Being a high-powered criminal attorney in Los Angeles, with a penchant for hang gliding, skiing, entertaining, and providing handmade socks to needy children across the world….
Yeah, right. But it feels like that sometimes.
Look, my life is not hard. I don’t have a stressful job. I’m not required to clock in 80 hour work weeks. I don’t hold lives in my hands. The sun doesn’t rise and set because I exist. I don’t hold the world on my shoulders. I’m able-bodied, healthy, and intelligent. I know the difference between ’empathy’ and ‘sympathy,’ and I play a mean game of Words With Friends.
I’m just your average 42-year old gay man in an 18-year relationship raising his partner’s 5-year old grand daughter while trying to juggle work, life, being healthy, and working out more. And training for a half-marathon. And trying to finish a novel. And saving the world.
Okay, maybe not saving the world, but I do try.
There are some days when I feel like my problems are the worst problems. When my hurdles feel like the highest hurdles. When my road blocks feel like the biggest road blocks. That’s normal, isn’t it? I do try to reckon this with the good old fashioned “It could be worse,” but at my age I’ve started to rationalize that mantra. Yes, it could be worse. But I’m not comparing my issues with others. It’s not a contest.
Yes, life could be worse. But you know what? It could also be better, and that’s where I battle with myself.
It boils down to a balancing act, I suppose. Sure, life feels like I’m traversing across a high wire, with a 5-year old in one hand, and my partner/life/struggles/goals/dreams in the other. Oh, and lookie there, that high wire stretches ahead of me into a vast cloud, and I have no clue where it leads.
Yep, that sounds about right.
What prompted this post, really, was my waking up at 10:15 this morning. TEN FIFTEEN IN THE MORNING. That’s ridiculous. It doesn’t help that I went to bed at midnight. It doesn’t help that it’s the little one’s Christmas vacation from pre-school and we’ve fallen into a habit of staying up late and sleeping in. It certainly doesn’t help that my partner works overnights and it’s his weekend off, throwing everyone’s sleeping cycle off kilter (he and I kind of went to bed mad at each other because, frankly, the pressure of the life thing I’m rambling on about took its toll a little bit).
But I realized this morning it wasn’t anger that made me all wonky. It was not being able to balance everything going on in our lives. There is absolutely no reason for me to have slept until 10:15 in the morning like some angst-ridden emo teenager. I’m an adult who would have been better off waking up at 6:30, making coffee, writing my blog post, messing around on Instagram and Facebook, cleaned, gone to the gym, and been home before 10:15 to get on the with rest of my day.
^^^Not me, but I certainly feel like this on sometimes….wish I had that hair, though^^^
Instead it’s after 12, I’m on my second cup of coffee, still in my PJs, the little one is resting comfortably, and my partner is huffing and puffing through the house because he’s still holding on to his anger, which I don’t begrudge him because he has put up with my fair share of bitching and moaning about nothing.
I know that what this boils down to is scheduling. I think I’ve for too long thinking that things should just unfold naturally and I’ll get them done as necessary. Well….no. If I want to finish that novel, I have to make time to work on it. If I want those washboard abs, I will need to make time specifically for the gym. If I want my Instagram world and Blogging world to expand, I’ll have to make that happen. If I want to save the world….
Okay, the world will probably have to wait. For now, I’ll worry about getting up at 6:30 tomorrow morning instead of 10:15.
Let’s see how that works out.