Our parent’s legacy becomes legend.

We filter out the bad memories and hopefully focus on the good ones. No parent is ever perfect.

I reflect on her life and all the hardships she had to endure. A widow into her mid to late 30’s with 4 children would probably break most people. My father came into her life and gave her a 5th child. (Yours truly).

Somehow she kept going, somehow she made the best of whatever life handed her. She was the perfect hostess, making grand meals during family gatherings or a cup of coffee for her brothers at her “impromptu truck stop” in Honey Brook, Pa.

She had an amazing laugh, and buried the pain both physically and mentally.

She had some more challenging years later in life and towards the end, she came back to her Pennsylvania.

It’s fitting she was born just before Mother’s Day.

I miss your laugh, and wish I could tell you how amazing I think you were for how you kept going with all those hills and valleys in your life.

Happy Birthday Mom. ❤️

No Filter at the bottom of the bottle

My wife is out of town this week. I had all these great plans. Woodworking, catching up with war buddies…maybe some illicit rendezvous…but no.

I sometimes regret sharing this blog with people who actually know me…but no more. This is the ONLY place I can be “real”. Unfiltered, untethered, and free.

I dusted off my favorite Merlot tonight. I binged watched “Mask Girl” on Netflix. (I’m a K-Drama addict)

I think in a strong marriage you get imprinted on that person. Even with the ups and downs….you can’t live without them. I’m a hollow shell without her. All the flirting and secret text messages…with others…I miss her.

Marriage and Love is never perfect.

But if there is something there. The pull…it’s worth fighting for. Or being patient.

As I sit on the back porch in the dark..with the glass slowly draining, I ponder my theory of when my mind got extra screwed up. I’m part of a long and dragged out class action suit concerning Mefloquine. It is now a banned Malaria drug. (Look it up)

I want it to be the ground zero for ALL of my problems. Maybe it is. Maybe is just a few links in my history of trauma.

It would be be nice to blame all my faults, sins and shortcomings on one thing.

Maybe I’m just a borderline jerk/narcissist .

Or just damaged goods.

Maybe acknowledging or admitting to it is a positive step.

I don’t know…and don’t care at all 1:30 in the morning….

It’s the weekend. I get to sleep in. Cheers. I will try to be a better person today.

Try.

All, Some or None

All, Some or None

 

I miss some people a lot, a little, not at all….or AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

Yes, that sounds harsh but it’s the way it is.  I joined my High School Alumni page but only to see the old click still trying to grab the spotlight at times.  Or I am seeing the progress of our old building being torn down and feel….nothing.  Nothing at all.  I can barely remember most of my teachers or classes I took.

Someone commented on how The Ramp in the main common area was covered in river gravel at one point.  I have zero memory of that.

It’s kind of sad that is my history there.  Just a grey cloud.  But maybe its also good.  I know some kids “peaked” in High School and never felt that important or noticed outside the classroom door.  Maybe that’s why the shy ones, the underdogs sometimes flourish post-graduation.  Sometimes.

Some are like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite.  Trying to get that one moment back.

 Other classmates before, during and after my time there are sad and nostalgic about the demolition.

Maybe I would be too if my parents didn’t divorce and I had a “normal” life during that time. But instead I was just trying to get through each day with the promise of graduating and moving forward.  To where?  I had no idea back then.  I just know I would be able to be somewhere else, and eventually out on my own, unburdened.  Do I still blame my parents?  Maybe not.  For it forced me to grow faster and be more independent earlier in life.

I’d say more responsible…but that took longer.  😉

 I now see this trend with a lot of people and things in my life.  My military unit is a huge one.  Once I hit the 15^th anniversary of my retirement, I finally accepted that it’s over and

I could never go back.  I know that wasn’t realistic.  I was just trying to hold onto that momentum and feeling of belonging.  But I started to see the politics, drama, BS, nepotism, dirty back room deals and now…I have let it all go.  (Not the memory of the good things…just those people)  Sadly, some people I actually care about and miss are unfortunately collateral damage.

Because attending an event would involve seeing the “non-gratis people. “ 

 I’ve also worked too hard to adjust to my new “normal” and my work/life balance.  They say to cut toxic people out of your life, and it actually works.  They also say to not let people live Rent Free in your head.

I will never visit some of my old workplaces.  For they all eventually crashed and burned. Toxic culture, horrendous management…etc.  As my best friend would say: “Little Cubicle Empires”.

Even at my current job, they exist.  BUT….I somehow fell into that small niche with the total opposite outcome.  A supportive boss, co-workers and a client who “loves” us.  I also get to use my hands and mind for good and productive purposes.  I’m supporting heroes again.

 My self-imposed exile is necessary.  I’m finally happy, more or less and rediscovering myself finally.

 

The Great Paper Chase

December 2002. That was probably when I officially lost my mind. I was going on my second 9/11 deployment overseas and was issued Mefloquine for malaria. Alongside the other shots for various diseases. After my first couple of weeks over there, I was experiencing sheer terror, anxiety, insomnia, lack of appetite and a smorgasbord of other mental issues. I was sitting with a military officer who was way up there in rank and had been to actual war zones. I mentioned what I was experiencing and after a few questions he determined it was the mefloquine. He saw similar side-effects in others in the field. This was a huge tablet to be taken once a week, as opposed to the other medication that was taken daily and was relatively safer.

I do remember once I stopped taken that “horse tablet” I crashed and slept probably 18 hours straight. Slowly the terror and anxiety reduced to a more comfortable level given the region and mission I was supporting. The year before I was deployed to a far more dangerous place on the other side of the world and was armed, surrounded by razor wire. There we took the “normal” malaria pills. I was more at ease back then.

Many months ago I reached out to a medical professional to help me pinpoint that the mefloquine was the root cause of my mental health issues. This week I finally got a copy of my personnel and medical records that was over 3300 pages in length. (It took over 6 months to get it) As I reviewed the seemingly endless document, I saw my entire military career in words. Every evaluation, promotion, deployment, medical appointment, test, vaccine I received was in there. But that ONE PAGE was still eluding me. As I got towards the end of the file, I saw IT. Plain as day. And I even found a page where I requested to NOT issue me mefloquine on the next deployment.

A couple years after I retired, a quick internet search showed me how mefloquine was being banned for exactly what I experienced. Service member’s lives were turned upside down from that medication. Divorces, legal and career issues. Some maybe even worse.

Somehow, I managed to keep myself together and stay focused on taking care of my wife and children. With counseling, compromises, therapy, distractions, both good and sometimes unhealthy (Drinking) I made it to this stage of my life. I was on track to be a high ranking manager at the City at one point. (Second from the top director position) But that’s when my silent war with myself was getting to a crescendo.

Now I am trying to accept my new normal, my reduced job title (Which I am so much happier in) and move forward. But I do want the military to acknowledge fault. Which usually never happens.

I’m still grateful for my life and experiences. I guess everything has a price.

Momentum

I’m ashamed to admit that I love the movie “Hot Tub Time Machine”, not for its over the top crude humor as much as it struck a nerve with me. It mostly took place in 1986. That was a very, very, VERY pivotal year in my life.

That was when I decided to join the Air Force.

One of the main character’s young 20-something nephew goes back in time with the group and see’s how wild and crazy his uncle and friends were.

He asked his uncle in one scene, “What happened to you guys?”

(Referring to the current older versions who’s lives are a mess or have dreams unfulfilled)

His uncle replies very sadly: “We had momentum…”

I pulled a simple 12 hour shift today. (We are rotating to ensure no one gets burned out)

I work my regular 8 hour days during the rest of the week. I guess we are “Essential”, which gives me a huge roller coaster of emotions at any given minute. I’m complex that way….and not necessarily a strong trait. More of an exhausting trait.
So I’m proud, humbled, angry (that many others get to “work from home”) honored, jazzed, scared, and mostly just plain tired.

“Time to make the doughnuts…” kind of tired.

Back in my military days, we pulled 12 on, 12 off for months on end. “12/12’s”

Yes I was younger back then, but then I realized there were other factors. I was with my military brothers and sisters in the field. We had each other’s backs. We didn’t cause the stress, and we faced it head-on with our arms locked and overcame all of it.
All.
Of.
It.

Think of the movie “300” without the death and 8-pack abs….

In this new world I am working in, I still have a great team, but the external factors greatly outnumber us. External factors that make this activation harder than it needs to be.

I’m sorry I tell endless “war stories” and how much I pine over the “good old days”…but you had to be there.

The other branches would gawk at us when we arrived onsite, and with little discussion or pre-deployment briefing, we would setup an entire comms site in hours and be on the air with secure communications to the other side of the world. We were on autopilot.

When something crashed or hit the fan, we also bolted into action like a complicated ballet troubleshooting, analyzing, fixing issues as the popped up…effortlessly most times.

Veteran’s experience their own version of Dog Years. We compress so much stress and emotion into a shorter period of time, that it gets into your system. Look at ANY industry where retirees literally drop dead within the first months, years of retirement. That is all they knew. They were wired for the frantic pace, the ongoing trench warfare of the mind.

As I said, you just had to be there, because….

…we had some freaking awesome momentum.

The Loneliness of The Now

Last night as my second glass of bourbon kicked in, I felt very lonely. I’m in a rut these past few weeks. Probably because I’m not doing woodworking. It’s that therapeutic for me. The days at work are a blur, I am not even sure what day it is half the time. My good friend would always say: “Wash, Rinse, Repeat” Speaking of my best friend, there was a time I would send her a random text message with no expectations of a timely response. Just to vent, bitch, cry about some misfortune or how depressed I was in my years following retirement from the military. (We served together) She would talk me down, or give advice, or just “nod” in acknowledgement. But she has a full plate with her current boyfriend, health issues, and work challenges. (She had some of that when I would send those messages in a bottle, but didn’t care and was selfish for my own needs) So now…I refrain from sending those text messages. I don’t want to add to any pressure she is currently dealing with. For I have better meds, and “tools” to help me get through the dark times.

Mostly.

I know I have slowly evolved into a shut-in. I’m tired a lot, from sleep issues, chronic pain, the long three months of helping my terminally ill neighbor up until his passing on January 1st….the major house remodel project, and the subsequent remaining “To-Do” list as I try to wrap up the final pieces of the remodel and other things that were placed on hold. My bicep tear/injury last year delayed a lot of things.

Last night, I jumped on the rowing machine and the sharp pain in my repaired arm was eye-opening, disappointing and depressing. I know nothing will be the same, but I was hoping it was feeling better a year later. I guess I didn’t work it back into shape enough. So hopefully 15 minutes on the machine will turn into 20…to 30…etc.

I love my job, it’s just that the slow days become comfortable and then when something does pop-up, I need to nudge myself into action. But it also means we are keeping the equipment running smoothly for a change and reducing downtime for the clients.

I also cant’ believe I’ve been here 7 years. Which is a record after bouncing jobs due to contracts not being renewed, horrendous leadership, or toxic office cultures…or just me having adjustment issues to the outside world.

Over the course of these past 15 years, I’ve built a maze around myself and really don’t have any true good friends. I have great friends….but not that one “Good Friend”. The one who is your ride or die friend. Some days I’m okay about it. Other days, like last night I just wanted to text them and say: “I’m not in a good place right now.” Like I said, I have friends, but I don’t want to come across as needy. I’m pretty honest with people these days about not being perfect….but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. There are limits and boundaries.uly was t

I almost texted my sister (who will probably read this post) and tell her: “Your little brother is not doing so hot.” But thanks to my meds, and the lesson of “Postponement” I know I will be okay in a few hours, or days….and it will get better. And if it doesn’t, I jump on something creative and that helps. Speaking of my sister, I am planning on seeing her for at least a week. Which is only about 40 years overdue.

I thanked her at my military retirement ceremony for when I was 14 years old, I moved in with her up North. To get away from my parent’s messy divorce (which gets mentioned frequently in my stories). There in the beautiful woods, I found peace. I found my reset. I found a healthy perspective.

And realized my Dad probably needs me with him. I stayed with my mother after the divorce as some misconstrued notion of societal norms. But she was the one who ran away with the Devil who chain-smoked and drank cases of beer, weekly. He truly was the Devil. The ultimate user, abuser, liar, narcissist…and anti-Christ. She finally left him and I think he died in some run-down mobile home in an over-grown lot in the middle of no-where. Living with the latest woman who bought his endless bullshit.

Again…this is why the past is a harsh mistress for me. But, now I know I am in a better place.

I have an invisible pull to hit the road, to take a week off and do something fun. I sometimes do take a 3-day weekend for myself, but right now, I manage to make it through each day. Somehow.

I do look forward to getting back to golfing after a 5-year break. With my friends. Who know I’m imperfect, and have some slight knowledge I have a few loose screws. 😉

We are never alone

Part of getting older is reflecting on when we were younger and the path to get to this very moment.

We didn’t take that journey alone. There was a cast of thousands guiding you.

Some gave you a nudge, pointed the way, some may have even knocked you down.
(They count too)

Others picked you up, tended to your wounds and set you back onto the path.

Our teachers, mentors, leaders, friends, pets, parents and especially our loved ones.

We are a sum of all those people. The echoes, although faded, still reverb in your soul.

Part of getting older is understanding to make the most of our time here.
Getting older makes you both patient and impatient.

Tolerance for what you can control, and resist fretting over petty things.

I have recently reconnected with those who helped shaped me growing up.

I thank God for these people in my life. (And to have them see that young wild kid…somewhat…matured) 😉

So in the darkest of times, especially this past year, I smile at the thought that I am never alone.

The Fog

No matter how good my day is going, how beautiful the weather, a darkness seems to always silently cast over me. A full medicine cabinet, successful therapy sessions in the past, it finds me. I force a smile, appear normal to those who I encounter at work. Inside the Fog is already there, blanketing the sun.

Like my chronic aches, pains and unfortunate tinnitus that I have, I have learned to live with it. Accept it. Move past it. Embrace it at times. It allows me to justify not attending events, parties, or other social activities. Now I do these things from time to time. I’m not in total isolation. When a good friend past away last year, I went to say goodbye to him, both at the service and his interment at the VA Cemetery. I owed it to him. For he was the voice of reason and experience when I was losing my battle with depression. When I was slipping and ready to walk away from everything and everyone. He was that small fire on a shoreline. Not the majestic proverbial lighthouse, but a spark in the vast stormy darkness. As if to say: “Here….here is your goal.” Get here when you can. Take your time.

On paper, my life is perfect. Wife, children, two dogs, a beautiful home, a job that I actually love. People who care about me. I’m trying to work on my recovering relationship with God with whom I had doubts over and over about. The amatuer scientist and sci-fi nerd in me tugs at my heart and mind. How can everything be true? If I took our planet, or solar system and placed myself on it as dot, that dot would be invisible against the entire history of the universe. When I was a child, everything was real, Santa, the Easter Bunny, monsters, ghosts and my fear of the dark. Now my mind is full of lessons, cause and effect, facts and mis-truths, falsehoods, lies told to and by me. No wonder reality is so blurred now.

No wonder The Fog finds me. My heart keeps looking for what’s next. The newest and shiniest thing. A new toy. A new experience, challenge…victory.

From the time we foraged and fought to make it through each day, to survive, our minds were occupied with that basic instinct. Now we have nothing but time on our hands. To ponder, question, complain, criticize, to hate, to judge…to wonder.

And just when I get a small break in my soul. Just when I’m satisfied and calm. The Fog rolls in again. As if to remind me of the constant turmoil in my head. Maybe I just need to remember it’s only temporary, and a natural occurrence. It will abate, and the sun will come out again. Patience.

I do thank God for my imagination, to create, draw and…write down my emotions here. That helps bleed off The Fog, the darkness. To fight back against it as if to say, I know why you are here. But I also know that I have passed through you before on the other side.

I. Am. Still. Here.

How Quickly We All Forget

As they say, if you do not study, learn and/or pay attention to History, you are doomed to repeat it. And when they say “doomed”, they mean the bad stuff or poor decisions again.

People forget promises to themselves, to spouses, friends, family and even God. Politician promise the Universe to their voters, and usually fail to keep them. Millions die in wars and we swear it will be the last one, only to enter into another conflict. I think what scares me the most is that the world stage is affected by so few people in the wrong positions.

When I said “I do” at the altar, I should have said, that may expire, or I will become selfish, or…I feel like I’m doing all the sacrificing here and now all bets are off. Or my perspective of sacrifice is inflated and blown out of proportion.

Humans will never learn. We will keep choosing poorly, and repeating the good and the bad until the end of time.

I Miss Some of You…as much as Possible.

I miss my military days. And at first for the couple of years afterwards, I thought I missed the people.

As the years went by, I saw some of them in an unfiltered light. They were petty, backstabbing, full of nepotism, favoritism and many other self-serving plots.

I then realized I miss the mission. And yes there are some people I actually miss, I will try to visit them one on one. I don’t want to be around the herd anymore.

I now avoid the reunions and get togethers with the knowledge that some of “them” might be there. It’s taken me a long time to move past the uniform. Past the glory days. My mind is at peace. Mostly.

I don’t want to ruin years of letting go and therapy sessions. I miss the memories more. Not the flesh and blood. This is why I try to avoid viewings at funerals.

I want to preserve the memory of someone when they were alive.

Tomorrow is a retirement ceremony. I was going to go, but I’m backing out of it, yet again. And I feel better. I’m not a coward, I’m just putting my serenity ahead of the what-ifs.

It doesn’t hurt that I can sleep in on my precious weekend again.

Besides, I don’t want to go to jail for throat-punching someone. 😉