July 02, 2005
Musings and Apologies
It's been a long time since I've written anything. I'm sorry. I seem to be saying (and thinking) that a lot in the last year or so. "Sorry." Sometimes I wonder bitterly if I mean it. Certainly in an emotional way I mean it ... thinking of how long it's been since I last wrote any of you or published anything on my blog hurts, especially when I think of all the grand plans I had for staying in touch. I was determined that this time, I would do it right. This time, I would write my friends and publish on my blog and stay in touch. Like I meant to.
I guess that's natural; everyone feels like that. I guess the biggest difference in the past year or so, and a big part of my depression, is the fact that it's so hard for me to get up strength to try again. I just want to lay where I've fallen, mumbling "sorry" to the world. It's easier to say "sorry" than it is to grit my teeth, rise to my feet, and try again. I'm tired of trying again. I know that each new attempt is doomed to failure. Even if I gritted my teeth with firm determination to be consistent in posting and writing, my will would only hold out so long. Then I would slip ... and find myself here again. Saying "sorry" and wishing I didn't have to rise and try again.
Or at least, that's what part of me feels. Certainly, I'm not posting this out of guilt ... I'm posting this because I want to share these thoughts with you ... because they're interesting to me and I want to record them permanently. It really is all mixed up. Part of me honestly wants to write, to post. Part of me feels a duty to write and post. Part of my pride and self-esteem is built on the fact that I take pride (or once took pride) in how much better I was at staying in contact with my friends than they were at staying in contact with me. Of course, that pride hurts now, too. And there's part of me that feels guilty about feeling proud, and part of me that is simply tired of making mistakes.
And yet my solipsism only reveals a seemingly infinite plethora of competing selves and desires and emotions. I understand why so many people turn aside from looking intently within - it's perplexing. And somehow in the midst of all of this, there is only one me. One me ... with a choice of what to do. What shall I do? Which voice shall I listen to?
Enough with the psychology (for now). I do want to let you know that I'm alive and well. I love my work, though it takes up most of my day (I'm gone from about 7:30am to 6:30pm these days). I love my wife, and we're getting along well. I like Bellingham (even if it is a perplexing city), and I love the church I've found. I haven't found any close friends, but (in my usual way), I've made a number of acquaintances who don't mind my company. I miss you all. I wish I wrote you more often.
And that will have to be enough for now.
