The kids are still sleeping. I woke up hours ago and walked a couple miles and worked out. Been going through my stuff as I have decided maybe a change in scenery could do this broken heart some good. It has been a rather shit morning.
I woke up from a dream where my ex and I were having a heart to heart. So my literal first thoughts upon waking were about the one person on the planet I do not want to think of. That blew goats.
The dating sickness is a toll on my blackened soul. I spent an hour after going to bed responding to and deleting people. I do not like this. It is like amnesia that sets in with every new person. Saying the same things, or explaining the past ad nauseam. Why is it so hard to just chat? Laugh and be silly?
This shit is real. Like a second job trying to find a new job while working eighty hours a day. Boo Hoo, the bald baby has a finger cramp from texting and swiping. I know. It is the psychological toll more than the physical.
There are a million beautiful women out there. You are one of them. And this shit show of parading around like everything is rosy and great is not healthy. You are strong and better than showing off skin in the hopes a stranger will sweep you off your feet and give you the life you deserve.
We get one life. It is the one we deserve for good or for bad. Live it.
He says as he writes another desperate plea to the universe to make this hollow pit go away.
I’m sorry dear reader but the depression has me today. I feel like less than a person. A discarded hermit crab shell on the beach of life. A sack of dirty diapers on life’s highway.
The guy who has pissed away every last chance he has had over the last fifteen years.
I remember driving down the road with my ex wife before she was even my wife. I was done. We had reached our end. It happens. I looked at her to tell her as she looked at me to tell me something else. I let her go first. She said she was pregnant. I said oh.
The fuck was implied.
She asked what I was going to say. I said that Mongolian Grill sounded bad ass. I married her. We had our beautiful daughter. Eventually it went bad again. I was doing my duty as a man and father for my daughter. I had the brilliant idea to have a second child. I knew two things would come of it possibly. One: My daughter would have a built in best friend. Two: It could possibly fix the mess I was in.
My son was born and my daughter got her new best friend.
I grew up in a house that was filled with booze and fighting. I had stopped drinking but the fighting was constant. It was unhealthy for all of us. The kids were young enough that the scarring would be light and soon forgotten. For them.
I fell into a relationship as the former was smoldering out. It was a mistake. But she was insistent. And young. And made me feel alive. I had not felt that way in forever. I ignored common sense and dove in head first. This is what ended this year.
Now I am broken. Some days it is not so bad. Work and friends fill the air and life is good. The kids are the best thing I will ever accomplish on this chunk of dirt. I would give everything for them. Like I did my ex wife. Like I did for my newest ex. It is all I know. I am one hundred percent in. But this one hundred percent out is for the fucking birds.
I have lived with this depression since my aunt told me at the age of 6 that I had a sister. She carefully explained that because of me she had to be put up for adoption. She taught me the definition of bastard as well. My parents were kids that made a mistake and spent the next decade trying to make it all better for me. That weighs heavily on one’s mind.
It took me twelve years of keeping this new info locked away to finally ask. Letting the internal pressure turn the coal into a diamond. I never spoke of it. How could I? One day I cornered a different aunt and found out it was all true. She did not make ne out to be the monster. She didn’t have to, years of this terrible knowledge let me do it myself. She tried to make it okay. It didn’t.
So I am hard on myself and forgiving on others. Too much both ways. The things that define you, make up the microcosm of this horrific macro, they can be told and repeated and recycled but they only weigh on your heart when it comes time for Anubis to judge us.
Light as a feather, as stupid as mud.
The kids will get up soon. We will have a great day. I will pretend it does not hurt to breathe. That the lonliness is not crushing me into dust. I will eventually stand strong and proud. But not today. Today is for self hatred and reflection. For swiping and messaging. For dreaming that it all just burns away.
I am burned out of this. All of this. I need hope or light or anything that isn’t the dank walls of my mind. I am filling the hole inside with whatever I can get my hands on. But it isn’t what I need.
And I have no idea what that is. Help me.
Have a great day my loves.