What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?
I would never go back to being a Project Manager.
It was an abusive career field. I never got support from my company and management, the client…no one. Everyone wanted the final results without the accountability or effort.
What would it take for me to go back? Total control and oversight. And a couple more zeros in my paycheck….
…and an assistant project coordinator.
I miss some people, and I miss some as much as possible….
I had major adjustment issues when I retired from the military. The pace, the excitement, challenges, sense of accomplishment, pride, energy, the list goes on and on.
I also thought I missed EVERYONE I served with.
As time passed, I started to lower the “filters” I had in place, and started to see some former co-workers for what they really were. I myself am not perfect, but compared
to the crap some of these people pulled, I’m a saint. I started a Facebook Alumni page when I retired and that put me in the center seat to hear all the gossip (which was confirmed by several people)
about the actions of the various members. I also saw how certain members promoted within their circles. Regardless if the person deserved it or not.
At my age, I don’t have to play nice, forgive, or forget. One member has a thick file of wrongs he dished out and left a wake of disarray and terrible consequences for the innocent.
He had a gambling addiction, kept a “girlfriend” at his house overseas, left his wife with huge debt, promoted buddies in the unit, scammed several people both stateside and overseas…and yet still got a job working
for the government. (He should have been a politician) Another one started asking me if I was “Woke” through online messages, warning me about the end of the county, civilization, a civil war that will be happening soon…
and I asked him to stop sending me that crap. He couldn’t help himself. So I dropped and blocked him. Several dumped their wives when they retired. Literally dumped them.
Again, I am not perfect, but I worked through my issues, remained married, got help for anything that potentially affecting those close to me.
There were some people I really wanted to see, but the jerk-offs outnumbered them. So I held off going. I also do not like social events anymore.
I accept that. I try, but sometimes, I can’t. I also hate crowds like some Veterans do. And noisy crowds are the worst.
I will stay connected with those from afar and online, maybe grabbing a beer with individuals instead of the group.
I slept better not going, it still bothered me to see what those people really were behind their facades.
This weekend, I realized it was the mission that I missed and only the “theory of my unit.” Not most of the individuals.
That was my adjustment issue. I missed that world. That version of myself.
Once in a while I think about the girl that got away.
It is actually the girl I threw away.
I was living back in my home state and couldn’t find a job, I was worried about my elderly divorced father living alone…but it was probably the selfish desire to move back South to security.
I was still immature. I didn’t deserve her or anyone for that matters. It would be 4 years before I was ready to actually love someone more than myself.
I went to see her after I finished basic training and technical school. She was working night shift at a nursing home. She came out and sat in my car, we talked and she was seeing someone. I think she may have been pregnant as well.
Either way, it was too late and I was out of her life too long.
As she got out of the car and the tape player started the song “Rain Comes Crashing Down” by Night Ranger, it started to pour.
I deserved that sign from above. I found her on social media, she married a different man, they spent 20 years together and he died of cancer. I can tell she never stopped smoking as well.
I hesitate to reach out to her. There is nothing to say, no apology or what-ifs to ponder.
Those young versions of ourselves washed away that night.
And the shadows you leave behind you
Are like the rain that’s falling down
And your halo was left in town
And still the rain comes crashing down
And the sadness you leave behind you
I learned of the passing of a childhood friend tonight.
He made some bad choices, but at one point in his life, he made some great ones. Somewhere along the way, he slipped and I mourn that life he lost, the great potential he had. I mourn with his family who lost a brother and a son. I know of some mutual friends who helped him where they could.
I hope his family finds peace in the days that follow.
And I hope his restless soul is finally at peace as well.
Drug addiction affects everyone in your circle. Both in the present and later after your absence is felt.
“Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod.” ~ Aristophanes
On a serious note. Back in 2013 I got my first non-Military/DoD job at the city. I was in charge of approximately 20-25 people. I had the office with a western view, the park below…wore suits….and eventually hated every single second of it. The quote is from the first season of Westworld and it really fit. Nobody was going to ever get to me again. Pettiness, backstabbing, ineffective leadership above and below me. Even though I was situated in “Cherry Row” (the office had cherry colored furniture) and I was 3 doors down from the CIO…it was one of the worse experiences of my life. I’d rather have been back in the south Philippines bathing out of a garbage can with a soup pan and bleach water…which I did during Enduring Freedom JTF-510.
I ended up leaving about 2 years later and landed even worse jobs with toxic clients and again, pathetic leadership.
But….I reached out to my brothers and sisters that I served along side with…and went to my VA primary care clinic. I was prepared to walk away from Everything including my family as I knew they didn’t like what I had become. A recluse, bitter and absent in their day to day lives.
It took 3 more jobs after the city, and some great counseling from the VA and I finally found that peace.
I’ve learned to finally accept my “new normal” and found refuge in woodworking.
I hope those of you dealing with your own struggles know that it does get better. I can’t tell you when, but it will.
Oh…during my exit interview from the City, in so many words I told them that yes…I did lead people on deployment or back at the unit as needed. The only difference was we all chipped in, and I had to tell my kids to slow down. At the City…it was the total opposite. Little cubicle empires.
Stay strong. Cheers.
The Great Purge of 2024
During the house remodel, we got rid of a lot of “stuff”. Reduced clutter, got rid of tchotch·ke’s (little trinkets, décor, etc)
We have less stuff on random furniture, less artwork on the walls, just “less” of everything.
We purged excess dishes, coffee cups, cookware.
We went through our closets, dressers, nightstands…name it.
Now onto the garage. My side was a minefield of scrap wood, random pieces of this and that. I have a bad habit of
tossing stuff down late at night instead of putting it back where it belongs. And that creates the sediment.
I’ve filled the trash can at least twice, gave away a carload of scrap wood to a co-worker, and another 3 boxes of wood
for firepits. (Clean and safe scraps)
Eventually I could see the floor and benchtop again. Things started to find a legitimate place to be stored. A sense
of organization started to form. I found myself breathing a little easier each hour.
Sawdust accumulated in the nooks and crannies. Vacuuming it up felt like surgery. Victory.
I took a step back and stripped my over-planned dust collection piping on the bench.
Filed under: “It seemed like a good idea at first”.
I think the biggest thing is to be fearless in not being afraid to start over, go backwards and/or re-approach
the grand design. I may have lost count on how many variations my little workshop has had these past 10 years. The past 4 it was really trying to be
an actual functioning area. As I write this, I realized that I too have had a great purge these past few decades. Purging bad habits, or at least lessening them.
Dropping toxic jobs, or people in my life have really paid in dividends. Adjusting my mindset and trying, keyword “Trying” to be a better person. Sometimes with
success, other times, utter and disastrous failure. Hinderburg for one. A solo Waterloo.
I know the cleanliness and organization will be short-lived, but at least there will be less stuff to lay around. And maybe I will actually put “some” things away.
I feel like a freed prisoner from a mental institution. My mind isn’t being chained down with overload and overwhelming clutter. So that’s a nice accomplishment.
Around this time 37 years ago, I ate a Mongolian Salad in the cafe down the street from the 3403rd Student Training Squadron at Keesler AFB, Biloxi Mississippi. Oh….the song “Land of Confusion” by Genesis was also playing.
The only reason I remember that specific meal was that it was the first meal I bought, and ate alone after graduating from AF Basic Training. For over a month I was in Lackland AFB, San Antonio Texas.
I remember trying relax and enjoy that meal. I smiled at the irony of the song and the sense of excitement that I was in the next phase of my military career.
I had no idea what the future was going to hold for me. I was going on 22 that year and already felt different, felt changed for the better.
Little did I know that I would go on to do things that I would have never thought possible, face challenges, see amazing parts of the world. And most importantly, make some of the best lifelong friends I ever had the honor of serving along side of.
Sitting here tonight, not tipping the scales at 185, or unable to do pushups or sit ups anymore, sporting a beard with more grey than brown….and creaking like an old Dodge Duster….I smile at that memory and the road I took to this exact moment tonight. It was quite a journey.
I can’t find my keys most of the time….but I remember that salad 37 years ago.
There are days I wish I was young again.
To have that energy and no pain.
To dream of doing…everything.
But nights like these, I am enjoying a well-deserved rest.
While I didn’t do “everything”, I’ve was fortunate to experience so many other things and see a good part of this Earth.
In my youth I searched high and low for someone to share my life with.
I found that girl. We started a family.
And the pain? It reminds me of all those times
I didn’t think I could push myself any harder or any further. I wanted to quit. I wanted to walk away.
I’ve found new and less strenuous passions.
There may be less “new” things to experience. But now I am focusing on those important things that I use to run past in a frenzy and were a blur in my peripheral vision.
I have a better understanding and deeper faith in God. Who had a hand in getting me this far.
The crackle of the flame, the music of the insects and little creatures of the night…the warm kiss of my favorite Red make me realize that this is the moment to be in.
To take in and enjoy.
I like my mid-century persona.
Cheers.
Another Goodbye
They say when couples who have been married for many many years, they become inseparable.
And when one of them passes away, the other spouse usually follows close behind.
With the passing of my friend, Buck, his wife Virginia is now slowly slipping away.
Couples must form some kind of chemical and emotional bond that has many links.
Their bodies are universally joined and are in sync with each other.
With Buck gone, Virigina may have lost her reason to continue on. And her body has accepted this and is fading quickly. She cannot eat or drink anything without getting sick. Part of me is devastated to see this happen, but at the same time I am witness to what true love actually looks like. It’s like removing half the roots of a large tree.
There is no way it can thrive with what’s left. I just hope she doesn’t experience any pain and she goes peacefully in her sleep.
Like our wedding vows say:
…til death do us part.
Not Letting You Go Yet
I can’t let you go yet. Maybe it’s denial or holding onto some false sense of security and not feeling abandoned again.
Death doesn’t care about my feelings or history. Some have lost so much more. This is my perspective, I’m keeping score.
When I have a moment to myself, the truth comes to the forefront and your loss is felt. The pain starts to form a shadow over me and I begin to lose control. In the past, I’ve fallen apart immediately and completely. I can’t explain why it’s different this time.
Maybe my therapy sessions where I was taught on how to postpone anything that could cause anxiety, pain or panic is working too well.
This mental wall is now too high, or the emotional minefield too dangerous to cross right now.
Even now in the middle of this sentence, I’m fighting to control it taking over me.
The final months, I realized you were like a Dad to me. Confiding in me, trusting me with your care and needs. I was more than happy to oblige. As I mentioned before, I stopped being selfish with my time and thought about someone else for a change.
Holding your hand the morning of your passing, feeling the cold flesh and knowing there was no longer a pulse was hard.
I waited for the Hospice nurse to confirm it officially. A part of me was hoping I was so wrong. I wasn’t ready for you to go yet.
But at the same time, I was relieved you were no longer suffering, restless and fighting for each breath. I’m sure it would have gotten way worse with each hour and day to come. I suppose to take you out for a walk in your wheelchair, or another drive in the stretcher van.
I was so happy to see the look on your face taking in the sights and being out of the house for a change.
I think your wife has given up at this point. She spends all day in bed with minimum food. Her mind was going before this and now I fear
it’s going a little faster. She is also in denial and wakes each time thinking you are there. Maybe I’m holding onto you for her sake.
This sense of loss and dread is hanging on me like a heavy chain. No matter how much I smile, joke and stay busy, I feel the heft of it.
It’s always there. Maybe tonight I will finally let go. Writing it down helps me express what I’m feeling. It always does.
I will remember you always. I am grateful to have been your friend and neighbor. I am honored and humbled to have been the one to hold your hand towards the end and soothe your fears. I promise to let the loss come.
When… I don’t know, but I do promise to grieve when I am ready.
…someday.
The Past Is A Harsh Mistress 