24 months
My last post was more than 24 months ago. It is not really that long. But everything has changed. 24 months ago, my whole life was ahead of me. Hopeful yet scared, San Francisco and residency were still a beautiful mystery to me. A decade in the Midwest were nearly behind me, and there are at least three more years of residency in front of me. Who knows where I will be and what I will doing after that? Who cares. I have long stopped counting the changing of seasons and the birthdays. Future is full of unknowns, but I believed that I had the time to figure it all out. Then there were other things in my personal life that I took for granted, which weren't perfect, but I believed that they will work out eventually.2 years later. The residency and the field that I have chosen is no longer a mystery. I love my job and believe that I have found my calling. But suddenly, I feel like I'm running out of time. For so long, time seemed to have no effect on my life. 10 years had passed, the world turned up-side down, but I seem to stand still, only changing my zip code once. Now suddenly, in a matter of a few months, the one person that I took granted in my life has slipped away. Just at the moment when everything that I have worked for since entering college has finally come together, I suddenly have a giant void in my life that I couldn't fill. What is this feeling? Anger? Regret? Self-pity? I feel powerless of course, but also fear. Suddenly, time is my enemy. Everywhere I look I see its devious plan. I can no longer see the 90 year man who had a massive stroke finally put on comfort care and feel relieved that his suffering is near the end. I'm watching his daughters spending every minute at his side, wiping away secretions, holding his hand and whispering in his ear. I'm watching his wife, who has dementia, visiting him and having a smile on her face. I'm watching three generations of family huddled in the room. I'm tearing up. All I can think about are my own parents and how short life can be. Am I fearful for my aging parents? Am I jealous of the man's family? Is it the lack of meaning in my own life? Score one for Erikson's generativity vs. stagnation crisis, I guess I just got "punked" by middle age.
Losing perhaps the love of one's life is causing me some grief. Looking at the famous 5 stages of grief, it's mostly depression right now with a few pathetic stabs at acceptance, "I should be happy for her," "I will find someone again." Writing things down appear to help somewhat. Although this may strike people as cold or awkward, the habit apparently runs in the family.
Rumblings from a middle age man
posted by hedgehog @ 2:48 AM
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