I hate feelings. I like the “old Byron” much better where I was accused of not having a heart. I feel this immense pressure right now. Tremendous pressure… to what? Become an “adult”. I’m getting life insurance. Have the regular 8-5 job. Work on the yard on the weekends. Getting a new mower. Elder at church. Some of this I like. I do like to know that I’m taking care of my family. So, that’s good. But, I feel like screaming and taking an ad out in the KC Star that I’m not ready for this. I don’t want my old life back and I don’t want to turn back the hands of time. I guess I just don’t want the pressure of having to do what everyone else does because that’s what’s expected of me. The struggle in my mind is related to Western culture. I guess I want to take the good things and leave some of “expected” stuff behind. I can’t even really describe how I feel. I feel like I’m letting my family down if I don’t get the million dollar coverage that others get. Ok, so, I’m probably letting others and circumstances determine my feelings. I dind’t used to give a rip what others thoughts of me or how I was doing things. Ok, so I do miss the old Byron.
read don’t waste your life yet?
Maybe you should read Abba’s Child by Brennan Manning
The Bible is good too I hear…
Do you remember Uncle Kenny from Indy? I can’t remember if I talked about him much. His mother just passed away and I have learned something from her. What is it that won’t let me just lay down and die? Point: Mrs. Bailey was laying in her bed over the weekend barely breathing and keeping time. She was in and out and the nurses said they have seen this before, when a person just won’t die. There was something in her that was just holding on. For What? I asked myself. What is so pressing that she can’t just close her eyes and die? What did she have to live for, she is 90 something for crying out loud. She had something she hadn’t finished or done…what you ask? I don’t know? But I’m 27 and why can’t I just die? Is there something unfinished or something I haven’t done yet…I think so. What you ask? I don’t know.
I don’t miss the old Byron, because he has never really left. You struggled then. Carry On!
Little pink houses for you and me, for you and me…NOT! Ain’t that America!!!
NS
sorry if this was super morbid…Late nights open up the clumsy soul.