My Long Journey to Mindful Indifference

I’m not a good boy because I’m a man

When Julie and I decided we were going to move to Florida—which, I believe was only about ten days ago—my first thought was how we’d get the cars shipped down.

Right before I began my obligatory Google search, I remembered something from when I was a kid.

My grandparents lived in Royal Palm Beach and when they’d take a trip to Long Island to visit family and friends, they’d always take the Amtrak Auto Train.

I looked it up and it was the obvious answer. So, I waited to hear back from Lily Trucking and when they said they wanted to move ahead in the hiring process (the words we all long to hear), I’d immediately pack the Tesla with as much stuff as I could and bought a ticket.

By “moving ahead in the hiring process,” they meant I had to come down and do a breathalyzer and pee pee test. Luckily, Julie was already down in Florida visiting family, so the plan was for me to join her right after that and fly back to NY together on Tuesday.

I think it only cost $375 for me and the car. The thing was it went from Lorton, VA to Sanford, FL. Getting from New Paltz to Virginia took seven hours. Stopping to get charged up is a bit more time consuming than getting gas.

Most of you know that I was an over the road truck driver once. That stamina one builds up to drive 500-600 miles without falling asleep had long since departed. So, by the time I got to Maryland, my eye lids began to get very heavy.

I didn’t want to stop to get a cup of coffee and I certainly didn’t want to get off at some random exit to do it, but I really had no choice. I was going to cause an accident otherwise.

When I was walking back to the car, I saw a text from Amtrak. I don’t know why I didn’t know this but I was in positive danger of missing it. I saw 4 pm departure and assumed that leaving New Paltz at 7 am would be fine. The cutoff for loading cars was 2:30pm sharp. And I still had to get past DC.

So what’s the first thing I do after burning my tongue on crappy 7-11 coffee? Call Julie to inform her of my predicament. As I’m busy telling her that I might have to get a hotel that night and take the test on Monday, I drove right past the exit that the navigation was telling me to get off at.

After cursing up a storm, I realize that if I stay on the road I was already on, it’d only add ten minutes to my arrival time. I decided to accept that fate and I stayed on I-95.

I am not exaggerating even slightly. I pulled into the station at 2:28pm. The absolute last car that they were going to load on the train.

Needless to say, when I got on the train and learned that Amtrak gave everyone two of those reclining seats with the built in ottomans, the dopamine was blasting through my veins. It was as roomy as Delta Business Class. The only thing left to do was grab a snack and sack out. Arrival time was 9 am.

Oh, and call Julie. That’s one of my favorite things about life now. That I had Julie to call and tell this story to, brought me to a level of happiness that only compares to Christmas morning when you’re five years old.

We’re still living in this feedback loop of mutual “in love with”. When you share any news with a partner like that, they are engaged and present the whole time. They cheer you on or console you or get you to look at the bright side.

I allowed that warm feeling to wash over me. It was a good thing, too. As soon as the clock struck ten the guy in front of me began to snore at a humorously loud volume. The fact that my dad used to snore that loud, and we also used to have to listen to it all night long on our annual trip to Florida was too much for my senses to bear. Everything matched childhood vacations too closely.

Of course, the next night, my father was in my dream. He was still mean and dismissive and I was still trying to get his approval. My subconscious may as well be ten years old. I did not allow myself to go right back to sleep, even though it was 3 in the morning. I made myself play the dream over and over so I wouldn’t forget it.

In the morning, I told Julie about it over coffee. I couldn’t believe that I was getting ready to move into a 55 and up community in Florida and I still have all those same feelings. Guilt for not doing what was expected of me and needing to be told I’m a good boy and even sad because I’m not a good boy.

I’m not a good boy because I’m a man.

As Napoleon Hill said, universal approval is an illusion. Now, I’m sure that getting fired the way I did probably made all of those feelings come out a little more, but they’re always in the background. Always begging me to take, drink or do anything to make those feelings go away.

If you don’t get a handle on those types of things, you become someone that “lost the fight with their own demons.” I will admit, there are times when I’m scared that’s how it will go.

So I keep listening to Napoleon Hill and will continue to until I am able to internalize that other people’s opinions do not matter. I will always be the villain in someone’s story and the hero in others. And if I don’t get right with that, I’m going to be another statistic.

I can’t help feeling like I’m here for so much more.