It’s taken me a long time to realize the above statement, but if you stare at something long enough, the truth will reveal itself. I make this blanket statement not because of any isolated or recent incident, but after making some very sobering realizations about myself based on how the people in my life act around me.
First, I’d like to say that I am very envious of my wife, Heather. She has a clarity of vision about people that I do not possess. For the first five years of his life, I had no real connection to our son, Marc. It took her repeatedly telling me that underneath his fussy, hard-to-figure exterior there was a really special little boy for me to actually get it. Now, as my son is getting ready to turn eleven, I am amazed on a daily basis in regards to his wit, his joy, and his thoughtfulness. Marc is a blessing that I am proud to call my son. My wife and daughter are also great blessings. I see what special people they are and how important they are in my life and I wonder what the hell they, or anyone else, see in me.
I am surly. I am un-medicated bi-polar. I talk a lot of shit and do nothing. I have friends, but it isn’t like they call me all the time wanting to hang out. I’ll admit as we get older, each of has other obligations that take higher priority. That’s just life. Lately though, it seems as if it’s always me doing the calling, asking what they’re up to and if they want to do something. Basically, about the only time any of my current friends call me is to see what the current gaming situation is. Is one happening? When? Where? Etc., Etc..
I look past to friends from high school and college and I have contact with none of them. I recently reestablished contact with my best friend from grade school and junior high. As friends, we were tight. Then, due to things going on in our various lives, we drifted apart. As I got back in touch with him, I got the impression that he was glad to hear from me, but that he really didn’t want to try to regain what we had. That got me to thinking about all the other friends I’ve had over the years that I have drifted away from and I came to a realization. No one wonders about me enough to call. It’s as if I am poison that people run away from, or at least keep at arms distance.
As I reread what I have written, it comes off as one big puddle of self-pity. Perhaps it is, but does it really make what I am feeling right now any less valid? I have no idea…