In my youth … meaning the early days of my first marriage and the entirety of my second marriage … I had purpose.
That purpose was to provide shelter, food, disposable spending money, education, vehicles, life and medical insurance, recreation, vacations, entertainment and a host of other needs, necessities and wants and desires for my wives and kids.
I worked hard. I worked hard when employed by others and when I tried to start my own business. I worked hard around the house to keep it well maintained and functional. I learned new skills so I could avoid paying contractors.
I also worked hard to stay in shape both physically and mentally. Although it is debatable if I succeeded.
I worked hard during those stretches of my life because there was purpose … to keep the family healthy, happy and provided for.
Thankfully, I was born into a family that had the same mind set and so I worked in the ‘family’ business for most of my career. It was great work and paid well. I believe I paid my dues and made a living to provide for my family.
Now that the family has grown and left, including the wives, the ‘family’ business sold to my younger brother and others (I was not part of the selected few) I find the nest empty and the career tainted and wonder what purpose there is now.
Other than paying student loans and marital debt there could be no purpose.
I enjoy the job I have now, even though it is with the ‘family business’ that others (including my younger brother) own. The actual work, the actual coding of web sites and development of web applications and collateral material to help the company create revenue is what I enjoy although I don’t necessarily enjoy some of the culture and few of the people.
Yesterday I started a short story about an older man who finds his ladder is against the wrong wall, a wall that he already painted. With his wife and her (maybe) lover cat calling him about the fact he already painted that wall, he day dreams about a life he didn’t pursue due to societal norms and parental expectations, he falls. During his recovery, he elects to stop working at his job (which had become torturous) and pursues the dream he had left on the shelf to conform to other’s expectations.
It could be an interesting story if I develop it and if I work at it.
But most likely I won’t. Or I will let it die a quick slow death.
Ah … such is a man without purpose.