I have a massive case of Existential Crisis Disorder (ECD).
For those of you to whom this happens, you know the ECD arrives remarkably quickly. It is like the undertow, which grips you firmly and darkly while swimming through life on a sunny day. Sudden, stealthy, and completely in charge.
It's not gradual. I never wade in, or if I do, I don't notice the wade. No. For me it's always a body slam.
For those of you who never slide into a pit of despair, let me explain one thing. I know, with my brain, that I have a good life. I have more than many, and more than I've had in a long, long time, and I am lucky. All around lucky.
I don't know exactly where I am going, but I have some general idea. And I know who I'm going with. This time, I'm not actually alone.
And yet, what I feel is that I am living a very small and pointless life.
I know what precipitated this. I know that a few things triggered it; I just don't know how to make it go away.
Betty, who cannot relate to ECD, and had no idea that I'd fallen into the pit, called this afternoon to talk wedding and see how I was doing.
How I am?
"Fine, except for leading a small, utterly prosaic, and pointless life, devoid of anything remotely meaningful or any hope whatsoever."
Hardly what your mother expects to hear on a beautiful Sunday, five weeks before your wedding.
"Well, sweetheart, how do you think getting married will change this?"
"It won't. I suppose we'll just keep leading our small, pointless lives together."
"I see. Does Nick know how small and pointless his life is?"
"No. He sounded like he was having a good day, so I thought I'd wait till he gets home to tell him."