It was well after midnight when I awoke, without sleep, and headed out for a night bike ride. Life's soundtrack was Joni Mitchell's Night Ride Home as I peddled the streets of this late night deserted town. These early mornings are when I feel most at peace -- the town's denizens fast asleep. I can put the previous day behind me and revel in the day ahead.
Yesterday was a busy day. I was thinking this night as I peddled through town how I like for my days to be filled with activity. The days my social anxiety overwhelms me and I stay sequestered in my home can make for some long days indeed. I try so hard not to be the hermit that is my natural inclination.
Yesterday evening ended with my mother staying over for about an hour just to spend time with me. It is so heartwarming for me that a family member enjoys my company so that they would drive over and spend such a length of time caught in my mundane small talk. Mom was shaky last night worried my father was upset with her, though. I realize I can play the role of her psychotherapist some days. Like upon Freud's couch, she sits telling me all her problems as I analyze them and give her a pep talk. It is glaring how much of a child she can still be at sixty years old.
That's my goal these days -- to grow up. Far too long I was held captive in the mind of a child. Adult emotions. Adult Feelings. These are all my grandest aspirations. It took me getting sober to realize this. I've heard the old expression of being an adult child of an alcoholic, but how about being an alcoholic adult child? With baby steps, I tackle this undiscovered country that is becoming a man. Rosa notes it best when she tells me, "You're someone I feel can protect me and make the best decisions for our future. You are an equal companion." My ex-wife would probably scoff in horror at Rosa saying that, marking the fact that I was like her child when we were married. Rachel, people change, learn, and grow up.