Dear Change

Dear Change,

I’m having a really hard time and I’m not sure what to do with myself. I feel like I’m treading underwater. I’ve done so much of that already and still I come up with scraps as to what I need to do about it. The pieces are flimsy and disconnected and I feel aimless in all this uncertainty. As a result I’m thinking about the past a lot. What was, what could have been, ways I could have been better (so many ways god fucking damnit), another chance in the future. I ruminate about my ex-girlfriend and how she is probably doing much better without me, while I’m left feeling stuck. I want to share the rare slices of joy I find throughout my day, like how beautiful the Myrtle Tree outside my parent’s house looks around sunset time every day, the pink flowers full in their lucid bloom. She would have appreciate it from her head to her little toes, the way she always did with what was beautiful. But I can’t do that anymore. She was so good at finding the joy and beauty in things, and I was constantly aimed at the faults and explicating.

I’m tired and am floating around what looks like a solid rock bottom, that place she must have hit when my selfish, fearful self broke her heart again. The only apology worth having at this point is the one where I become less needy and dependent on others to resolve my personal issues. The one where I am a beacon of joy, inspiration, and light again. It’s terrifying how much shit keeps coming up though, how vampiric and hermetic I can become in my suffering, walking a path that can only be walked by me toward so many unknowns. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself as I tend to be, but man, it feels horrible to see more clearly all the ways I could have been a better partner and friend to others. So much of my identity has been predicated on being the lost and alone kid, the dreamer without any plans or commitments to actualize them. This shows up in what I’ve historically found to be the most meaningful part of connecting with others, that is, over a shared sense of lostness and loneliness. But once people grew and figured out what they wanted to do next, I began to feel abandoned. I began to fear that I would lose them once they saw how little I knew about who I was and what I wanted. What I didn’t see was that this didn’t matter to them. That they loved me just for being me. I was abandoning myself by not joining them, by failing to live out the harder questions that only I could answer.

I don’t know what to do other than to write about all of this. Glorified complaining, probably. But not much else comforts me right now, even music. I’m trying new things like salsa dancing, hanging with my parents, yoga and acroyoga, and rock climbing. But at the end of the night, I still feel a lack of direction and purpose in my life, a deep missingness. This is likely due to my lack of deep commitment to something bigger than myself, but the only thing that ever felt close to being right was my relationship, and even that I lost. I’m also losing what I tried to force meaning from, which is my academic career. Deep down I never really felt fulfilled by it, but it was much harder to change and face the questions I have ignored for the bulk of my adulthood than to stay and pretend like I cared the way my peers did. I did care for and am interested in science, but academia just isn’t for me. I could have made it work if I enjoyed the research and knew what the constant struggle was for, but I hadn’t answered that for myself yet. All the running and the ways I’d been depending on others to answer my midlife crises is no longer serving me. It never really has.

I do have my passions and interests like writing and playing outside and more recently music and songwriting, but I was never willing to accept the tradeoffs it took to build a life around them, given my amateur abilities and various desires. These activities nurtured my soul but I also wanted to be practical. I wanted to have money but I also hated the idea of just getting a job and compromising! I wanted to be special, and yet I wasn’t willing to grind it out and put in the work. I wanted to grow up without actually growing. This is changing though, slowly. I am putting behind the PhD, despite the small hint of disapproval, confusion, and disappointment by my parents. I’ve applied to jobs that employ many of the tangible skills I’ve learned over the years, some of which I actually enjoy more than I want to admit due to their lack of prestige. I have a fuzzy vision of what I want, which I don’t feel too afraid of pursuing anymore. I am still afraid of the future and committing to things, but the fear and pain of staying put greatly outweighs the discomfort of building a different life and lifestyle. Maybe I’ll throw a pup in the mix somewhere along the way.

I weeped in the car the other day on my way to yoga when I realized that I might be leaving Vermont. It was my first true home away from home. It was where I loved and fell hard in love for the first time. I learned how to slackline and play guitar there. I befriended my dear neighbor and her chickens. I helped build the largest brain study in the US. I don’t know where else I really want to go, but there isn’t much left there for me anymore. The one thing I deeply loved I destroyed. Part of me wants to stay and have the opportunity to make amends, but what might be best for us is if I stop trying to force an outcome. What would be best is if I thought more about the long-term consequences of my actions.

I was the shy and quiet kid in 1st grade who preferred the brick wall of the school building to the large field where everyone else was playing. It was a big day for me when I decided to get up and join them. The sprint out was full of joy and courage. My back is against the wall again. I am looking for the courage to allow and create more joy for myself and others. Perhaps it has been in and around me this whole time, and I am only now learning how to enjoy it more clearly. I still have my words and so much more that I have yet to see.

Sincerely,

Phil