I'm Not Tired. I'm Responsibility-Weary.

We refer to them as periods of transition.  They come in different varieties, but two of the main groups are dramatic and undefined. A dramatic transition is one with obvious consequences and expectations. New job.  Birth of a child. Moved to a new city. On Tuesday, your life was one way, and on Wednesday, it is different.  The undefined transition has no beginning and end date.  The expectations are vague, and you aren’t sure about anything as you progress through it.  Growing older.  A marriage.

I feel as if I’ve been in an undefined transition for a year or two.  I like to refer to it as a transition to myself because there is a notion of an end date.  This will be over, and I will have made some new decisions and feel better about moving on.  My kids are older.  They aren’t even kids anymore.  They are all legal adults.  They have jobs and school they have to find ways to pay for stuff.  They have to figure out food, shelter, clothing, transportation and avoid all the dumb pitfalls of life that I did. 

But, I have been in the parent zone since the months leading up to the birth of my first son.  That’s 1993.  I was 21.  How much did you know about life at 21?  I’ll give you a hint: Jack shit.  I have been in dad and husband mode since before anyone would allow me to rent a car. I had a mortgage when I was 24.

It was an incredibly stressful and spectacular 25 years.  I was lucky that my wife and I got along, and I figured out a way to deal with my anxiety and depression.  But all that is over and now I get to think about what I want out of life.  I have benefited from therapy and an overabundance of self-reflection.  I know myself a lot better.   How I handle my day-to-day is the issue.  I work.  I write.  I spend time with my wife.  I try harder to maintain healthy habits.  Okay.  But that is also what I was doing with the kids around.  What will be different?  What can I enjoy now that I couldn’t before?

The first thing I discovered was long periods of stillness and silence.  I used to hate ‘the quiet’.  I always needed music or the TV on.  Now I can sit on my couch with a cup of coffee and nothing else.  I just try to think about nothing at all and let the creeping thoughts of chores pass by like leaves on the wind.  It is a special treat.

The other major revelation about this transition is that I know that I am responsibility-weary.  (I don’t know of another term for it, so I will go with the clunky hyphenate I thought of in the moment.) I was never tired of my children.  I was never tired of my marriage or my family or friends.  I was never tired of maintaining a home.  All the emotions are rock-solid.  I just don’t want any more responsibility than I’ve already taken on. 

It came to me when we were prepping for a recent weekend where we were going to finally paint our dining room.  I kept feeling the dread as Saturday drew closer.  It wasn’t laziness and I didn’t have any plans I was missing out on.  I just didn’t want one more chore.

My plate is full.  Quite full.  I have taken on more than I should have in life and made myself responsible for way too much. Not only food, shelter, love and general support for a family of five, but the entertainment, conversation, sense of humor, memory-keeping, Halloweens, Christmases, birthdays, heart-to-heart’s, crisis management, education monitoring, answer hotline, and about fifty other things I can’t think of. Anxiety and fear made me worry about a lot of extra crap that wasn’t up to me. Now, I’m beat. I’m pooped.

Most of these responsibilities have concluded.  I don’t have to do them anymore.  But that doesn’t mean I now have room to reload with other responsibilities.  I don’t want any new ones.  In fact, I want them whittled down to as few as humanly possible.  I am exhausted.  I am attempting to find more energy through diet and exercise, and I’m seeing some early signs that it’s working.  Great.  I still don’t want any more responsibilities.

I have the common liberal guilt of not doing enough for others.  It’s real to me.  I think I should volunteer for something.  Right now, my body and brain are telling me ‘No’.  Maybe this makes me less of a functioning adult, or less of a citizen, or I’m showing weakness.  I don’t care.  It is what it is.  I am simply tired from 25 years of responsibilities and I want to go into Responsibility Semi-Retirement. Just me, Amy, and a dog or two.  If I can afford to have someone mow my lawn, I’m hiring them.  When we move out of this house, my boys will do it or I’m hiring people.

My life has been a series of transitions, just like yours.  In my case, I have a hard time defining them or being honest to myself how I feel about them.  Being a good dad was all that I cared about.  I still believe that was a good way to go.  Now, I can have some wiggle room to do something else.

Just not sure what that is.