Rablings of Cabin Fever

For the past 10 days it seems like all I'm doing is waiting. I've been stuck in this trailer in the middle of the desert ... waiting and waiting. I'm either waiting for customers to pay their bills so I can Western Union cash back to my office; or, I'm waiting for the weather to clear up so I can bum a ride on a plane or helicopter out of here. Either way, I just can't live with myself. I'm impossible to be around. I drive myself crazy. Here are a few of my ongoing pits of turmoil.1

First, and probably foremost, I feel completely bewildered by what amounts to the rape of my illusions. There was a time, and it wasn't long ago, that my thinking was so much more romantically optimistic. Due to circumstances over the past couple of years, that 'magic' is gone. I feel it the most when I have 'cabin fever'. I remember how my long lost illusions were like the 'Elixir of Life'. They were a world where bliss was always just around the corner ... if only I could achieve one thing or another. Every one of my abstractions was a magical solution to some resolvable issue. Any problem was just another test, another step, along a treacherous path that I felt God helping me navigate. I never felt old.2

With cabin fever I realize things were much different than they seemed. I realize that the path I was taking through life, was merely one that I had been blazing on my own ... out of delusions of grandeur. With clarity, I see my wasted years of jousting with imaginary windmills. I see all my worthless struggling for nothing but 'dust in the wind'. I see that I missed my children growing up; I see how I failed to build anything worthwhile for my old age; and most of all, I see so sadly that I missed the youthful joy of experiencing a woman in-love. I see my life was merely an extension of my own rational systems that I built to protect my delusions; and at the end of the road ... I see an old and defeated man. I see that I am broken into pieces; shattered by hideous realities that were, until recently, invisible to the innocence of my own delusional immutability.3

In my cabin fever, all my ideals and expectations are crushed. Apart from an understanding that I brought about my own defeat in this world...that God and His universe weren't conspiring against me ... I find my only comfort in the memory of the smiles of my children. I thank their mother for that. She did so well at nurturing them. Whatever else she did or didn't do with her time in this world, THIS she did extremely well; and it will be a lasting legacy with good long-term effects for generations to come. I wish I could point to a single thing about my time here with the same respect. There is nothing so noble about my life. I do admire her.4

I also think about how I returned my wedding ring to my wife several months ago, out of guilt and shame over my 'self'. That ring symbolized: my young 'self', my dreams, my confidence, my trust, my beliefs, my deepest feelings and longings ... in short, my 'heart'. I put it on with all the hope and belief that we would find bliss together. I returned it when I finally admitted, after 30 years, that our marriage failed. I was shocked to discover that my own wife had never, and could never, fall in-love with me; and all along, the poor thing was often struggling not to fall in-love with other men. The longer we were married, the more difficult the struggles became for her. In the end, it turned out that I am so undesirable, that she finally fell in love with one of the most worthless men I could ever imagine. Even so, I have to admit that he must be a better man than me. What happened in that situation is unresolvable. Although I understand her circumstances and we still work at our reltionship for the sake of our children, I feel certain that I can never really feel in-love again. My illusion of being in love is gone forever. That makes me feel old too.5

Also, cabin fever does make me see that, in truth, I'm just 'mush' inside. I am a romantic. I've lived the life of a romantic. In delusions of invincibility that were fueled by my romantic love of a woman and my God, I tried to fix Africa; and tried to conquer the American Dream; and tried to win over the hearts and minds of Muslims. In the creature and the spirit of my 'self' I never stopped dreaming and fighting ... until now. Now, I am old and defeated. I have lost the good fight. I am over. It is finished.6

When a man becomes like this, the time has come for him to 'change clothes' ... to exchange his earthly garments for eternal ones. I am waiting now. I am waiting ... and waiting. Lord, let it be so for me.7