I’m undergoing a little crisis moment. Not a proper crisis on the scale of hurricanes or other acts of God, just a little bijou falling apart of long held constructs. It’s genuine, in the sense that it’s brought me up short and stopped me.
It’s just a crisis of function. I’m not sure what I should be doing and what my priorities are. I’m a husband, father, and the rest. The rest has become suddenly very large and time consuming, and I’m having to cut things out and drop stuff to be able to carry on being a good husband and father first.
An unrelated but parallel problem is that my sons seem determined to grow up and be independent. Not one of them is in double figures but I’m already starting to see them carving their own way in life: the contemplative, the action man, and the socialite. Not that these labels fully cover them, but it demonstrates the wider point.
No matter how much I hope to find a round hole to park my round bum in, I know it will never be like that. Maybe right now the best I can look for is sufficiency and contentment. Not bad goals, to be fair.