Sulking

I’m having a bit of a sulk today.  In a funk about my family breakdown most of the time, to a degree, and of course some times are more acute than others.  Today is one of those “more” days.

[I’ve written and then, on advice, edited out a bit describing how I feel about what’s transpired in our family.  This is a private diary in a public space; occasionally that presents a tricky balance between “authentic” and “respectful”.  Actually I thought I’d been both respectful and authentic, but took the advice regardless!]

It doesn’t really make any difference what the reason for the family failure, how we got here, or how complex the background; the outcome hurts.  Deeply.  Constantly.  I miss the five in my family with an ache that sometimes turns to acute tears and roars of pain, and sometimes fades to a dull background numbness if I patch over it with enough activity and distraction.  But the ache and emptiness never goes away.

There is little I want more than putting our clan back together again, and building a family with peace and joy.  I recognise now that this is impossible, but that recognition hasn’t dissipated the desire or the pain.  Next moth will be three years since last the six of us slept under the same roof.  I suppose there’s little point marking such a milestone and nothing gained from wallowing in it.  But I still identify as a married man, a family man, a businessman and a passionate person; even though, as a consequence of the breakup, I no longer have a wife, a family, a business (not even a “profession”), nor any passion.  I hadn’t realised until I put it like that it kind of adds up to an identity crisis!  I’m in a sulk.

That’s all no doubt magnified by feeling a bit lost on the road trip, too.  For the first (maybe second?) time since I left Melbourne in November, I’ve had thoughts of giving up riding to London, and flying home with my tail between my legs.  That would mean that even my way of dealing with failure was itself a failure.  Sigh.

I had held a private hope that when I got to Bangkok I’d find the Myanmar Consulate whose staff would tell me – against all advice and all other data – that I could in fact ride through Myanmar to India, Bangladesh or Nepal.  I did find the Consulate and a very helpful staff team rang their India border compatriots on my behalf, but they ultimately confirmed what I already knew – “you shall not pass!”  Hmmm.  That’s reminiscent of Gandalf under the Misty Mountains.  Misery-Guts Mountains, maybe I should call it.  This transposition also makes me the moody “Balrog”.  Fits some people’s narrative.

Meanwhile, in Bangkok I’ve struggled with tricky turn-by-turn navigation that doesn’t deal well with multi-layered (!) roads, I’ve had to negotiate my way to a settlement after busting the bumper on another vehicle, had my bike locked up with a fine for parking illegally (even though parking in the middle of an array of other bikes), and spent a lot of time on public transport finding little of interest in the city to catch my attention.

I do sound grumpy, don’t I?!

I am determined to become a thankful, joy-filled person.  That’s an identity worth owning, a posture worth practicing.  It will take some retraining.  Clearly.  Let me start: by being thankful that, with help, I will succeed.  My future is brighter than my past.  And I do genuinely have so much to be thankful for – starting with (extended) family who love me to bits (as I do them), with faithful friends who’d walk over hot coals for me (as would I for them if ever there was anything I had to contribute), with food and shelter, with an opportunity to clear my head on a crazy adventure, with worthwhile skills and experience, and with so much more.  How dare I sulk?  Emotion is a good servant, but its a terrible master.  I can only hope to acknowledge and to process, and hope to not submit and to not succumb to my Incredible Sulk.

Tomorrow I plan to worship at a church a short walk from my hotel, and hope to catch up with an Australian couple who have been riding their motorbikes around the world – with their three dogs! – for… years!  We both happen to be in Bangkok so it is an opportunity I wish not to miss.

My mate Daron hooked me up with a missionary friend of his Rob in Chiang Mai with whom I hope to meet up early in the coming week. My friend Haydn connected me with his brother-in-law Daniel, a missionary in Chiang Rai with whom I’ll meet up later in the week.  Daniel has asked to teach English for a couple of sessions to some of his youth group.  Interestingly, the first time I “helped” to teach English like this was actually in Chiang Mai, 10 years and 3 months ago.  With said friend Daron.  And my eldest two daughters.

Meantime I’m now waiting on advice from a contact (of a contact of a contact of… you get the idea) for possible freight options to get my bike past Myanmar.

As the agent’s “option 1” he’s looking at sea freight to – I think – Chennai.  That’s interesting; as an irrelevant aside the very first iteration of this crazy road trip was to fly from Melbourne to Chennai and buy a bike there on which to ride around India for a few months.  The Melbourne-London road trip was two evolutions past that first idea.

For “option two” we’re exploring air freight, which would likely land the bike and me in Nepal.

I don’t yet have pricings or schedule for either option, although indicatively I understand that while air is (much) quicker it is more expensive.  But air would also replace fewer tarmac kilometres than sea freight would.  Freight of any type is just cheating!  I want to do the whole trip with the bike, and cheat absolutely as few kilometres as possible.  If the politically-tricky bits are solved simply by someone avoiding the problem for me, it seems to me to make a nonsense of the whole idea of “adventure”.  Anyway.  I knew Myanmar was “impossible” before I left Melbourne in November.  I think at the time I snorted that “impossible just takes a little longer”.  Now it seems that the “little longer” might indeed be more than I am prepared to wait.

Cloudy days pass.  The sun always comes out soon enough.  I know my sulk will dissipate.  I’ll be in a better mood eventually.

Meantime, all I can do is put one foot in front of the other.  That will have to be good enough for today.