This is – or at least was – my favorite coffee cup. I can’t quite remember when Ms. Boss gave it to me (though I do remember it was a gift), but it’s everything I wanted in a coffee cup – big, stout, nice handle, and a strong reminder of a different time in our lives together. If I found this mug clean and in the cabinet, my morning coffee would find its way into it… until last week. Look at the top of the cup next to the dash on the label, you’ll see a chip that I caused while being careless putting away coffee cups. It did not break and shatter into a bunch of pieces, but it became unusable for its purpose in life.
Six months ago, I went to the doctors office knowing exactly what he would say: I lacked any kind of control over my type-2 diabetes. Despite taking medication, my numbers kept increasing over several years until the values on the lab report strayed too far from the upper threshold to ignore. I did not need those objective values to tell me things weren’t good. I just plain felt wrong and those feelings were impacting those around me. I decided to do something about it…
I surrendered.
My doctor knew that I loathed taking additional medication and probably discerned that the feeling came from a general “I’m a smart guy, I’ll do it myself” stance to my medical care, but he apparently learned his lessons on bedside manners well enough to know to be somewhat gentle. He put me on two new medications, adjusted a third, and gave me the general spiel on diet and exercise. He did his part.
The rest was up to me.
I threw the mug in the trash immediately after I broke it because it no longer had a purpose in life. I then went to tell Ms. Boss what transpired with a bit of a heavy heart. She asked me where it was. I told her it was in the trash. She asked me why I didn’t use it for another purpose in my ‘project’.
Smart woman, that Ms. Boss. I married very well.
The ‘project’ she was referring to is an ever-evolving program of experiments, changes, and creative endeavors designed to put more years in my life and life in my years. My vision is a state where both my figurative and literal houses are in order. My mantra is to not only “what’s next?”, but “what’s now?.” The Skipper from Wall-E says it best, “I don’t want to survive. I want to live!“
The cup in the picture now has a purpose. It’s tangible purpose now is to serve as the last place items go in my workspace before they end up in trash. Psychologically, it serves to remind me that I don’t take care of myself and my things, that I am going lose them. It also serves to remind me that I myself can be repurposed and have yet another life.
“Me Becoming Me” is the name I have finally foisted on this project. It is intended to be a look into the changes that I have, am, and will be making. It will be a creative outlet for me to share my journey with you, dear reader. It is an attempt to provide me with an additional purpose in life. It is designed to help me live through my fifties.
Won’t you join me?