Building a life is tricky work. This is made all the more difficult when you realize you don’t even know what that term means. If you define a life as a routine during which you form long-lasting relationships, interact with people outside the home, and grow, I don’t know that I have really had ‘a life’ since college. I was married for 14 years, most of which were spent under the haze of childrearing and commuting. I suppose that was a life of sorts, but not of any sort that meets the definition of what I think I am looking for now. I am told that this is supposed to be sad information. To live the last two decades without actually having a life or more than a handful of genuine friendships to show for it does seem a bit odd.
I have Facebook friends, some of whom read this blog. I have work friends. I think. There be daggers in several smiles. I don’t have a great deal of neighborhood friends. Once I tried to make a friend–a guy I thought was pretty cool, but I got divorced and suddenly I was the guy people thought was a bad guy or a quitter or just didn’t know how to deal with. I watched the sympathy card pop up for the ex and the majority of my female friends abandon me, replacing genuine warmth with toothy smiles and empty talk. Most of the husbands came around, but there is still a distance there–the space that builds when you know you aren’t going to be invited to any of the get togethers.
Beyond the one, I don’t have what you would call ‘daily friends’. I have a woman in my life who is like a sister to me and a man who, blood not withstanding, is my brother. These are not daily friends. They are family. One I try to see weekly and the other must realize by now I am allergic to phone calls.
What all of this adds up to is a lack of life. What I do on a daily basis is hang with my kids. I coach, I play video games (often alone and after they’ve gone to bed). I form bad habits, stay up too late, and get ready for the next day. It is a was of existing without actually moving forward. It should both terrify and depress me, but it doesn’t. I have never thought long term–not even sure I know how. Instead I live in the moment, mindful and joyful of where I am at.
It isn’t a life, actually. It is a collection of happy seconds strung together like a flip book of a good life. It is what I have and I want more. Trouble is figuring out how to do that and what it looks like.