Breakdown at Milepost 40

Aging is a gradual process, so why should I worry when the clock officially tacks on another number to my age? Perhaps I should have realized that, as my peers began turning 40, and I would post half-serious questions about their experience, that I had my own issues brewing steadily in the background.

I don't think I've had a birthday party since I was six, but Meg insisted on having one for me--something about 40 being a milestone or something, despite my arguments that I had done nothing significant to warrant anything--I had simply aged another year. But I conceded the point. I offered up the idea of a roller skating party--which is probably what my last party was; see, I haven't changed a bit--but I think she laughed that one out of the rink pretty quickly. I get daily emails from Groupon and LivingSocial, and they had something for a karaoke box rental. My half-Japanese side recognized something that could be fun and probably aligned with my personality. I told Meg I would be open to something like that--with a small group of people I know and like. She thought that was a good idea, because she had already bought the deal and was moving forward with planning the party regardless. Even though I lived in Japan for two years, I never once did karaoke (nor had I since I returned to the States); I probably did experience a wide range of cultural activities--especially compared to my upbringing--but I regret not having immersed myself even deeper in the culture of Japan.

Highlight=MeNoSing

That conversation with Meg happened last summer (she's a planner). On the day of the party, I spent an hour or so in the morning looking up songs in karaoke place's database and making my own playlist so I wouldn't have to scramble or stress about what songs to choose next (I'm can act like a planner, too). This turned out to be a brilliant idea, for I performed the majority of the songs: not because I like being the center of attention, not because I'm a good singer, but because I seemed to be the most interested and eager to sing. Maybe I was just that entertaining, for better or for worse. I suppose the most reasonable answer is that my guests were simply being nice to me on my birthday. Thank you, kind guests.

The karaoke box had a capacity of 16 bodies, and we had about a 11 people attend--all of whom Meg invited. I don't have a lot of friends, which suits me fine, but I still felt a little sad when none of the people I personally invited--and whom had given me a positive "maybe"--showed up. But I liked all of the people who were there, and they didn't seem to mind my covers of The Beastie Boys. And I was feeling pretty good, like I was going to breeze through this whole birthday thing without incident. My lone aspiration on my day-off was my 40 for 40 deal: 40k steps for 40 years of clean-living. But then I woke up Monday morning.



Sleep came and went sporadically. I should have been dead-tired from all of that singing and dancing. But my mind was a wreak, so I eventually threw in the towel, changed into my running clothes, and left the house before sunrise. February weather in NW Oregon is usually cold and rainy, but the gods granted me my wish of sunny and 60, making my run all the more pleasurable. I intended to run to the track at Cleveland High School (a couple of miles away) run my birthday time trial (a tradition I re-instated after a couple of years hiatus), and then run home. After clocking 6:39 for my mile, which isn't bad considering I only put in long, slow runs on the weekends now, I felt the need to run the other way, away from home. So I began moving north, and then east, and soon Mt. Tabor was in sight. Why not climb it? I had already covered several miles, so the ascent took more time and energy than I would have hoped. Having to climb a fence to access the mountain probably didn't help, either, as I didn't approach it from the usual way. But the view and the feeling of accomplishment compensated for any lack of energy my body felt. After nearly two hours and over 12 total miles later--and achieving nearly half of the steps needed for my goal--I returned home to cleanse the signs of my efforts.

Meg made a coffee cake for me, but not even one of my favorite treats could keep me from displacing my anger onto those around me. I butted in to the conversation Meg was having with Elaina (my sister-in-law) and started arguing my point for the lone purpose of arguing. I realized I could not function like a normal human at that point, and I excused myself from the kitchen to finish my food outside on the porch. Meg came out later to talk, but I just continued aiming my negativity towards her, making her cry and leaving me alone again. My state of being was unlike any other time in my life: I felt a physical darkness enveloping my soul, and I had no idea how to escape. I eventually threw down my plate of almost-finished food to the ground and just started walking aimlessly around the neighborhood. I had no destination in mind and for one of the few times in my life I felt without hope.

I don't know how long I was out wandering, but I made a conscious effort to return to the mortal realm and socialize with my family that had driven all the way down from Port Orchard to visit with me. I eventually rustled up the six children and my brother Matt to walk down to the recently renovated Westmoreland Park. Since it was a holiday, and our previously locals-only park has received too much attention from the media (including Sunset magazine), the place was overflowing with people. I tossed a football around with Aaron and Ethan and maybe Ian. Despite it being sunny and 60, all of the water was turned off at the park, and the kids were all dying of thirst. I ran back to the house and filled up every water bottle I could find. Elaina and Meg had returned from wherever they had ventured, and Elaina offered to drive me back with the water. I was still not speaking with Meg, but she had to get ready for a job interview she had with CDK (yeah, that's where I work) anyway. So Elaina and I drove over to the park, we refreshed the kids with water, and learned that they were ready to head home. So I lead my band of hobbits, elves, men, and dwarves back to The Shire.

After a quick lunch, my brother and his family departed, and I waited for Meg to return from her interview. I have lived much of my life passively, but I knew that I could not live that way with the one I love and cherish without measure--I had to be the one to initiate the make-up. I made sure to meet her at the bus stop with as positive an attitude that I could, and we walked home holding hands, me trying to keep my emotions in check and not blame Meg for anything--for surely she had done nothing to create the dark cloud that had been lingering over me all day. We left for Fred Meyer shortly thereafter to shop for groceries, but after Meg turned off the ignition to the car, I broke down and finally was able to express, in words and tears, some of what may had been causing my depression. I rarely cry; perhaps that is why it felt so bad because they felt like they were dammed up inside my head, refusing to come out, because they are rarely needed. But we sat there talking for 30 minutes or so, which made me feel better, but I feel bad (in retrospect) for Meg at having to listen to all of that. This was the turning point of my day, and after bottoming out I think I was able to salvage something. I did meet my goal of 40 for 40, thanks to Meg accompanying me on one of the longest walks through the neighborhood on record.

I finished writing this post two months after it happened. I consider myself a pretty stable person, not a lot of highs or lows, just a lot of even-keeled-mellowness, and the past two months have proved to be just as normal as the months preceding the 40th birthday debacle. The darkness has dissipated, and I hope it never returns.