“I don’t hate my job or my life. I just realize that there are sacrifices I need to make.”
A very good friend of mine said that last night. The words keep ringing in my ears. They haunt me, as they have haunted me all my life. Complacency. Sacrifice. Acceptance.
My first reaction was anger. I wanted to lash out, I wanted to scream at him. “WHAT? SACRIFICES? You don’t hate your job or your life?” Oh I was livid. But I said nothing. I calmed myself and listened to the rest of the conversation, which was soon changed and then ended.
Why? Why was that my first reaction? Why did that make me so angry? I laid awake in bed last night well past 5am thinking about this. The pitch black darkness of the Chico night was beginnning to fade. I knew the sun would be up soon and it filled me with dread. Yet another sleepless night. And still I laid there, unmoving, thinking. Once again, unable to turn my brain off, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could sleep. Why did those words bother me so much?
All my life I’ve jumped from one job to another, one relationship to another, one city to another… never able to settle anywhere or for anything. I’ve never been satisfied with these life-things I had, I always wanted more. More freedom, more choices. I never married because I never found someone I wanted to marry, nobody was good enough. I never stay in one apartment or house or city too long, because there are so many other places out there I’d like to see, to live in, to experience. I’ve never liked a job I’ve had, ever. Well maybe a little at first but eventually I start to hate them, once the excitement of something new has passed. I can’t imagine ever accepting things for what they are. I want to fight. I want to scream at the world and curse it for it’s lethargy. I want to change everything and make it my own.
Why can’t I accept things they way they are? I could have, I suppose. I could have settled for job security and stayed in the Navy. Never mind that I’d have to give up my freedom. Who cares that my life would be in somebody else’s hands, right? I suppose I could have stayed in my relationship with Kim. I could have been the dutiful husband, supporting her and providing for a family. Never mind that she wasn’t very nice to me, or anyone else for that matter. I could have stayed at Activision, driving 90 minutes to work every morning in stop and go traffic, only to repeat the pleasure that evening on the way home. Everybody else does it, right? Why can’t you, Tom? What’s your problem? What’s wrong with you? I can’t do it. I just can’t.
I want things my way, period. I am most uncomprimising. I don’t make sacrifices, and I don’t take prisoners. All my life I’ve been this way. I can’t help it. This is me.
How much easier would my life be if I would just accept the rules of our society and live by them? I sometimes wish I could. I know I make things harder on myself for my unyielding ways and off-beat views. I wish I could live like everyone else. Work my shitty 9 to 5 and pretend I like it. “Work hard and play hard!” some people like to brag. God I hate that fucking crap. Maybe I could settle on a wife that’s not everything I’m looking for. Raise a family like everyone else. Wife, kids, mortgage, and a SUV right? These things you’re supposed to do, right? Those are the rules. Why can’t I live by them? Sometimes I wish I could. In the end I know I just can’t.
So last night when my friend said “I don’t hate my job or my life. I just realize that there are sacrifices I need to make.” I reacted in the only way Tom Bissell would–with rage. After a night of unrest and a day of thought I’ve come to realize that my rage was misplaced. It wasn’t anger that I felt towards him, it was jealousy. I’m jealous that he has found balance and peace with this lot in life.
I never have, and I probably never will.