December 29th, 2025 - The Welfare State

Dear TNY,

It’s Christmas Eve and “The Welfare State” was what welcomed me this morning before my flight.

Meh.  All meh.  I think it was pretty overwrought as well.  And, ultimately, it was a bunch of overly-descriptive backstory with a short hike in the foreground.  And the ending…I guess, what I wonder is where do they think the ending is?  Or the resolution.  Or potential resolution?  Like, what in this story is there to care about?  I couldn’t find it.  Just made me want to go to the alps and roll down grassy hills. 

I did that once.  In 2003 I believe.  Maybe 04.  Late spring.  I was on a two week roadtrip with my best friend from work while my wife was Stateside saying goodbye to her grandmother (the photos that were taken while she was there…we looked at them once; her grandmother looked like Madame Tussauds’ take on an Auschwitz survivor).  Greg, my friend, and I were in Northern Italy and we left from a buddy’s house with the intention of climbing into the clouds.  And that we did.  Up and up and up.  We passed a very elderly man with pots and pans and gourds hanging off of him, like a traveler in Zelda.  We left trees behind.  And shrubs.  Then it was just grass and rock.  And then clouds, nothing else in sight.  And then snow.  And we kept going, not able to see any sort of summit.  We were following a rough trail that, when we arrived at a plateau, branched in a dozen directions.  He and I had hiked most of the day and decided this was as good a spot as any to turn around.  And then we heard a strange noise in the dim fog.  A banging.  So we followed that as it kept happening.  Lo and behold…cattle.  Shaggy ass cattle.  I felt so worthless.  That much effort we had made and thought it was a big deal, and cattle had already done it with no issue.

The trip down was fantastic.  We emerged from the clouds down onto the thick, grassy slopes.  And ran.  I ran as fast as I could, only stopping when I fell over and slid to a stop.  I would lay in that spot and laugh until my breath came back, then get up and do it all over again.  I was free.

Pretty much the exact opposite of how I feel now.  I just left my kids.  They were sick.  I barely saw my oldest because of his illness.  I felt like puking the whole time.  I had a couple of mild panic attacks.  And I wanted to die for most of it.  I can’t explain it.  These things that are supposed to make me better, they don’t.  In fact, how did I ever believe that going to Grand Junction would be good for me when I bought these tickets?  Instead, not only was I plagued with the travel that I hate, the hotels (no hot shower in this hotel, so nice), the complete boredom of being here and having done everything, the trauma of divorce and abandoning my family that comes with being here, but now, NOW, I have memories of her here.  In so many places.  Actual good fucking memories.

All that aside, this depression, which is so astounding this time, so much more than before I think, as I now weigh my time out in hours, it’s not about her.  Or the boys.  Or any one thing.  It’s about the accumulation of pain from astute and constant observation of the human condition for years.  I’ve seen some of the most beautiful shit there is to see.  And this ain’t it, pal.  I believe the reason she’s wrapped up in all this is I thought she was it, the one who would get me home. 

But, no.

So I’ll get on a flight today.  Fly to her sister’s to help.  Wish she was there to surprise me (she definitely will not be).  Then I’ll go off to Boston, and stand up for my boy Steve.  I know he appreciates it.  And then off to Hawaii where I will do my best to be a good house husband, but I already know that’s tricky because she wants someone that will stick around.  And I can’t commit to life at this point, let alone a location and “life”.  So I know that no matter the quality of care I provide, rather, likely proportional to the quality of care, there will be great sadness in the future because of it.

I don’t know that I have it in me to keep going.  And my guts are telling me bad things.  But I’ll eat a half a candy and try to survive this flight.  And the next one.  And maybe today, in general. 

Nick

P.S. I spent a large majority of this trip playing a golf game with my youngest at a little bar we found a few years ago. The pic is his character for the day. This is how pathetic this all is. That that’s what there is to do here for us.