The Second Child - Session 4

(Beep. Music fades in)

Look, for whatever it might be worth, I do like the paint color you chose. I think it’s nice. Partially because–or mostly because–you like it. You like it, and when you walk into your house, you’ll think that. You’ll think, I really like this paint color. Or this is my color. Or–eventually–this is my home. This is a place full of things that bring me happiness, make me feel safe, or serve me in some other purpose. This is the place where I do not put on a front. This is a place where I do not pretend. This is a place where I am me, where I can rest, where I can be.

That is a truly intoxicating feeling. And it’s not one everyone will know. It can’t easily be replicated. There’s nothing like it in the world. That might sound like a cliche. I get it, but I can’t really do anything about that. I can’t help that the go-to expression whenever we want to convey that something has value is to say that it is unique. As if rarity and worth were the same thing. As if things can only matter if they cannot be replicated. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Now I won’t pretend that’s never true. I won’t pretend that we shouldn’t take something rare and appreciate it for what it is to us. But the idea that something is fleeting doesn’t really mean anything. Pain can be fleeting too. By its very nature, pain is meant to be a temporary state. It’s meant to tell you something is wrong, but you’re supposed to react to it. You’re supposed to react in a way that makes the pain go away. Because pain is meant as a warning that there is something wrong, something you need to change or avoid. So why wouldn’t you listen? I know there are reasons, of course. I’m mostly speaking rhetorically. 

But once upon a time, I broke my foot. I don’t miss that pain. I didn’t need to savor that. Quite the opposite. I did everything I could–or thought I could–to heal the injury and to prevent it from happening again. Once upon a time, I did the reasonable thing. But it doesn’t feel so reasonable anymore, to tell you the truth. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And I mean, just look at you. All of this turmoil you’re in… (sigh) Okay, it wasn’t all from you changing jobs. That life change just so happened to coincide with something traumatic. No, I don’t think it’s weird that your emotions have latched onto the job situation. People will cope however they cope. For better or worse, people will cope with bad situations in whatever way feels right, and as long as they don’t hurt anyone, we say it’s fine. Maybe we say it even if they do hurt someone else, it all depends on who they hurt to be honest. (exhale)

Oh, because (inhale) your past manager really was not thrilled that you resigned, right? To tell you the truth, it sounds like a him problem. It sounds like his problem, and I wish you had said that to him. Would it have accomplished anything? No. But it would have made you feel better for a moment. And I would have gotten a good laugh out of it. I could really use a good laugh most days, but I get it. That’s not your responsibility, and nothing could have made him change his ways. But we don’t have to be productive all the time. Sometimes we can just be. 

And I get it, that’s a hard state to settle into, just being in the moment, being present something meaningless. Honestly, the ease with which you can transition into that is the real appeal of whatever notion of home you’ve found at your actual house. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I know you thought you were going to outgrow the place, and I kind of agree, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy what time you spend there. There’s little to no reason to make yourself miserable. Honestly, the only one I can come up with is that taking initiative can be hard. 

That’s the part of this whole thing we never talked about, the thing that I should have been praising you for, and had I done that, then maybe everything would have been easier. Maybe we could have kept everything in perspective. You took initiative. You put forth effort into something that you wanted. That is truly admirable. Yes, it’s somewhat in vogue to be changing it up on the career front, but that doesn’t mean everything is doing it. I haven’t been doing it, for one. 

I don’t have the energy to look into getting a new job, really. And it’s not even the act of searching because the job board websites, you know the ones, they keep sending me emails, so that part’s done. Really, I’m turned off by the act of getting everything together to put on a presentable face, to make myself in any capacity of my life seem desirable, and the potential rejection that may come of it. Or will come of it, let’s be realistic here. 

But that didn’t bother you. Or if it did, you didn’t let that show. You put on a brave face because you thought at the end of the path there was a better life waiting for you. So you went for it.

Like I’ve said before, I can’t see the future only the present, but in your present I only see reasons to be hopeful about this future. And I like to think I have a good eye. It’s the rest of me that sometimes fails. 

But back to the point I probably should have been talking about this whole time, and I’m sorry my mind is somewhere else, but I think you would understand that I can’t help it. There’s nothing wrong with pursuing better. There’s nothing wrong with putting in effort, regardless of who it may inconvenience. And there’s nothing wrong with being rewarded for your efforts or having things work out in a way that is in your favor but wouldn’t normally be classified as a reward. And deep down, I think you know that. But despite knowing that, you still think you see a problem. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

So is it merely wanting better for yourself that has you so put off? The act of being discontent in a situation others might find desirable. Because things could always be worse, right? Yes, the pay could have been better, but it also could have been worse. You’ve heard of worse. And your main grievance was a terrible manager who was also looking for another job. But be realistic here for a moment, was he really going to get one? Think about how he got the one he has. So unless you changed things, things around you would not change. But there’s only so much you can change. No matter how badly you may want to.

The way I see it. You can always have the best intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can act on them. And you know this all too well. You can have the best intentions and still cause absolute chaos in the lives of the people around you. You don’t have to mean to hurt someone for hurt to happen, and that means also that there are some hurts and wounds and injuries you cannot prevent or heal. 

And for all the peace that this new home of yours can offer, it can’t make that okay with you. And I understand that. But this is yet another aspect of reality we cannot change. We can’t make ourselves okay with it.

But all the same, while we may mean well, we cannot always do well. We cannot always fix what is broken. We cannot always keep our homes intact. Joy is fleeting, sometimes, but what does that even mean?

(Music fades out. Beep)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?