Something Happened

Something’s happened since surgery last year.  I don’t know what it is.

Maybe it’s because I had set myself up (just in case) to let everything go.  Or maybe it’s because I got everything 100% done before the surgery took place (because I knew I wouldn’t be ab;e to do much afterward).  Or maybe I’m just getting old (it happens).  But I feel depressed.

Is that the right word?  Sad?  Empty?  No.  Maybe empty-headed.

I feel like I have nothing to say about anything.  I used to have things to say about everything.  I used to have an opinion about democrats vs. republicans, sex vs. masturbation, and honeycrisp vs. gala.  Now I sit around with an empty brain waiting to go to sleep to start the next day where I’ll do the exact same thing all over again.

Is this how normal people feel?  I always wanted to be normal.  Is this it?  Whiling away the hours between dinner and bed time by looking on Twitter and Netflix.  Having constant vigilance for running out of milk.  Listening to my kids for the slightest sign of them possibly facing some sort of adversity.  Is that what people do?  Is that where the crazy overreactions come from?

So maybe that’s it.  Because everything is done, because I really don’t have anything to look forward to — or more to the point, because I don’t feel like I’m improving anything — I feel like I’m sitting still.  And sitting still makes me sleepy.

I want to go back to not caring about the world at large cuz I had shit to do.  I can’t care about your pre-existing condition, I have one page left to ink.  I can’t think about my kids being uncomfortable on the bus, I have a floor to install.

Maybe this is what people mean by “getting old”.  There are some things you have to give up on.  There are some things you have to accept.  I will never have another kid.  I will never be a professional artist.  There aren’t any more big surprises.  The best I can hope for, moving forward, is incremental improvements.  I’ll get a little better at my job, I’ll be a slightly better dad, I’ll be a vaguely better husband…

I feel like maybe this is it.  This is as good as it gets.  I have everything.

Living out the next 40 years in marital bliss seems a little anti-climactic.

 

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