75 Days

I am retiring, and this is my countdown of the days.

75 days until it is official. Although I am already partially retired, for all intents and purposes. I’m taking  2 days of vacation each week, when not taking an entire week off to travel, trying to use the primo flight benefits I get as an active employee of Delta Air Lines, before I get downgraded in status.

It sounds great, but it’s a burden too. It’s like I have to go on trips whether I want to or not. First world problem? Of course. It’s still a problem. I’m grateful for this problem.

But my number one goal in retirement is happiness. Should be easy now that I’m finally getting everything I ever asked for, but it can actually be depressing to realize that the job you always blamed isn’t the only thing standing in your way.

It’s not easy, because I don’t know what makes me happy.

That’s ok, I expected that. I would have time to work on it, to reflect, figure out who I am, who I was before I went into this oblivion. But these vacations don’t help. They break me of my routines more than work ever did. My wife might disagree, but travel doesn’t make you happy. Money doesn’t make you happy either. You just need enough, which we have, unless we spend it all, and the possibility of that does stress me out, in that I never feel like I’m the one in control.

But we have enough, I just want more than enough.

I am going to be 60 this year, and I have been feeling old. But Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida when she was 64, and Mike Tyson will be close to 58 when he fights a guy 30 years his junior next month. We’ll have to see whether that turns out to have been a good idea. But, I don’t think 60 is too late, as long as you believe in yourself. Remember what Tug Mcgraw said, back in 1973 when baseball wasn’t dead to me yet, “ya gotta believe.”

You don’t decide beforehand what you couldn’t possibly know and just quit. It’s an experiment.  

If I don’t have the energy, have writer’s block, trouble getting started, trouble handling many goals at once, a crisis of confidence over whether I will ever finish what I start, so what? I’ve always been like that, since elementary school. That’s maybe why I need more time to get it done. Anything I have ever produced, any talent I have ever demonstrated, has always been in spite of these things.  I get discouraged, yes, and I have often quit, but I know enough to have faith that these feelings of futility are not based in reality.

I may quit drumming, maybe even give up the idea of learning languages. But I should never stop writing. Because that is how I make sense of everything else. It is how I plan. It is how I know what to do. I want to write more than anything else. The more I write, the more I’ll know what else makes me happy.

I’m trying to wake up my mind so I don’t have to depend on other people to wake it up. I want to be able to find interest in everything.

And the fact that I know I am depressed, the fact that I am pushing back against things that feel like obligations, the fact that I don’t want to settle, that I complain, they may seem negative, but that is the right path. It’s like I told my 1^st grade softballers when I was catching them behind the plate (and I believe it helped them), “never give up!”  

I think I can get there.

Retirement is not it, not by itself. I’ve always known in my heart, that it wasn’t actually the job. If the job allowed me to have the things that made me happy, then I would have liked the job. If I liked who I was, then I would have liked the job.

The fact is, I wanted to pursue happiness, but I needed to figure out how, and a job got in my way. Was it possible for me to have done both? Obviously not.

A friend of mine cautions me. He thinks that if I make myself do it, it will start feeling like a job and I won’t do it, but he doesn’t understand that I am not scared of working. I force myself to write all of the time. I am forcing myself to write right now. It is only when I am writing that I like who I am. I like what I discover about myself. I like how prepared I am to speak about things that I care about. I like working towards things that are meaningful to me.

It is work. I value the time to do that work more than almost anything that money could buy.

Here’s to the new job.

The Future of Israel

Israel has really gone off the deep end.  Netanyahu needs to be stopped, and anyone who supports him needs to be stopped, for the sake of the Jews. It is one thing to let a country make it’s own defense decisions, that’s a practical matter, not a matter just of morals or principles, because unless you’re willing to go to war yourself against a country, it is something you don’t have the authority or power to do anything about, but they need to be on their own for this.

We cannot be giving them money and weapons so that they can wage mass murder. I’ve resisted the term genocide because the Palestinian people aren’t genetically that different from other Arabs. But I’m getting closer to understanding how the term might apply, because It really does seem to be Netanyahu’s goal to kill so many Palestinians, so many Arabs in Gaza, that Gaza ceases to exist and the areas will be so depopulated that it will be ripe for a re-population. Is his plan to repopulate it with Jews? Will they someday admit they were wrong, only after a generation is born there? Is that his plan?

The U.S could never realistically be expected to give this land back to the Native Americans, because the ones who stole it and the ones it was stolen from are all gone and those of us who are here now have nowhere else to go. Where would I go? I was born here. And I was born here because my ancestors were driven out of other countries. I believe, in general, that the practical approach is to move forward from here, and to act, today, in a way so that no one has to apologize 30, 50, 100 years from now for something we did today. Many years from now it will be a different generation living in GAZA. It seems to me that Netanyahu is setting the stage for it to be a generation of Jews, Jews who were born there, who had no responsibility for what is happening today. Maybe they will even be better people, and maybe they will normalize relations with other countries in the region, and we will have no choice but to move on from there. Is this his plan, an extreme example of the mantra, “better to ask forgiveness than permission?”

Hamas also deserves to take responsibility for this, because this was all a part of their plan. Netanyahu is doing exactly what they expected and wanted, exactly what was spelled out in their documents. They sacrificed their people to turn the world against Israel and it is working. But that does not absolve Netanyahu and anyone who supports him of the responsibility for mass murder, for using snipers to shoot anything that moves, including children, after feigning a withdrawal from an area, for starving people to death, for herding them into one area after another and then attacking that area as well.  It is looking more and more like he is just trying to kill as many people as possible. He is a fucking madman. 

Now, Biden says, “A lot of innocent people are starving. A lot innocent people in trouble and dying. And it’s got to stop,”

I like what Biden says, but Biden needs to leave Israel to fight this on it’s own. He needs to stop funding the war, needs to stop sending them any arms. If they are going to disregard what we say and do their own thing, then they should do it without our help. We are enabling and supporting what they do, and we shouldn’t.

This war is the biggest threat to Biden’s re-election, and if Trump were to become President again that would be the absolute worst thing. I understand that Biden is between a rock and a hard place here. There are hard supporters of Israel and Palestine among his base, and no matter what he does, he’ll probably lose votes, but if you’re going to lose votes either way, then do the right thing! Do the right thing all the time, regardless of votes. At the very least, we should not be helping. And then, we should think about what kind of power or influence we can realistically muster to stop Netanyahu, and his supporters.

We should be allying ourselves with the Israelis protesting Netanyahu in the streets. We should be acting in the interests of Jews everywhere, to protect them from Netanyahu who is only adding to the anti-semitism that already exists by giving people a reason to hate Jews. If we want to stand for Jews, we need to stand against the Israeli government right now, and we have to withdraw any kind of support for this military exercise.

188 Days

I am planning on retiring, and this is my diary to countdown the days.

(About) 188 days until.

(I changed the date to accommodate a request to spread out my vacation while working part time.  My new exit date is to be Friday, June 28^th, at the absolute latest – just in case anyone was doing the math).

Now:

A great poet, Louise Gluck, who I had never heard of until she died (recently), said this: “whoever returns from oblivion, returns to find a voice.”

That may be the tagline on this blog once I retire. Because I feel like I will be returning from oblivion. In a literal sense, what Louise Gluck meant (I think) was that we return when we are born. This suggests that it was always my calling, and everyone else’s, to find a voice, and I think it is. But also, in this lifetime, I at some point, entered oblivion, where I denied myself, one might say.

I feel like I’ve been away too long. 

A strange thing has been happening in these final days at work. I have found myself to be angry. I get angry at my bosses for not listening to my advice. I get angry because I think someone isn’t pulling his weight. I get angry because no one will fight for resources I tell them that “we” need, or they care too much about the things that don’t matter, when we don’t have the time to do them.

I ask myself, why? I think it is, in part, because I gave my notice a year and a half in advance in order to help them prepare and to ease the transition. I want to leave my team in a good place, prepared to move on without my institutional knowledge. I feel, in some ways, that I have stayed for that, and if they aren’t going to make sure it happens, or take my advice, then why don’t I just leave now? I say this, even though staying longer means more money, and I want that. I don’t have so much that it doesn’t matter. Yet I feel like we made a deal, and that deal took retiring last year off the table, if I were to find myself in a position to do so, which I didn’t. So it wasn’t the sacrifice I thought it could have been. And my team has taken a lot off of my plate and learned a lot from me this past year. They’ve got this.

Mostly I’ve been keeping this anger inside, or vented only in safe places, but I came back from a long weekend trip recently, came in on the redeye Sunday night, went to work the next day with little sleep so that I could attend a 4PM meeting someone wanted me at, and in that meeting it came out. I’ve been telling myself that I need to be direct, and it felt good at the moment, truthfully. I found a voice. I directed my anger at a particular person’s idea that I thought was asinine, and the stupidest thing I ever heard, at least that’s what I said. I stand by the words, for the most part, except maybe stupidest.  But I regret losing my temper. Others must wonder, as I do, why the hell I care so much, when I’m not even going to be there.

I’m looking out for my team yes. I’m only standing up for things that I think those below me agree with. But I also think I might be angry, as my oblivion comes to an end, so to speak, that I spent this long in it.

It’s a general anger, which manifests not just at work. I am angry at anything that I perceive was or can still be a roadblock in my attempts to follow a new, or old path. Why didn’t I do this earlier, I ask? What stopped me? Not that it was anyone’s fault. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think so.

Also, I am excited for what is to come. It is near, and so maybe I can afford myself a degree of impatience that I was not able to entertain when I was 10 or 20 years away. Maybe that’s why the anger comes out more easily. I couldn’t handle those thoughts when freedom was inconceivable. Now I can.

But I don’t want to waste energy lamenting what could have been and which I cannot change. I’d rather be grateful. Grateful that I lived long enough to get here. It might not have made sense to wait until 60, or so, to live one’s authentic life, because many don’t ever get to that age. But now that I’m almost there, I should be able to cherish everything that got me here regardless of what I should have done. Some people live to 100 and never get the opportunities I’m about to have. Sure I could have done some things differently, but as Angel Colon once told Joey Herman, my old 9^th grade buddies, when Joey said he used to be able to ride a skateboard, “used to doesn’t count anymore.”

So, I plan to find a voice. What does that mean?  I think it means that we are here to find ourselves. When we are true to who we are, we are speaking. Others should listen. We should listen to others. It is all part of finding our own voices, individually, and as a people. But, the voice that you perceive is the outward manifestation of the inner self. Being is speaking. Freedom of speech is the right to be who you are, and we speak, primarily, for ourselves.

270 days

I am planning on retiring. And this is my diary to countdown the days.

270 days until.

Sometimes I think I need to know myself better. That might be my number one retirement goal.

It’s my best man’s birthday today. Best man, best friend, call him what you will. In college, and for years after, we were two peas in a pod, a dynamic duo. Who was whose sidekick depended on who you talked to, but mostly I felt like it was me. Today, we do not stay in touch as much, and I have many friends who I see more regularly. But back in the day, I didn’t really have as many. He’s not my oldest friend. I used to describe him as a newer friend, because we were older when we met. We were in college. I was 17 years old!

Those years were formative. We were headed somewhere, his a straighter path than mine, cause he knew what he wanted.  My path was navigated with less certainty, I changed course a few times, lost, until I was trapped somewhere. Maybe that’s why I felt like the sidekick.

But soon, I will no longer be trapped. I will be free to take another turn.

When my wife told her Aunt Linda that I was retiring Linda said, “Andy has wanted to retire as long as I’ve known him,” and that’s a long time.

I always had dreams, but I went with the flow. One might could say that I was not assertive. I do know that I want to reflect back on that, on what got me here, how those formative years, in college, before that, after that, played into where I am today. I want to understand. I want to know who I was, wanted to be, became, and still can be. I might pick up where I once left off.

The formative years don’t have to be over, maybe they never are. But to move forward I feel like I need to connect to earlier days.

What else?

Sometimes I think that my number one goal in retirement should be to learn how to relax. Find stillness. Think before you eat. Stop and smell the roses. Say “no” more often. I need to pay attention to those shoulders, and the toes, yes the toes, from a poem I once wrote about toes – also about working, unfulfilled potential, the past, depression, shit like that.

I found it:

It’s my winter now
Cold so long my toes feel numb
My head swims in blood thick
And my bones have frozen
I keep thinking about my toes
And then I dream
About friends who don’t remember me
And wake to work done at a desk
My thick blooded head
And stiff neck and shoulders
Move in shudders only and yawns
And I can’t get warm

While I’m on the topic, I wrote another poem about working (or not). 

It’s 7AM.
Time to start the routine
The same routine every day

I take a shower
Shave
Brush my teeth

Put work clothes on
And torment myself
Over whether to eat breakfast

But I don’t want to talk about work
I get up at 5 or 6
I stretch or write

Who do I blame?
That’s what I want to know
That’s what I write about

Lately I’ve been having breakfast
And drinking coffee
And liking it

But I’m behind
Always behind
In my tasks

Maybe when I retire
I’ll keep a blog
And ride a bicycle

I wrote that before I got back on my bicycle. I rode 300 miles last month.

What else?

Sometimes I think my number one goal in retirement should be to make life simple.

I need my life to be simpler. I even want travel to be simple. That’s what we call it in retirement. It’s not vacation anymore, it’s just travel. Travel, can be complicated. Isn’t the best reason for traveling, to get away from complication? Don’t you need a break? Travel takes so much planning and includes so many activities. And so much eating. Too much eating.  

Maybe the people who go to the beach, and do nothing, have the right idea. We need to relax. Someplace we can read, be comfortable. A nice screened in porch on the beach would be nice, hot, but in the shade, with a breeze. I could write a blog there.

But then again, I can find a comfortable place to write that doesn’t cost as much.

What else?

I was thinking I might quit drumming. I first started playing the drums in 2nd grade. I was the youngest in history (as far as I know) to get into the elementary school band at PS 33 with Mr. Scott. By the time I graduated from Music and Art high school, I didn’t think it would be enough. I’ll have time to get good, for the first time, maybe ever. But do I want it? Do I have something to prove? Does that matter? Would I really care if I left that part of me behind? It’s hard to give up, but once a drummer, always a drummer, amirite? Playing music can be frustrating. It takes a lot of practice. That’s why musicians can be so moody (if you know any). Of course, when music clicks, it is so seductive. But it’s time-consuming while you wait for the Nirvana.

Nirvana. That’s it. Enlightenment. That’s what I’m looking for.

Sexism

Are men who have certain character traits that are more generally attributed to women, whether they are gender non-binary or not, held back by these traits in a way that is similar to the way that women are held back in environments that reek of misogyny?

If so, does this mean that it is not, per se, a discrimination or bias against someone because of their female body parts, but instead a lack of inclusion by men who think alike towards those who think differently.

In modern day offices, like the one I work in, diversity and inclusion are not just about race and gender, but it is also emphasized that different people approach things differently, and if you understand and embrace these different strengths, your team will be stronger overall. They will fill gaps.

But in an environment in which this is not actively taught, and one that is dominated by men, among whom there are certain common ways of thinking, those who think differently may not be seen, whether they have a vagina or not. To a woman, it may look like she is not being respected, or trusted, or valued because of her gender. But to a man who thinks that way, what’s the reason?

Is it really sexism, or is it a more generalized exclusiveness that tends to affect women more (so, still discriminatory), but with regards to specific people could benefit a woman who thinks more like the men, and be detrimental to a man who thinks more like the women.

I have often thought that organizations and authors that teach and support women give good advice that I also could use. And I wondered why it couldn’t be written for everyone.

But maybe I like the advice because I am not your typical man. Maybe I think more like women.

I am not the man women learn about men from because I am not the man who approaches women, who exudes confidence, who takes charge.

I am also, for the same reasons, not the man that men see.  I am in the background. I am the nice guy. The nice guy that women want to stand up for them, but who doesn’t even stand up for himself most of the time.

 

330 days

I am planning on retiring. And this is my diary to countdown the days.

330 days until.

I can’t wait to be a writer. I have taken time off to be one at various times in my life and at those times, I thought this was my crack at it, my only crack, and by the time it was over, I had to be making money, or would have failed, which of course I did. What I learned from these experiments, though, was that you could not be a successful writer by taking off six months, or even a year, with the hopes that you would strike it rich, so that you could continue. Instead, you had to find a sustainable way to keep going. And I never did.

Now, for the first time in my life, I won’t need to earn money. I will have the opportunity to be a writer into perpetuity. This is the way (a nod to Star Wars day, for those of you who understand it – May the 4^th be with you). It takes time to grow and develop, and I am looking forward to it. 

What will I write, you ask? Anything. Everything. Nothing (or a story about nothing). I will figure that out. It doesn’t matter, because it is a way of life. It is not a career; it is a practice. It is a spiritual journey. It is about becoming. It is about being. It will define itself. And I won’t sit here today, so many days out, and make promises. I won’t even promise that you will ever get to read anything (although if you asked me, I could give you something to read today.  You’re reading this). I do have ideas. But ultimately the writing will take me where it wants to go.

331 days

I am planning on retiring. And this is my diary to countdown the days.

331 days until.

I’ve been an accountant for a long time.

It was never my intention to be an accountant long term. I needed to know myself better. And for that I needed space, and independence. I figured I had to buy my freedom. So, I got a job. Figured I would make me some money while I matured. And then I would do what I really wanted.

It was my fault I never did what I wanted. Word to the wise: You are the one that lives with the consequences of your decision, ergo, it is your responsibility to take charge, ergo if you don’t, it’s your fault. Others may fight you, but it’s on you to express yourself, to push your personal agendas and dreams. You shouldn’t blame anyone else, but if you must, then do it to take control, not in defeat and resignation and as an excuse..

On that note, I’m tired of pretending that I am someone I am not for the benefit of others. My employer actually says to the millennials, and the younger than millennials (whatever that is), that they should bring their authentic self to work. They mean come out of the closet, be open about who you are, and what you need and want. They mean be happy, and they believe, then, you’ll work harder (it’s a win-win). But being authentic isn’t just about such obvious things. I have coworkers who are best friends outside of work. For them, work must be like hanging out with the people you feel most comfortable with. I’m not and never have been “most comfortable” with anyone at work or anywhere. So, I pretend. I wear a face. It’s not that I dislike the people I work with. I’ve experienced that, and I didn’t stay at those jobs, but I still put on a face at work, and even, to a lesser extent, at home.

It’s no one else’s place to tell me who I am. Not that it’s their fault. 

Ironically, I’ve often said, that I should have been an actor because I love pretending to be someone else. But that’s not as contradictory as it seems, BECAUSE fiction = truth, ya hear me? Amirite? Maybe I pretend I’m acting so I can be true, without fear of judgement.

So, I’m looking forward to finally finding myself. It will be different than if found it young. I won’t be an actor, or write for Star Trek. I won’t have to find the right career, and that’s good and bad, good because I won’t have to make the money. Bad because I won’t be driven by the necessity. And am I too old? Let’s be honest, I don’t know. I don’t know what I could have been, probably can’t be whatever that was now. But I’m not set in my ways. I’m only set in the ways that I always wanted to live, but never did. I still want that. It may look to people like I am reinventing myself, changing. But this will be (I hope) who I always was. And yet I feel like I will have to reject what everyone knows of me and start relationships over. It may be shocking, but I like to imagine that it will all make sense to them once they see it.

I’ve told my employers that I was open to doing some contract work because a little extra money is always nice, but mostly because I feel bad taking my knowledge away and want to help with the transition (as if giving them over a year’s notice isn’t enough). I’m re-thinking that. I may want to leave that person behind.

Also, because in retirement I’ll have many jobs. I’m already mapping out all of the things I want to do, and I don’t know how I’ll have enough time as it is.

350 Days

I am planning on retiring. And this is my diary to countdown the days.

350 days until.

I should be happy, but I am feeling very overwhelmed. It’s not because I’m a short timer that I’m unmotivated. I want to finish strong. I am overwhelmed both by the pressure to achieve certain things before I leave work, but also, and maybe more so, by personal pressures.

I struck a deal at work that I would take all of my vacation this year. There’s vacation still that built up during the non-vacation taking days of Covid that add to my current year’s allotment.

Making a point of taking all of this time was to make this last year more relaxed, but it has the opposite effect. Taking time off makes me stress more about the things that I need to do, because I have less time to do them. And traveling for these vacation days, as opposed to taking the time off around the house, also puts off personal to dos, and I have many.

And I hate my house. I hate the clutter. I want to do something about that, but can I? I have so many things I want to do. Where will I start?

Our dog died recently. She didn’t exactly die on her own. She got close, and then we finished the job. But that’s another story and it’s still hard for me to write about it. Point being, now we can replace couches and rugs and such, things we were waiting to do because in her later months, maybe more like her later year, she peed all over the place.

But replacing furniture isn’t as easy as it sounds. It, too, is work. It, too, is something I want to do right. What do we want? What do I want? I can guarantee you that what I want, when I figure out what that is, because in terms of interior design, I have no imagination, will be different from what my wife wants. I think it’s less. I want simplicity.

Why should I care? It is shelter. And I’m grateful to have it. A roof over my head. Somewhere to sleep. But if that’s all it is, again why do we need to buy stuff. Or let’s buy the cheapest couch there is. If I’m going to hate it, if all it is, is shelter, as if that’s a small thing, then I don’t want to spend money on it. If I spend money, I want to love it. What would it look like if we got rid of everything and starting from scratch? I would like to do that, because I hate everything. Our entertainment cabinet is dated. Our living room seems smaller than it could. I don’t like the colors. I hate the fact that the kitchen is open to the living room, but I don’t suppose we can change the way the house is built. I hate the bookshelves that narrow our walkway behind the couch we want to replace. Do we need all of those books? I hate the kitchen cabinets and their dated dark wood. I hate knick knacks and picture frames. I’m kind of in a bad mood. Can you tell?

I am depressed and as I contemplate the retirement I always wanted, the time to spend on the jobs I always wanted to do, I think a lot about how many years I have been depressed, and I wonder if I know how to do it differently. It’s almost as long as I can remember. I hated school. Maybe not 9^th grade, my last year before high school, my favorite, but the rest. I saw a little musical slideshow put together to celebrate my high school, a branch of the FAME school in NYC, The High School of Music and Art. A performing arts school.  That should have been great, right? Everyone’s dream. It pains me to watch it, the way it also pains me to think about or visit Bard where I spent 2 ½ years in college before I couldn’t take it anymore and transferred to Hunter, which I do look back on somewhat fondly, despite the fact that it’s where I became an accountant. The memories pain me because I was always depressed, and depression always held me back so that I couldn’t get the most out of any of it. I think about the wasted potential.

I don’t look back and say, those were good times. I look back and say I missed an opportunity to have the good times that other people had. I have always struggled to appreciate whatever was going on in my life when it was happening. And on the verge of having what I’ve always pined for, time, I’m finding myself mad that I spent so many years in a career I never wanted. Why did I do that?

But things are different, or soon will be. In 350 days, I will be free.

But I don’t know. There’s so much to do. So much expected of me too, besides what I want for myself. Will I get to live my life?  Will I finally be happy? It’s a little hard to believe in it.

388 Days

I am planning on retiring.  And this is my diary to countdown the days.

388 days until.

I have my good days and my bad days. Today I’m thinking that I can’t wait to be done with it. That we have an appointment to put our dog down tomorrow probably isn’t helping.

I told my bosses that I was open to doing a little contract work. They seemed pleased. Then I told my wife, and she liked the idea, which made me nervous. How much did I think I wanted to work she asked me. I thought about it. None. 

I don’t want to work. But I am happy to help people out. And although it can’t hurt to have a little extra money, to limit how much I have to draw in retirement, I want my main focus to be on the things that I have always wanted to do. I want, I said, to stop thinking like an accountant. When I think in numbers all day it has always been hard to come home and think creatively.

I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be a different person. A person my dog will never know.

Cami has lived 8 months since I last wrote about it on here, when we first started thinking it might be her time.

We have been feeding her all her favorite foods this past week, people foods. She might not find much joy in anything else, but she seems happy that we are finally feeding her right. It makes it harder knowing that she has no idea that she is dying tomorrow. I don’t want another dog, but even if I did, this might ruin it for me. It’s not her death. I know how long dogs live. She had a good life. She was there for the kids. It’s having to be responsible for the decision. It’s hard to be sure.

Why is everyone so supportive? Tell me you don’t want it either. Stop me! Or maybe it’s my job so that others don’t have to. Or my wife’s job, so I don’t have to. Part of me wants to wait until it’s too late, when it’s clear she is suffering a lot.

But, I suppose this is more humane, a controlled transition when some of us are there, to say goodbye.. It could be worse. And it’s not like I’m an atheist. My wife had a dream that Jimmy Carter, who’s in hospice right now, was taking care of Cami in the afterlife. I find myself almost hoping he dies too, so I can take comfort in that. That would be just like Jimmy.

There will be three of us there, me, my wife and son, plus the vet. I’m worried that will make Cami nervous, all of us hanging around making a big deal out of it. What will she think is going on? I might feel better if we chose one person to be there for her, even if it was me. The rest could wait in another room for someone to come and say that it’s over. I’m not sure I can be there with everyone. I can’t console everyone else, cant tell them that this is the right thing while harboring doubts. I feel too fucking guilty.

Mental Health

We didn’t talk about it much back in the day, and now everyone is talking about it. It went from a stigma to almost looking at it as an excuse. I can’t do this or that because I have to take care of my mental health, right?

What’s wrong with people these days? 

The thing is, we are not the happiest country in the world, far from it. And we haven’t been for a long time. People are getting therapy and medications to, essentially, help them deal with an admittedly difficult reality. The world is a scary place. Human beings are not the nicest. But should we really need to teach people, or drug people, to deal with reality? Maybe that’s a problem with reality.

If people are unhappy because they are stressed about money, or health, or how difficult life is, or politics, or sexism, or social injustice, or even just because they go to high school, maybe what we really need to do is change society.

Until we can to that, coping is something that they may need assistance for, but at the point at which it becomes a nationwide phenomenon, accompanied by an epidemic of suicide and even when it doesn’t get that far, anxiety, depression, unhappiness, or even just a failure to thrive, we need to address the real problem.

I applaud the fact that people are being open about it. Even though it bothers me if a child of mine seems unmotivated or unambitious because they don’t like stress or whatever. I moved out when I could. I supported myself. I did what I needed to do. I dealt. But was I happy? Am I happy now? Quite frankly, no. Watching them struggle makes me even more unhappy, but I don’t want to fault them because they expect more, because they won’t settle. They shouldn’t have to adjust their expectations, like I did.

So, ok, but maybe therapy and medications are only a temporary solution.

The more permanent solution?  Don’t laugh; higher taxes. The countries with the highest taxes, after all, also have the happiest people.

That’s because they get a living wage. That’s because if they were to lose their job, they don’t also lose their health insurance, if they even had any in the first place. That’s because they don’t have to pay for their education. Maybe they can afford housing. Maybe they can afford childcare. Maybe they can get help if they need it, and that helps alleviate anxiety, even when they don’t need it. Maybe they have pensions when they’re old. They have services for their taxes, safety nets. The gap between rich and poor is less, but more importantly, there are less poor, period, and more middle class.

Here in the US of America, too many think that taxes is a redistribution of wealth from rich people who earned it and deserve to keep it.

Let’s correct that. The rich didn’t earn everything they made in a vacuum. They have benefited from a lot of help. No man is an island. We are all in this together. And we all have the right to the pursuit of happiness.