The requirements of "keeping the wheels on" our family are more than Amanda and I can meet. There are never enough hours in the day. Even our blessings become heavy. Example: We have 4 octogenarians in our immediate family. The dichotomy created by the joy of having them versus the guilt associated with not spending enough time with them is maddening. We fear allowing our diligence to drop even for a moment, lest Nathan's Honor Student status be squandered.
My facade is heavy. Life has taught me that 99% of the world NEEDS to see me as "one of them". The corporate world has little place for those who appear fragile, brittle, or in any way unreliable. The Church is no different. Humans fear/disdain anything different.
Lacking what Scifi told me I should have, I crumble under the weight of what being "alien" places on me. My insufficiencies invade like Mongol Hordes, and I am laid siege. To my family, I'm unpredictable and irritable. My work efficiency drops, and the "Thousand Yard Stare" sets in. The stare frightens my friends, and they retreat. Ironically, this is the exact opposite of what I need from them.
My ship has run aground, and here I sit. It doesn't frighten me. I've been here many times before. There is one strange comfort in it. It proves that I am more like "the natives" than they or I will ever admit.
The tide will return.