05
This is what I want.
A lot of people, organizations, institutions, and corporations seem bent upon convincing me that I am in need of something, that it is not enough to simply live (and enjoy) my life, but rather that my life is unenjoyable in its current state by virtue of the fact that it lacks some thing, a thing which he/she/they are only too happy to advise me on and/or sell to me.
Five days a week I work a seven-to-four job and then come home to my wife and son for a few hours of dinner, TV, and familial bliss. On weekends we run errands together and spend long periods of time sitting on the couch reading. Sometimes we play Scrabble. It’s a simple life and I love it.
Yet apparently it is not good enough. I am constantly being informed that I could not possibly be happy with such a life. I need friends who are not coworkers. I need free time away from my family. I need to enjoy the rich D.C. nightlife. I need to own a speedboat. I need to shop at the Gap. I need to watch football with guy friends and down beers. That I need to have an identity outside of that of a husband and father.
I had one of those for a long time, an independent identity, and I really enjoyed myself. I hopped freight trains and scaled office towers and charmed young women into giving me what I wanted. But you know what? I was quite happy to give my independence up when I got married, and was only too happy to throw another log on its pyre by having a child. People can talk about being independent all they want, but when you have people who depend upon you, ignoring that fact is clear-cut neglect.
I was independent for a long time and I had some grand adventures. But do you know what a telling synonym for ‘independent’ is? ‘Alone.’ Our culture has exalted independence to such an absurd degree that we have cut ourselves off from all of those around us. People fail to form lasting relationships with each other because they want to remain independent, because they’ve been told that independence is the way to go, because they fear allowing themselves to lean on someone else.
I was alone for a long time and I hated it. I did everything I could to feel less alone. I made so many friends that were not coworkers that I could not help but neglect the majority of them. I went train hopping over Break rather than going home to see my parents. I enjoyed the feeble Chapel Hill nightlife. I shopped at the Gap. I even watched basketball with dorm-mates and gulped Dr. Pepper. I was the most independent person I’ve ever known; I walked away from entire classes of friends with nary a look back or a fleeting nostalgia, not out of maliciousness but simply because it was no longer convenient for me to hang around with them.
And when I found someone with whom I could connect, with whom I could give up my independent ‘I’ for a bound ‘we’, I jumped at the chance. And that has been my salvation. I could have died so many times over, and ultimately would have, had I not finally found what I was looking for on all those trains and from the tops of all those high-risers: dependent belonging.
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