Sometimes someone else says it better than I ever could …

Working up to writing my own post about recognizing well into adulthood that my heart is not the abstract concept I thought it was, that goals and dreams can be 38″ tall and growing, that time really, really, truly and irrevocably is the only currency that is completely nonrenewable… I read this on Sweet Juniper, one of my favorites, and as often happens his words captured my thoughts perfectly. I read a few more blogs, scouted around for my own words, couldn’t shake this post from my head, and so … I’ll let him share my thoughts with you today.

In becoming part of a community of men and women writing and reading about the experience of parenting online I gained the support and validation I needed to abandon the trajectory I was on and focus instead on the life I actually wanted. This is where I get mushy. I know for most not-yet-parents, websites about parenting must be more unappealing than lactating nun porn. Twenty-somethings must tremble at the possibility of ending up like me, a man who abandoned everything he spent his twenties working towards because he became a father and was suddenly seized with the delusion that everything he thought was important when he was 23 actually didn’t mean shit to him anymore. I went through that same journey of fear and dread, knowing that creating new life brings unpreventable changes and new responsibilities. Of course, what I hadn’t been prepared for was how much love it would stir up inside me, this primal, riotous love; the calamitous melange of fear, and pain, and hope, and awe that comes when you finally get to know these new people you made with the one person who first stirred up enough love inside you to make it all happen.

And then I remembered my own parents, what they taught me about love, and that long, slow spacewalk they’ve watched me take since they cut the cord. I thought about the sacrifices they made. And I wanted to reach out and hold my kids as close and for as long as I could, before they slipped away. I have always spent my life living for the next decade: working hard, saving money, plotting out a safe career and a secure retirement. When I realized that continuing to live how I was living meant that I would barely get to watch my kids grow up, something snapped. I walked away. And I had this blog and the people reading it to help keep me from fainting. I learned to live for these precious years of their lives, and mine. And I know I’m better for it.

Published in: on August 21, 2010 at 12:38 PM  Leave a Comment  

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