Up again this morning at 4:00...just me and Jim the Head Cold. While staring out of the window I began to think about my father and my great uncle. Like me, they are home bodies. My great uncle is at the extreme end of the spectrum however. Things my mother played with during the 1950's remain where she left them. The only dust free surface is the television screen. He's in his 80's and refuses all attempts to visit and most phone calls go unanswered. I'm sure at some point we will find Uncle Boo dead and very dusty. I don't recall a single friend ever coming to visit my father. Nor do I recall him referring to anyone as a friend.
Like them, I prefer to stay at home. However I fear that I'm becoming more like Uncle Boo in that I've developed a touch of agoraphobia during this latest episode. In the past, while reluctant, I would engage the world. I would accompany my wife to dinners or parties with her friends. I most certainly attended Holiday gatherings, (I've missed all Holiday gatherings since September 2010) and more often than not I enjoyed myself. Now I sit here in this misery watching as the world, my world, spins further and further away. I don't wish to see, nor do I care to be seen. I've missed out on so much with my wife (who loves to be on the go) and son. Just last night he went bowling for the first time and I only experienced it through a few grainy pictures taken on a cell phone. This morning he'll have a play date at the zoo and I'll miss that as well. I fear he will grow up and think mostly of his father as that guy on the couch was never really there for him, the guy who missed every important milestone, the guy he was ashamed to introduce to his friends.
If I were not married, if I were not a father, I would simply be a younger version of my Uncle Boo. Content to spend my days and nights and years alone with my books. This too, dear reader, is depression. Good times...good times.