Sometimes the things we do are for survival. At times I eat to smother “The pain of being”. At times my mind makes up stories to deal with intense and scary realities. I don’t follow the news. I don’t get involved in politics or heated arguments on disturbing subjects. My Dad on the other hand at the age of eighty four reads two newspapers a day plus Newsweek and watches CNN’s Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer. When he wants to “get away” he flips on the Western Channel. My mom plays her solitaire and has a cup of coffee with peanut butter toast.
I never was a sports fan, although I played football, track, hockey and basketball. A few weeks ago I was in the locker room at the YMCA and the T.V. was showing footage of the turmoil in the Middle East. It was a bit too much for me. So I turned the station to a 24/7 Golf channel. I have never played a round of golf in my life aside from the miniature variety. That day I got a whole new perspective on the world of sports. The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat. Sports as a healthy diversion and a microcosm of life.
Do I have any power over the events unfolding in the world? I feel like a twig in raging torrent of events, but I have been learning, slowly, to accept the things I cannot change. I think globally and act locally. My perspective of the world is only one of billions (though I do sometimes feel I am the center of the universe). My life has been a blessed and lucky one. No hunger or terror or violence. I have never been homeless or without friends or family.
These days a lot of my focus has been on my health. It feels like I turned forty and here came the aches and pains. But I have been focusing on it to the exclusion of the good things in my life. People wonder what I get out of worrying and fretting about every tweak and twinge and pull and discomfort. I feel hyper sensitive and “Achy Breaky” as if something is about to pop every other minute. I have been asked to consider that these pains are psychosomatic. But it sure doesn’t feel like they are all in my head.
My good therapist has said on several occasions “The social worker must survive” To take care of myself so that I can help others. I will give myself a pat on the back for doing an admirable job in a tough profession. Despite my issues I feel I truly make a difference for the people I work with. I have been a CPS at Creative Health for three and a half years. I still make mistakes and errors of judgment and I learn from them. How much better could I do my job without these distractions and worry?
“These are the times that try men’s souls.” I am a twig in a raging torrent, but a bunch of twigs can clump together and eventually change the course of a mighty river. We do what we need to survive. I have a new book, and am giving some amazing performances. My social life is opening up, and I am trying to get more healthy physically and mentally. I won’t give up on me.
3-31-11
Dude, you write well. very well. It’s a real slice of life from a real person. thanks alot. I was thinking that maybe the distractions and worry are part of who you are, like spice in the stew. You might be someone entirely different without them. for the better or the worse even. But I sure admire who you seem to be in these posts…