As I age, I do a lot more reflecting on my past.
I think about both the positive and negative experiences I’ve had over my 46+ years. From my simple, closed-minded city upbringing to my current status as a suburban, world-weary parent of one, my life has resulted in a dazzling representation of comfortable mediocrity. Arguably, I’m living a great life compared to most of the 7.7 billion people on Earth, and yet, I feel like I’m wasting space on this dimensional plane that we are currently residing on.
I’ve had many blessings in life, but on the flip side, I ask myself why I haven’t accomplished more with the blessings I was provided. I’ve evolved from humble beginnings, but I’m still finding myself being pulled toward the heavy gravity of immediate family members who remain closed-minded. I seek clarity–and apparently, rocket boosters.
THE KID IS ALRIGHT
I have a healthy, smart, pain-in-the-ass elementary school son. Since he’s been born, his life has been my life. Parenthood has definitely resulted in a yin and yang of emotions from me, but my love for him is something that I can’t put into words. His well-being is more important than anything else to me, so providing him with a stable home environment outweighs anything else I do in life. Having a job with long hours or one that involved traveling never appealed to me after he was born. Time has always held more value than money. When his school went to remote learning in the beginning of the pandemic, my primary earner wife went to work, while I stayed home with my boy for 133 days of classroom time. Eventually, I had to resign my job since I missed so much time. Being a groundskeeper wasn’t a prestigious job, but it worked around my boy’s school schedule, and my wife’s schedule.
Dedicating most of my energy towards my son is what any unselfish, good parent would do. The sacrifices I made in my own life for the betterment of my son is comforting to my ambitious soul. The last few years have obviously been a little more intense than what I was anticipating, but like every other parent of small children in the 2020s, I need to make sure he’s alright–mentally and physically, putting him ahead of my own wants and needs. Soon, his age will hit the double-digits. I assume he’ll follow the same pattern of pre-teen boys: He’ll become more independent, he’ll start to distance himself from me, and I’ll get more free time to myself.
A lot of parents I’ve spoken to over the years expressed sadness when their kids got older. I won’t. I want him to leave the nest. I want him to be his own person, and not live in my shadow. Good luck and good friends will help him break away from his dependence on me, and I can’t wait for him to do it. Yeah, I’ll be sad when I get sentimental, thinking back to his early years, but at least I’ll be completely rested when I go back in time. Since he’s been born, I’ve been really tired.
I WANT TO DO THAT, BUT I CAN’T DO THAT
As my 50th year on Earth slowly approaches from afar, I have done the unthinkable. I have made new goals for myself. Some have been accomplished, and I am doing my best to keep up with my positive changes. Other goals have not been accomplished. Some have failed. Part of the reason I fail so much is that I try to push myself beyond the constraints that hold me back. All or nothing. Ride or die. Pass or fail.
To some degree, I’ve always been this way throughout my life. I made my high school basketball team, despite working 20 hours a week, while trying to find time to study. I wasn’t a very good player, and not having time to practice and exercise on my own led to the inevitable demise of my basketball glory. If I came from money, what would I have done with an extra 20 hours of free time per week? I daydreamed a lot as a youth, and in a way, I somehow knew that I wasn’t going to become an influential member of society. Dreams stayed dreams. At an early age, I knew where I wanted to go, but I never knew how to get there. It was rare that somebody escaped my old neighborhood and had a profound impact on the lives of others. We were a smart bunch of kids that just didn’t have the financial or emotional support to go beyond the South Hills of Pittsburgh. Many of us wanted to explore different cultures, learn about the world beyond our high school walls, and take risks to discover our capabilities and weaknesses. Instead, we settled for less. We had to play it safe.
Physically, I feel better than ever. I run further, I lift a lot of weights in my basement, I ride my stationary bike during the sometimes-eternal/stupid Pittsburgh winters, and I eat healthier. I made positive changes in my life, which could lead to new friendships going forward. I’ve never been big on employment networking, but I certainly would enjoy networking with fellow runners. I would certainly seek out more connections than the 13 I have on LinkedIn. Hobbies are always more fun to speak about than the workplace.
Mentally, I’m stuck in the mud. During my first 37.75 years on Earth, I always had at least one big personal goal that I strived to accomplish. Graduate from my chaotic high school…check. Find some stable employment…check. Go to college while working full-time…check. Move out on my own at 23, despite the cost of having no roommates to help pay the bills…check. Leave the South Hills of Pittsburgh…check. Attain my undergraduate degree by 30…check. Get married…check. Buy a house…check. Start a family…check. During the last several years, I have been maintaining, not expanding. Big picture thinking has been replaced with a continuous flow of short-term obligations. The prospect of not evolving as a person from what I am now reminds me of my high school days. Once again, I find myself settling for less, and playing it safe. It’s soul-sucking.
PASSION IS A CURSE
In my senior year at Robert Morris University, I took a strategic management class. My professor, Dr. Freymark, was a retired engineering executive. He shared with the class the many experiences he had involving the process of strategic business planning. He didn’t require a textbook; he taught the class through his real-world knowledge of the subject matter. Students who required a textbook as a guide were left flummoxed by his unconventional class structure. He forced everyone to be analytical and make decisions, without the safety net of checking for “correct” answers in a text. Until the day I die, his teachings will be used by me in everyday life. Each business is unique, and everyone’s life is unique; there isn’t a guide for having success that will work for everybody.
Dr. Freymark believed that successful strategic planning was rooted in three simple questions: Where have we been? Where do we want to go? How do we get there? His three questions can easily be applied to setting personal goals. Throughout my life, I have had answers for the first two questions. The third one? Not so much.
Part of me is happy. I am healthy. Everyone close to me is healthy. We have a nice home. Thanks to my wife’s income, I finally got a new pickup truck. We aren’t living paycheck to paycheck like we used to.
The passionate side of me is running on empty. Having passion has created exhilarating highs for me and has created emotional low points as well. My emotional stagnation in the 2020s has helped me realize that I still want to be a better person than I am now. I want to challenge myself to be better, and I’ll probably continue to fail at times.
Sometimes, I ask myself if I should stop pursuing new endeavors. Just give up. Stay the course. Accept my destiny. Find a nice rocking chair, get old, and wait for Death to ring the doorbell. According to societal norms, I’m past my prime, I’m set in my ways, and I have nothing new to contribute to the well-oiled gears of the modern world.
I don’t want to give up. I have more to give. I’ll find an answer to that third question.
I’ll get there.
Tales From a Schmo -- By Larry Kress 