I’m reading a book that is really bringing me to my knees, not literally, but emotionally. The part that really sticks to the bones though is that THIS is mostly psychological.
It has made me so incredibly sad because I see way too many markers of this sad story in my own life.
The book: In The Neighborhood: The Search for Community On An American Street, One Sleepover at a Time by Peter Lovenheim.
The first part of it involves him staying over with an older neighbor, a retired surgeon. A surgeon that has 4 children and had 50 years or so with his wife who had died about 5 years previously.
A man, who while having provided many years of service and help and care to people not related to him, is now spending most of his remaining time alone, with nobody around.
And that’s how I feel, not that I’m assigning some grandiose mantle of “surgeon” but I have people tell me, often, how much I help them and bring them encouragement and inspiration.
And then I look at my own life, my own relationships and feel like a complete fucking fraud.
I wonder sometimes how long I’d be dead in my apartment if I didn’t teach classes on a daily basis…how long before my family would notice.