Today, I am Larry Bird years old.* I'm slowly making my peace with getting older and accepting that my body is probably not going to do some things that it used to do, but that doesn't mean it's the easiest thing. *There are a few other options here (Scottie Pippen races to mind), but being from Indiana, I think I'm legally required to pick Larry Bird. Somebody recently told me I am "honestly [one] of the only people I know who have their shit together in regards to being an adult. I mean, I look up to you." And that honestly scared me to death. Let me be absolutely clear here: I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm pretty sure nobody else really does, either. To paraphrase maybe the most quotable movie ever, anyone that tells you different is selling something. I don't know what it looks like from the outside, but I'm just making all this up as I go along, and I'm not entirely sure I'm doing the best job. I'm not trying to get all "woe is me" about it. I have a pretty good life. For the most part, I like what I'm doing professionally and who I do it with. I love my family, and I think we generally run a pretty solid household. There's nothing awful in my life. But, I did make some choices that have now left me working pretty hard to undo and to break into some more fulfilling roles in my life. And I'm starting to come into some healthier terms understanding that my time is limited. It used to be a thought that would just stop me in tracks, often for several days at a time. And, just to be clear, it's still a thought I don't necessarily deal well with. But I'm able to at least push it away and keep functioning. I've also not been taking great physical care of myself over the past few years. Maybe really since I got back into working an office job. It's left me heavier than I've ever been, and it's starting to spawn new trouble. I constantly complain about having to wear insoles so I can continue to walk without pain. I think I've also developed some sleep apnea. Kristine tells me how awful my snoring as become and how I just stop breathing. I've also started having a lot of nightmares* and morning migraines. So, you know, that's great. I'm hoping getting some weight off will go a long way to fixing that. *Many of these nightmares seem to center around mortality as well. I wish I could have a real conversation with my brain and say "Look, I get it. I am dust and to dust I will return. I. Know. You're my brain, remember? You know what I know. Can't we just go back to having dreams about teeth falling out or completely forgetting about a college class?" There are a few things I think I've picked up along the way, though. First is to have courage. Unfortunately, I've mostly learned this one by not having it. I'm pretty good about speaking my mind and standing up for what I believe. I'm not shy about that. But to have the confidence and courage to do something for myself? That is . . . not as much of a strength. When I went to Wabash, I thought I was going to become a teacher. Then a combination of things pushed me away from it early on before thinking I should have gone through with it far too late. I had several people (one former Bachelor editor in particular) push me hard that I should do Teach for America. And they were right. I should have. That would have been a relatively quick-and-easy way to make up for my own indecision. But, I didn't. I didn't like not having complete control over where I would live and couldn't break out of that comfort zone. So I didn't, and instead kept struggling at jobs that barely kept me afloat and led to an awfully long bout of unemployment. All of that just to come to a point where I'm taking graduate classes to start plotting a path back into the classroom. I never had a real passion for IT. It's fun, it's a nice enough hobby. To make it my life's work, though? That was always foolish, and some part of me always knew that. There are several Disney movies that should have taught me this a long time ago, but, to steal a bit from Moana, when that voice inside you keeps telling you what you want to do, maybe it's worth listening. The next thing I learned about courage is to have confidence in what you've created. If you think you have a talent, share it. I'm still learning this, by the way. Rejection is hard, but it is just part of the game. I've written some stories and some books, but I've been too paralyzed by fear of rejection and finding out that maybe I'm not as good as I thought I was to try to sell it. I'm finally reaching a point to where I feel a responsibility to try to get my stuff professionally published, and I've gone through a few drafts of a book that I'm going to try to get there. It's not ready yet, and I haven't really had the time to polish it during this master's program. But that ends in December, so I'll be able to get back to it. It's taken me ten years of writing just to get to the point of feeling like I could possibly put myself out there to be rejected, though. I think about it now and think how much wasted time that was and wonder if I might gotten a break that could have meaningfully changed my life and career already. Don't spend that time wondering or being afraid. It isn't worth it. Find out, and if you find out bad news, just take it as an opportunity to grow and get better. Again, I'm still learning this. And the last thing is something I think we all know at some level, but nobody appreciates until it's too late. I'll say it anyway, but I know it won't do anybody any good, because this happens to generation to generation. Nobody ever appreciates it until it is over. Value your youth. That doesn't necessarily mean to appreciate all the things your body can do and all the free time youth affords you. That is important, but I think I even understood that to some level as a child. What I didn't quite understand is to value the opportunities youth gives us. Maybe this is a problem of modern technology, but I don't think that's the whole thing. In any case. I did not realize how lonely adult life would be, and (for lack of a better word) I am not alone in this. Back during childhood, all the way through college, there were always easy-to-join sports teams and clubs, and having similarly aged peers all geographically close to you always made it effortless to find somebody to connect with. It was never hard to go hang out at somebody's house or have them hang out at yours. If anything, as a kid, it could be difficult to find some moments alone. Then everybody dispersed into their own lives and their own timelines. Everybody has their own story to live, and so many of those connections are lost. I've written it several places, but I don't know if it's ever been in a public place before. There is absolutely no better way to put a pep in my step and change my whole outlook on a day than to spend a little bit of time talking to somebody who knew me when I was young. And, not only knew me, but knew our circumstances. Crossing paths from a classmate (or near-classmate, anyway) from Covington or Wabash just hits in a totally different way. There's a level of understanding there that other adult friends, as great as they are, just won't understand. But, you just can't live there forever. Childhood is like that. Innocence is like that. You cannot ever go back, and you cannot ever unknow or unexperience anything you pick up along the way. I lament that for myself sometimes, and I get to see it now from another level as a dad now. I get to see Beth's wild abandon because of her absolute trust in the world and the absolute lack of care of judgement. I want her to always keep that, but I know I'm powerless to stop it. It's something we all learn, for better and worse. I'm 33 now. I can't really tell you what that feels like, and I don't really know what that's supposed to feel like. I don't know that I ever really thought that hard about what my future would look like. I just figured I'd do my best and see where life takes me. If I don't fight against the current too much, I would just end up where I needed to go. I'm not sure if I believe that as much any more. Even if the times I've fought against the current didn't end up getting me much but a story and some bitterness, I think I've just learned better ways to struggle. And, well, that's not such a bad thing. I spent a lot of time dreading getting older and finding new ways to tell myself I'm not a full adult somehow. But, I think I'm done with that now. I'm still scared as hell of the end of the road, don't get me wrong. But this part of life? It's taken me a while, but maybe it's not quite as scary as I imagined it would be. I watched this video a little while back, and this game turns out to be a great metaphor for childhood. I'm not sure if that was the intention or not, but damn does it work. I would encourage you to give it a watch. Comments are closed.
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