I Think I'm Bleeding Inside My Chest.

Once again, it's Friday night. This week I've made the conscious decision to shut my computer and unplug from the hustle and bustle of my cyber life. Now, after one crappy movie and stellar bottle of wine, I find myself once again being all computery and stuff.
 
For whatever reason,  I can't shut my brain off these days. It's constantly on 11 (Spinal Tap reference). Work, life, world domination, it's all just swirling around in my head and I can't find any peace. Even sleeping has been difficult lately, despite exercise and the steady nightcap.

Tonight I'm bothered, and more so annoyed. As I lie here with my trusty pup Brodie, even his steady Darth Vader breathing can't calm me. As we both attempt to watch this terrible movie, I'm really trying to balance all the thoughts and feelings bouncing around my melon. Searching for some sort of clarity or center, but it's just not there.

 

 

I've not really be a fan of myself recently. No cheers for me, especially over the past few weeks. I worry that I've become emotionally needy, but I think I'm really just trying to distract myself from getting to the bottom of a few issues. I already spilled my gut (wait for it… ba dump dump) earlier this week, and even though it hasn't put a complete stop to my 'Dead Man Walking' jokes, I do feel somewhat better.

With that said, maybe it's time I approach another hot button topic with the same sort of honesty. Yep, that's right, my age.

I make a lot of comments about my age, especially since I'm fortunate and spend the majority of my time with people that are quite a bit younger than me. I make stupid jokes about hip replacements and peeing frequently, to which everyone responds, 'stop it, you're not old'. '35 isn't old'.

Well, early to mid 20's person, you're right - to some degree. But, I saw The Goonies, Top Gun, Ghostbusters, and the original Star Wars trilogy in the theater. So, already, we're a lifetime apart.




Am I struggling with getting older? Hells yes, I am.

Some folks get older and focus on regrets, things they didn't do, or things they should of done differently. Not me. I'm pretty happy with my journey thus far. To be honest, in a lot of ways, each year has been better then the last. While my appearance is a little different (less goobery, a few wrinkles, the added wisdom and strength of a damn Jedi), most folks will tell you that I haven't changed all that much over the years. Some would say not at all.

So, why? Why do I seem to be going kicking and screaming further into adulthood? Simple really. It's because I'm moving closer to death.

(insert Debbie Downer sound clip)


I think most people that know me, whether casually or more in depth, would probably say that I'm a laid back guy. While I am learning to live more in the moment, I've spent the majority of my life living for what's to come. Maybe it's a specific event, an overall goal, or maybe it's just a summer of awesome movies to get excited about. Regardless, I'm a dreamer. A dreamer that's now trying to co-exist with a realist, also me. Even though I've grown more comfortable living in the moments, I still experience anxiety about those moments ending.

A few posts ago, I talked a little about how the death of a parent at a young age can affect you. The affects aren't obvious at first, but with a little digging, they start to seep up to the surface.

My dad was older when he had me, but still, he had just turned 61 when he passed. I was 12. As my mother continues reaping the rewards of great genetics and drinking glasses of water poured from the fountain of youth, the death of my dad has psychologically put an expiration date on my life.

In my mind, it's not a matter of if I'll get cancer, but when. Dad was treated for a year with back pain, while the true culprit went unnoticed and untreated. I'm really not that afraid of dying, but I am afraid of dying like that.

In a lot of ways, I'm not much different then the folks that believe the Mayan calendar signals the end of the world in 2012. Compounded with this countdown to 61, is the fact that time is indeed moving by quickly. Memories of my teenage years are now 20 years old, and I have 30 year relationships with those I grew up with. Damn. I just can't process how recent my memories feel in relation to the length of time that has passed. I don't want or wish for those times again. However, my heart aches when I look in the rearview mirror and see those times continuing to fade in the distance. Much like leaving a loved one after a visit, even though they may annoy the crap out of you.

A lot of people will never read this post, but for those friends and family that do, please don't be afraid of me. I'm aware this is sorta dark. If anything, writing this forces a bit of accountability for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally okay with annoying all of you, just not myself.