A Hundred Yards of Happiness
“My God,” my stepsister said after hugging me. “You look like the Incredible Hulk.” I’d driven out to meet her at SFO, where she had a three-hour layover. It had been a while since we’d seen each other. “Seriously, you’re huge.”
“Oh come on,” I said, “I’m not THAT big.”
“I guess I still think of you as that skinny fifteen-year-old,” she said.
“So do I,” I said. “Which is why I now look like this.”
I’d been a scrawny kid, the kind of scrawniness that perfect strangers felt compelled to comment on when meeting me for the first time. My first year of college I was an inch shy of six feet tall and weighed 128 pounds.
I now weigh 190, due in no small part to the gym. I realized the other day that I’ve now been working out over half my life. But it wasn’t until the last couple of months, when I changed what I ate, that I started seeing the results I’ve always wanted. Turns out all those guys telling me to up my protein actually knew what they were talking about. Go figure.
I’ve been kicking around in my head this subject of change for a little while, after something profound happened to me.
That day I was walking from my apartment to the museum lot at the end of my street where I’d parked my car, about 100 yards. Blue skies, the air cool, Finley trotting just ahead of me, sniffing the ground, his little tail wagging. And for a moment I felt a particularly tender love for him, for his enthusiasm and his charming little strut, and that feeling inside me spread out to the day, and to my life.
I realized that I was happy.
This may be the kind of feeling, or awareness of feeling, that other people have all the time. But for me it was a revelation.
Most of the time I worry. I live in tomorrow (a strange position for a memoirist, but I never claimed to be consistent.) I struggle with impatience, full of ambition and thwarted by doubt. I think that I should have met all of my goals by the age of 25. And now I am 39.
But for those 100 yards I felt content.
Of course my next thought was, “Why?”
The most obvious factor was this thing I have going with the Manly Fireplug. We’ve only been back together a few short weeks, and I’m reluctant to say this out loud, but a couple of days ago we linked our Facebook profiles again so I think I can risk it: today we are happy together. I now recommend breaking up as a terrific method for reflection and re-prioritization. Things are better than they ever were before, and they were pretty damn good before. That goes for sex too. Just sayin’.
The second factor was with writing. At some point in the last few months, after a string of career rejections, my approach to writing shifted. I’m giving up trying to impress readers. I just want to reach them. Sure, I still hope to impress – c’mon, I’m a writer – vanity and insecurity come with the job. But the contortions I twisted myself into, trying to impress, didn’t serve me so well.
Third, I look good.
I guess what I felt, coming together in one short walk down the street, was a comfort inside my skin, a strange sensation for me. And upon further reflection I could trace it all back to D league softball.
I like to poke fun at D league softball, because really, the stakes couldn’t get any lower. But that is why I am continually amazed at what it has done for me. I told you already how bad I was in the beginning, how bad it felt being so bad in front of so many people, and how being so bad in front of so many people made me want to cut my losses and run.
I’d joined in the weeks after the Fireplug and I had broken up, when I’d already felt like a failure; I’d failed at love and I’d failed at writing and now I’d failed at sports.
I needed to flex some muscle. So I stuck it out, hit the practices, hit the batting cages in my spare time, and over the course of the season transformed from the guy who could reliably strike out every time at bat, to the guy who could reliably get on base every time at bat. I’m no D league rock star, just a solid member of the team, which for this season is okay.
That subtle transformation fed my confidence, and that confidence spread into other areas of my life. I had a stronger sense of myself as a man, of what I wanted out of love, out of sex, out of writing. All because of D league softball.
And if D league softball could tap unknown potential inside me, then what else did I contain?
Of course I still harbor doubts, mostly about my abilities. Cynics say, “People don’t change.” But they can, and they do, though only with tremendous effort. For the past three months I’ve watched the Fireplug transform into a more open, loving man, his changes – both big and small – unfolding on a near-daily basis, and that transformation astounds me, humbles me, makes me want to hold on to my front row tickets.
And I keep circling this subject of change, trying to figure it out. I suppose it gives me hope. Maybe, as I close in on forty, I need reassurance that change is still possible, that as long as I draw a breath I can keep throwing aside, year by year, a couple of the doubts that I lug around – buying myself a few more yards of this hard-won feeling.
Mike,
I use to be Vince, now I am Daigan. I am ordaining soon as a Zen Buddhist Priest, I have been a monk now for almost 4 years. I just graduated with a new BA and getting ready to go for an MA. I will be 45 in April and 23 years sober. Change is not only possible, it’s impossible to escape. At least that’s my experience. What makes some changes more acceptable than others? Maybe it’s our ability to have some input into the changes, rather than be passive observers. Anyway.. This was an awesome piece, and having witnessed that public part of your life for a lot of years, I am inspired and encouraged by you. Thanks a ton!
June 29th, 2010 at 5:54 pmHello Poet.
When I hit 40, everything began to change for me. It was as if a light went on in my head. I could say, with certainty, “I remember when” and knew what that felt like. To have enough years behind me to know with certainty, where I was at the moment. Time invested in life, began to pay off. That was my 40th birthday in July of 2007.
I had completed my BA in Religion and I began my Certif. in Pastoral Ministry, which I completed in 2009.
I thought I’d do a M.A. in Theology, I started but God had other plans for me. So now I am living by the seat of my pants. No job yet, but I trust god will take care of that too.
AND I am sober … almost 9 years now. And I am HIV + 17 years now, I lived …
Everything is possible. The fact that Manly Firelplug is still in your life is pure joy. He is changing, YOU are changing. Life is all about perspective. The older you get, the more perspective you get.
Stop trying to figure out change. Just let it be. The less you fight, the less pain it will cause. Learning to go with the flow is a fine art. One day at a time.
You have come a long way. And you are still an amazing writer, a man about town. You have love in your life and you are still alive.
Take a look at the 3 things we need:
1. A roof over your head
2. Food in your belly
3. A warm bed to sleep in
You have everything you need. Including Love in your life. It only gets better from here out. 40 is the new 20. Don’t bemoan aging, let it wash over you and bring you peace.
Change is constant.
Remember we are powerless over people, places and things. You are both changing, growing old together with the one you love is an amazing grace. Be grateful for that.
Stop trying to impress people, let go and let god. When you stop trying to impress people, you will find that you didn’t need to impress most of them, because you already have their attention.
People are people, fickle as they are, you can’t impress everyone all at the same time. And for the most part, the less we try to impress, the more we learn that we didn’t have to try to do that all the time. The ones we needed to impress were already in our camps.
All you need to know is this … Life will go on, change happens. We are powerless and we must learn to go with the flow. All these things are sober concepts.
It is time to enjoy the time you have under your belt. Love the one you are with and fuck all the rest. Who you have in your life, you will have until you don’t need them anymore. People come and go from our lives, because some people are only meant to be with us for maybe a season or two.
That is the journey of life. People coming and going, as life moves forwards. They say that at any given moment on any given day – that we are right where we need to be at that moment.
In a weeks time, I will be 18 years hiv +. At the end of July (31st) I will turn 43. And I will be 8 1/2 years sober.
You are ok, life is ok.
Take care and be well.
Jeremy
June 29th, 2010 at 8:30 pmDaigan, good point, there are a couple different types of change; the kind that happens to us, and the other kind.
June 29th, 2010 at 11:47 pmJeremy,
Thanks for the thoughtful remarks. I feel compelled to make clear that when I post stories to this blog that contain admissions of uncertainty, moral questioning, moments of weakness, etc, it’s really not a cry for help or advice. I do it because I appreciate when other writers cop to being human, when they strive for but still fail to live up to personal goals or maxims, etc. Those moments not covered by affirmations. When they commit those moments to text it makes me feel a little less alone in the world. Those admissions of “weakness” reach further into me than advice does, and I feel compelled to return the favor, or at least to make the attempt. Congrats on your considerable milestones and accomplishment, and again I appreciate your comment.
June 29th, 2010 at 11:56 pmYour postings make me happy every time I am alerted to a new one going up.
And your happiness inspires happiness in every one who reads you.
Thank you for sharing — and thank you for recognizing those moments. It makes me remember to keep my eyes open for them, as well…
June 30th, 2010 at 7:01 amGood on ya, Dogger.
June 30th, 2010 at 7:07 amDang, just when the “stakes couldn’t get any lower” (LOL @ that), it turns satisfying.
Smoootch.
June 30th, 2010 at 11:02 amMike,
Just wanted to say that it is really a joy to be taken along on the magical journey that is your life. Obviously you’ve been thru quite a lot, some of it very rough, but without those struggles & tests of character you would not have blossomed in to the man or the writer you are today. I think I once read somewhere that a writer who has had a perfectly “normal” life & mundane experiences doesn’t have much of a story to tell. I think everyone who has ever read your stories knows that you lived far from the “normal” life & your experiences are amazing. I’ve been reading you for years (almost since the beginning) & have many times lived vicariously thru you. Know that you have impressed me, touched me, made me think, & helped me in ways you can’t imagine. Thank you for putting yourself out there & letting us see your vulnerability. It helps more than you know….
A Fellow Midwesterner
July 2nd, 2010 at 6:19 pmok, dogpoet!
it makes me happy to see that things are turning around for you. i thought you were going to spend the rest of your life on the playing field (no pun intended).
so many things happen to us on a daily basis. it is what we decide to keep and learn from that makes us change/happier. so many little things happen too. try not to miss those things as well.
i think i can tell you to stay with your current “gut” feeling. it seems to be working. there was one line in particular that made me laugh; …makes me want to hold on to my front row tickets. you better hold on to those tickets. you have a great seat and view.
have a great 4th and remember where you were, where you are, and where you are going. one last thing; there was this saying i use to say a lot when i was in high school. i think i will pass it on to you. “today is yesterday’s tomorrow.”
use for what it’s worth….
July 3rd, 2010 at 8:28 amThat’s exactly how I feel at 25. 2 months in, I’m beating myself up with anticipation and impatience.
Thanks for sharing that feeling.
And you’re right, these heart-on-sleeves display of weaknesses cuts right through.
July 3rd, 2010 at 10:26 pmAlways enjoy your writing. Both pics were great in different ways. I’ve been pursuing happiness longer with less success. Doesnt mean I stopped but it sometimes is discouraging.
July 7th, 2010 at 3:54 pmMaybe we don’t change, we just become who we really are.
It takes time to strip off the old stuff and let the real you/me out.
You are so wonderful. As you. Blessings on the journey.
July 11th, 2010 at 11:05 amHit 40 last August. Didn’t exactly beat the crap out of it, but I think I showed it who’s boss.
Things are going much as you’ve described 39. I love what you say about reaching, rather than impressing, with your writing. That’s it exactly. Your writing has impressed me since I found it a few years ago. I don’t believe your approach will change that, but I like that you’re enjoying the process more.
41 is coming for me next week. Think I’ll kick the tarnation out of it. Probably likes it rough.
August 3rd, 2010 at 5:36 pmHi Michael
August 27th, 2010 at 3:57 pmI haven’t checked in for a bit so just catching up on your life BUT what I really want to say is you are a damn GREAT writer and I can’t wait to read your ‘book.’