Howdy. I wish I had some insight on anything remotely interesting today but I don’t. Just some thoughts on personal stuff so, ya know, feel free to move along.
I think I may have finally had to accept that my body just doesn’t cooperate with me the way it once did. My shoulder is shot today after three softball games in the space of a few days. I used to throw my arm out when I was younger but it just didn’t bother me then the way it does now. I think that’s the secret of aging. It’s not that you didn’t get hurt at a younger age, just that you shook it off much easier. I could barely lift my arm yesterday after the game. The good news is, as I was lying in bed this morning, the muscle of my right shoulder began to spasm and shake which means it’s just muscle-related and not something deeper like, God forbid, a rotator cuff injury or something. So, I’ll be fine. At least physically.
But ya know, my heart hurts because I realized something else yesterday as well. My friends were kind of making fun of me for being a “deep thinker.” That is to say, I tend to talk about things with folks that dip beneath the surface. For example, when I meet new people, I like to figure out who they are, where they come from, how they approach life, what makes them laugh. I talk to them. People interest me. And the friends — and I know you guys mean it with love — giggle about this part of my personality. One seemed to suggest I might make a great call-in radio show host (at least I think that was the inference I was supposed to make). And while I know there was sweetness behind the ribbing I felt the need to apologize for not being shallow. Because more and more I’m starting to realize that living on the surface of life is what qualifies as fun. And my heart hurts because I finally had to accept that maybe that’s true. That maybe my natural tendency to go deep is kind of a drag. This is not an easy thing to accept. This is a lifetime of training and belief that there’s deeper meaning somewhere. And to have to acknowledge that having that outlook is, for lack of a better word, depressing is … man I don’t know. Depressing.
This is layered on top of another situation I found myself in yesterday where I really reached out to someone because I just needed to, because things have been unstable and they are beginning to even out and it’s like that thing where you hold your breath to get through the pain and once you know you’re out of the woods, you run home and relax and all the fear and insecurity and worry you’d been biting your lip through so you could survive just hits when you can finally let your guard down enough to let it. And so I reached in the midst of it…It’s strange because I figured that I had played sounding board so many times — often in ways that were terribly hard to overcome because sometimes reaching out is lashing out — for this person that I was safe asking for a return on that investment.
I suppose it’s just a truth of life that there are some who are comfortable with intensity and others who are comfortable only if the intensity comes from them. And I suppose I should be kind enough to recognize that, to some, other people’s intensity is not the spark of life. To some, it’s merely a burden that interferes with the fun stuff. Why go deep when there are fun things to be doing?
And so, tragic moment of self-awareness complete. Even people who care don’t really care if it gets in the way of the fun times to be had. The weird part is, I never wanted anything to get in the way. I just wanted to fit in somewhere. To add to, not subtract from. But I’m starting to discover if I want to fit in and get to have fun, I have to stop caring. That seems logically inconsistent to me. And it bothers me a bit.
But who cares? Lately, not even me.
Mack shows you how we play. Intense.