Big. Very big. I have tears in my eyes.
This year I caught up with my age. Maybe not behavioral maturity wise & certainly not career wise, but in perspective. I’m 39. In a few more months I’ll be 40. I was always scared of getting this old, although now that I’m here I can see that “old” is a bit elusive. Something of a mirage. While I certainly have moments when I feel “old,” it’s all relative. Since my last, rather critical, rather status conscious relationship, I’ve had a disapproving voice in the back of my head constantly whining about my career (or lack of one) & my various pastimes relative to my chronological age. I’m still such a kid. Who would ever want to plan a future with someone as growth stunted as myself, right?
Then I remember: I’m not on that plan any more. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan; just not that one. For the last few years that voice almost had me convinced that it was that plan or the highway (I know; it doesn’t rhyme). Well, I’m hittin’ the road, suckas. This blog is entitled The Long Way Home for a reason.
See you in 2011.