Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [133]
But nothing was ever finished. There was always one more page to write, one more novel to finish, one more city to add to a tour, one more interview to give. My children continued to need my attention, no matter how much time I spent with them the day before. There was always another chore around the house. I wasn’t necessarily unhappy—boredom has never suited me—and the pace wasn’t killing me physically. But the lack of downtime, I would eventually realize, wasn’t good for me mentally or emotionally. I began waking every day with the sense that I was falling behind. Despite my best efforts, I began to feel as if I were failing. Where once I was doing all those things because I wanted to, it gradually came to feel as if I had to, as if I had no other choice.
I say this in retrospect. At the time, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Back then, all I knew was that I began to wake up with a sickening sense of dread. As soon as my eyes popped open, my mind filled with all that I had to do, and how my only chance to get it done was to start right then, at that moment, and get going. My life was a long to-do list, and instead of slowing down and doing what I could, I’d roll up my sleeves, grit my teeth, and work even harder.
Again, I wasn’t consciously unhappy about it. I tried to find humor in the situation. I continued to laugh. People often remarked at how optimistic I seemed or how much I smiled. Yet, slowly but surely, life was becoming a grind, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
My brother and I continued to speak on the phone regularly that summer. Our conversations—after discussing our pregnant wives—usually went as follows:
“What’s going on?” he might ask, and I’d begin telling him everything I had scheduled. When I finished, he’d say nothing for a moment.
“So when do you sleep?” he’d ask.
“When I get the chance,” I answered. Strangely, I felt a sense of pride about this, as if this were an admirable quality.
“That’s dumb,” he said. “You gotta sleep. And you gotta take time for yourself, too. You’ll go crazy if you don’t. Haven’t you learned the importance of balance yet? Life is all about balance, and right now, your life is seriously out of whack.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Well, you sound stressed.”
“Just busy. I’m fine—really,” I said. “So what’s going on with you?”
“Just living my life. I get up whenever I want and linger over the newspaper. I work out for a while, get in the shower around noon, and then figure out what I want to do next.”
“Must be nice.”
“You could do it, too. Everyone chooses his own life.”
“Not always,” I said. “Sometimes responsibilities get in the way. Granted, I could choose to ignore them, but it wouldn’t be good for my family.”
“Your family will be fine. You’re just making excuses. You’re going to go crazy if you keep up like this.”
I didn’t see it that way. I knew, however, there was no use arguing with him.
“Enough about me. How are you doing?”
“The same.”
“You going to church yet?”
“Not really.”
“How’s Christine handling it?”
“The same. She’s not too happy about it.”
“Don’t you think you should go then? If only for her?”
“You go to church for yourself, Nick. If you go for someone else, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then go for you.”
“I’m not in the mood right now. I’ve got nothing against it, but I’m not getting anything out of it when I do go. I feel like a hypocrite sitting there.”
“You can always use the time to pray.”
“I’ve tried praying. I prayed for Dana every day, and she still died. Praying doesn’t work.”
We acknowledged our standoff with a moment of silence before Micah cleared his throat.
“So how’s Ryan doing?”
In early August 2001, my brother was proven correct.
Endless nights of allowing myself only three