7-30-16 (Not for the faint-hearted)

6:00PM Played guitar last night until my fingers were sore. First time I ever played with other people. It was with a couple close friends so it was really comfortable and fun. Got us talking about music, craft, life. Our little ones played around, trying to figure each other out. I delivered guru, sage Dad advice. No, two children would not be easier. It’s not a halving but a doubling. You will be doing a hundred percent more work. Don’t kid yourself.

Woke up like 7:30AM everyone was sleeping in from the late night. I went downstairs tried to wake up. Panic and despair circled the peripheries of my reality. I want to share with you the truth. The “you” of course is myself, but also my wife, my kids, and you random person who has some way found yourself here. I want to be honest with you. Make this a worthwhile exchange, but things are so complex. You try to tell one thing it veers of into a whole history.

Today will honestly go down as one of the worst days in my life. I don’t say that flippantly, or rashly. It was. If I painted the picture for you, which I don’t think I could or would, it would ruin your day too. Still the emotions, and ideas swell, and journaling and writing are my outlets, so I sit in the lab trying to make sense of it. That doesn’t even capture it. Writing is a second self, a second skin, another me. I teetered on that edge as I showered this morning, the edge of disassociation, schizophrenia. Leave yourself behind, the dark side pushed. You aren’t you. You don’t have to care. It made my soul ripple. No, I told it, I will never take that way. I will stare into the abyss. I won’t run or look away.

I think about that a lot, how I wish I could be completely honest on the page, to really capture just how magnificent and terrifying my world is. Probably your world too. I should write, thee world. Why? And how do we endure? Why are we not all screaming at the top of our lungs, why!

Maybe I will tell the true story, one day, when I am braver. Maybe I will tell you about an old woman with shaky hands, that put the glasses on her face crooked, broken like a child, maybe about Jesus’ hands and feet, maybe about the Hittites, maybe about how only the good die young…

I won’t end it like that… I love you. Yes, you. Whoever reads these words. And those that don’t too, I love you as well. I’m sorry too, that I couldn’t be there to help you when you needed it. You know you’re pretty special, and you’ve made me proud with what you’ve done with your life. I know sometimes life can be hard. We all go through it. I just hope next time you’re going through it, you remember that I love you and you’ll make it; we are more than the sum of our parts.


4 thoughts on “7-30-16 (Not for the faint-hearted)

  1. Dude….sorry….worst day of your life, the disassociation? Fuck! Hang tight, use that love word, smile if and when you can, do. Do!

    1. Thanks for your encouraging word. I’m all good Bill, a survivor, stone heart blue flame is not some poetry, but my sense of self. Hard to capture the whole story, but there was a lot of laughter and love too, paradox abounds. Have a great day friend.

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