So it’s been nearly 2 months since I’ve done anything to C-Spot. I’ve been lost in my own little world of depression, ambivalence, despair, illness, and laziness. I haven’t cared much about posting, but felt guilty about not doing it most of the time. I’ve even avoided waiting for the site to load, as it’s my home page,Â when I click on the little blue “e’ on my quick start menu to go to the internet.
I think, mostly, I’ve just not wanted to share anything of myself with anyone for the past several weeks. I haven’t been in contact with friends or most family members. It has taken all of my energy to maintainÂ the relationshipsÂ I haveÂ with my wife and son and there’s just been nothing left for anyone else. Or for any activities, either. I’ve had my face buried in my Sony ebook reader since the day I got it. Any free minutes are spentÂ sitting on the couch, or on one of the patio chairs, or on the toilet, or in the car, or at my desk, or in bed, or anywhere else that will allow me a place that I don’t have to pay attention to anyone or anything. And I let myself become engrossed in the drama ofÂ someone else’s life.
All the reading I’ve been doing, thousands upon thousands of pages, has helped me to remember how much I love my wife and how I used to show her that I love her; both physically and emotionally. Over the past several years, the intensity of our love has dimmed and been pushed to the background. It’s been overshadowed by the onset of my early mid-life crisis several years ago, our emotionally difficult move from Idaho, our home of 11 years, to Milwaukee, my home town and the site of the most traumatic events of my life. And, of course, the birth of our son has forever changed our lives. I’m much more responsible and private than I ever have been before. Although part of that has to do with the fact that my family is here and nearly everyone I associate with has a relationship withÂ or, at the very least,Â been introduced to my relatives. There was a time when I was very open about my younger years, whether it had to do with my seemingly never ending battle to gain the love of my father or the equally difficult challenge of getting out of the house I grew up in with my physical and mental health intact. Since I don’t talk about those things anymore, they tend to fester inside and rise to the surface in disturbing ways.
I am happy to report, however, that today was a very good day for me. I know that TJ’s been quite concerned about my behavior over the past few months. She’s been incredibly supportive and, at times, pushy about getting me out of the funk that has weighed me down. She expresses her concern that I haven’tÂ shown any desire to get my small garden in order. I haven’t been interested in planting flowers in the beds that line the walkway to the front door and along the side of the house to the back gate. And, to be honest, I just haven’t cared. I haven’t felt like I’ve had the energy to care. IÂ haven’t particularly cared about much of anything except sitting in the quiet and reading. It’s the quiet I’ve craved, the reading offers me an excuse not to think about anything while I’m in it.
I took this afternoon offÂ and TJ and I went to a small, local nursery and bought enough flowers to take care of both the front walk and the side of the house. There were even enough left over to fill the small bed in the backyard beneath Micah’s bedroom window. I have to say that I truly enjoyed myself. Alone, with music playing in my ears and the sun on my skin, the dirt clumping on my fingers and the rough cement from the sidewalk scraping my knees, I felt good. And when I had finished the planting, I felt even better. My son was beside me talking about his shovel and my shovel and we walked to the garage to put them both away. We watered the small bed in the backyard together. He squeezed the handle and I held the hose about a foot below his small hands and directed the water flow. I truly felt good. I was hot, sweaty, and dirty and I felt good.
And speaking of being hot, sweaty, and dirty, I’mÂ also working on showing my wife how much I love her. After 20 years, I still love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. It’s so easy to forget how hard I worked to get her to see me and believe in me and what I felt for her. What I still feel for her. She still amazes me in so many ways. And I still feel butterflies in my stomach for her. I know her faults and her weaknesses now but she still moves me and makes me want to be a better person. She still makes my heart thump when she looks at me and makes my skin tingle when she touches me. I still want to protect her from anyone and anything that could hurt her, even though she doesn’t think I need to. I can’t help it. I love her.
So this post has ended up sort of disconnected and random but that’s how I feel. Disconnected and random. I suppose if you’re reading this, you’re used to it.
I hope to write more often. I’m not going to promise anything just yet, but I’ll try.