I’ve spent a lot of time over the past twenty years trying to prepare myself to be an accomplished adult. Searching for that emotional and pivotal moment that quenches that need and pacifies me with the feeling of satisfaction. If I get one more degree or credential….If I chair one more event or organization…If I get my kids involved in one more sport….This motto even transfers into our vacations….If I can see one more landmark or ride one more ride…All of these attempts to achieve are worthy and good and are a part of our inherit right as Americans and we are blessed with the opportunity to have the freedom to pursue it.
But when is enough, enough?
I’ve been so busy with trying to stay busy that I have ignored the things that truly matter most…to find my joy in the people that I am with rather than the event I am pursuing is something that I never realized I wasn’t doing until I was forced to reflect upon it last night. Last night was a rough one for me, something that I am not typically accustomed to admitting to myself, let alone anyone else. And if I’m going to have a very “transparent” blog (love that word) –especially about my life–then I need to include the bad with the good.
A very dear friend (lets call him my best friend) has been battling illness for a very long time. He has been in and out of some of the most prestigious hospitals in the country and seen by some of the best specialists in their fields and this has been going on for a VERY long time. Doctor after doctor would assign a condition, inevitably some prescription would follow, and then a requested follow up with more testing would ensue to only adjust and add to the lengthening list of prescriptions. Nothing was ever narrowed down, not one of the doctors listened to his complaints and as specialists argued back and forth about his conditions, he inevitably got worse and worse. And yet he cried out for people to listen. My excuse was always, I’m too busy or I’ll just send him a quick text to sort of check in without having to emotionally “check in”. We all did our part to arrange and rearrange our schedules to take him to doctor appointments in neighboring cities, we came over to hang out, but did we ever truly listen? I mean, from the outside looking in, I and many around me, diagnosed him with depression. He looked like a very physically capable and healthy adult. How could someone who looked so healthy be so sick. Somehow, by thinking he was just sad about the aging process (and everything that goes along with that) I chose to ignore the person that I had known him to be–happy, vibrant, full of life–and replaced him with a stigma that characterized him as weak, dead in spirit, defeated…His voice was lost with the doctors, but what’s worse is he had lost his voice with his close family and friends.
I am at a fork in the road with this post, which is why I think the next step is to step away from it for the moment, give myself some time to organize my thoughts and possibly expand this post into the next couple of weeks to kind of explore both directions this feels like it should go…first, when is enough, enough? Secondly, the process of accepting reality and learning how to say good-bye. These are heavy posts and I’m not sure if I have the fortitude to stick to it until the end, but I hope–with’s God’s guidance–I can work through this to offer others comfort (or just additional perspective) should they be going through something like this as well.