The Rut

I’ve been in kind of a rut lately. I wouldn’t say it’s been a full on depressive episode or anything but I’ve definitely not been feeling great about myself and where I am in life.

A huge part of me wants to scream at the depressive part of myself because I really shouldn’t be feeling the way I am. I’m financially comfortable (in a middle class way, not in the way the little old southern ladies of my youth used to use the phrase. When the little old ladies used it they meant they had more money than God, they’d like you to know it, but they believed talking about money was crass and only done by the lower classes, which was most everyone else. Bless their hearts.), I’ve got three great kids to complain about, I’ve got a wife I’m very much in love with who sometimes seems as if she’s also fond of me, I’ve got good friends, a roof over my head, food on my table, a part-time job that pays me to talk about fishing, and hell, I even sometimes get to go fishing. I’ve got a great life and I know it.

At least on some level I know it.

Yet here I am all bummed-out.

I think a large part of it is that I’m almost forty years old and still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.

You know what? That last sentence wasn’t honest.

I think almost all of it is that I’m almost forty years old, always wanted to be a writer, but “knew” from an early age that only the most talented, best educated, and hardest working individuals could ever be published. I never felt as if I fit in that particular demographic so I figured I might as well find something I could do that would pay the bills, dreams and job satisfaction be damned. Now, after reading many books, articles, and other published materials that are just really awful (if you’re a published writer and you’re reading this, first and foremost, Thanks! Second I’m not talking about you. You know who I’m talking about because you’ve read their stuff. We all have.) I realize the dream isn’t beyond my grasp but now I feel as if I’m too old and have too many responsibilities to take the time and put in the work to make it happen. I know that’s not true, but I’m talking about the way I feel about the situation, not the reality of it.

I am currently taking steps in my life – very small steps if I’m being honest – but steps to help this being a published author thing become an actuality, including, but not limited to, this blog. I believe, like I said in my first post last week, that this should at least give me an excuse to practice my writing and get used to writing for an audience. Hopefully taking these steps will get me out of my current funk even if I never get beyond the blogging stage.

And if not I could always shave my head, have a good old-fashioned breakdown, and start life again from rock bottom. But hopefully it won’t come to that.

A Little About Myself and This Blog

I’m less than a year away from forty, I’m married, I have three children, I enjoy the outdoors, I’m a part-time stay-at-home father, I have no career, very little ambition, am overweight, out of shape, I like bacon, bourbon, and weed, which might explain some of the above, I can’t decide if I’m truly a Taoist or if I’m just really lazy, and this brief summary of myself would never get a right swipe on Tinder (I actually just had to Google if right or left was the good one) so I hope nothing happens to my wife anytime soon because dating would be rough on me. Also I’d be sad and would really miss her. I like my wife quite a bit.

As opposed to what it probably seems like in the previous paragraph, I’m actually a pretty happy guy.

My age just means I have more experience and stories than those younger.

I really do love my wife very much and we get along better than two people who have been around each other as much as we have should get along.

My three children are… Well, I love them and they’re not boring.

Being overweight and out of shape is fixable and I may one day actually get on it but if I don’t the worst that’ll happen is death and that’s inevitable so why sweat it.

The lack of a real career at my age does sometimes get to me but usually only in fits and the combination of Taoism, bacon, weed, and bourbon (in that order of importance) usually softens the sting a bit.

The one thing I left out of all the above is that I like to write. Like a lot. I write constantly and I do almost nothing with it. In fact, thanks to an upbringing that focused on practicality above all else, I actually feel guilty and a touch ashamed “wasting my time” writing. I’ve had other blogs, I’ve submitted a few stories here and there to writing contests, but trying to make something real out of it just always seemed so… impractical.

But I’m trying to get over that way of thinking. And to help I’ve started this blog. I figured if I write out the stories I would tell a therapist about my life it would be good practice and would help me “write my truth” or whatever the current lingo is.

Also I paid for the premium upgrade for this site and thanks to being an incredibly cheap person this means that I will be using it.