I know why men go to war.

In February, I got laid off from my job of 4 years which has resulted in time, lots of time for a lot of existential reflection.  In March, I sliced the top of my finger off trying to cut radishes with a mandolin (which turns out to be much better at cutting fingers than radishes). In April, my 15 year old daughter Emma suffered a severe concussion when she flipped a 4 wheeler at a friends house. So I had drama, for months. Serious drama. Serious worries about her, her health, and if she would ever get back to knowing the difference between words like oatmeal and granola.

But now, her head is healed and so is my finger, and it's late summer and I'm finding myself aimless. My brain is seeking excitement, drama, worry. I have lots of time to think thoughts like "what's is the point?" And then I think, we need a pool, a fireplace, a vacation - something, anything to break the tedium of this everyday. But I know my happiness does not lie in acquiring new things. It never has.

And what is it about an office that fills a void? What is the void I'm feeling? Power?  Ego? I'm missing something. The temptation to go back to the "dark side" is palpable. But the problem is that I was never happy there (either). This is what I wanted. Time to go to the grocery store. Time to make healthy food for my family. Time to get everyone to the dentist every 6 months. Time to take care of a puppy (did I mention the puppy?). Time to dry my hair. Time to do art. Time to do things during the week besides commuting for hours to an office every day, sitting in a cubicle and pretending to be busy. That was a waste of a life. But still . . .

I miss the people, their lives, their drama. And even my own drama. I miss victimhood, complaining about the people who didn't like the way I did things. The mistreatment by ogre bosses. The power plays. The pride at telling people where I worked. The ego gratification and submission. At the time it felt like torture. Now it all seems so interesting.

So, I know why men go to war.

I'm 49 years old. I've spent over 20 years in an office. It's time to do something else. But what? I'm not going to war, or to an office. I'm going to figure this out without going back to my old, secure, fearful, painful ways.