This isn’t going to be in any particular order, and it probably won’t make much sense. But then, if you’re a regular reader you should be inured to this sort of thing already…

Uncle George is still dead, and I still don’t know how or when it happened. I’m hoping to hear from Uncle Pete some time soon.

For all that I knew George the least of all of my immediate family, his passing has hit me harder than any other I can think of. It’s the pain of missed opportunities, of staring down the barrel of mortality, and of knowing that our particular clan is dwindling ever smaller. Perhaps the unexpectedness amplifies the effect. I had a closer relationship with Hjordis, but also knew for years that her time was coming.

Plug all of this “mortality angst” into my already-troubled psyche and what you get is a blubbering mess. My moods, always on an irregular swinging pattern, now vary wildly from minute to minute. I’ve spent a lot of time this past week forcing myself to smile, to be cheerful, to cheat my brain chemistry into a semblance of a positive mindset. It works most of the time, actually. In groups I’m positively ebullient. Alone I’m fecking miserable, until I catch myself and force a change of mood. It doesn’t take pills, just self-discipline.

That’s right, go ahead and roll your eyes. “Karel has self-discipline?” Okay, not that much, but maybe just enough.

Is this unhealthy? Probably. I’m a world-class wallower, though, and a couple of years ago I determined that I would no longer behave like that if I could at all help it. The pain is there, but I’m not going to wave it around like a flag for everyone I meet.

“Concentrate on the good things in your life.” I have the world’s neatest, smartest, most adorable kids. I have a job that tens of thousands of people in this city alone would gleefully kill for. For the first time in my life I feel like I have more than just one friend. Some of these friends are new, a couple are returning old friends. I treasure them all so strongly it makes my heart burst when I think of how lucky I am to know these people.

Do you want to hear the funny part? Having several good friends is contributing to my internal struggles. I’m relaxing again. I’m no longer repressing all of my desires and ideals for someone else’s sake. Once again I’m feeling and thinking all of the things that put me at odds with my wife during the first half-dozen years of our marriage.

I don’t think I can go back again, though. Stuffing myself into a box and nailing down the lid worked last time; I had to learn and grow in some important ways these last few years. It really was the right thing to do. Now I have to figure out how to reconcile the man I’ve become with the man I really am. Whoever the hell that is.

And I don’t know if I can do it without hurting people I care about. There’s nothing quite like feeling like a monster inside, is there?