Epilogue
LONG BEACH, CA, June 12, 2012 - A year ago today, I began a blog on gratitude. As you may recall, it was my 49th
birthday. I was depressed because, as a
child, I decided I wanted to retire by age 49.
I don’t think that I fully understood what retirement was at that time, or how to
prepare for it; I only knew that 49 wasn’t as old as when most people retire,
and I knew I wanted “early recess.”
When my 49th birthday arrived, I couldn’t have
been further from retirement, monetarily speaking: I was unemployed and living
with my mother.
For as long as I can remember, I have heard that one can make
change one’s life positively by changing one’s attitude – an attitude of gratitude – and I
recognized the need to change the course of my thinking at the very least.
I considered keeping a diary as a way to record my daily contemplations, but I’ve never been good at journaling
– I never manage to keep it going for more than a few weeks or months, and after awhile, it would just drop. My latest attempt was about 18 months
ago. No, if I wanted to keep it up for a
year, it would have to be in a form that others would be able to read it, and
if there were the chance that anyone could hold me accountable to maintain it –
even through the simple expectation of the next entry – I’d have a better chance at
diligence. So I began this blog.
I’ve thought a lot about what I would say in this final
entry, and to be honest, I’m still not sure what I should mention as I type (and reread and edit). Frankly, I haven’t had the miraculous
transformation I was hoping for. I’m a
little depressed again this year, partly because I’m now 50 years old, and I
can easily imagine my dating prospects drying up considerably; I never expected
to be alone at this age. I’m a little
blue because I have to acknowledge that I am not the young man I used to
be, and the life I had imagined can no longer look like what I had pictured. Reaching the half-century mark as a
single gay man is sobering.
I am also a little jealous of my friends who also turned 50
recently who had wonderful parties to celebrate the milestone, organized by
lovers or spouses, or family, or even, as in one case, by himself (though he
had lots of help making it happen). I passed the
day quietly – just another day of the week – with good wishes from people
who are very important to me. It
certainly didn’t feel like a milestone.
It wasn’t anything like my 40th, where my coworkers decorated
my office all in black and threw me a little party in the afternoon, and [my boyfriend at the time] took me out in the evening to celebrate. I was alone this time.
I'm also not where I thought I'd be professionally. As a child, I expected to be a successful actor and singer. Life doesn't always move in the direction of your dreams, especially when you give them up for what you think are good reasons. I've had some great experiences doing other things, and truly enjoy where I've landed in the world of Learning & Development. I will always self-identify as a singer and actor, though I haven't done either in years. That, in and of itself, is something to ponder.
While I acknowledge my good fortune to have an income again,
I don’t have much in the bank yet, and I can’t afford to buy myself a birthday
present. Yet. …That will come.
And yet…
I am grateful for all of the events that have happened this
year. I’m grateful for hitting rock
bottom in January and February, thinking I might not survive the feelings of
total failure as the three-year mark of unemployment came and went, and that I
learned that I could survive even that.
I am grateful for my friends – so many of them – who calmly,
rationally, lovingly spoke to me during my worst days and reminded me I was
worth something; who hugged me and encouraged me to join them for fun, or to
share a coffee, or dinner, or a movie; whose unflagging reassurance kept me
going. Only those who have been through
this can fully understand how important that has been or what it means to me to
call them friends. I cannot possibly put
the depth of these feelings into words.
I am grateful to my mom for allowing me to get frustrated
and unpleasant, and never let that get in the way of our relationship. I am
grateful to her for unwavering support, for her love, and her faith in me when
I had none left in myself. She gave me
life a second time.
I am grateful to my daughter Elizabeth for her love, her
encouragement, and her continual contact; she has become one of the most
beautiful people I know – inside and out – and, if it weren’t for her being
there for me, I likely would not have survived the dark times. She gave me a reason to persevere and to keep
living.
I am grateful for my health, and have a greater appreciation
for those who do not have health insurance; my two years without it taught me a
lot about what those who really need it experience when they finally see a
medical professional. My problems were
never that bad, and I saw much suffering among those whose needs were far greater. Until you've needed a "free" clinic (which is rarely free), it is difficult to understand how second class citizens are actually treated. Some of those working in the clinic were
gracious, others not so much. I was particularly surprised by a doctor who seemed indignant that I would question her resident's diagnosis (he appeared to be 12 years old) because of the haste of his decision. It was as if I - an unemployed, uninsured man in his middle age - couldn't possibly have an informed opinion given my sorry state, as if my situation confirmed my stupidity. I was surprised by her condescension, as if her volunteering her time made such inquiries out-of-bounds. In retrospect, I figure that perception was as much about my own self-impeachment as anyone's behavior toward me. I feel lucky to have needed so little medical attention while I lacked
insurance coverage.
I am grateful to my job seeking friends. I was so honored to have been asked so many
times for information and advice; to be allowed to lead a group, and to help
others. I am grateful to my mentors,
Cleon Cox first and foremost, who all showed faith in my abilities and provide
me opportunities to use them.
I am grateful for the challenges and lessons I’ve faced over
the past year. I have grown from them,
just as the clich̩ tells us РI am stronger for these experiences.
What have I learned?
That the proverb my mom told me is true: “Everything works out right in
the end; if it isn’t right, it’s not the end.”
And that the end eventually comes.
“All in good time.” If I can just
stick it out, it will get better.
This year has not been transformational in the way I had
originally hoped, yet I did achieve success – I finally landed a job; I am
earning an income again; I can now plan for a future, and while nothing may go
as planned, I’ll hopefully be prepared for it. I have adapted to different living
situations, climates, pressures, and responsibilities, and have gained friends
and colleagues in the process. I have
grown in empathy and understanding. I
have become who I am today in part because of what I have learned over the past
year.
And I have learned that life’s lessons take a lifetime to
learn. I won’t get it done in one year,
even when I focus every day on something for which I am grateful. It’s not a
game show – “gratitude” is not a door I can choose on “Let’s Make a Deal” to
get a reward when they open it. I don’t
receive everything I want just because I’m grateful. I am grateful for what I have, for those I
love and who love me, and for what is to come.
Thank you for reading my blog. I hope some of what I’ve said has had a
positive impact, and has made a difference.
Writing it has made a difference for me.
