It Must Be Me

It's still summer.  Beautiful down here, as I said last time.  Friends, family, people, food, drinks, sun, sea, surf, stars.  Lots of stuff to do.

My wife and I played golf yesterday. We are not good golfers.  I have almost gotten to be mediocre, but I don't play enough.  I began to play because it is one of the few sports my wife will do.  She gets bored after nine holes.

We played on a hot afternoon at one of the local courses.  Since it's summer and busy we were paired up with a couple of guys who are about my age who were golfers.  The were buddies, and they said  they play about three or four times a week. They were were nice people and friendly to us.  They were very good at golf. At least a stroke a hole better than me, more on harder holes. But they didn't seem bothered by us whacking the ball around.  They were mildly competitive with each other. A lot of kidding back and forth.  They seemed to repeat things they had said to each other for years.

Often, when we are paired up with another couple, we get to know a bit about them: where they live down here, where they lived before, what they did, how many kids, grandkids, where they like to eat. just general stuff.  When we get paired up with men, they are polite but no information gets exchanged. These guys talked to each other about fishing, about grilling, and about watching golf on TV.  I don't know if they had wives and families.  They could even have been married to each other, although that seemed unlikely.  Although, really, they were. They seemed like guys who had worked at a job for many years, and now they were happy to be finsihed with it.  They were free now to do what they wanted.  They had earned that.

Today, I went out by myself in my kayak.  Paddled down the river and out into the Sound.  I paddled through the little waves out to the mound of rocks.  Looked at the land, sea and sky, and wondered again who I was and what I was thinking about.  I think about thinking too much.

My wife was busy all day so I stopped for some clams and a beer. I was going to sit at the outdoor bar and chat with the folks who were enjoying themselves, but as I passed I heard they were talking about drinking, and drinks.  The talk was a bit loud and a bit sloppy.  They obviously knew what they were talking about and had been at it for a while.

I just  moved on to a table.

I'm a  fun guy, but not in the ways that most people have fun.  I like to drink, but not that much.  I like to play golf, but the score doesn't matter. The only movies I like are strange and have been seen by about three dozen people.  I get bored by most novels.  I don't believe in happy endings. I love to talk to people, especially now that I don't have to help solve their problems, but I make jokes they don't understand, and references to things they never heard of. I think a lot of things are funny. Many of them are the things other people take seriously.  I think I'm funny.  I'm really good at entertaining myself.  I get all my jokes.

But I can't just relax and enjoy everything day after day.  I can't just take care of myself and let the rest of the world go off and do it's thing.  I know when it does things often turn out badly.  I worry about my kids and my grandkids.  I worry a lot about my profession.  Psychology, and the treatment of mental health issues are not evolving fast enough.  They are not keeping up with the rest of the sciences and with the way the world operates. Not effecient or effective.

But I've been at this for almost fifty years now.  It's time to put it down and let someone else pick it up.  I'm very fortunate to be as healthy and happy as I am.  Let it be.

But I can't.  Things should be better. It bothers me.  Some things have improved, but not enough.  People should care.  Most don't.  They are better than I am at just having a good time.  I'm almost jealous.
But I'd be bored.

I see it with my patients all the time.  Long-term habits are hard to break.