***Perhaps I had become a jar in the shape of [myself], a jar that held some of the pieces of the man I had once been, but not all. Never all. If that was my new truth - and I had begun to suspect that it was - then what I had to hope for was to find and hold on to the best pieces...
- from Blade Reforged- by Kelly McCullough
I read these words a short time ago and they resonated deep inside me. Several times lately, when examining my life, the word “shattered” has come to mind. My emotions, my personality, my ability to concentrate and to get things done were all shattered. So, I sit down to practice my guitar and within minutes my mind is elsewhere. I sit down to read and within minutes my mind is elsewhere. I start work on my research paper and within minutes…Well, you get the picture.
In the past I rarely walked away from a challenge, yet that seems to be all that I’m doing these days. I saw myself as a “fix it” guy; when I was in my early 20’s K-mart handed me a non-functional department and I made it work. Over and over, that seemed to be what happened. I made broken things work. Before March 1, 2012, I felt like I was making a difference, that I had contributed in a positive way to the life around me, in my work and at home. Well, the universe slapped me in the face with something I can’t fix. Jonathan lost everything that might have been. Benjamin lost his brother. I lost my son. There’s simply nothing I can do, no way to make it better.And so I’m looking back and wondering what I’ve ever actually accomplished. The fact is that the K-mart departments I took over would have still existed. You simply don’t run a K-mart store without a Health and Beauty Aids or a Toy department. Would Shepherd’s Honors Program or Psychology Department have ceased to exist? I doubt it. Even the biggest thing that I supposedly did – chair the General Studies Committee during the reform of that program – would that have not happened without me? In reality, there was any number of people who could have guided that process. I suspect that some of them could have even made it a smoother process and less of a “squeaker” victory. Even so, I might have been able to deal with all that, but I once told a group of new faculty to make sure to make time for family, because when they were old and retired, it wasn’t going to be Shepherd sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch with them. But look at me. The two women I married, both of whom I loved dearly, decided I wasn’t worth living with.
Now, I’m not looking for anyone to electronically pat me on the head and say, “There, there, it will be all right.” And I’m not expecting an It’s a Wonderful Life moment. Angels don’t have time for the likes of me (except one – you know who you are). Part of this is just venting and there’s no one here to vent to.Part of it is just fear. In looking at the pieces in the jar, trying to find the good ones to keep, I really can’t find any.