Growing up, I was not a very confident fellow. I didn't go out for any sports, spent a lot of time playing video games, and kept mostly to myself and my small circle of friends. After high school, college never came together for me and I focused on work. Dating Indi was the first time I'd felt like I really stepped out and took a risk, thus increasing my confidence. Throughout my marriage, I had an ebb and flow of confidence and self respect, culminating in our trip around the world. Once I got home, I felt like a new man. Sure of myself. My own man. When things fell apart in November, I had this creeping fear that I would revert to my old hermit self but have not been able to deal with those feelings. They've been buried underneath everything else that's happened.
Yesterday I completed the majority of my move into my new home. Among other things, I kept seeing Dad shuffle out the door the last time we spent time together. I was eager to get myself in new surroundings. What I failed to account for is the other side of that equation. Although I became sad when I was reminded of Dad's worn down gait as he returned to Pawhuska, it is also one of the last connections I had with him. I stood in a doorway in my new house and wept. It's not fair that the memories that cause me such anguish are also the memories I desperately don't want to lose. Good, bad, or indifferent; they are all I have left.
Which brings me to last night. As I talked about my emotional state and what my mental life has been like, I realized that I am at a point where I don't know what I want. Out of myself, out of my work, out of my friends, out of my family. I feel simultaneously angry and relieved that some people have distanced themselves from me. I'm standing on shifting sand; I don't want anyone to get too close or I'll instinctively grab onto them and drag them down with me...but I don't want to go down alone either.