Limitations

Limitations, always limitations.  They can break your back.  With limited time and resources to pursue all the possible things I enjoy or feel are worthwhile to pursue, so many things in my life just end up being shut down.  And along with this there is the fear that I will reach my limits too quickly and may need to mete out certain aspects of myself in miserly ways.

Part of it has been my lack of focussed discipline and a tendency to daydream.  Medical School was a major challenge to these personal attributes and, as a byproduct, I believe it also shut down some of the most vital parts of who I am; parts that have taken me years to recover.  I was not that person who had massive cognitive reserves and the intensity to handle the avalanche of material to learn and have time left over to pursue other interests.  My one trick to continue reading non-medical books was to use my time in the bathroom as a kind of time bubble.  I read The Brothers Karamazov in its entirety from a porcelain chair in this way.  It was my soul crying out for sustenance.

My interest in sports also took a major hit.  I was not playing basketball.  I was not running as I had in High School Cross Country.  Medical School was all consuming and it consumed me body and soul.  The long slog left me a bit lost and bewildered when my time as a student and student-doctor came to an end.  Unaccounted for time suddenly became available but then went away again with a second child.  It wasn't until Elias got old enough to become seriously interested in sports that I rediscovered my love for basketball.  I even had the opportunity to coach his third grade basketball team which is something I'll always treasure.

And above all of this has been my desire to write since sixth grade Composition when I first had the opportunity to create an actual story or two.  These were stories that I also illustrated and received a good deal of praise for from the teacher.  I was eleven, which is my son's age now, and it wasn't until about three years ago at the age of 43 that I started writing with any kind of regularity.  This was sparked by an idea for a novel and the realization that it was now or never.  I still hardly read books, but I can thank the internet for that.

This idea in my head of limitations, both outwardly and inwardly imposed, also extended to love, or the ability to give of one's self.  I still limit myself in a multitude of ways due to obligations at home and at work, but something about love has been creeping into my awareness.  It has manifested in a joy of interacting with others and appreciating their uniqueness and essential place in the grand scheme of things.   It seems that the more I pour it out, the deeper the bottom of the cup grows.  And for the first time in my life I am learning not to fear limitations because in what is most important limitations do not exist.

***