Is it weird that I would like to stage an intervention for myself? No, I am not a alcohol or drug addict. (I do have an issue with Marlboro's, but that a for a different post) I am at a crossroads. Sometimes I think it's a deadend.
I am a man of a certain age (and not a pretty one). To put it all in harsh terms, I have no home of my own, no car of my own and no job or career of my own. And I am spent...kaput...beaten down...in the crapper... depleted. Don't get me wrong, I have a place to live (thank you Betty) and a car to drive and sometimes (not very often) I have a little bit of income. But really, not quite the picture I had in mind years ago as I graduated from college and planned out my life. I am having serious trouble trying to figure this out for myself.
So, this is how I see my imaginary "intervention" playing out: My friends and family trap me in a room in my living room. I have a look of shock and dismay on my face. No one is saying anything in the tensely quiet room until my friend Kellie (she's the ballsiest) finally says, "We are here to save you from yourself". I say, "What?". She says, "You are a mess. You have to get it together!" I say, "I'm together!". And in unison everyone in the room says. "No, you're not!" Everyone except my brother (he's a puss around confrontation) and my friend Stephanie who is sobbing in the corner. I get angry. I throw an imaginary metal chair into an imaginary glass door. I yell something brilliant like, "You are not the boss of me!" and I try to bolt. But Kellie (the ballsiest) who is now joined by Karen (the second ballsiest) stop me. I break down. My defenses are down and say, "What should I do?" .
Crickets. Deafening silence. Nothing.
And thus ends my imaginary intervention. It ends with no answers. No answers.
What would Betty say to this dilemma? She would say, "I told you to major in Business!" And then she would ramble for about 10 minutes about some friend's son that majored in business and is now regional manager of Walmart.
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