The Sudden Quiet

It's interesting that the subject of aging has come up a bit lately... or at least I've noticed it more... that and noticing others' birthdays a bit more. It just so happens that I'm quickly approaching my 3?- 29th 24th 19th eternally youthful birthday. Or I should say, it's approaching me. I'm personally not going anywhere near that sucker. I live in the nice little town of Denial, Canada, thank-you-very-much.

It's funny I should feel this way, as I'm not doing anything to offset my age or the signs of my age. No extra time on grooming (dare say I could use it) or researching surgical procedures or even stocking up on anti-aging potions. I'm all about just not thinking about it. (I think I've recently mentioned my thoughts on lookism.) But I'm still human... I still want to not get old or oog-lay. You know what I mean: conflicted, complicated, annoying.

And I'm not even going out to get extra body/facial piercings or tattoos as an attempt to hold on to my reckless youth. I've already done all that when I turned 30 almost 30 an important benchmark in my chronological journey. Instead, I let my immature behavior lend me that quality of youthfulness that I'm looking for. I've been told I don't look or act my age, so that must be my secret of youth. Except I told you. So it's not a secret. Whoops. Anyways.

That leads me to where I am today... all this time passing, finding myself here in the now-where-I-am. It's a strange, tiring place; a place full of worries and regrets, disappointments and fear; wanting things to be perfect and giving up on dreams. I'm in my own sort of stillness right now, watching the life flow and eb around me, and not really finding a way to break into the rushing stream. I dip a toe in now and then, for the sake of my son because I don't want him to grow up to feel as out of place, disconnected, cut off as I feel.

Looking ahead to see the many many years of my life left is... daunting. Thinking about death fills me with fear, because I'm not ready to go there yet. I know nothing exists on the other side (I am a realist, after all), but the plodding years ahead of me laying out the same path over and over and over -- each day essentially the same, nothing to look forward to, no big benchmarks to mark the time. Well, it's daunting.

When did this start? Good question. I believe, after much shriveled-soul searching, that it was when I made a tiny little mistake in '02. An innocent decision and action which had consequences far beyond that which I could imagine or comprehend. That mistake which has grown in size and significance over the years, rebounding back at me again and again with greater force, battering me to the ground. And each time when it briefly recedes and I get up again in the naive hope that it's all done with me, it waits, silently taunting me in my respite until it's ready to dig it's claws in again and rip me to pieces.

I've lost my soul to it. I've lost my dreams and my hope.

I long to be inspired and inspirational, especially here in this community of people whom I've found, to my surprise, that I enjoy and who appear to reciprocate... at least y'all are coming back to visit (and that's something).

I yearn to have those sudden unexpected moments of pure joy that many many years used to spring on me from just outside of my periphery. I remember softly holding those moments, knowing if I clutch at them they would drift into mist and fly away. And I knew, I always knew, that they would come back and find me, waiting, hopeful. There were several years of hard-won independence and fulfillment that I look back on smile, knowing that that at least was good in my life.

But even those moments had their price. A price thankfully I had paid up well ahead of time on account. The years I spent crawling away from the soul-beaters and heart-breakers was worth the time I had in joy and happiness, setting my future and following my dreams; even creating new dreams. The times I had and the people I met during my time of joy are still with me. I communicate with them from afar -- afar, where it seems like I'll always be. Every moment spent with them brings me the faintest recollection of a faded glimpse of joy. And I admit, I hold myself back from even them, so as not to taint them with the bitterness that now infuses me.

Why do I write this? Sitting here, listening to the sounds of my son getting lost in another Disney classic, tears streaming down my face as I think of all that couldbeshouldbemightme... and I'm terrified for him, for me. I want more for him. I know I still get lost at times, trying to dig my way out, just afraid of getting more lost. And for my son's sake, I just need to be found, find some little bits of joy and happiness for him. I want him to have dreams as I once had, and to follow them to the ends of the earth as I once did. I want to create a sanctuary full of laughter and contentment to feed his heart and soul, not the soul-sucking heart-diminishing childhood I had.

I wish I could be more inspired and inspirational for him, creating some kind of wonderful map full of surprises and peace, leading him to create the life everyone should have a chance at. Not the one I've wasted, and in which I now sit, paralyzed, fearful, disillusioned.