Just about done
March 10, 2006Waiheke Island, New Zealand
7:52pm
I have no more tales. No more anecdotes. Even though we are here three more days, I know I am done. Done talking about the small things. Done talking about the funny things. Done talking about the dirty things. I am done waxing on sometimes tritely about the massive scenery and unstoppable imagery this country is lucky to have. I am done trying to poetically capture the harmonious lifestyle New Zealand families seemed determined to possess.
I am finished with earnestly expressing the explosive love I feel for my wife and my son.
Now, if you will, I would like to talk about me.
March 19th 2005, in a plane on its way to Nadi, Fiji through LA, I let tears seep quietly down my cheek listening to a choir group practice on their way to a competition at Disneyland. They were good yes, but it was the sinking in of the journey I was now really on that caused me to silently lose control of my emotions. It was then I was leaving the old Jason behind, ready to let all the things I hated about myself to rinse through my body, to slide off my cheeks like those melody induced tears. Gone were the days of self inflicted incompetence and cubicle hiding in a job I held on to for pure easy comfort. Gone were the days of yearning for childish moments of bathroom stall debauchery with all my friends who I place so much value on, while constantly questioning the same value they have for me. Gone were the days of shirt yanking over bulbous stomach to hide the very apparent fact that I have a weight problem, as if a stretched shirt could somehow conceal the three cheeseburgers I managed to eat. Gone were the days of oppressive insecurity, bloody fingernail spitting anxiety, knee wobbling self-confidence issues. This was the opportunity for me to change all of that. To set my life on a path of pride, of integrity, satisfying my desire to be true, to be real, to be utterly and eagerly great. Not great at something. Just great.
The choir stopped singing. I stopped crying. The plane landed in Los Angeles.
And… scene.
So here I am. Ten months later. Under a moonlit sky, overlooking a very large ocean, questioning how much of that idealism I was able to turn into reality.
Er. Problem. I don’t know. My yearning for the bolt of lightning to flash from the sky and change me from a type I-don’t-fucking-know personality to a grinning, flashy do-it-all type ‘A’ personality was fleeting and immature. I recognized this after one of my many internal anxiety attacks in the past year. I also realized that losing fifty pounds and writing a punchy 429 page novel did not give me the sense of accomplishment I thought it would. I have yet to stop and look in the mirror and wink and pose and nod and congratulate myself for these two admittedly significant tasks. Is this the quiet desperation I have heard so much about? The ability to never satisfy ones self? Of course it was easy to surmise it is difficult to find perspective living in the family bubble as I do. I argue that easily because it’s Steph’s pride I seek more than anyone, and eventually Hud will be a very close second. Yet sadly, they did not matter. To think the confidence will return with a couple you look greats and wow, you wrote a book from my family and friends are bunk with no insult intended. It means nothing because it should be rooted within myself. I remain cowering in the corner. And the room is about to get bigger.
So did I change? Did I get better being away from my old life for this long? What will happen when I return?
Answers, I do not have Skywalker.
Maybe I should approach it from a different angle. What good came of this trip? The first answer is predictable and easy. I was able to spend an enormous amount of time with my wife and son.
What a luxury. And it is a luxury, to loll and lounge and leisurely get to know your wife again, without the pings and pangs of everyday life getting in your way. To love her for being able to sleep in, for the way she looks like meandering out of the ocean, or knitting a sweater on a random, plucked couch. She is a marvel and a wonder and a mystery and a true goddess. She was my best friend before we left. After spending 99 per cent of my time with her in the past year, she is now and will always be the complete love of my life.
Hud. He went from a diaper-clad baby to a blonde boy with a way too big heart like his dad. He is sweet and emotional and funny, so funny. Not only was he burdened with over emotion, but also he is blessed with the compulsion to make others laugh. He is a ham. A big, baked, pineapple ring laden, clove dappled ham. I can’t wait for everyone to see him when we get home. I can’t wait to see his and all of your expressions when he says something so wise and old and smart you can’t help but laugh until you cry.
He may forget this trip, but there is no way he was not influenced by the showering of warmth and security and comfort by both Steph and I. His roots are firm. His roots are juicy with love.
I also learned that it is easy to put family first, and let everything else fall into place. I am not so idealistic to think money is not a very real issue, particularly when Steph and I still like nice things. I do think this trip will be a reminder to what is really important, making it easier to make future sacrifices. Easier, not easy. This we learned from the families we met here in New Zealand. With lots of kids and nothing jobs they make it work, everyone in the family so happy and healthy, not left wanting. It was refreshing. We were lucky to meet each and every one of them. We will never see them again.
So I didn’t change as I thought I would. Looking back now it seems like I was both literally and figuratively with my head in the clouds on that first airplane. It’s ok though, I am ready for the next chapter of my life. I am scared shitless but ready. I know we are fortunate to have a wonderful circle of love and support from family and friends.
We are so eager to see you all. Smile and laugh with you all again. See new babies. See new marriages. Touch hands. Hug. Raise a glass. So much to catch up. Hear about all the little things that made up your past year. Quietly. Listening to every word. Not saying anything.
I am done talking. I am done writing.
Writing this at least.
Except for one more short picture post after this one the day we leave.
Do me a favour, leave a comment, and tell me who has been following us this past year.
Love to all,
J.
posted by Jason @ 3:21 PM
<< Home