Growth

Growing is painful.  I thought by the time I reached 41 years of age in this body I would have figured this existence, whatever the hell it is or isn't, out.  No dice. 

I keep looking to the future and thinking it will, in some way not seen to me yet, be right there and I will have the answers.  No dice, again. 

I am struggling with watching my oldest son grow and encounter experiences that will help shape and mold him into the person he will become and it is forcing me to be shaped and molded in other ways I haven't anticipated. Here I am, typing this at 2:24 am Sunday morning trying to figure out what this next trial will do to him, and what it is doing to me.  And here's the kicker - it isn't even something at all important! 

Yet here I am, trying to figure out how to be a good father, how to be a sound mentor to my son, and I have no answers.  I even understand intellectually that, for the most part, I have absolutely no control over anything - including the outcome of trivial events.  And therein lies the pain. Knowing one thing but believing another.  Understanding that it is my desire to control something I cannot control is not helping me relax, reduce my blood pressure, or helping me get some needed sleep.

Sigh.