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He steeples his fingers on the desk, then asks, “So, if you want to move away from that circle of people that does not properly value what you do, and your ex-wife is in that circle, then why are you so hung up on getting her back? Why can you not move on and start afresh with someone who more closely aligns with the life you have now?”
I’m quiet, thinking it over. It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. I still don’t have the answer, except—
“I love her still, very much.”
“Enough to give up the life you have here and go be her shadow?”
I don’t answer. Then, I shake my head again. “It’s not what I want, but being here without her is a miserable existence too, so I guess it’s the lesser evil.”
“It seems a pity to live a life that you don’t want just because it’s the less bad option.”
I raise a brow. “What would you suggest I do?”
He laughs. “That’s not for me to say. But I would like you, before your next visit, to consider this question. Is there any way that you could go be with your ex-wife and not feel like you’re in her shadow? Is there anything you could do out there on Krovatia that would bring you self-actualization? Don’t answer me now; just think it over. How about you come see me again at the end of the week? I have some appointment slots on Friday.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Good.” He smiles as he stands up and moves around the desk toward me.
I stand and shake his hand. “Thank you, Mr Josephs.”
“Pff, call me Dwight.”
“Thanks Dwight, this has been—it’s been a much needed conversation.”
“I’m glad.”
He leads me out to the front door, which he opens for me. “Take care Wyatt. I’ll see you Friday.”
Chapter 18
Wyatt
Is there anything you could do out there on Krovatia that would bring you self-actualization?
Dwight’s question haunts me the rest of the evening and for the following few days. He’s planted a seed with that question. What if I were to go to Krovatia in my own right and not as Melinda’s spouse? What could I do that would bring me self-actualization?
I got off the cut-throat business juggernaut I was on to retrain as a chiropractor, and I haven’t regretted that move. I cut my stress levels in half and improved my quality of life immeasurably. However, I was less than honest with Dwight when he asked me if I was happy being a chiropractor. I enjoy it, sure. I love helping others and even more, I love being able to leave work behind when I go home. Melinda might thrive being on the clock 24/7, but not me.
Having said that, working as a chiropractor isn’t entirely satisfying either. I know it doesn’t utilize the full range of my abilities. I rose to the heights I did in my business life because I was damned good at it. I could put together profitable deals and negotiate the best of terms for my business. I could sniff out new opportunities like a bloodhound and go in for the kill before any of our competitors could get in on the action. Working as a chiropractor doesn’t scratch the surface of what I’m capable of doing, and at times, it’s painfully obvious that I’m only utilizing a small part of my abilities.
That’s why my friends’, and Melinda’s, barely hidden disappointment at my decision to get off the business bandwagon stings. On some level, we all know that it was a cop out. Things got a little too tough that last year, too stressful, and my solution was to get out of the rat race and find something else to do—something vastly less complicated. I got burned out, reached my crisis point, and for the sake of my sanity, I had to leave that life behind. That was the right choice to make at the time. But now… I don’t know anymore.
I’m certain I don’t want to go back to my old work life, the one that burned me out, but not so certain I want to keep on being a chiropractor either. Dwight’s question about what would bring me self-actualization has come at just the right time. What could I do that would utilize my talent and experience, without sending my stress levels through the roof? And how could I make that happen in Krovatia? My mind throws up lots of different metaphorical thought balls into the air, but I can’t seem to make them juggle just yet.
My communicator buzzes with a message from Mike, an old school friend of mine. Our paths parted ways when he went to dance school, but we have still kept in touch. He’s now the artistic director of the Washington Ballet. We have a standing date, once a month for dinner and—depending on the schedule—a performance at the ballet.
Mike:Still on for tonight?
Me:Of course.
Mike:Burgers, Mexican or Vietnamese?
Me:Vietnamese
Mike:Good choice. I’ve sent you an e-ticket for tonight’s performance. I’ll see you in the box.
Me:What’s on the program?
