"Me and Michael Jordan"

Taking charge of your life and not letting those around you veer you off your path is one tough task.

Whether in my personal or professional relationships, I've often felt like a bystander. God forbid I be assertive and take the lead, there's always the huge hand that slaps me back into place. Well here I am 43 and the cycle continues. This time around the results have to be different. My tolerance for sugar-coated bullshit is at an all time low. This week my boss called me the Michael Jordan of the office. This means that I'm great in a clutch situation, able to rise to the challenge when we are backed-up. Although flattered by her compliment, Michael Jordan was paid millions for doing something he enjoyed. This is hardly my situation.

The past few days I decided to go out and play like everyone else on my team. Mind you, they are wonderful people, but the change in my work pace was noticed immediately as incoming records needing processing began to pile up. This created a sense of urgency from my boss who would occasionaly walk out of her office to give me the "Michael, you can do it" look. I now have come to realize I have become my job. YIKES!

Technology and procedure challenges aside, how does an overachiever downshift? My recent past makes me that much more determined to prove to others I have my shit togther. When I see something wrong, I want to fix it. When I first met Greg, my former partner of 10 years, he lived in a rental house in New Orleans. The faucet in his bathroom had a bad leak. Well, tired of seeing the drip, we were off to the local hardware store and I fixed the leak. I'm sure this sealed the deal for Greg who saw a gay man who did not fear home repair.

I guess that's it. We assume roles in all of our relationships. In my current partnership with John, I'm also "Mr. Fix It.", decorator, maid and cook. Somewhere out there I have a feeling Michael Jordan is not fixing a faucet or making a scrambled egg casserole for breakfast.

Back at the office I'm trying to figure out how hold off the "full-court press." Maybe my boss is negotiating a deal with J.J. Redick. Now THAT would make the office game very interesting. Redick wept as his team was eliminated from the NCAA Basketball Tournament this year. It seems Redick shouldered the burden of the loss. You see I know what J.J. was thinking: "Maybe if I would hit a few more three point shots.", "Maybe if I would have worked harder." Well, what I would have told J.J. is that there is a coach, a team, a game plan and rest is doing your best and adjusting as the game progresses, nothing more. If the team is relying on that clutch player who can nail that crucial three-pointer, or get that inside shot up in double coverage, they're not a team. We all know that the J.J.Redick's and Michael Jordan's miss on occasion. It's depth and performance from the bench that bring victory, not the efforts of one.

Where do I go from here?

I should consider myself lucky. I live in a great city, it's spring and I'm offically "on" with my company. Still something seems to be missing.

The new demands of my job have taken a toll on my relationship with John. When I come home, I don't feel like cooking, doing laundry or sometimes even talking. I talk so much during the day, I get sick of hearing my own voice. I guess we are at that crucial point in our relationship where communication is vital. John is a Jeep driving, sports loving, alternative rocker who eats baloney sandwiches and throws his clothes around, leaves drawers open when he gets ready for the office in the morning. These traits, although endearing, can wear on a tidy guy's nerves. My space has to be maintained. We are definitely experiencing a period of feeling distant and disconnected. That's bad. I guess the person John met Mardi Gras 2003 (the broken, lost, pill-popping, binge drinker) has now become more independent, confident and for the first time in a long time, comfortable in his own skin. Great things come from sobriety.

As for my job, it's the usual "the more you give..." type thing. It's a multi-tasking disaster. Thank God, I have the gift of prioritzing and moving lots of paper. I love earning my own paycheck again. It's just another part of myself I have regained.

CLOSED DOORS / SMALL WORLD

Aren't bold, emotional declarations like: "This door has to stay closed." just stupid. "Ooooohhhh, let's slam this imaginary entry way of communications to protect ourselves from each other. I did this with Greg a while back. An unexpected phone call from my former partner sent me into a funk for a couple of weeks. The pure, unadulterated truth is here are two people who were incredibly compatible (and my guess still are) who truly miss each other.

I know Greg finds himself, just like me, picking up the phone and putting it down or writing an email and deleting it. This is a part of my life I have yet to reconcile in my heart. All I know is that a metaphorically "closed door" is not the solution. In the meantime, two wonderful friends keep a mandatory silence in the fear of what door it MAY open.

When Greg was Associate Dean of Students at Tulane University, he mentored a student who is now in the process of moving to Chicago. That student, Jake has become very close to me and our circle of friends as he makes the transition. Makes one wonder. It's truly a small world even in a city big as Chicago.

Life goes on, no matter the song on the radio that in a flash brings back a tender and kind moment shared with someone who touched our lives so profoundly. So much for closed doors.