I had just started to exercise when my dad called. I didn’t answer. I saw the little notification that I had a call. Then another one – he left a message. The guilt of not answering, the new obligation to call back…. it ate at me. I tried to focus on exercising and could feel myself distracted and annoyed… I know what he wanted – did I get any more quotes for the heater? Is there a date for the cement guy? One more thing to take care of. One more thing to manage. I wanted to be left alone. I felt like if one more person asks something of me, I’m going to lose it – like really lose it.
I was getting annoyed with myself for not being able to tune it out. I almost stopped exercising to call him back with a “what do you want?” type of attitude – or send an email to one of the companies that hadn’t gotten back to me to show some progress. I was ticked that the cement guy said sure he’ll pencil us in but didn’t give me a date or time, ticked that I have to try to coordinate all of this. I went back to exercising. I paced around between sets of weights. I should meditate – get back to clearing my mind. I was reminded of the enso – the mind is clear so the body can create. I struggle to write because my mind isn’t clear – or is that just a lame excuse? It wasn’t until I ran a few miles on the treadmill that I could put the call, the heater, the feeling of being over-extended and inadequate out of my mind.
It started yesterday, maybe sooner. This annoyance. I went in to the office to get one or two very specific tasks done. By 5, neither of them were fully complete. Despite working pretty diligently, nothing got crossed off of the to-do list. Several things got added. It’s frustrating to work on things and not make the progress I want.
I did nothing last night – quite literally, nothing. I wanted to write – nope. I wanted to read – nope again. I sat there – mindlessly scrolling and opening, closing, and opening again the same four or five apps on my phone. I need to get rid of the phone – the pushing of levers for little pellets of food. I felt restless. My body felt like it needed to stretch. I had no focus. I was disappointed that I let an entire night go by like this.
I had a dream that someone who had applied for my job, someone who was the first-choice candidate, came back and said they changed their mind and would like the job. I was asked to leave. I kept trying to go back to sleep to see how it ended.
Breakfast this morning was nice. It’s the weekend so I made eggs and bacon to go with my waffles. While doing the dishes, I remembered what it was like to have someone come and say hello with a kiss on the cheek before they grab their first cup of coffee and I grab my second. I’m usually the early riser. It was a nice image on a cold and gray and rainy morning. I sat down to write. Actually, I sat down to read. I was determined to read until I was done my second cup of coffee. My mind was narrating things to me which is why I chose writing. The dog sat at my feet making small whining noises. I had let him out, but he didn’t want to be out in the cold and rain by himself. All I wanted was a few minutes to write. His whine isn’t loud, but is more of a series of small whines and whimpers. I said “fine” in an annoyed tone. Actually I cursed and probably said something along the lines of “For fuck’s sake, fine – let’s go.” We went for a walk. It was cold and gray and rainy. He was happier than I was to be out there.
This is why I was so annoyed when the phone rang while I was exercising. I could clearly trace it to the failings of yesterday. The demands that I haven’t met – professional and personal. I didn’t get done what I needed to. Last night was squandered. When I felt like I could actually be productive or creative, the dog was demanding. By the time we were done our walk, I was out of the mood and thinking about getting stuff done – exercise, groceries, etc. etc. I didn’t want to talk about the heater. It’s frustrating to have spent an entire night doing nothing and to still feel like I don’t have a minute to myself – and yet I live alone and have lots of time to myself.
What surprised me most about this whole episode and build-up was how annoyed I was getting knowing that voicemail was there, knowing that I had one more thing to do – feeling like I was failing, or disappointing, or….? I was surprised at how much I wanted to be left alone – like there was just too much noise. It made me feel like something was broken or out of balance. Rationally, I knew it had nothing to do with the phone call or the dog or the heater and almost everything to do with the pressures I put on myself. I can remember my ex-wife saying she didn’t want any more obligations. I can remember my ex-fiancee saying she felt broken or needed to heal or needed half-an-hour to herself. I didn’t understand any of those statements at the time, and today felt like I had glimpsed in to their worlds.
It’s weird to tell myself I didn’t used to feel this type of annoyance or lack of self-determination/control. It’s weird to not be able to pinpoint the moment of change. I just know it didn’t used to be this way. It feels tied to the changes in my life over these past few years, the breakup, the move, the move again. Or maybe it’s just the crankiness of old age settling in. Crankiness and a sense of wanting a kinder, fairer, less-demanding world and not being able to will it in to existence. Crankiness at feeling beholden and out of place.
I was driving in to work the other day and the person on the radio was talking about the shooting out in California and how that community needs to heal. This is a refrain that I’ve been hearing a lot lately. My ex talked about how she needed to heal. I moved to Memphis (the south) thinking I needed to heal and looking for a slower pace. We’ve experienced racial and political unrest – as families and communities have needed to heal from violence and murder and inequality and hatred. I don’t repeat the word heal to make light of it, but it seems to me that everyone is trying to heal from something and nobody can find the time or space or quiet to do it. Which makes me think that maybe we’re just really shitty to to each other or maybe we should work a little harder to not hurt each other so much or maybe we need to slow down and quiet down so that we can see and hear and… heal.
In those moments of frustration while I exercised, I tried to ask myself why this was bothering me. I tried to ask myself, if I knew what I needed. What would make it right? If someone asked how they could help, would I be able to give an answer? What I knew was I liked that momentary pause by the kitchen sink. I liked the idea of a slow cup of coffee – of getting a little lost in words and images – of getting lost in something deeper (and more meaningful and fulfilling) than snippets of social media. I was ticked at the constant interruptions and demands on my time.
I’ve been struggling to write and to exercise and to think or create. Sometimes it’s because I lack the time, sometimes it’s because I lack the energy, sometimes there seems to be too much noise. Yet these activities have become ways for me to recharge. I remember writing about not needing alone time and trying to cultivate that need. After two years of varying levels of self-imposed solitude, of writing, of learning to “walk lightly” as Stephen Dunn puts it, I feel like I understand the frustrations others have felt when their time is interrupted or unavailable or not fully theirs.
After my run, I called my dad back. He was worried because he hadn’t heard from me for a while. I told him I’ve felt a lot of demands on my time and attention lately and that sometimes I just don’t want to deal with things like a contractor or staying in touch. We talked for a bit. I’m glad the conversation was about more than the heater and was more than just crossing off of my to-do list the need to call him back. And I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s breakfast, my second cup of coffee time, and trying all over again.