Continuity of Existence

Clearly it has been a very long time since I've reached out to my blog readers. And though this post is by no means a promise of my return to regular blogging, I've certainly missed the clarity that can come with putting one's thoughts into words. I've heard from friends and family alike, people miss knowing what is going on in my life. And I definitely miss the feeling that I'm reaching out to a larger network than I can possibly realize. Still, med school, bike racing, and personal life are a deadly combination for free time. On a side note, my therapist says I may be doing a little too much thinking for my own good, and that is part of the reason for this blog post. I want to accelerate the percolation of these sometimes all-consuming thoughts.

Lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking on a topic that seems almost too perfect for my return to Microwave Panini: continuity of existence. I look at my last post on the blog and wonder: am I the same person that I was 9 months ago? So much has happened to me since I was in Asheville. I've come back to med school and nearly completed my first year. I've made new friends and lost touch with some old ones. I entered into a new relationship that I watched self-destruct in front of me. And I was tortured by the feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and self-doubt that flowed from the demise of that toxic relationship. I came into the best form of my life, was clearly headed for nationals, and watched it all come crashing down. I was left spinning after I was forced to confront my own emotions and identity when I could no longer ride and race. After all of these things, it seems a reasonable question to ask: am I the same person? And if not, who am I?

I have this bugging innate sense of what is valuable to me, what I enjoy, and what is right and wrong. Still, its not just the overwhelming passage of time and the haze that med school lends to everyday existence, I have further reason to doubt the continuity of existence. As I look back at my memories, I can acknowledge in a concrete way that I went places and did things. The emotions fade, though. Was that really me? There are few events in my life that I can still feel like it was yesterday. Of course it is the mind's defense mechanism to forget. And Lord knows that I would have never made it through these past four months without that defense mechanism. This seems different, though; like a third party experienced those events for me.

As many of us do, I've often found music to be a powerful rheostat for my emotions. Since I was a little guy, I've been listening to R.E.M., thanks to my parents. One of their most recognizable songs, "Losing My Religion," came on my iPod the other day. From a young age, I could envision Michael Stipe as he struggled to make sense of the subtle cues of a girl (or boy)...wondering if this person cared for him...if he was making the right moves. Recently, I found a new meaning in his words. As he questions his memories and ultimately concludes, "that was just a dream," he suddenly finds himself "losing his religion." Before I had always wondered what that meant. I think that each of us carries within us our own personal religion that encompasses our values, hopes, loves, dreams...those things of which we are certain define our identity. Still I've come to realize that this religion is a fragile one. Sometimes we run into an event or an ego or a trial of life that leaves us spinning. And when we look back and ask, "who am I?", we find our memories faded and dissatisfying. How does one become sure of those pillars of personal religion once again?

Now I'm sure that some of your will be concerned at the weight of this first blog post, but don't worry. Sometimes we all just need to dump the heaviest part of our thoughts in order to be lighter on our feet and happier in the end. I really am doing ok and have so much ahead of me. I'm headed home to live in Granby, CO for the summer. I'm working with a family doc who is also the medical director for Sol Vista Ski Area, which will host the USA MTB National Championships in July. I've got a new car waiting for me in Colorado. And I'll have a new goldendoodle pup waiting there too.

Hope everyone out there is well.

~Ben