License to Stew
The idea for this blog, my 4th, was born of a running inside joke that dates back over a decade. In truth, it has mostly to do with a dysfunctional and self destructive habit I perpetuate daily. My wife and I joke about it to lend levity to what is actually a character flaw.
I am an early riser - the only in my family. This affords me hours alone before the world around me lurches into its regularly scheduled chaos. Inevitably, in my solitude, something bubbles beneath and rises to the surface where I agonize and wring my hands over it, sparking so much angst, adrenaline and pit sweat. The latter is dealt with by stuffing paper towels under my arms - the former requires a tug of war. For better or worse, the daily dilemma is focused - a singular subject rather than a firehose of stressors. Often it’s some nagging work drama, but lately the feed has been personal concerns - fading friendships, parenting failures, marriage curves, financial worry, identity crises, etc. Consistently these embers are not deeply dire, but that doesn’t stop me from dousing them with gasoline then standing way too close to the fire. In fact, on the surface these matters could be externally perceived as utterly insignificant, borderline petty.
Already, before this gathers a breath of steam, I’m experiencing waves of cognitive dissonance over the broader theme. It feels vaguely fucked to open with a caveat but I should highlight that a lot of what’s to come - rants and diatribes of the midlife crisis flavor - will be genuine but not blind to the larger crises plaguing our world right now. In the frightful fog of our current culture marked with racial injustice, economic depression and the destructive ripples of a global pandemic; self-awareness and perspective are critical and will be a constant undercurrent here.
All of that said, who can deny that smaller stuff still deserves some sweat, regardless of the big picture? I still have baggage that needs to be sorted, demons that need to be exorcised. I wish like hell that daunting, historical crises would erase those or at least suppress them.
I look forward to the day I can delete this post and fret with abandon. Maybe the world comes out of this stronger…or I unlock the labyrinth I’ve become.
In the meantime, I stew.