The old chalkboard said things like, "Get a Dog", "Buy a house" and "start a "family." There were material items on their too: Vikram 5 finger shoes, a pair of sunglasses, new hiking boots. I had recently come across this artifact from a time long past, from the early days of my relationship with my wife, when we were living in a small apartment just after college, unconcerned about the future but seeking direction. This vision board was assembled in the same apartment that I proposed to my wife, when she said - "Ya, dude, I'll marry you."
My wife is now sick. She has been sick for some time, I can always remember how long from the age of my daughter, who was born via an induced labor so that my wife could start treatment.
My daughter turns 2 soon, and it has been two years that have both broken me and made me stronger. I fear that the experience is causing me to change as a person, perhaps drastically, and I'm deeply worried that my coping mechanisms are unhealthy and changing me into someone who I do not wish to be. Worse yet, with our two young children (my son just turned 4) I haven't had the time or the energy to address this like I wish I would address it, head on.
My wife is struggling with her own mortality through this, and doesn't have the time, energy or mental bandwidth for me or for others; I can't even imagine how one could cope with what she is going through. Nonetheless, her sometimes enraged absent presence has irreperably effected our relationship and I fear that it may be beyond repair. I love her, I'm committed to her and will continue to be here for her, but at what cost? As our world slowly snaps like so many elastic bands holding together a structure that's being pulled apart from all angles, my psyche is breaking too. I've been bitter; I'm not sure if my wife loves me, if she's trapped by her need for my health insurance or by the way I enable her lifestyle, but sometimes I feel like she might not want me around. There is no intimacy.
We fight. We fight in front of the kids. My son has taken to singing, loudly, to try and deescalate.
"Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are..."
The constant din of the children adds tension to the already overstreched structure. It's hard to be absorbed by the childish innocence and joy and wisdom when I constantly feel like a mirror about to shatter.
"...how I wonder what you are."
But, alas, one does have choices in life. My philosophical journey of the past decades has led me to be committed, by faith, that free will does exist, and that the absurdity of this world is worth our time and attention. We have control over our existence. Less than we might desire, but there are things that we can control. We can choose to be happy. We can choose to accept the most difficult situations and find the beauty and joy in small moments. We can recognize our current situation and we can change. I am going to take my happiness, my need for self fulfillment and my dreams and desires into my own hand in plow forward into the uncertain future with hope.
So, since my last vision board had been completed, in many ways accidently, I took Sunday and started one 2" x 3" poster board with our family name sketched across the top in washable marker. I asked my son what he wanted to add to the board and I was not sure if he was paying attention, he seemed distracted by the toy phone he was playing with...
"Ring, Ring, Ring" "Ring, Ring, Ring"
"DAD, ANSWER"
I grabbed my cell phone and walked to the other room. "Hello?"
"Dad! Let's make a dog house."
So, together, we sketched out plans for a dog house on the poster board, and guess what?
I'm building a dog house.
