Tag: alcohol

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Lessons Learned From Being Hurt

Another writing prompt… a time I was hurt.

I really don’t want to do this one…and yet I do. I don’t think I’ve really spoken about it to too many people over the years, at least not in detail. It was so long ago, many lifetimes for I have been many different people since then. I was so in love, and maybe even in love with being in love. I though I had found someone who loved me for me, for whom I was. I felt like I didn’t have to put on any masks, that I could be the person whom I really was. Another writing prompt was to write about a time you were happy for a week straight. Maybe I’ll do that one, too, but about another time. To be honest, when I think of that time, it’s hard to remember how happy I was because of the pain I now associate with it. I’m sure you can guess what happened, she cheated on me.

I found out from a “friend.” Hell, it was him she slept with. I told him I already knew and that he should have the balls to own up to it. I didn’t know, I just suspected. As I’m writing this I find it odd that I could easily have written about a time I was physically hurt. The prompt just said “hurt” and I immediately thought of emotional hurt. Damn therapy mind lol. Honestly, I kinda want to write about that now. It seems easier than to relive the emotional hurt. Maybe this will bring some closure.

Anyway, I was hurt and I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t know HOW to deal with that type of hurt. I was starting my third year in college, I had the girl I loved and everything was pulled out from under me. So I did what any red-blooded, American college boy would do. I drank. A lot. So much so that I got to know my bar tender fairly well. WOW, was she beautiful. I considered her to be one of if not the hottest women on campus. I considered her to be so far out of my league that it never even crossed my mind to ask her out. And yet, even through my introverted, drunken awkwardness, I did manage to have a couple of conversations with her. She even gave me a few drinks for free. Heck, probably more than a few.

The next year I bumped into her at a party, the last of the year before we would both graduate. I’d never seen her at a party before and thought it was pretty cool. She was kinda drunk. That’s when I found out she had a crush on me that whole time. But now she had a boyfriend, she was going away, and it was too late for us. I was flabbergasted. I like that word, and it really fits. It makes me realize that because I spent so much time in pity , depression and drunkenness I missed a chance to go out with someone new. And did I mention how gorgeous she was?

Oh well, life goes on, and it’s been pretty good. Moral of the story? Get your head out of your ass and notice what’s right in front of you. In the words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

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Back at it

Sooo… Two days ago a friend asked me how often I blog. My initial response, which I didn’t actually say was, “not often enough.” I didn’t say it because it felt like a put down on myself and I try not to do that anymore. What I did say was that I tend to blog in spurts, i.e. when the mood suits me. This has been characteristic of my life, I often do what I want, when I want. On the one hand, I kind of like living that way. On the other, my rebellious side kicks in and things I “should” do, or actually need to do, often get pushed aside until I get around to them. The quote (and I have no idea who said it), “do the things you need to do when you need to do them, so you can do the things you want to do when you want to do them,” often comes to mind. That’s something I do believe and it’s time to make that change in my life.

Then, yesterday another friend posted on his blog, Kale & Cigarettes, about an experiment he has done and is planning to do again. Writing 500 words a day and then posting it for everyone to see, and doing it for 30 days.

I’m doing this for several reasons. I see how this guy lives life what he’s done in life, and I think it’s pretty cool. While I have my own life to live, I do understand that there are certain practices we can incorporate into our daily lives that can make them better, closer to what we want. Daily blogging isn’t something I ever set out to do, but I used to journal daily and the changes I went through back then were pretty amazing.

I’m also doing this because, as I said earlier, I often only do things when I want, not when I need to do them. I recognize that my rebelliousness has served me in life, it’s a part of me that will probably always be there and one that I’ve come to recognize and enjoy. However, I’ll admit it gets in the way. When I want to do something and I know it’s good for me, but I don’t because of sheer stubbornness, it’s a problem. In a spoken word, Henry Rollins once said (and I’m paraphrasing), “Ruled by a plant, what  joke.” He was referring to drugs and alcohol but I think it applies to emotions and personality, as well. We all have them, it’s what makes us individuals, but we aren’t meant to be ruled by them.

I’m also hoping to become a better writer by doing this experiment. I’ve had many topics I’ve wanted to write about, but the “mood” just hasn’t hit me. One that I’ve tried to get out many times is living with depression, to try and explain what it’s like. I usually get about two paragraphs in and quit, it’s just too depressing, lol.

I guess I’m just looking to be a better person, a better man. I often fail miserably, but by making little steps in the right direction I hope I will eventually get there. So here is a little step that I hope will get me where I want to go. And in a salute to my rebelliousness, maybe I’ll only do 29 days. Or 60 days, who knows…

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Rage, Pain, and Sadness….Or, A Touch of Grey

Today, I signed the documents that will finalize my divorce and custody agreement for my son. It’s been a rough few months, and I realize now what’s been bothering me all this time. Why I’ve retreated a little from life…why I haven’t blogged in so long…or written anything…at all. It’s been tough to get out of bed, pay my bills, keep in touch with friends, maintain a healthy eating schedule. Pretty much anything that I “should” be doing. And then it all comes crashing down at once what is bothering me.

I’m a processor. It’s how I deal with life. Sometimes it’s fairly slow, as it was this time, and sometimes it’s, well, less slow. Oh, well. It’s who I’m am. I usually figure out what’s bothering me within two days. I’m ok with that. Or at least I’ve come to accept that is how I work.

So I signed the paperwork and talked with my lawyer for a bit. He kept assuring me about what I was signing and said things like, “this is really the best deal you could have hoped for,” and “this agreement will protect your rights as a father.” It all sounds good, even though I have some misgivings, but I’m really just glad to have everything over. As I walk out of his office, I really want to have a beer. I don’t want to get drunk, I generally don’t feel that urge anymore, but just one beer to take the edge off. The problem is that it’s 10 AM and any place I’d want to go is closed. I’m also not going to go home and drink, and I’m too impatient to sit around and wait for some place to open up. See, I’ve become very aware of when, and why, I drink. Sometime I get these urges to go against what I think is right, but I also think the universe conspires to help us, if we pay attention. I did. Instead of going and having a beer I decided to go home and meditate, to simply feel what I’m feeling. Feelings aren’t good or bad, they just are, and I want to be in touch with mine as much as possible. I think that’s one way to truly enjoy life and not hide from it.

I start driving home and get about a mile into the 40 minute drive when I have a moment of catharsis. Ok, I started sobbing uncontrollably. And it’s possible it lasted for more than a moment. My lawyer’s words repeat in my head again and again, “best deal” in particular. Best deal? Are you fucking kidding me? On the one hand, I do believe him. I heard the same thing from him, another source, and a mediator. And it tells me how fucked up Illinois is for father’s rights. Best deal? What the fuck? Fuck you! Right now, I have my son every other weekend and then from 6-8 PM one night a week. My lawyer and the mediator both assure me that’s how Illinois does it. But “best deal.” Fuck. 

I do the math. I don’t know why, but I do. If I have my son every other weekend that means I see him for 26 of the 52 weeks, or for a total of 52 days a year. Out of 365. Best deal. Fuck you. Oh wait, I forgot about the mid-week times I have him. Add two hours times 52 weeks, the that’s 104 additional hours, or another 4.33 days…

I fucking hate this state, I hate it’s law makers, I hate that I’m here, I hate the fucking winter cold. I hate that I’ve spent 8 months here, sent out hundreds of resumes, and only had one interview. Now, I want to go get drunk. I want to go fuck my brains out, I want to beat the shit out of someone. Something, anything, not to have to feel this fucking crap. I fucking hate everyone and I fucking hate everything. And right now I especially, especially, hate the fact that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a small, rational part that sees the lesson in all of this. I don’t want to be rational. I want to rage. I want to fuck shit up.

But my drive home isn’t over yet. That small part of me gets louder. The fact that music is playing on the radio starts to register. A Touch of Grey by the Grateful Dead comes on. Music has often soothed my soul, and it does so now. I know that life isn’t bad or good. How much time I have with my son isn’t bad or good. I can be a good father to him with what little time I have. It’s the quality moments that really matter. And right now I see him more than when I lived in California and he was in Illinois. I need to keep things in perspective, because, really, there are a couple ways this can go.

I can keep this anger and resentment, I can hold it tight. In the end, though, who really gets hurt? I’ve heard it said that holding resentment is like taking poison yourself, hoping someone else dies. So, in this scenario, the only people I’m hurting is myself, and then my son. That’s not ok with me. Another option is to accept that this is how it is, for now. It won’t always be like this. My son will grow up, situations will change. He’ll be able to make his own choices. And from what I hear, it will happen fast. Crap, it feels like he was born just the other day. Right now my job is to be the best father to him I can be, to keep myself sane and healthy, to keep him safe, and to be there for him when he needs me. And he will need me.

The song ends. My tears have, mostly, stopped. I don’t like the situation, but I can accept it…and look for ways that I can change it in the future. The key is acceptance. By accepting it, I don’t rage against it. I don’t hold on to it and get depressed, or want to drink or engage in any other myriad of distractions that humans can use to “help” us get through. To me, it’s just one more step to being fully present. And that’s how I choose to live my life.