I thought I was done writing...I was wrong. One more thing I need to get off my chest. I've spoken with a select few people about this over the years, but not very many. I never dealt with it properly when it happened, and to this day I still haven't. I know writing about it probably won't help a whole hell of a lot, but maybe this is the catalyst that will help me finally get started on the path to dealing with this in a positive manner, if that's possible. Time will tell, I guess.
When my father passed away in March of 1998, I was still drinking very heavily. I was a sloppy, disgusting mess and became basically unrecognizable to most people who knew me. Somehow, the day of the funeral, I managed to pull myself together long enough to make myself presentable in front of family and friends. I thought I was being so slick and doing such a good job hiding it. Now that I think about it after I've been sober for some time...they knew. They all knew.
The events of this day are a blur for me now...some are solid memories, some are only hearsay in my own mind due to the emotional state of complete and utter breakdown I was in at the time.
It was very cold that day, if I remember right...bitter cold. The wind stung my eyes and I had a hard time keeping them open as I walked from the car to the mausoleum. I don't even remember who I rode with that day, to be honest. It was all kind of a blur. Walking into the mausoleum, there were people in there gathered around my father's casket and all I could do was look at them in a daze, not really sure what to expect. This would be the most emotional funeral I had ever attended...I was scared to death inside, and it showed. I made no attempt to hide my emotions, just like everyone else in the room. My relatives were there, close friends of the family...they all felt the same thing. Maybe not exactly the same thing, but you know what I mean.
The service began and I went numb inside, almost instantly. I don't remember much of what the priest said, but I know it was good things about my dad and some of the good things he had done in his life. My dad was the coolest guy I ever knew...he knew everything there was to know about everything and he was my hero...he still is to this day. He taught me how to drive a stick shift, how to shoot a gun...and who knows how many other things a boy needs to learn from his dad.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gentleman with the bugle standing there...I knew why he was there and I knew it was coming but I had no idea how it would affect me, emotionally and physically. When the music started...I lost all control and at that point I was on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably on my hands and knees. That was the longest playing of Taps I had ever heard in my entire life...no exceptions. I didn't think it would ever end, nor did I think I would be able to stand up when it was over.
When the man finished, I remember some people helping me to my feet but I don't remember who they were, and shortly afterwards, I heard the sound of a 21-gun salute outside. Maybe that happened before Taps...I honestly don't remember. Each shot that was fired hit me right in the heart...a little part of me left as those sounds seemed to echo forever in my mind. After the last shot was fired, I walked outside. I didn't feel the cold...or the wind. I didn't feel anything, really. I was numb through and through. I could have been standing in Siberia and it wouldn't have mattered at that point. Nothing mattered to me and all I could do was stand there and cry. Face in the wind, tears freezing on my cheeks before they could fall to the ground. What happened next...I will never forget for as long as I live.
My brother, Andrew, was still young...not quite yet a teenager. As I stood staring down the cold, he came over to me, tugged at my sleeve, and as I turned around he handed me a shell casing he had picked up off the ground and said "Here...I think Dad wants you to have this."
I don't remember anything else after that.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Saturday, December 22, 2012
It's been a good run...really, it has.
This will be my last blog entry...for quite a while, anyways. I had quite a few things planned for this space, but for now...those plans are put on hold. Hopefully not permanently, but for now...that's just how it has to be. My blog has provided me with some much-needed therapy that has helped me out quite a bit since its inception. However, I've gotten as much help from it as I'm going to get right now and the time has come for me to explore other avenues of self healing. What those avenues are...I truly have no idea yet. All I know is that it isn't this anymore and that things are moving in other directions in my life right now that don't allow for such trivialities. Someday...possibly...I may write again. But for now...this is it.
The last year of my life has been a veritable roller coaster of emotions...good times, bad times, and the gamut of every emotion in between. I've lost friends, given up friends, made new ones, and rekindled old friendships that I thought were long since gone which have flourished and grown into very special and valued relationships. Throughout this time, I've done a lot of thinking. Thinking about who I am, where I've been, where I am now, and where I'm going in the future. I'll never be a lot of things that I've always wanted to be...musician, photographer, athlete, adventurer...the list goes on and on. Things that yes, I have a little experience in and truly enjoy doing, but however, I lack the proper drive and the ambition to fulfill any of those dreams to the best of my ability. I get discouraged very easily and I give up on things that I would probably be very good at and could possibly enjoy doing for a long time. And it's not because I don't know how to do things...I don't want to challenge myself. If I put as much effort into learning how to do productive things with my life as I did with things that bring negative consequences upon myself...I'd be one of the greatest men who ever lived, no doubt about it. As you can tell, that effort hasn't yet been put forth.
I am now, and have been in the past, many other things, however. Son, father, uncle, nephew, husband, boyfriend, among others. None of which I do or did very well, I might add. Nothing worth writing home about, anyways. I've learned a lot in these roles over the years, but as of now, most of it does not apply to my current situation. I live on my own...I am better off that way. By doing so, I cannot infect anyone with my toxicity. It's not like I'm contagious with anything...nothing of the sort. I don't have the gout or polio or anything like that. I'm a very, VERY difficult person to live with as I've proven time and time again. I do many things a certain way and I have no reason for it other than that's just how I do them and therefore that's the ONLY way to do them. Folding towels...doing the dishes...pouring coffee...they all must be done a very specific way and if not...well, if you can't do it my way, don't do it at all. Stay the holy hell out of my way and let me do it and listen to me piss and moan about it the whole time. Heaven forbid there be a disagreement...mayhem will commence shortly thereafter.
And as I got sidetracked there...allow me to bring myself back to the task at hand. I need to get some things off my chest and then I'll quit, I promise. I've heard quite a few times over the years that I help people. I think that's cool and all...it's nice to help other people. It's both beneficial and therapeutic, I believe. Sometimes it's a difficult process, but for the most part, helping people is good and that's just the way it is. I've learned a lot by helping others. It's shown me how to live a life that I wouldn't normally live had I not been shown by others.
But I don't.
I don't follow advice very well at all, and people get hurt in the process, sometimes very badly...myself included. It shows in EVERY. SINGLE. ASPECT. of my life as of late. I then, in turn, take my anger and aggression out on others who deserve absolutely zero part of that side of me whatsoever. I feel kinda bad about that...well, no. I don't. I've grown cold. Colder than I ever used to be at any point in my life and I'm ok with that. I feel empty and cold and cruel and heartless inside and I feel absolutely no remorse or regret about that in the least little bit.
Over the years I've learned how to love and be compassionate, and how to show people empathy and also how to be caring. I've also learned how to be angry, spiteful, and how to instill fear and dread in people. The emotion I've learned that has caused the most impact on my well-being is hate. I've learned how to hate. Not only have I learned it...I've nurtured it, loved it, and allowed it to grow and flourish inside me. I don't discriminate when it comes to hate. I can hate just about as easy as it is to sharpen a pencil. I know, I know...hate is such a strong word. Well, yeah...it is. That's an old cliche that I don't subscribe to, and to be honest, I think it's horseshit. Hate is no stronger than the equalized feeling of love that the guy sitting across the way from me in the coffee shop feels. There are many things I hate...things and places and of course, people. I said it...there are people in this world whom I actually feel HATE towards. Some for no reason other than I can. Some have done things or said things to me that in my opinion, warrant such an emotion. Yes, I hate people...I say that freely. Not all of them...just some. Call me what you will...It's all good. I've been called worse, I guarantee you that.
Life has taken its toll on me and it shows. It shows to me and to others. I have loved and been burned once too many...time does not heal some wounds. I now live my life how I want to live it. I do what I want when I want, I come and go as I please and I say what I feel to whomever it needs to be said to. Some people find that offensive...some find it refreshing. Either way is ok with me. My life...the life I've chosen for myself because in all honesty, the life I feel I deserve...it revolves around anger, despair, hypocrisy, deceit, contempt, misery, and yes...hate.
Out.
The last year of my life has been a veritable roller coaster of emotions...good times, bad times, and the gamut of every emotion in between. I've lost friends, given up friends, made new ones, and rekindled old friendships that I thought were long since gone which have flourished and grown into very special and valued relationships. Throughout this time, I've done a lot of thinking. Thinking about who I am, where I've been, where I am now, and where I'm going in the future. I'll never be a lot of things that I've always wanted to be...musician, photographer, athlete, adventurer...the list goes on and on. Things that yes, I have a little experience in and truly enjoy doing, but however, I lack the proper drive and the ambition to fulfill any of those dreams to the best of my ability. I get discouraged very easily and I give up on things that I would probably be very good at and could possibly enjoy doing for a long time. And it's not because I don't know how to do things...I don't want to challenge myself. If I put as much effort into learning how to do productive things with my life as I did with things that bring negative consequences upon myself...I'd be one of the greatest men who ever lived, no doubt about it. As you can tell, that effort hasn't yet been put forth.
I am now, and have been in the past, many other things, however. Son, father, uncle, nephew, husband, boyfriend, among others. None of which I do or did very well, I might add. Nothing worth writing home about, anyways. I've learned a lot in these roles over the years, but as of now, most of it does not apply to my current situation. I live on my own...I am better off that way. By doing so, I cannot infect anyone with my toxicity. It's not like I'm contagious with anything...nothing of the sort. I don't have the gout or polio or anything like that. I'm a very, VERY difficult person to live with as I've proven time and time again. I do many things a certain way and I have no reason for it other than that's just how I do them and therefore that's the ONLY way to do them. Folding towels...doing the dishes...pouring coffee...they all must be done a very specific way and if not...well, if you can't do it my way, don't do it at all. Stay the holy hell out of my way and let me do it and listen to me piss and moan about it the whole time. Heaven forbid there be a disagreement...mayhem will commence shortly thereafter.
And as I got sidetracked there...allow me to bring myself back to the task at hand. I need to get some things off my chest and then I'll quit, I promise. I've heard quite a few times over the years that I help people. I think that's cool and all...it's nice to help other people. It's both beneficial and therapeutic, I believe. Sometimes it's a difficult process, but for the most part, helping people is good and that's just the way it is. I've learned a lot by helping others. It's shown me how to live a life that I wouldn't normally live had I not been shown by others.
But I don't.
I don't follow advice very well at all, and people get hurt in the process, sometimes very badly...myself included. It shows in EVERY. SINGLE. ASPECT. of my life as of late. I then, in turn, take my anger and aggression out on others who deserve absolutely zero part of that side of me whatsoever. I feel kinda bad about that...well, no. I don't. I've grown cold. Colder than I ever used to be at any point in my life and I'm ok with that. I feel empty and cold and cruel and heartless inside and I feel absolutely no remorse or regret about that in the least little bit.
Over the years I've learned how to love and be compassionate, and how to show people empathy and also how to be caring. I've also learned how to be angry, spiteful, and how to instill fear and dread in people. The emotion I've learned that has caused the most impact on my well-being is hate. I've learned how to hate. Not only have I learned it...I've nurtured it, loved it, and allowed it to grow and flourish inside me. I don't discriminate when it comes to hate. I can hate just about as easy as it is to sharpen a pencil. I know, I know...hate is such a strong word. Well, yeah...it is. That's an old cliche that I don't subscribe to, and to be honest, I think it's horseshit. Hate is no stronger than the equalized feeling of love that the guy sitting across the way from me in the coffee shop feels. There are many things I hate...things and places and of course, people. I said it...there are people in this world whom I actually feel HATE towards. Some for no reason other than I can. Some have done things or said things to me that in my opinion, warrant such an emotion. Yes, I hate people...I say that freely. Not all of them...just some. Call me what you will...It's all good. I've been called worse, I guarantee you that.
Life has taken its toll on me and it shows. It shows to me and to others. I have loved and been burned once too many...time does not heal some wounds. I now live my life how I want to live it. I do what I want when I want, I come and go as I please and I say what I feel to whomever it needs to be said to. Some people find that offensive...some find it refreshing. Either way is ok with me. My life...the life I've chosen for myself because in all honesty, the life I feel I deserve...it revolves around anger, despair, hypocrisy, deceit, contempt, misery, and yes...hate.
Out.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Adieu...
Not long ago...fairly recently, actually...you were my friend. After many years, we were brought together by a common bond that made us almost inseparable. I grew to love you very dearly...the kind of love you normally reserve only for family. We were as close as two people could be and I loved that relationship we had. There were many nights of deep conversation about anything and everything under the sun, countless fits of hysterical laughter, as well as grueling bouts of pain and agony accompanied by the kind of crying that comes from deep inside you...the kind that makes you think life as you know it will end that very minute.
All of a sudden...almost overnight...it was over. No explanation, no apologies...nothing. Maybe you healed yourself from within of whatever was ailing you, maybe you found another type of therapy...who knows. I didn't heal as quickly or as easily. My pain lingered on and on and on. I needed you more than I needed anyone on this earth and I still do. You are the only one who would understand me...the ONLY one who could comfort me in this time when I need someone so desperately. While you were in pain, I held you while you sobbed and wept uncontrollably and literally could not stand on your own two feet. I held you in my arms and choked back my own goddamn tears to be strong for you. I did that because I love you like you were my own family and I still do even though I know your feelings have faded. Maybe I failed you in some way...but I don't think so. This one's on you, I'm pretty sure.
Now...I need someone. I need someone to hold me up and I need a shoulder to rest my head on while I weep. I need someone to be strong for me and you're not there. I'm in pain and it hurts like hell and you're not fucking here. I was there for you every GODDAMN time you needed me and I was there for you when nobody else was. I listened to you while you cried and I made myself available for you at a moment's notice. You're not here for me and it kills me that the ONE person I need is no longer there.
I need to move on. I now need to deal with my life without you. Without someone to run to, to cry with, or to comfort me. Every day that I wonder why...I grow a little colder inside. I feel a little more angry than I did the day before. I hurt a little bit more every day that I wonder why you abandoned me when I needed you the most.
I wish you the best of luck in finding whatever it is you're looking for.
Goodbye.
All of a sudden...almost overnight...it was over. No explanation, no apologies...nothing. Maybe you healed yourself from within of whatever was ailing you, maybe you found another type of therapy...who knows. I didn't heal as quickly or as easily. My pain lingered on and on and on. I needed you more than I needed anyone on this earth and I still do. You are the only one who would understand me...the ONLY one who could comfort me in this time when I need someone so desperately. While you were in pain, I held you while you sobbed and wept uncontrollably and literally could not stand on your own two feet. I held you in my arms and choked back my own goddamn tears to be strong for you. I did that because I love you like you were my own family and I still do even though I know your feelings have faded. Maybe I failed you in some way...but I don't think so. This one's on you, I'm pretty sure.
Now...I need someone. I need someone to hold me up and I need a shoulder to rest my head on while I weep. I need someone to be strong for me and you're not there. I'm in pain and it hurts like hell and you're not fucking here. I was there for you every GODDAMN time you needed me and I was there for you when nobody else was. I listened to you while you cried and I made myself available for you at a moment's notice. You're not here for me and it kills me that the ONE person I need is no longer there.
I need to move on. I now need to deal with my life without you. Without someone to run to, to cry with, or to comfort me. Every day that I wonder why...I grow a little colder inside. I feel a little more angry than I did the day before. I hurt a little bit more every day that I wonder why you abandoned me when I needed you the most.
I wish you the best of luck in finding whatever it is you're looking for.
Goodbye.
Monday, September 24, 2012
I guess it's obvious...I also like to write.
As a VERY amateur non-fiction writer, I tend to write about the things that are in my life at any particular time because I'm not creative enough to write fiction. My thoughts, my actions...people, places and things around me, among many other things. Some of those things are good, some aren't. Some make me happy, some just plain hurt. As of late I've been dealing with the not good, hurtful feelings and while I've been told I need to maybe let it go and move on, I can't. I feel that injustices have been done and I have gone without answers for far too long.
How is it that some can abandon friendships that were once so beautiful and special...so endearing to one another...and discard them like trash and not think twice about it? Yeah, I'm harping about it again. And yeah, I'm probably going to continue to do so for a while until I learn to let it go. It hurts, to be honest. I'm a rock. I've been a rock. I've stood fast while people have fallen and grabbed my hand to keep from sinking into the abyss. I've shouldered more people than I can count and some that probably didn't even need it and/or deserve it but I did anyways because I'm such a nice fucking guy.
And now...I am the one falling. I am the one who needs help and the ones I wanted the most to help me up when I need it are nowhere to be found. It shakes the foundation of friendship to the very core when this occurs. When I've solved everyone's problems and mine remain...who is there to hold my hand while I heal? Who is there to grab my hand and help me up while I fight the battle inside me to keep it all together? While I walk through HELL and do not falter...who is there to mend my wounds when I come out the other side? Nobody. I have become an outsider...cast aside to walk among the lepers of my society. That's ok...I will adapt and overcome as I always do. But I shouldn't have to do it alone...I didn't let any of you.
I've had to face some hard truths lately as well...truths that I should have realized long ago. Lights fade and new ones come into our lives to replace them. I still have my bouts of happiness...and that's alright. I smile a lot more lately, regardless of the internal strife I battle almost daily. I've been given reason to smile. Yeah, some days I don't want to but now I know I CAN...there's a big difference. One of those lights I mentioned a bit ago...that light gives me reason...gives me purpose.
And some asshole stole my bike, too. That made me angry but I got over it. I don't mind walking too much...until winter hits and then I'll mind it a little more than I do right now. You don't appreciate things until you've gone without them long enough. I've gone without food, water, shelter...I've even burned a bible to keep warm in the winter when all else was gone. I haven't lived a difficult life all the time, but there were times that made it very, very difficult for me to see another tomorrow. When your next meal depends on when they throw out the leftovers at the closest fast food joint...tomorrow isn't a very popular word in your vocabulary. When sleeping on a cold linoleum floor or even in a Dumpster with a lid to keep the wind and snow from chilling you through and through is a luxury, you don't even care about a tomorrow. All you care about is right now. Now may be all you have in spots like those...and for some, tomorrow doesn't come. They lose the battle and succumb to those things which they could not escape.
I've shed my tears for friends I've lost over the years in that way. I will not allow anyone to shed the same tears for me...I refuse to. Like I said...I will adapt and overcome. I am a survivor and I will win...in some ways I already have. I guess even more appropriately...I will not be allowed to lose :). To have a hand to hold, an ear to talk to, and even a shoulder to cry on if I need it...those are life's true luxuries...and for those things I will ALWAYS be grateful.
Thank you for reading.
How is it that some can abandon friendships that were once so beautiful and special...so endearing to one another...and discard them like trash and not think twice about it? Yeah, I'm harping about it again. And yeah, I'm probably going to continue to do so for a while until I learn to let it go. It hurts, to be honest. I'm a rock. I've been a rock. I've stood fast while people have fallen and grabbed my hand to keep from sinking into the abyss. I've shouldered more people than I can count and some that probably didn't even need it and/or deserve it but I did anyways because I'm such a nice fucking guy.
And now...I am the one falling. I am the one who needs help and the ones I wanted the most to help me up when I need it are nowhere to be found. It shakes the foundation of friendship to the very core when this occurs. When I've solved everyone's problems and mine remain...who is there to hold my hand while I heal? Who is there to grab my hand and help me up while I fight the battle inside me to keep it all together? While I walk through HELL and do not falter...who is there to mend my wounds when I come out the other side? Nobody. I have become an outsider...cast aside to walk among the lepers of my society. That's ok...I will adapt and overcome as I always do. But I shouldn't have to do it alone...I didn't let any of you.
I've had to face some hard truths lately as well...truths that I should have realized long ago. Lights fade and new ones come into our lives to replace them. I still have my bouts of happiness...and that's alright. I smile a lot more lately, regardless of the internal strife I battle almost daily. I've been given reason to smile. Yeah, some days I don't want to but now I know I CAN...there's a big difference. One of those lights I mentioned a bit ago...that light gives me reason...gives me purpose.
And some asshole stole my bike, too. That made me angry but I got over it. I don't mind walking too much...until winter hits and then I'll mind it a little more than I do right now. You don't appreciate things until you've gone without them long enough. I've gone without food, water, shelter...I've even burned a bible to keep warm in the winter when all else was gone. I haven't lived a difficult life all the time, but there were times that made it very, very difficult for me to see another tomorrow. When your next meal depends on when they throw out the leftovers at the closest fast food joint...tomorrow isn't a very popular word in your vocabulary. When sleeping on a cold linoleum floor or even in a Dumpster with a lid to keep the wind and snow from chilling you through and through is a luxury, you don't even care about a tomorrow. All you care about is right now. Now may be all you have in spots like those...and for some, tomorrow doesn't come. They lose the battle and succumb to those things which they could not escape.
I've shed my tears for friends I've lost over the years in that way. I will not allow anyone to shed the same tears for me...I refuse to. Like I said...I will adapt and overcome. I am a survivor and I will win...in some ways I already have. I guess even more appropriately...I will not be allowed to lose :). To have a hand to hold, an ear to talk to, and even a shoulder to cry on if I need it...those are life's true luxuries...and for those things I will ALWAYS be grateful.
Thank you for reading.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
No More Mr. Nice Guy...
So...yeah. This entry, while being my first mobile entry, will be my last for a while. I know my place. I've been shown my place, rather. I know where I stand with the moral majority and whilst I'm not totally ok with it, I will let it ride. There comes a time when we must let things go, and that time for me is now. True, I don't need to publish this on a public media site to convey my feelings, and I don't care. It makes me feel better and that's all that matters.
At times in my life I haven't exactly been the most pleasant person to be around. I've been an awful friend, a shitty employee, a horrible father and an even worse son. I'm loud, obnoxious, and at times I can be a downright asshole as some of you have seen and experienced first hand. Don't like me anymore? Cool with me. I can live with that. My soul is prepared...how's yours? And yeah, I'm not exactly off the charts in the karma department, but I do what I can when I'm able to. Remember that two or twenty dollars you owe me? When was the last time I asked you about it? I haven't. If I needed it that bad I'd call you out on it. Keep it...in some cases it was a small price to pay for you to leave me alone. I do a lot of nice things for a lot of good people...some appreciate it, and some don't. I'm ok with that too. Like I said...my soul is prepared.
What's the point of this blog entry, even if nobody reads it? To bitch. To piss and moan a little...who the fuck cares? Those whom I love and care about very deeply...you know who you are and I couldn't be who I am today without each and every one of you even if I don't show it regularly. Some of you I don't feel as...grateful for. But I've tried...the good lord knows I've tried. I've done my part. I've welcomed you into my home and told you to make yourself at home as if it was your house too. I've never asked you for compensation or to return the favor in any way. I have witnessed some of you break down and pour your hearts out in front of me and sometimes in my arms as I choked back my own tears to be strong for you.
But now...things have changed. Things that I can't control and I need to accept that and move on. And yes, I am at peace with that. I am resigning from the throne I once sat in as I have been evicted from my rule. Whoever takes my place will have a hell of a pair of shoes to fill.
When the chips fall and they land on your side of the table...don't ask me to help you pick them up. I'll probably tell you to go fuck yourself instead and I won't think twice about doing so.
At times in my life I haven't exactly been the most pleasant person to be around. I've been an awful friend, a shitty employee, a horrible father and an even worse son. I'm loud, obnoxious, and at times I can be a downright asshole as some of you have seen and experienced first hand. Don't like me anymore? Cool with me. I can live with that. My soul is prepared...how's yours? And yeah, I'm not exactly off the charts in the karma department, but I do what I can when I'm able to. Remember that two or twenty dollars you owe me? When was the last time I asked you about it? I haven't. If I needed it that bad I'd call you out on it. Keep it...in some cases it was a small price to pay for you to leave me alone. I do a lot of nice things for a lot of good people...some appreciate it, and some don't. I'm ok with that too. Like I said...my soul is prepared.
What's the point of this blog entry, even if nobody reads it? To bitch. To piss and moan a little...who the fuck cares? Those whom I love and care about very deeply...you know who you are and I couldn't be who I am today without each and every one of you even if I don't show it regularly. Some of you I don't feel as...grateful for. But I've tried...the good lord knows I've tried. I've done my part. I've welcomed you into my home and told you to make yourself at home as if it was your house too. I've never asked you for compensation or to return the favor in any way. I have witnessed some of you break down and pour your hearts out in front of me and sometimes in my arms as I choked back my own tears to be strong for you.
But now...things have changed. Things that I can't control and I need to accept that and move on. And yes, I am at peace with that. I am resigning from the throne I once sat in as I have been evicted from my rule. Whoever takes my place will have a hell of a pair of shoes to fill.
When the chips fall and they land on your side of the table...don't ask me to help you pick them up. I'll probably tell you to go fuck yourself instead and I won't think twice about doing so.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Lighten Up, Francis...
You know, there are many other people who do the same job I do. They come from all different walks of life and that's ok. They hear the same shit day after day after day as I do, and that's to be expected because we can't pick and choose who we deal with when the phone rings. Some of them have had some of the same types of issues to deal with as I have...some worse, some not. However, some people deal with different situations in different ways. I, for one, make a mistake all too often and get too empathetic with the people I deal with on a daily basis and I have a VERY difficult time hearing the things they have to say. I don't handle those types of things as well as other people do and it shows, more often on the inside of my head than the outside. I try to hold it together as best as I can, but some days it gets the best of me and it DOES become evident to others around me and yes, I feel bad that my emotional weakness does not allow me to control my emotions as well as others. It's who I am. If you don't like it, go fuck yourself. Yeah, I cursed. I curse a lot and anyone who knows me would agree with that.
I don't troubleshoot cell phones for Sprint, I don't deal with crabby customers who get the wrong size shoes from the JCPenney catalog and want me to bend over backwards to accommodate their oftentimes unreasonable demands. I am a contractor for the Department of Defense and I deal exclusively with soldiers who have recently returned from the theater of war. Some of them have seen combat up close and personal, and some haven't. It doesn't matter. They do what I am unable to. Sometimes their stories are not at all pleasant, to put it mildly. They live in conditions I would not let my dog live in if I had one and they're there VOLUNTARILY. They enlist knowing full well they will likely be shipped off to war and very well may not return. I can't and won't get into some of the things I hear because I put myself at risk for doing so. Suffice to say that the things I hear...while not bad to others, are bad to ME.
I have a lot of difficulty hearing some of the things I hear on a regular basis. I empathize with each and every soldier I talk to because they deserve to be listened to. They deserve to be heard and goddammit, if that person is me, I fucking listen. I hear each and every word they say because they fucking earned it. Some days I don't want to...some days I can't stand to hear another goddamn story about what happens overseas and I want to run from my desk as fast as I can and never look back. But those are the days that I dig deeper than I ever have before and I find the strength to do it one more time. It's always one more time...there is never a last time and there never will be and I force myself to be ok with that because I have to. The people I work with hear the same things that I do...maybe they deal with it better, and maybe they don't. How they deal with their shit is their own thing.
Maybe I have a difficult time with it because my father was a soldier until he passed away...as are many other members of my family whom I love and respect very much. Maybe it's because I'm too empathetic to a fault. Maybe it's something entirely different. I don't know and I don't fucking care. It's my job and I do it because I help people. I have personally saved lives because of my empathy and compassion and that fucking means something to me. If it doesn't mean anything to you, then you have more problems than I do, and that's saying a lot lately.
What I do...how I do it...it's not trained. It's born in you, and it's either a gift or a curse...sometimes both.
I don't troubleshoot cell phones for Sprint, I don't deal with crabby customers who get the wrong size shoes from the JCPenney catalog and want me to bend over backwards to accommodate their oftentimes unreasonable demands. I am a contractor for the Department of Defense and I deal exclusively with soldiers who have recently returned from the theater of war. Some of them have seen combat up close and personal, and some haven't. It doesn't matter. They do what I am unable to. Sometimes their stories are not at all pleasant, to put it mildly. They live in conditions I would not let my dog live in if I had one and they're there VOLUNTARILY. They enlist knowing full well they will likely be shipped off to war and very well may not return. I can't and won't get into some of the things I hear because I put myself at risk for doing so. Suffice to say that the things I hear...while not bad to others, are bad to ME.
I have a lot of difficulty hearing some of the things I hear on a regular basis. I empathize with each and every soldier I talk to because they deserve to be listened to. They deserve to be heard and goddammit, if that person is me, I fucking listen. I hear each and every word they say because they fucking earned it. Some days I don't want to...some days I can't stand to hear another goddamn story about what happens overseas and I want to run from my desk as fast as I can and never look back. But those are the days that I dig deeper than I ever have before and I find the strength to do it one more time. It's always one more time...there is never a last time and there never will be and I force myself to be ok with that because I have to. The people I work with hear the same things that I do...maybe they deal with it better, and maybe they don't. How they deal with their shit is their own thing.
Maybe I have a difficult time with it because my father was a soldier until he passed away...as are many other members of my family whom I love and respect very much. Maybe it's because I'm too empathetic to a fault. Maybe it's something entirely different. I don't know and I don't fucking care. It's my job and I do it because I help people. I have personally saved lives because of my empathy and compassion and that fucking means something to me. If it doesn't mean anything to you, then you have more problems than I do, and that's saying a lot lately.
What I do...how I do it...it's not trained. It's born in you, and it's either a gift or a curse...sometimes both.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Lighten Up, Francis...
When a person goes crazy, it's...well, it's certainly an interesting trip. One may even call it insanity. There are things that people in that mindset experience that normal people don't. They think things that aren't normal, acceptable, or even humanly possible. Things go through their heads that cannot be explained by even the most qualified trained professionals. It starts out slow...once in a blue moon they have a fleeting thought of something that just isn't quite right. Soon afterwards the thoughts are more and more frequent. They hear things in the midst of silence, they see things that aren't there, and they imagine things that just plain ol' aren't true. It's not like they wake up one morning and think to themselves "Maybe I'll lose my mind today." It doesn't work like that. It takes time...like watching paint dry only a LOT longer. Or something like that. You get the idea.
People who are sick...whether it's bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, paranoia, or what have you...people who are suffering from those and other afflictions are oftentimes difficult to deal with and are just plain pains in the ass sometimes. It's not that they TRY to do the things they do...often they can't help it and no matter how hard they try they cannot function as "normal" human beings without therapy and/or medication. There are scientific forces at work in their brains that simply will NOT allow them to lead normal lives. Sure, they might get by for a little while...couple months, maybe a year or two at best. But it catches up quick...and when it comes on it hits them in the face like a ton of bricks and knocks them flat on their ass. By then it's usually too late...the bridges have been burned, the damage has been done beyond repair, and it's all over but the cryin'.
Those in the early stages of some afflictions sense the onset...they try to warn others to run...they intentionally (and sometimes subconsciously) sabotage their interactions with other people so it won't hurt as bad when others actually take their advice. They know they're difficult to approach, converse and interact with, and they're ok with that...sometimes they prefer it that way to save themselves the pain of failure. Occasionally they drive people away on purpose...many times the emotional price they pay while doing so can never be justified.
However...once in a blue moon, they discover the one person who actually gets through to them and breaks down the walls they have so meticulously set in place, brick by brick...the elaborate construction sometimes taking years to complete. The ONE person who understands them...possibly the one person who has been in their shoes and walked down their path. Most of the time that person won't know what they've done. Most of the time they won't think twice about the relief they've given to someone else because they don't know how important it is. For the afflicted, it's like finding a four-leaf clover in the Sahara Desert. It just isn't supposed to happen. Ever. But it does. And when it does they just want to do the happy dance over and over again...
<("<) (>")> <("<) (>")>
so they do their little happy dance. And all is right in the world again. They see things clearly...they start to think clearly more often than normal. Things seem...right. Things they had never found pleasure in before. Normal things that seemed so ridiculous in the past. Normal things that are now normal. And it FEELS normal. Life is good...until...
panic sets in.
o.O
turns into
O.O
and then into
"WHY THE BLUE FUCK AM I SO HAPPY?!?!??!?" Well...this can't go on. Happiness? Not their gig. Can't have any of THAT, now can we? STFU, stop the press, slam on the brakes, and it goes back to square one. The happiness is gone. The normalcy we cherished...it disappeared like a fart in the wind. And the cycle starts all over again. Vicious cycle it is, indeed. Nothing anyone should have to go through. But it happens...all too often. Happy...sad...happy...sad...happy...sad. It's a never-ending internal battle of good versus evil. One does not simply walk into sanity. One must embrace it...nurture it...care for it...and love it. Sanity seems to come freely for some and is taken for granted more often than not. But INsanity...many pay a much higher price than they can afford...for some it costs them their lives.
People who are sick...whether it's bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, paranoia, or what have you...people who are suffering from those and other afflictions are oftentimes difficult to deal with and are just plain pains in the ass sometimes. It's not that they TRY to do the things they do...often they can't help it and no matter how hard they try they cannot function as "normal" human beings without therapy and/or medication. There are scientific forces at work in their brains that simply will NOT allow them to lead normal lives. Sure, they might get by for a little while...couple months, maybe a year or two at best. But it catches up quick...and when it comes on it hits them in the face like a ton of bricks and knocks them flat on their ass. By then it's usually too late...the bridges have been burned, the damage has been done beyond repair, and it's all over but the cryin'.
Those in the early stages of some afflictions sense the onset...they try to warn others to run...they intentionally (and sometimes subconsciously) sabotage their interactions with other people so it won't hurt as bad when others actually take their advice. They know they're difficult to approach, converse and interact with, and they're ok with that...sometimes they prefer it that way to save themselves the pain of failure. Occasionally they drive people away on purpose...many times the emotional price they pay while doing so can never be justified.
However...once in a blue moon, they discover the one person who actually gets through to them and breaks down the walls they have so meticulously set in place, brick by brick...the elaborate construction sometimes taking years to complete. The ONE person who understands them...possibly the one person who has been in their shoes and walked down their path. Most of the time that person won't know what they've done. Most of the time they won't think twice about the relief they've given to someone else because they don't know how important it is. For the afflicted, it's like finding a four-leaf clover in the Sahara Desert. It just isn't supposed to happen. Ever. But it does. And when it does they just want to do the happy dance over and over again...
<("<) (>")> <("<) (>")>
so they do their little happy dance. And all is right in the world again. They see things clearly...they start to think clearly more often than normal. Things seem...right. Things they had never found pleasure in before. Normal things that seemed so ridiculous in the past. Normal things that are now normal. And it FEELS normal. Life is good...until...
panic sets in.
o.O
turns into
O.O
and then into
"WHY THE BLUE FUCK AM I SO HAPPY?!?!??!?" Well...this can't go on. Happiness? Not their gig. Can't have any of THAT, now can we? STFU, stop the press, slam on the brakes, and it goes back to square one. The happiness is gone. The normalcy we cherished...it disappeared like a fart in the wind. And the cycle starts all over again. Vicious cycle it is, indeed. Nothing anyone should have to go through. But it happens...all too often. Happy...sad...happy...sad...happy...sad. It's a never-ending internal battle of good versus evil. One does not simply walk into sanity. One must embrace it...nurture it...care for it...and love it. Sanity seems to come freely for some and is taken for granted more often than not. But INsanity...many pay a much higher price than they can afford...for some it costs them their lives.
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