Recognition

A few weeks back I was driving down Highland Drive with my friends Katrina and Aaron. We were on our way to a performance. When I ride in the car I like to look out the window at the passing scenery. (This is what makes me such a good navigator). Well, on Highland Drive I saw a man walking down the street. I thought he looked familiar. Then ten seconds later I realized that it was Karl. I was taken aback at my lack of instant recognition. For many years now I have always done a double take whenever I see someone that looks remotely like him. It's not that I'm afraid of meeting him, I just don't want to. So, for six years I have been skeptical of every balding man that I've seen. So it makes it even more bizarre that I wouldn't recognize him on the spot. I mean, it's only been a year since last I saw him, but still . . . I'm not quite sure what to think about it. I don't know whether I should be grateful that I don't recognize him, or somewhat sad that I don't even recognize my own father. I'm just a little mixed up. Although, I haven't lost sleep over it. I think in some ways I am glad that I am no longer looking for him wherever I go. I think perhaps it's a sign of healing. I would like to think so. I can go for weeks without thinking about him, whereas four years ago I was lucky to go for two hours. It's interesting how life changes. What things are important and what things aren't. I don't miss him as a person or as a father. I do miss the security and financial safety his work provided.

It has been a long road to get to the place that I am. With my parents separating the summer I graduated high school, I feel like I was forced to grow up really fast. I went from teenager to adult in one summer. While my friends were talking about majors, missions and work, not to mention just having a grand old time being young, I had responsibility heaped on me. I had to think school and work and then how to provide for myself and my family. I had to decide whether my job would provide enough money. I had to worry about the stress that my mom was under. I had to find insurance and pay for it myself. I've learned so many grown up things. Things that you learn little by little along the way and usually with a spouse to help shoulder the load. I'm not saying that Mom didn't shoulder the load, because she took way too much up on herself. I am just struck with the unfairness of it all. Why me? Why is everything I do so hard? I have saved up several thousands of dollars in the past couple of years only to have to use it for household or business expenses. I'm not mad about having to do that. I'm glad that I had the means to help out my family. I'm just disappointed and frustrated.

This is not where I wanted to be with my life. I had plans. They had to be changed due to other's decisions. That's the worst part of it. It's not my fault that I have had to go down the paths that I have. If it had been I probably would be more content. But it wasn't my choice! I was pushed down this path only to have the road erode away behind me. I'm not so pessimistic to think that I can't achieve my dreams and plans. I will make them happen, it just won't happen the way I thought it would.

I just don't know why everything has to be so hard. Everything I do seems to be a journey, not a single step. I am so jealous of my friends and their little problems. Not only do they have little problems but they all, mostly, have a spouse to share the burden of them. I am alone with big problems and decisions that ultimately, I have to make the final call. Sometimes I just don't know why I was chosen for this path. And what's worse is that I know that even with all that I have to deal with, God could heap more trials on me and I could take them. I am grateful for my strength, but in a lot of ways it is a curse. I know that life was not meant to be easy, although a little smooth sailing would be nice now and again. I just don't understand why mine has to be so hard. I don't know of anyone my age who has had to deal with as much crap as I have without a lot of support or help. I'm not asking for either.

What I would like more than anything, almost, is recognition. Recognition that my life has been harder than most. Recognition that it is not my fault I've had to deal with so many things. Recognition that I am a strong person. And yet, even as I write this I realize, perhaps mine is the only recognition that matters.