Note to self

 

The author's letter to himself, written in 1996. Perhaps he was too bored to write "death."

The last day of high school in 1996, my Physics teacher assigned the class the task of writing ourselves a letter. I don't remember exactly what the point of the exercise was, but we had to wait a significant amount of time, say, 10 years after graduation to open the letter. It's been more than 22 years, and I still haven't opened it.

I'm a little annoyed by the fact that it has been sitting there so long, just waiting for me to open it. I tell myself I know what I wrote so I don't have to open it, but, honestly, I have no idea. I know I was a dewy-eyed young man with some untarnished ideals, but I had also endured quite a bit of heartache in my 18 years.

Graduating from high school seemed anticlimactic. My mind had already started to wander down the path I thought I was going to take. There was college to look forward to, a career, lots of fishing, whatever. I didn't imagine myself with a woman, as that seemed pretty far-fetched to me. I hoped to have children, but I was pretty sure having a relationship with a woman was a precursor. Really, I just wanted to enjoy my last summer of relative freedom. My classmates already seemed like strangers. My thought was probably, "Let's move this thing along, already."

So many unexpected things happened after graduation. My life, clearly, did not go as expected. Not even close. There were things out of my control and things completely in my control that conspired to change the course of my personal history. It wasn't a boring life, but it could have been a better life. It's probably safe to say I'm the same person who wrote that letter more than 22 years ago. While much has changed, it feels like I'm right back where I started, at the edge of a great journey. Maybe I should write myself another letter, and when I'm 50 years old, I can look back and say, "Son, you got it all wrong again!"

Looking at my future, there are a couple of obvious scenarios I see playing out.

The first scenario is the low road, which is just an extension of my past. My state of mind will continue to worsen, and my depression will deepen. I'll slip into a sort of walking-dead mode, which isn't hard to imagine, as I feel like I'm half dead most of the time. I'll make some questionable moral decisions which will impact my life in negative ways and lead to an early death.

The second scenario is the high road, which is (as we all know) much harder than the low road. I'll continue to buy in to what God is telling me and give myself over to His process, which is difficult but worth it in the end. This road leads to a place I have a harder time picturing, as I've not often taken the high road.

Well, I hope I still have my son in my life in 10 years. He'll be nearly 14 by then. I don't have any concrete vision for anything else. Starting over again sounds like a detestable thing right now, but I don't have a choice. There's nothing for me here. I know there isn't anything for me anywhere else, but maybe God will bless me nevertheless.

What troubles me most is the great chasm I have in my heart. Every day is a struggle because I've let go of so many things that meant so much to me. Maybe this is my new normal: just letting go. It feels strange and alien to wake every morning and have nothing to look forward to, nothing to keep me going except a return to my bed in the evening. Clearly, I've gone a very difficult route. I have to stop myself from blaming myself for all of this, as that's disrespecting the decisions of others around me. Still, I don't see anything as possible until this feeling changes.

Whatever was in that letter I wrote in 1996, and whatever my future holds, right now it simply doesn't matter. I'm lighting backfires to stop the destructive conflagration devouring my life. I want to keep living, but surviving is my only option. I may sit and think about the future, but I always close the book soon after opening. If it's anything like my past, maybe I don't need to read it.