Same Pain, Different Day

Sometimes in life shit happens. I guess it's how we deal with that shit that makes us who we are. 

I'm an asshole.

Actually I'm not an asshole, I'm more of a child. A spoiled brat who wants to quit when they don't get their way. 

When I was a kid my cousin and I decided we would take turns riding our bikes around the school building with our eyes closed, relying on the other to direct us which way to turn. About 2 minutes into my ride I felt a huge thud across my chest, flipped in the air and landed flat on my back. I didn't know what hit me. When I opened my eyes, my cousin was standing over me telling me I'd ran into the monkey bars and flipped over. My body hurt. I thought a car ran over me. My bike landed in the grass 10 yards away. Days later my arms still hurt and my chest felt like someone hit me with a brick. 

This past weekend I called my oldest child by their name. The name their mother and I had given them at birth. I was quickly yelled at by said child and informed that that is no longer their name. 

It hurt me. It felt like the monkey bars all over again, like my eyes had been shut and suddenly I was clotheslined and knocked flat on my back. Three days later it still hurts. And unlike the monkey bars, I'm not sure that this pain will go away. It's not that I'm not supportive, but she was my daughter. My first born, my little girl. And now she's not.

 

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Vote For Pedro

When I was eight maybe ten, I had some birthday money that was burning a hole in my pocket. I don't remember every detail, who gave me what or how much money I had, but I remember I bought an electric race car track. I remember the box showed several different designs you could make with the tracks and it came with two cars. 

I'm not sure why I was so drawn to this track. I wasn't a big race car fan, even though we had the Indy 500, and at that time NASCAR wasn't popular here. But for some reason I had to have it. I knew what I wanted. 

I remember telling my mom how much I'd play with it and how I just had to have it. It was going to be awesome. And I remember a day or so later telling her how it was boring and the cars came off the track more times than not, and how I'd wished I'd never bought it.  

The truth is we don't know what we want. Not when we're young.  

Today I voted in the Presidential primary election, years ago I voted for the person who I thought could make my life better right now. I'm not the same person I was years ago. I would have rather voted for Pedro. 

I'm sure I've had the conversation or put to paper my thoughts and views on how life is black and white, cut and dry. I don't think that way anymore. I suppose being a parent changes that sort of thinking. I don't have time to go back and read through old posts or call up my old drinking buddies and explain that maybe I was wrong. Hell I'd never admit that anyway. 

My mom ended up returning the race car track. She never told me, I told you so, but we both knew. She told the store it didn't work. Which is true,..... it didn't work for me. It's not always black and white. 

Tracy Chapman and 3rd Grade Fight Clubs...

Give me one reason by Tracy Chapman plays on the radio. It's one of my favorite songs actually. It's one of  those songs that sneaks up on ya, and in a minute somehow makes me want to dance.

For some reason, I imagine my dad dancing to this song. I picture him with his long six foot plus frame on a dance floor, his legs and feet stepping in time as Tracy belts out "baby I've got your number"

Don't ask me why I picture my dad dancing. Maybe it's because this song feels like a song dad's should dance to. Maybe it's because I've danced to this song in front of my kids before.

This morning I woke up with the memories of a third grade fight I was involved in many years ago.Standing in the center of a circle of onlookers. I don't remember why I was in the center, or what I was fighting about, but I remember as things got started the boy across from me began swinging his arms. Not in a, I'm gonna take out any mother fucker who messes with me kind of way, but rather in an eyes closed, standing swimming motion hoping he hits something.

Sometimes our minds make us feel like Ed Norton in fight club.

We close our eyes, swing our arms with all we've got, and hope we hit something.

That Was Fun...

Sometimes I watch my children and remember what it was like to be on that side of life. Each one of them at different ages it's as if I'm peaking through a window watching myself.

Today I'm reminded of a time and life that no longer exists. Of my first apartment. A rough neighborhood. A dog I wasn't supposed to have, and a young man.

Life was simple back then. No t.v. No Internet. Just me, working for the weekends. A six foot Led Zeppelin poster graced my living room with the words of Stairway to Heaven printed across it. Words we lived by back then. It wasn't classy, but it was my place. No roommates, no parents. Just me.

Somewhere in the memories, I can still hear the whistle of the train out back that would wake us up at 1 am. Twenty plus years later, I wonder how many young kids have heard that same whistle.

Groucho Marx once said, When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, Damn that was fun.

I don't miss that life. It no longer exists for a reason. But damn, that was fun...

Today's Depression

I don't pretend to know what serious depression is. I won't lie and say that I do. But that's not to say I don't fight my own demons. 

One of those days. 

Sometimes the darkness outweighs the sunshine; today is one of those days. It's a combination of things really that's caused it today. 

If I was talking to one of my kids about being depressed I might say something like life is what you make it, or something like, this too shall pass. But my psycho babble bullshit doesn't work on me, I know to much. Hell, it probably doesn't wok on them either truth be told. 

It's lunchtime and I shove a double cheeseburger and fries down my throat, I'll regret it later, but for now it helps. Today, my body aches and my mind is exhausted. The physical aches and pains remind me of just how far I've traveled in this lifetime. The exhaustion lets the depression in. 

I'm trying to not make this transition about me. Because it's not. But I'm selfish. I'm scared. And I'm an asshole.

 

I'm selfish because I sat there holding her in my arms years ago envisioning her life and how it would unfold, and it's not going that way. It's not going the way I wanted it to. 

I'm scared because of the unknown. Because I know people. Both outsiders and family don't or won't understand. 

 

I'm an asshole because I'm scared and selfish. 

Life is Hard...

Life is hard

She sits and stares at the floor as she speaks to me. She mumbles and struggles a bit to find the answers to the questions. She doesn't know that I already know the answers. 

The words that come out of my mouth are not words that would have come out 13 years ago, hell not even last year. But life is different now, hers and mine. Besides, this is my child, and things just aren't the same as they used to be. 

Plans Change

Mike Tyson once said, "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face". This is so true. Life moves fast and you have to be able to adapt. 

I won't lie, my eyes welled up yesterday as I thought about all the shit lately, and who I am, and who my daughter thinks I am. I'd fight to the death for her, no matter what. That's what parents do. Good parents anyway. I know she doubts it though. That's what teenagers do.

Being Scared is Scary.

As we continue our talk I can't help but think there's a part of her that has to be scared too, yet as the conversation drags on she gains momentum and speaks clearer and with more puropse. Her mother helps with this. She's more comfortable speaking to her mother than to me. I don't lie. I tell her I'm scared. Scared of what the future holds for all of us, but I will fight for and with her.
 

No more simplicity

Lately I've been tinkering with this blog, feeling like it needs something new. A new title or a new look? Turns out what it needs more than anything is content. 

Life is changing for me. Maybe it's being defined for me. Either way things are more different than they've ever been. 

These last 12 years or so things have been relatively the same. Babies, toddlers, sippy cups, homemade cards proclaiming I'm the greatest dad of all time. 

Those days are gone

My oldest daughter is 13 now going on 22. This past year she came out to her mother and I. I won't lie it took me back and I've struggled with it. It seems with each day she hates me just a little bit more than the day before. Maybe it's just teenage girl stuff, but there's no denying things are different. 

The Gray Stuff 

Growing up I believed life was black or white, there was no gray area. I remember thinking that the gray area in life just created to many problems. Now I understand that the gray area is life.