To Boldly Go...

A couple of notable events occurred this past week.  NASA announced that the Voyager 1 probe has left the solar system, entering interstellar space. The One Man also made the decision to resurface after a nine month hiatus from blogging.  While both of these events may indeed be unrelated, there is certainly a metaphoric similarity to be shared.  More on that later.

Artist rendering of Voyager 1 (from space.com)

Voyager 1 was launched in 1977 when I was six years old; the same year, incidentally, the original Star Wars movie was released.  Yes, I see you doing the math and yes, the leaves have started to change color.

As a child my love for space and science fiction was evident and I would read and watch anything that had to do with science, space, and space exploration.  Star Trek (in reruns), Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, Space: 1999 (who remembers Moonbase Alpha?), Buck Rogers... The list goes on and on.  My love of science and science fiction persisted well into my adult life.  It was one of the reasons that I originally entered college in the engineering field (Engineering Mathematics and Computer Science major) before the brash, impulsive nature of my youth sent my life spiraling in a quite different direction.  But my interest has remained and so far I am certain I'm one of the few policemen who enjoys debating the theory of absolute space.  So NASA's announcement that Voyager 1 had entered interstellar space made that kid inside me, with the Han Solo action figure and the homemade paper Star Trek phaser, look up at the night sky and smile.

After the holidays of 2012, things began moving in my life at a pace that I could barely manage to keep up with.  The ever changing dynamic of the career and difficulties in my personal life sucked away any time (as well as most of my desire) to spend any time seriously blogging.  The scale of managing life versus writing about it tipped completely, and necessarily, in favor of the former.  Then in February I received a promotion at work.  The promotion required that I begin working twelve hour rotations on a late night schedule.  Although the move was good for my career, it was the catalyst for the collapse of other things in my life.

"Whatever you are, be a good one." - Abraham Lincoln

For nearly two months I stubbornly clung to my fitness routine and my running; often putting in 13 mile runs on a treadmill in the gym at work.  The shift to night work and the increased responsibilities eventually began wearing on me on all levels: physically, mentally, and emotionally.  My marriage destabilized and in March I moved out of the home that I had shared with my wife and children for the last 10 years.  My focus became ever increasingly work-centric and eventually I turned my back on running and any other form of self-care.  Like some machine I went about a daily routine; doing what I needed to just to get from one day to the next.  I was outside my comfort zone and very distant from anything that was familiar to me.  Long before Voyager, I had traveled into my own personal version of interstellar space.

As the months rolled by, and the work day came to an end, I found myself sinking further and further into some very dark places; the distance from everything that was remotely good - family, friends, exercise - grew greater and greater.  Sitting alone in a very spartan apartment, with limited creature comforts and no television or internet connection for distraction, I faced demons that I'm quite confident would have crushed a weaker soul.  Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote, "Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."  I am certain that I now have a much more intimate understanding of this aphorism than before.  And while those battles still continue I have yet to lose my humanity.  Instead I have had moments of deeper reflection and, although the timing may be slower than others would like, I have come to a better understanding of what is truly valuable.  This isn't to say that I've found my way - far from it.  But there are fewer clouds obscuring the night sky and here or there a star shines through.

Moving outside of our comfort zone and that which is familiar to us is often, in the least, disconcerting.  When it is forced upon us - whether by fate or choices that we have made because we feel there is no other recourse - then the stress and isolation that we feel can multiply exponentially.  The physical and psychological stress compounds in a way that is difficult to describe unless you have lived it.  Your sleep suffers.  Your concentration suffers.  Your overall health declines.  You physically take a beating from the inside out.  This is the state in which I have dwelled for the past seven months and it has taken its toll.  It is a condition that I can no longer allow to exist.  As I have advised others countless times: it is time to get my head out of my ass and make a plan.  Time to find some direction.  Time to return to the run.

Voyager 1 is now 11.6 billion miles (18.7 billion kilometers) from home.  Some days I feel just as far.  The difference is that while Voyager may never return home, I hope to.  I'm trying to find my way.  Trying to find my bearings and maybe a star or two in a clearer sky to navigate by.  Perhaps returning to this blog is one way for me to do so.