Sunday, January 30, 2011

Wasting My Time On Wastful Thoughts

My son has pinkeye - again. My son has an ear infection - again. I am back on some kick ass strong antibiotic that could still give me hives that my doctor insists I take even though my feet are sometimes itchy, which makes me wonder if my lung abscess is a lot more serious than I thought, and then I scold myself because I sound like an old person obsessed with my health. And more importantly, I sort of now understand why old people are so obsessed with their health.

The upside or so I assume is that these kick ass strong antibiotics should clear up any pinkeye I might get from my son. And then today I see some goop forming in the corners of my eye.

Despite my experiences, I managed to remain humble yet optimistic about my family's health - particularly the health of me and my son who seemed to be hit the hardest these past few months. I didn't think we could possibly get sick again anytime soon, but the sickness never seems to end.

I thought I was being punished because I took my health for granted. Maybe I am being punished in part because I took my health for granted, but I am not taking my health for granted anymore and things still aren't getting better. What gives?

Where to begin? Maybe I have struggled with a looming sense of dissatisfaction that has resulted from my combination of high expectations coupled with low fearlessness. Throughout my life I have come to points where I wish I could travel back in time and do something differently. I would even imagine my alternative life in the present time based on my different action at some point in the past. I knew the exercise was pointless. I would tell myself to just move forward making different decisions, but fear would always consume me.

The past few months, I have been so consumed by fantasies of an alternative life, and part of me enjoyed the escape. I enjoyed it, and at the same time, felt sort of silly, knowing nothing good would come of fantasy, and felt somewhat tortured realizing this fantasy couldn't become a reality - or could it?

And then I feel guilty for not appreciating what I have. I have what I always wanted, a family. I thought once I had a family, I would have everything, and for a while I felt lucky, as if I did have everything so why do I now want more?

While I love my kids, my life consists of one mundane task after the other. I make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, change diapers, bath kids, and live in a small blue collar New England town. I remember the fantasies I had when I was younger, my dreams of visiting Australia, and maybe Europe, dreams I have yet to fulfill. Now I'm literally up to my elbows in sh!t, and I ask myself - is this the rest of my life?

I can't help but wonder if my bout with illnesses is somehow connected to my constant fantasies of an alternative life. Is God trying to get me to appreciate my life or maybe as that crude expression goes, "sh!t or get off the pot"? Should I decide if I am going to fearlessly pursue my dreams no matter what or just give up my dreams and lower my expectations? Is there something to be said about having low expectations?

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