When I turned 30 everything was cool. Nothing to it. Nothing changed and I didn't expect it to. It didn't. Then I got to 40 and it was like, "this ain't so bad. I think I can deal with it". Which I did and for the most part it was a good decade for me. But here's 50. This is where you start getting birthday cards with the time honored slogan "Over the Hill" emblazoned across the cover. So there's definitely a sense of the next ten years being one that's filled with hurdles and sacrifices. 20 year old men hold doors open for me in gestures of respect to one's elders.
I'm sure I've exaggerated somewhat. Likely I'll cruise through the next 3,653 days riding high on significant events that occurred in the last. I've regained contact with my daughter and have finally met my two grandchildren I didn't even know I had until October of 2007. It's going to be great to get to know them. For that matter it's going to be wonderful getting to know my daughter, as there were so many years between the time I last saw her in the late 80s. It's a strange, intriguing situation, but I love her dearly, never wanted to be apart, and look forward to the experience.
In the next ten years I will watch my son become a man. I'll see him attending college, knowing that he will succeed if for no other reason than that he was so successful with his high school academics. I'll be there when he graduates and will watch with interest as he embarks upon a career. Maybe a kid? I can hope. I don't think you can have too many grandchildren.Then there's my wife. Our relationship has never been stagnant. It is continually changing and, though I can't speak for her, I am of the opinion that it gets richer with each passing year. It will be interesting to see how our marriage evolves. She keeps me in line and her influence has been so beneficial to me that words cannot describe.
Fifty years is also, I think, a good time for a reckoning. A chance to look back and reflect. As Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living. I've tried to adhere to that maxim since first hearing it in a high school college prep English course. Now seems an especially proper time to meditate upon the life I've sustained for fifty years.
If I were on my death bed, would I be able to look back and say that I'd fulfilled my potential or would I go to heaven filled with regrets for what could have been? Aren't those loaded questions? It's never so cut and dry in the world, is it? You could fill a volume the size of "War and Peace" with all my regrets. But upon further reflection I find that there are valid excuses why they are regrets. Powers I had little or no control over prevented me from amassing achievements I would have hoped to accomplish.
It's a little harder to come to a conclusion as to whether I've fulfilled my potential. Those same powers that had a lot to do with my regrets have also kept me from being all I can be. Not as if I know but I don't doubt that there is a large majority of people who aren't and never will be, so I don't feel alone.So, with all that being said I'll try and sort out the best and the worst.
It should come as no surprise, at least to my Christian brethren, that the most significant moment in my life was when I accepted Jesus as all He said He was and embraced the forgiveness He offered. That was in 1977. There were a lot of times between then and now where you would certainly have had no idea I was Christian. Many and long were the times when I, myself, didn't acknowledge the fact. But I believe in eternal security, or "once-saved-always-saved" as detractors call it. The place I am right now has led me back to that day, to that experience, the point where my life in the flesh ended and I became born again in the Spirit. How do you get away from that? It's just too monumental. It's too important. At any rate, what I'm trying to say is that throughout the years I have investigated many, many spiritual paths and religions. If I had found one I thought had the answers I didn't get with Christianity I would have converted to them in a heartbeat. As a person who suffers from bipolar disorder I can't say how long it will be before I stray, lured by other expressions of spiritual truths I feel would serve me well. Yet I keep coming back to Christ, and I just know there's got to be a reason for that. I may never understand it, just as I'm sure I will not understand and comprehend the Bible in this lifetime. I still believe it's the word of God.
I can't really list the components of the next greatest thing in my life, because I don't think it would be right to say one is more important than the other. No surprise that I'm talking about my family. I never was much of a "family man". That's one of the regrets I spoke of earlier. Probably the result of my reaction to my parents divorce, but who knows, I don't think I was much of one before that. Most of the people in my own family are miles away. There's only one, of several, that I have kept up with, an aunt. She's recently moved even further down the road so I doubt I'll be in regular contact with her now.But it's different with my wife, kids and grandchildren. They really are the most important people in my life. I have already talked about them in this post, so I will move on.
The thing that has kept me back, held me down, wreaked havoc on my life is bipolar disorder. I realize that I'm a strong person for being able to deal with it a effectively as I do. Yet it is something serious and difficult to deal with. I never wanted, and certainly still don't want to be associated with it, meaning that you'll never see me at any "mental health awareness" rally. I wouldn't say that I'm 100% affected by whatever stigma I think still exists surrounding it. But I did grow up in a time where it was definitely held in a unique, condescending regard. And for every stride of progress I witness there seems to be just as much of the same old crap, meaning that if there's going to be change it's coming at an exceptionally slow, snail-like pace and I sure won't be around long enough to experience the benefits.
Bipolar disorder has destroyed relationships in my life. It's taken away my ability to fully appreciate so much of what life has to offer. It's made me a cynical bastard who has to keep it in check. It's placed me in situations, physically and mentally, that I would not wish upon my biggest enemy. You always hear about how people with bipolar disorder are so "creative", etc. I don't know about that. I do something creative and I might be happy with it for a few days but think it sucks big time for the next several years. So you kind of get the feeling that you're wasting your time and that deflates whatever motivation you might have to do it again.
Enough about bipolar disorder. Some accomplishments I have reason to be proud of.
As a young child I always wanted to play in a band. At first I insisted that it be a rock band but as time went on I figured music was music if you had an appreciative audience. I taught myself how to play the bass guitar and from that moment on I was able to live my dream...though I certainly wouldn't consider it "living a dream", because the "dream" had involved much more fame and fortune than I ever had a chance of amassing. Nevertheless, I eventually figured out that it's not right to "do it for the money". I can count on one hand the number of shows I've played in which I wasn't thrilled to be where I was, doing what I was doing. I loved playing music for people and I got to do that a bit during my last 50 years. Not nearly as often as I would have liked, but all things considered I think I did pretty well. Better than a lot of musicians have done.
...I was going to go into detail about something important but then thought better of it. What I will say is that I had a bad habit for over 15 years. It wasn't just a habit, it was an addiction. I bought into and was happy to be a part of it's subculture. Most of that time I had no intention of quitting. I knew that even if I did I probably couldn't, because I was every bit as enslaving to me as the bottle is to the alcoholic.
The legacy I'll leave behind is my children. I've come to the point where I realize that's more than enough. I write this blog in an attempt to share something about myself, primarily for when I'm gone. That's the core intent of the other blogs I maintain. When I'm long gone, they will know this about me. They can gather 'round the computer on father's day and pay me tribute by reading some of this stuff. I know that nothing lasts forever. Even this stuff will eventually succumb to change. But until it does, well, for all intents an purposes, I'm here. Just a fraction of me, but it's here.
How did I get there? I was ruminating upon my first 50 years, now I'm talking about grandchildren reading about me when I'm dead? I'm just trying to find a way to end this post. I knew I had a lot of ground to cover and I figured I wouldn't get nearly as much done as I hoped to. I was right. I thought I'd be able to do more, but hey, time to put an end to this reckoning and start the next half century. I've got the complete works of Charles Dickens on my Kindle Fire and a resolution to spend more time reading the greats and less on the computer.
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