We are four weeks into the NFL season and, folks, I haven’t seen a single game. There was a time when I was as religious about football as I was about religion. Both were Sunday staples and life had order and meaning.
Now, granted, my Dodgers are a little more relevant this time of year than normal, and the last time I was in church on a Sunday morning gas was under $3 and Lindsay Lohan was America’s sweetheart. But I just don’t care about those things anymore. There is nothing wrong with them; I would just rather spend my Sunday in different ways. Times have changed my friends.
Shedding dead identity skin a really slow process. I’ve worked through enough crap to get to the stage of “neurotic internal mess.” But I find myself looking back at what used to be important and just shrugging my shoulders as I chase new pursuits. If only there were a way to get rid of the people who “knew you when” and just can’t let it go…
I know I’m not alone in this. We all have those alleged friends, family members, co-workers, and booty calls who just can’t get over that we aren’t what we used to be. They throw it in our faces when we say we’re doing something different. Sometimes, the one that does it to us the most is ourselves.
If we want to create enough space to grow we have to learn to tell those people — including the ones that live in our head — to kindly shut the fuck up.
Life has a way of changing our direction and putting new priorities in front of us. So here I am at 30 years old — a religion major with no use for religion and a Monday morning quarterback who can’t seem to find time or interest to watch a single game. I’m good with that.
So if you want to talk football to me, I’ll probably just have to smile and nod. Chances are high I won’t have a clue what’s going on.