Blogging has allowed me certain freedoms. It’s allowed to reach into the depths of my emotions in a productive way. I spent my adolescent and early adult years drowning trauma, confusion, and normal childhood angst in a myriad of chemical concoctions, with no positive results. My prose typically is a result of experiences that I feel are going to yield me some clarity, once set to paper. Writing is critical. My best mate Mike D said, “Write. No. Matter. What.”
I’ve been watching the latest season of a show called “Alone.” The premise of the show is simple: 10 contestants are left alone on the coast of a large lake. Each contestant has his/her/their own plot, completely isolated with few tools. The person who lasts the longest (typically 100+ days), wins. These are survivalists who must solve climate, food source issues, predators, housing, and loneliness issues to survive. This season, the predator is the grizzly bear. While the contestants are provided primitive bows, the grizzly bear is not allowed to be hunted. Four episodes into the season, the contestants seem to be adjusting well enough to that issue. The greatest challenge is loneliness.
I’ve fought this battle my entire life. I can find myself lonely in a crowded room since Jacob died. It’s been 585 days since I last touched his hand and embraced him. I am lonely in a way that only made sense to me when I watched one of contestants, Nate, talk about his deceased daughter. He lost his four-year-old daughter to a heart defect she battled since birth. Admittedly, he’s a man of few words. It took two weeks “alone” for Nate to confront the depths of his sorrow. The results of this confrontation were an exit from the island. He had a perfect shelter and food. He had fire. Seemingly, he had everything to win.
This is me. My business is setup to succeed. I have supportive family and friends. My grief counselor is the best in the world. Rhetorically I ask this question: Why am I so lonely? The answer is simplistically complicated: I don’t know how to cope with losing Jacob. I miss every aspect of his being. To nobody’s surprise, I have diagnosed AD/HD and it’s easy for me to get off task. The last 585 days has only intensified my attention deficit. I am struggling to keep myself composed and on task with life.
I have a list of shit I NEED to do. This is includes organizing my house, moving furniture from a storage unit, working my butt off, and much more. I have successful days when I work from my list and complete each task. I have other days when I stare blankly at a computer screen and/or television screen with thoughts and memories of Jacob. The numbing loneliness consumes my soul. I am so sad every day. This isn’t an epiphany. I have found only brief moments of respite and relief. I bargain with a mystical being to touch my sweet boy once again.
So, how do I move forward and find my passion again? This is somewhat less rhetorical. I say somewhat because I am NOT soliciting advice. I find the juxtaposition of numbness and intensity of feeling, ironical. Jacob was clear with his directions for me. He was specific. “Go live!” He did and wanted the same for all of us who loved him. Jacob especially knew how important this directive was for Naomi, Ana, and me. He knew that we would have the hardest time with the directive. What he underestimated was just how difficult the task because of his greatness.
We all know people who set goals and smash them. I talk to these people, and they share common themes:
- Make attainable goals
- This has often been my crux
- Set a BIG goal
- Take steps every day that will help reach those goals, no matter how small
- Stay steadfast
I am going to reexamine every goal I made in January. As I enter Q4 of 2022, changes need to be made. A refocus, of sorts. I want to live. I want happiness. How do I get there? This is for me to answer, and only me! Any day now, I shall be released.