It is a feeling I have had before. Many times, actually. Yet I can't quite put my finger on what it is or what is causing it. The feeling is something close to desperation mixed with a morose cloud that is overwhelming but still somewhat subtle. Constant and buzzing in the background. It starts in the pit of my stomach. Washes over me in waves that ebb and flow during the day. My head is clear but thoughts are jumbled. It is sad. It is maddening. It is depression.
Recently these feelings have been building. There have been things that I have let get under my skin that have caused me to really be down on myself. I have withdrawn from friends and family. This is something I am just now becoming conscious of. It is my way of giving the ones I care about a break from having to deal with me when I am in a mood like this. It is selfish and I honestly don't know why I keep doing it. I apologize.
The first time I remember being truly sad was when I was 6. My grandfather had passed away. At 6 it is hard to process the thought that someone was gone forever. That he would never swing me in the air again. I would never hear his voice again. At that age I didn't know I would completely forget what his voice sounded like. That I wouldn't be able to conjure up his face in my minds eye easily. All I knew was that he was gone and I felt out of control.
My Paw Paw had fought in WW II in the Marines. He was 15 when he joined. When he entered the service his mother was told he would be a cook. By the time he arrived in the South Pacific he was in a tank fighting the Japanese. Sometimes I look at my 15 year old nephew and think about what Paw Paw went through. I see in Mason's eyes a sense of determination and genuine caring. It makes me sad to think that war could have diminished that in my Paw Paw. That having to suspend caring for humanity so the folks back home would be safe at such an young age might echo throughout his life with ripples of regret.
But all of this is guessing. I never got to talk to him about any of it. In fact, I never got to know him at all. In many ways that makes me sad. It is true that I am prone to romanticizing things. In all actuality he would have probably never talked about it with me. And that is understandable. I'm truly thankful that I haven't had to know what horrors the world can sling. It is why I think our heroes in the service should always be honored.
A few years later my paternal grandfather passed away. He was a good man. Giving and caring. Because of my young age I never truly spent time with him. We would visit but I was busy playing in their yard. Picking apples. When he passed I felt numb. He had worked in the WV coal mines his whole life. His health suffered because of that. My dad is from a large family and was the youngest. Grandpa was 50 when my dad was born. When my father was born, being 50 was a big deal. A 50 year old coal man was someone very tired, worn down. So my dad and my grandpa had a unique relationship. But he loved us and we loved him.
Other family members passed while I was younger. My paternal grandmother passed as I headed into my teen years. She was stricken with Alzheimer's. Grandma had been a nurse (how my Grandpa and her met) and was very intelligent. She was also blunt. Watching my Grandma slowly slip away was nightmarish. Watching my father deal with it wasn't easy either. I never felt extremely close to her but I did love her. It has always been a regret of mine that I didn't take the time to get to know them like I could have. But then again I was young and in my mind time was plentiful.
My junior year of high school was probably one of the toughest years of my life. A good friend of mine committed suicide that year during Christmas break. In fact, it was New Years day. With no warning my friend ended his life. It is still a mystery to me as to why. Yet I still wonder if I could have prevented it. There is something inside me that always wonders if it was by accident. Couple this with normal High School crap and it was a rough year. Luckily I found a creative writing class that helped me through it.
My junior year was also the year I decided to join the wrestling team. I had never wrestled in my life but I thought it would be a good challenge. It was a challenge to say the least. The team was awesome and I met some really great guys. But I also made a few enemies which added to my anxiety. Being threatened to be put in a body bag just because someone didn't like me wasn't easy. I did however have a friend on the squad who would take up for me. Bobby was good guy. He helped at time in my life I was most down and I am sure he just did it because it was the right thing to do. I never got to thank him.
I guess I could go on but I wont. In truth I'm not sure why I writing all of this. Maybe to try to explain to others. Maybe so I can get it out of my head. Sometimes things build up inside of me. Sometimes I can't see the sun because of the fog of thought. Sometimes I am just sad. If life is a series of events, if life is memories, then why does my mind conjure these up instead of happier times? Is it in my genome? Is it just who I am?
Funk that. It is time to choose joy. So these words are the last of it. I am not going to let what I have done or haven't done define me any longer. Things that happened around me...happened. And they don't need to keep happening inside of my head anymore. If I have upset you over the years or recently, I am sorry and that is the last time I am saying it. But I am tired of whipping myself for things that I can't undo. This post has turned into a letter to myself. Something to come back to and leave all the BS that has kept me down. Starting today, I am Sean and that is good enough.
Recently these feelings have been building. There have been things that I have let get under my skin that have caused me to really be down on myself. I have withdrawn from friends and family. This is something I am just now becoming conscious of. It is my way of giving the ones I care about a break from having to deal with me when I am in a mood like this. It is selfish and I honestly don't know why I keep doing it. I apologize.
The first time I remember being truly sad was when I was 6. My grandfather had passed away. At 6 it is hard to process the thought that someone was gone forever. That he would never swing me in the air again. I would never hear his voice again. At that age I didn't know I would completely forget what his voice sounded like. That I wouldn't be able to conjure up his face in my minds eye easily. All I knew was that he was gone and I felt out of control.
My Paw Paw had fought in WW II in the Marines. He was 15 when he joined. When he entered the service his mother was told he would be a cook. By the time he arrived in the South Pacific he was in a tank fighting the Japanese. Sometimes I look at my 15 year old nephew and think about what Paw Paw went through. I see in Mason's eyes a sense of determination and genuine caring. It makes me sad to think that war could have diminished that in my Paw Paw. That having to suspend caring for humanity so the folks back home would be safe at such an young age might echo throughout his life with ripples of regret.
But all of this is guessing. I never got to talk to him about any of it. In fact, I never got to know him at all. In many ways that makes me sad. It is true that I am prone to romanticizing things. In all actuality he would have probably never talked about it with me. And that is understandable. I'm truly thankful that I haven't had to know what horrors the world can sling. It is why I think our heroes in the service should always be honored.
A few years later my paternal grandfather passed away. He was a good man. Giving and caring. Because of my young age I never truly spent time with him. We would visit but I was busy playing in their yard. Picking apples. When he passed I felt numb. He had worked in the WV coal mines his whole life. His health suffered because of that. My dad is from a large family and was the youngest. Grandpa was 50 when my dad was born. When my father was born, being 50 was a big deal. A 50 year old coal man was someone very tired, worn down. So my dad and my grandpa had a unique relationship. But he loved us and we loved him.
Other family members passed while I was younger. My paternal grandmother passed as I headed into my teen years. She was stricken with Alzheimer's. Grandma had been a nurse (how my Grandpa and her met) and was very intelligent. She was also blunt. Watching my Grandma slowly slip away was nightmarish. Watching my father deal with it wasn't easy either. I never felt extremely close to her but I did love her. It has always been a regret of mine that I didn't take the time to get to know them like I could have. But then again I was young and in my mind time was plentiful.
My junior year of high school was probably one of the toughest years of my life. A good friend of mine committed suicide that year during Christmas break. In fact, it was New Years day. With no warning my friend ended his life. It is still a mystery to me as to why. Yet I still wonder if I could have prevented it. There is something inside me that always wonders if it was by accident. Couple this with normal High School crap and it was a rough year. Luckily I found a creative writing class that helped me through it.
My junior year was also the year I decided to join the wrestling team. I had never wrestled in my life but I thought it would be a good challenge. It was a challenge to say the least. The team was awesome and I met some really great guys. But I also made a few enemies which added to my anxiety. Being threatened to be put in a body bag just because someone didn't like me wasn't easy. I did however have a friend on the squad who would take up for me. Bobby was good guy. He helped at time in my life I was most down and I am sure he just did it because it was the right thing to do. I never got to thank him.
I guess I could go on but I wont. In truth I'm not sure why I writing all of this. Maybe to try to explain to others. Maybe so I can get it out of my head. Sometimes things build up inside of me. Sometimes I can't see the sun because of the fog of thought. Sometimes I am just sad. If life is a series of events, if life is memories, then why does my mind conjure these up instead of happier times? Is it in my genome? Is it just who I am?
Funk that. It is time to choose joy. So these words are the last of it. I am not going to let what I have done or haven't done define me any longer. Things that happened around me...happened. And they don't need to keep happening inside of my head anymore. If I have upset you over the years or recently, I am sorry and that is the last time I am saying it. But I am tired of whipping myself for things that I can't undo. This post has turned into a letter to myself. Something to come back to and leave all the BS that has kept me down. Starting today, I am Sean and that is good enough.
Good post. I knew you had taken a creative writing class- you are a good writer. I feel like everyone thinks what If and if they could have done something to change sad outcomes. And everyone wishes they could have gotten to know their grand parents better. You are more than enough to many people. You are a good egg. I like the positive ending
ReplyDeleteThanks Heather! You're a good egg too and I'm truly thankful we are friends :)
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