How did I get here?

And you may find yourself
Behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house
With a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself, well
How did I get here?                         -Talking Heads

 

A middle aged father, critical care physician, triathlete, water polo goalie and Bob Mould stalker wakes up one day and asks, “How did I get here?”

The answer to that is probably longer than what is appropriate for this blog, the human attention span being what it is. But that question along with its logical follow up, “where am I going?” has been on my mind quite a bit.

How did I get here? Where am I going? My past. My future. With change coming just around the corner, it’s hard not to have my headspace taken up by these questions. But with some more introspection, I find that this is my brain’s default; to be looking forwards or backwards. I can be in the middle of a long run or bike ride, but instead of seeing the countryside around me, my eyes focus on last week’s battles with the kids, wishing for a “do over”.  Or I fail to see the sunrise in front of me, on my morning drive to work, as I have already mentally dived into the ICU to deal with the overnight admissions.

My past. My future.

But what about my present?

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Change Redux

It started almost as a little hum… a vibration in my head, felt more than heard.  A connection between some deep part of my brain straight to inside my chest. In the days leading up to my college graduation I mostly ignored it. Easy enough in the midst of goodbye parties, long nights at the Terrace drinking pitchers of beer while the sun set over Lake Mendota. Graduation parties, visiting family to entertain… there was plenty to be distracted by. But the hum turned to an ache. A growing uneasiness. An angst. I tried to drown it. Alcohol, music, sleep. But graduation came, and as day turned to night, and evening settled in, I saw Liza, my friend, forged on those first few nights in the dorm freshman year, across the street from my apartment on her porch. I walked over and sat next to her and buried my head on her shoulder and just cried. Tears flowed with the pressure and force of the angst that had been percolating inside me now at a full boil. She held me as I just let go. And for a few moments at least I had relief from the discomfort that had entered my perfect world.

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Ch Ch Ch Changes..

“Ch-ch-changes
Don’t want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time”

-David Bowie

Months have passed since I last wrote.  Thoughts, musings, topics have flittered frequently through my head. But in the general chaos and anarchy that I call my life, (we are often living hour to hour in the Topin household)  as soon as these thoughts gain some traction, something comes up and steals my head space, my bandwidth. And I get wrapped up in the whirlwind of my world.

But something of late feels a bit different.  The ebbs and flows and highs and lows that seems to be the backdrop of my life..seem to no longer feel right…The familiarity of the cyclical nature of things feels…no longer safe..or comfortable…but constricting, and obstructing.

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