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Saturday, May 19, 2007

May 18, 1981

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 26, which tells you how much the header of this web site needs to be updated. It’s one of those little tasks that’s always waiting for tomorrow, and therefore never completed.

It was a good birthday, with good news from Casey in Houston, good dinner with friends, and good bar times with even more friends. My favorite occasions are when different groups of people in my life come together and meet. Last night was a mix of co-workers, former roommates, softball teammates and volleyball teammates, the results of which were good. I know because phone numbers were exchanged, and that’s the ultimate measure of success.

Several people mentioned yesterday that this site is overdue for a new entry. This I know. It’s been an eventful two months, with two weeks in Texas with Casey, busy work times, and softball starting up again. That’s not a good excuse, though. I’ve realized that I’m a streaky writer. Sometimes I’m itching to get the words out, and other times the idea of expending that much thought and energy to write something doesn’t seem worth it. This explains why I don’t write for a living.

It also probably indicates that I’ve spent some of the last two months in a varying state of depression. If you were to ask why, I’m not sure I could give an answer. A large part is that Texas was tough. Casey and I had the first difficult times with each other, with arguments and tears and hurts and misunderstandings. I’m still trying to understand why and the furthest I can get is that Houston isn’t just a city but also the nexus of seven months of dealing with cancer, little room for normal relationship issues, fear and insecurity on many levels, and unchangeable but less-than-ideal circumstances. All of this combined into a climax of car doors slamming and I don’t know if I want this and hands covering tear-stained faces and please leave me alone.

I don’t recover from conflict quickly. Even after the adrenaline subsided and we fell asleep holding each other with I love you and I’m sorry, I processed the hurt and worried. When I returned to Minneapolis, my mind continued to churn with fear and thoughts of he didn’t want me there and I made things worse. I struggled to get out of bed and go to work. Friends wondered where my smile went.

In the last two weeks the depression has gone. Casey returned and I told him of my fears and feelings. He responded in ways that reminded me again of why I love him, with it’s okay and thank you for talking and I love you. Sometimes I forget that it’s okay to need things, too, like reassurance and to simply talk.

Now, on the day after my 26th birthday, I’m here alone in the dusk of my apartment, a cool breeze coming in the window behind me, Brandi Carlile on the speakers, softball to look forward to in the morning, an unread Toni Morrison and a stack of birthday cards beside me. I’m content.

Posted by Aaron on May 19, 2007 10:17 PM