The Space Between

I’ve been married for over 3 decades. That has to be worthy of something. People have divorced for less trivial things.

Some days I can’t live without her. Other days I’m doing “Divorce Math”….what would happen, where would I go, what would I do?

I’m starting to think this is normal in a way. Kind of a sanity check. Maybe it’s because of my abandonment issues from my mother. (Long weird story). Or the sense from family members dying too young….or being ripped away from my childhood home to move South for my parent’s health…

Note: I reconciled with my mother years before her death.

Mostly.

I’m probably still married for several reasons, actual Love. Actually adhering to the “For Better or for worse” oath taken at the Altar.

For stability I never had in my pre-married life. To prove those who said it would never last wrong. Stubbornness.

Like two orbiting celestial bodies, we tug and repel, influence our trajectories. Sometimes almost colliding, or shearing out into the darkness alone. We eclipse each other at times. But always staying in that delicate dance together.

The space is a vacuum at times. A cold and dark void. I can see her, feel her presence and pull all the time.

This too has to be normal. Maybe that’s the secret. We give some space to breath and reset. To encourage personal growth or focus on something we have a passion for.

The space between us in an invisible DMZ, a non-verbal truce when needed. An armistice to prevent escalation.

If she is thinking the same thoughts or decides to cast off into her own path someday, I may or may not be shocked.

But, I would be lonely and wither in the vast emptiness.

…for better or for worse.

Catch 22

I had a blog back during my struggles in 2015. I had at least 500 posts for that year or two. Some days I would write several posts of varying length and topics.

They were observations, cries for help, confessions, doubts and fears.

I made the mistake of sharing the site with people I knew. Maybe another cry for help.

This time, I only shared it with two people. A fellow (and accomplished/published) writer, who gets it. A kindred spirit who has their own passionate outlook on life’s loves and betrayals.

The other friend, is…my only honest and closest one whom I can tell everything to without judgement. And they have known me for almost 20 years. I am also their “trusted agent”.

Once my job changed in 2015/16, my new meds kicked in, after I almost destroyed my marriage and ran away from everything….I deleted that account.

There were some really deep and poetic musings there. But I had to burn it to the ground if I was trying to move forward.

Bonfire of the insanity’s.

I love writing, but I seem to take some abusive pleasure in going to dark places in this particular medium. When I write term papers, letters of recommendation, or anything I know will be “seen” and attributed to me personally…it’s light, breezy and pleasant. Maybe this my mental punching bag.

I will try to recapture some of those posts here. Like when I thought I could control the weather when I was a child. (Long story)

So I must accept I write to ease the depression and I have to be depressed to write here.

Catch 22.

Exit Interview

A responsible employer usually has an exit interview when an employee leaves. Regardless if it’s retirement or career changes.

The purpose of these sessions are to enable the company to make changes to improve the environment for those remaining behind.

Imagine if we did that on our deathbed? I know a fortunate few get to say some words of wisdom to an immediate family member, friend, or the medical staff.

What if we published these for all to see? The common thread would hopefully point out how they regret focusing on the wrong things. How they may have obsessed on shallow and pointless goals, instead of others. Maybe they wished they “lived” more.

Maybe they also wished that they didn’t procrastinate and delay some adventure.

Some of us get hyper-focused on selfish things like job titles, power, money….control.

But in the end, it’s probably up to us to figure that out before our time is done.

Phantom pain

Some of you have only been gone for a short while. Others were lost decades ago. Whether it was age, sickness, tragedy…you were absent from my life too soon

This numbness and emptiness lingers whenever you cross my mind. For a split second I want to pick up the phone to share something with you. I look for you at the dinner table. I can almost hear your laughter fill the house.

You missed so many milestones. You left a hole in my heart. I wonder what you would be like at a certain age.

I wonder if you would have found someone to settle down with. Would you have started a family?

Would I have those answers to your questions, or brought you some comfort when you just needed to vent?

Did you avoid some other tragedy later in life?

I wish you could see that little boy who is this tired older man now. Maybe he finally matured and understands everything you tried to teach him. Maybe he listens a little more closely.

If anything, please know I can’t let go of you. I am part of you and you helped me become this person who carries your passions and thirst to explore new things.

I will try to live for both of us, until my last breath.

The little pieces

We can only fall apart so many times. And we can only piece ourselves back together so many times.

The Japanese have a term: Kintsugi.

They repair broken pottery with gold. The damaged object is reborn with a new purpose and increased value.

I’d like to think that happens to me whenever I become fragmented and sometimes even shattered.

But what do I lose each time? What part of me is in those little lost pieces?

Those cracks and voids are sometimes filled with disgust, dismay, hopelessness…fear.

Maybe even bitterness.

I also try to avoid being broken further. I watch my step, choices…my mouth.

Sometimes we have someone to put us back together. But we also have to do it alone. With mixed results.

Everyone loses a piece of themselves in this world. Hopefully we can fill that proverbial damage in someone else. Fill their needs, yearnings and desires.

In spite of losing those little pieces, I haven’t lost…hope.

The Great Unraveling

2007. I think that was when I first heard the pending storm in the distance. I learned that I had to retire from my career of 20 plus years due to budget cuts.

2008-2013. The waves started to pick up. I felt pretty confident that I could ride it out and flourish. Maybe too confident. I didn’t notice the leak at my feet…and the impending doom that awaited me.

2013-2015. My “ship” started to list. Taking on water. In the past, things would always get better. The bad times would pass. I would be saved. Not this time.

2015. Desperate, alone (in my head) I floundered. My ship was gone. I kept drifting further out into the darkness. And then, I tried to rescue myself just one more time. I found something to literally cling onto. (Medication and eventually therapy). The waves started to subside. I could see the proverbial shore.

(My sincerest apologies for these cheesy ocean/sinking/drowning references.)

2015-2017. Even though I was on the road to recovery and salvation, I was still in danger of slipping backwards, both mentally and professionally. I made horrendous career choices and employment decisions. The employers used people like post-it notes. Leadership pretending to be confident and wise. It felt like when I pointed out their errors and logic (nicely) I was let go.

Where I held a passionate career for 20 plus years, I now worked at no less than 7 places in those past 9 years.

“Lucky 7”. Even though this final job was going to be “it”. The first 90-days was more of the same. Horrendous leadership with zero vision, integrity and honesty…I was “bounced” to another department.

I felt like a failure once again. And then…redemption and validation at the cost of my replacement and their subsequent replacement. (two people quitting to get away from a toxic leader/environment)

At first I had survivor’s guilt. Then I finally threw myself into this latest role I was “fired” into.

My scattered and somewhat repaired self was slowing starting to take form again. My soul was getting patched up. The recent Covid events in this world paled to my previous years. I had protection against Covid, I had Allies.

I also had a new found faith in God. I’m still flawed and I think he just waiting for me to catch up.

And now as I tell you my tale of woe, fear, depression, my great unraveling. It did get better. It took way longer than I would have hoped for….but here I am. Almost whole again.

Baby steps.

What Everyone Else Thinks

I say I don’t care how anyone views me. Or what they think of me in general. I know I have some “fans”…cheerleaders…and maybe an equal amount of haters and villains.

I also tell myself it’s not worth it. That old saying, don’t let someone live in your head rent free.

Do we normally feel the need to be validated? When I share progress photos of what I recently created or something that is in-progress, I feel like a child sticking his latest drawing on the refrigerator. Waiting for the Oohs and Ahs.

When I count my friends, do I count for them? Or am I just an acquaintance? I feel I don’t deserve some of them.

I was practicing social distancing way before 2020. As I said in another post, I didn’t want them to “know me”, I wanted them to believe my version. It was very hard to put on a brave face, maintain an air of confidence. It was easier when I wore my 3-piece suit. It was my uniform, armor, first impression.

As I slowly started to unravel (probably the topic for my next post). I withdrew from everyone. Always making an excuse, or saying “soon”, next time…

For my closest friends I told them the truth. I don’t want to go out, I need to regroup.

I would hope they understood that I wasn’t in any frame of mind to “be there.”

Some of them were also struggling, some were clueless and tried to wave it off and coerce me into coming.

The invites slowly dried up, the messages trailed off.

My wish to be left alone was a blessing and a….sentence.

I’m exhausted pondering and worrying about my…rating, my image.

Time to get lost in my hobby and dreams at night.

Fate and Destiny

“God has specific places for us to be at certain times of our life and we should trust Him to guide and direct us to those places when He is ready.”
Genesis 2:15

I was a janitor during my first year of technical college. It taught me humility.

I cut grass before and after that. It taught me responsibility.

When I joined the military, it taught me accountability and integrity.

As I moved up the ladder in my various jobs, I discovered I was only truly happy and passionate when I worked with my hands, heart and mind.

I tossed my hat in the ring for a manager role, but didn’t make the final cut. And I’m perfectly okay with that.
When that happened in the military, I was upset at first, but I again realized I was still making an important impact where I was.

This past year I saw it again. I’m in the field supporting the “war fighters” on the front line still.

I’ve had that office with the view….down in the trenches is where I’m truly happy.

When I let go

When I Let Go

I loved many people in my life. I sometimes felt like I used it up entirely in the moment. When my heart broke into shards, I thought I had no more to give.
I was wrong, I had more, and sometimes it was stronger, deeper and complex.

It was a Rebirth.

It was Hope.

It was Purpose.

Again.

I’d come back to that place where it all fell apart, or they left the world too soon. Never coming back. After a while, I knew I would smile again, I would have the energy and I would move on.

Again.

I met your Mother during a hot summer night, spotted her in a crowded room. That was a real magic trick. It made everyone silent and transparent. For the first time in a long while, I was infatuated with someone else who wasn’t me. I pondered someone else’s existence.

I cared about somebody else finally. I wanted to know their thoughts, prayers, fears and dreams. I loved to hear her laugh, especially when I was the catalyst for it. I soared each time she told me that she loved me. And I still do to this day two and half decades later.

Now I thought, my heart was taken fully, my love had no room left for anyone or anything.

Then you came into the world. Part me, part your mother.
The three of you, each one a unique miracle. Each one displaying some of us, and something entirely new. A new perspective on the world. New thoughts, sparks of imagination.

New laughter, new fears and especially new dreams.

You don’t know everything, and neither do I. Together we will figure it out. You will be smarter than me. You are benefitting from a century of lessons, tradition, and Faith. Only the important things are remembered, only the important ones will be passed on to you. All of you.

I’m sorry if I have said “wait” or “not now”. I’m sorry if you didn’t get my full undivided attention. This promise in these words is my awakening, my renewed promise to get back there at the starting line with you.

I’m sorry if I was selfish and didn’t share my time. I promise to be better.

I always feared death, and maybe that’s why parents get selfish. They are stingy with their days ticking down. But then we remember it’s not about us. It’s about you, you are a purpose, you continue the line, you continue the traditions, the name, love, hope and faith. You are the legacy.

We will blink soon and you will all strike out into the world. You will need less advice, hand holding, and approval.

Then your mother and I will get some time back, a third lifetime together. We will rediscover ourselves again.
There will be celebration when you all come home for a while. Together again, under one roof and at one table.

I promise to stay as long as possible. I held your hands when you came into this world, when you took your first steps, when you got onto the school bus. I will hold your hand when you get married.

And then it will be your turn to hold my hand. I know we will have done the best that we could do. You have and will continue to do amazing things.

Never forget me, never forget all that we taught you.

When I let go.

Earn This

As I grow older and hopefully mature, I am starting to realize we only have so much time in our life. Sometimes I’m waiting for “something” to happen, to get better, to change….

I’m afraid to see a proverbial pie chart of when I actually enjoyed this exact moment.

When I was happy for an extended period of time. When everything was “perfect”.

As I watch the news, everyone seems to be focused on hating, choosing pointless sides. Having a self-serving agenda. A thirst for power, control, titles, money….

Everyone seems angry. (The content and happy people are off the grid)

When I watch something good, inspirational, fun, hopeful…for a small moment I want to be a better person. I’ve been recently called grumpy, cynical, judgmental, etc, etc.

I’m worn down. It’s easier to believe in the bad stuff. Sometimes I rise above. Sometimes.

As I ween myself off of caring about other peoples’ opinion of me, caring about advancing up the ladder I recently hopped off of, willingly, I am stating to feel that calmness.

I still get angry at rush hour drivers, and rudeness….pettiness…I can’t seem to let it go.

Baby steps. Or more meds.

I need to earn this life I was given. Make the most of it. If anything, be more at peace with myself.