This Will Eat Your Heart Out

Because I envy your normal life. It seems that envy is my sin.
– John Doe, Se7en

Long before Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and prior to Late Night with Conan O’Brien, there was Late Night with David Letterman.  It was a mixture of absurdity, quirkiness and odd tidbits.  It was a funny show and I would faithfully stay up every night to watch.  When Letterman moved to CBS in 1993, he brought some renamed Late Night’s signature bits (Top Ten Lists, Viewer Mail, Stupid Pet Tricks) with him.  Alas, my favorite segment, “Brush With Greatness”, where Dave would persuade people to reveal the time they rubbed shoulders with the stars never made the jump.

As I have gotten older, I have been fortunate enough to develop relationships with friends and colleagues who make their career in the arts and in entertainment.  Some are extremely successful and a few have high profile careers.  I don’t mention this to brag or impress, and for the purpose of this post, their names are not important.  What I can really say is they have all put in the legwork to arrive their current destinations and, when it comes down to it, I am happy for them.

That is not to say I haven’t felt the seductive tug of envy.  My life has taken a different path and I would be lying if I said I didn’t have moments of wishing for their successes.   My brain often drifts into the future – thinking about my acceptance speech for the film I have not yet created, wondering who will attend my funeral, planning my life will be like WHEN I win the lottery.  It is always how it has worked. The thoughts ebb and flow, and are a good source for my own creativity.

The truth is, if I were to toss my problems into big pile with everyone else I know, I’m would take my own back.  I know its cliché but I see the energy and sacrifices some of my friends put forward to maintain their success.  My writer friends spend ten hours days staring at laptop, often creating under deadline.  One took his life a few years ago at the top of his game; others are wrapped in the cocoon of success and are not sure who to trust.  That’s not a life I want.

From experience, it is easy to live life by paring it down, especially when trimming the undesirable.  It doesn’t require much thought or effort or design.  It’s not uncomfortable. And once engrained as habit, you can easily begin to stumble ass-backwards through life.  Things arrive by default and, for a while, taking the path of least resistance can be extremely… Zen.

Sadly, I am not a Zen Master.  I found myself trudging an unfulfilling and lackluster road, unsure how far to backtrack in order to begin moving forward.  And then, without his knowing it, my son gave me a shove in the right direction.

For those of you who haven’t heard, the first year of parenthood is a shock to the system.  Everything, and I mean everything, is turned upside down.  I describe it to people as “The Year My Life Was Stolen”.

I am aware this is not politically correct nor does it dovetail nicely into the tacit cultural message that new moms and dads are supposed to sing the praises of parenthood.  This is not to say I don’t love my son.  I love him more than I could have imagined possible, and would do anything for him.  My point is there seems to be no room in our cultural lexicon to broach the idea that sometimes parents sometimes feel stuck in the baby bubble.

I must confess that, at times, I have certainly felt trapped.  On the more challenging days, I experience moments where the idea of going for a gallon of milk and never looking back is very appealing.  As a parent, there are utterly amazing moments, outside of first steps and first words (“momma”), where you see the child as fearless and pure potential.  But these moments are surrounded by the mundane. Laundry, groceries, meals and sleep fill in the gaps between taking care of the child.  Showers become a luxury, and maintaining relationships, interests or passions are Herculean efforts.  It can feel very isolating, and it is a perfect breeding ground for envy.

I have come to think of envy as a snake oil salesman.  Whatever the problem, he has the miracle elixir that will cure what ails you; a panacea that will tip the scales in your favor.  He whispers this is the only quick fix you’ll ever need but it’s always a lie.  It’s just a Medicine Show.  Now intellectually, I know there are no quick fixes but sometimes it takes me a while to see past my distractions, and get to the heart of an issue.  My perception tends to shift incrementally and often happens while concentrating on other things.

The last time it happened, I was with my son.  It was wrapped in my own thoughts, making us smoothies.  I remember looking down at him standing at my hip.  He looked up at me, smiled and said “Smoothie”.  He was very pleased with himself.  And then it dawned on me. He was present; I wasn’t.  He was participating; I was missing out.

So I’ve made a conscious decision to pay attention, and oddly enough, the things that I want have come into focus.  Yes there are things I want for myself but if only to live by example and show him to go after what he wants.  Mostly I want the opportunity to introduce my son to everything.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to mold him but all I can really hope is expose him to those things that are important to me – music, books, film, travel, baseball, and cooking.  And that only happens by being present and appreciating all I have.

And that’s a good place to start.