I am not much of a golfer, never have been and I am sad to say that I don't think I ever will be. My son however loves golf, he begged me from the age of 4 to play, and I agreed to kit him up and send him for lessons, I think it was the greatest thing for him. He is a natural, and unlike other team sports, with golf he gets to be 'master of his own destiny" as golf is really a game against one's self. (unless you seriously competing).
It amazes me the amount of effort that goes into creating these beautiful surroundings, to allow people to hit a little golf ball around.
Today while lazing by the pool I was talking to my wife about happiness. Yes, some of the discussion was the typical deep stuff such as what is happiness really etc etc, but what dawned on me and what I tried to convey to her, was that I think finding happiness takes hard work. We often have to construct our lives with a degree of struggle in order to allow for true happiness. I guess similar to all the effort that goes into creating and maintaining these golf courses, could be a metaphor for our lives.
My wife is my best friend and soul mate. She is a special person with a heart of gold, one of those"salt of the earth" people, and hurting her is very difficult for me.
We have always given each other mutual respect, love and caring, I would without a single thought be willing to jump in front of a bus for her.
I guess then the question needs to be asked, if I am willing to give up my life for her, why am I not willing to forget about this journey and exploration of my identity and sexuality and commit fully and make her the happiest women alive?
My wife always knew what she wanted, and a huge part of that was me.
The problem is in denying my identity, without exploring and finding out exactly who I am, I find that I have not been able to give her everything she deserves. I guess I realise that how can I be true to her, if I am not able to be true to myself? I think giving my life to save hers would be far easier, than giving up living my life honestly.
I wanted to be able to commit, and in fact after having moved out of home for 8 weeks, my wife read me a letter in one of our marriage counselling sessions, in that letter her pain was evident. I never wanted my leaving to be seen as a rejection on her, but without me being honest and her not having all the information, prevented her from being able to understand it all and left her looking at her own inadequacies.
She wanted and needed me to love and desire her as a women.
In order to turn off her pain, and because I was not brave enough to tell her the truth, I decided to move back home.
For her my homecoming was a sense of relief and happiness, she had her stability back, for me, I felt like I had let myself down.
It did not take long for my depression to be evident to my wife, she could see the pain in my eyes. I had done so much work trying to figure this all out, and in a flash, I had gone right back to where I started.
My absolute desire to tell my wife the truth was now consuming me.
Looking back, it was one of life's special moments (yes even the hardest of moments can be special), we were sitting under the trees, watching the kids playing on a perfect day.
She asked me, what it was that I felt I could not tell her. At the beginning of all this she said to me that she felt that there was nothing we could not conquer together, and I asked if she really had meant that. She nodded.
It was not an easy moment for me, I envisaged a huge vent of anger, and a massive scene. I was worried because the kids were nearby, and the last thing they needed in their fragile minds, was the vision of there mother stabbing their father to a pulp.
This was not the way it would be though, you see sometimes love can be pure. Loving someone does not mean loving them to their detriment, but rather loving them enough to let them be their whole self. Under the trees that day, my wife would teach me this lesson.
What she gave me and continues to is probably one of the greatest gifts anyone could, loving and accepting me unconditionally for who and what I am.
We have decided to support each other, while both of us try and find out exactly what this all means for us, and to assist each other in finding our "happy place". My wife needs me as much as I need her, love and a life of 12 years together is not a switch than can just be turned off.
So yes these golf courses are magnificent, and have a mystical and Disney world bliss to them, I am sure that while these golfers continue there pursuit of competing to be the best they can be on the course, all to often the hard work and effort that has gone into creating these little oasis' of happiness is forgotten, maybe just like life itself.