Resolutions

  I am not sure if New Years resolutions actually work. Well, at least for me they don't. OK, that's not strictly true anymore. I resolved a couple of years ago to be done with making resolutions. Sure, its a bit like betting a gambling addict that you can make him gamble, you win just by playing. I lose just by resolving not to resolve.

  I am not against resolutions, I think many are good, and often times the resolved things are quite laudable. It is wise to consider life and ponder making it better.

  But (you knew there was a but) but, I tried desperately to change myself and my behavior. I attended workshops and seminars, listened to well meaning preachers, all geared to help me change. Many a helpful suggestion was given and received with the hope that maybe this would be the thing that changed me.

  Even a certain 12 step group confused the issue. Some advised, "Be selfish and take care of yourself first". Others proclaimed that selfishness was at the root of my problem, I need to stop controlling others. Confusing!

  I think, at an intellectual level, the take care of yourself first crown nailed it. But it only works if you stop trying to control the outcomes of others.

  So, I am approaching this season of hopeful change with cynicism. I am powerless to change anything or anybody....not even myself. I continue my devout resolution to not have resolutions.

  "But aren't you concerned with just staying the same?!"

  Obviously I should be. Otherwise you wouldn't have noticed! Try not judging so much, ok?

  Just kidding! Relax a bit.

  I belong to a club of which the only requirement for joining is to not be qualified. My failures expose the greatest love imaginable. You might think that I would want to run out and fail more, go expose some more of that love. But it doesn't work that way.

  Changing from the wretch that I am, into the man I want to be, doesn't involve trying harder and doing more. My failures can't diminish the love of God. My resolutions can't gain His favor.

  So, I am free. I love those three little words, I am free. Free to fail, free to succeed, free to love, free to hate. Oops....some might not like that last one. Hater.

  My sarcasm is on high alert! Ah well, I really am digging this time of year. I even made it thru Christmas without wearing black! Life is good!

  Hope you have a great New Years! Wear a lampshade and cut loose. Begin eating some endangered species so the factory farms will begin to raise them. If you like them, they will grow them, then they won't be endangered!

  Don't take people to seriously! Sometimes its just schtick!

Happy New Years!

Acrimonious

  I feel like being rowdy. I feel like stirring things up, ruffling some feathers. Ever get that way?

  Zipping thru Portland at 2 this morning and I encountered that random car that loves to jack with me. I am cruising along at the speed limit, minding my own business, when I go past the random car going slow...in the hammer lane.

  I don't know what goes thru their mind when I pass them. All I know is, when I do get past them, they punch it and swiftly pass me, easily exceeding the speed limit by 15 mph. Then, going thru the next corners, they merge over into my lane and slow down. I get over into the hammer lane and continue at the speed limit to pass them yet again.

  I merge into the slow lane after clearing them, then yet again the punch it and pass me. Only this time when they merge in front of me, there is a cop on the shoulder (who has someone else pulled over), and this car jams on his brakes.

  I see this routinely. There was no surprise or shock on my part. I already was preparing to move over when I saw the cop lights. It all happened for me quite slowly. Turn signal was engaged, and I was moving over, well before any accident could occur. I never changed my speed.

  But I don't understand that cars logic. I mean, the last time I passed them, I blew by them like they were standing still. And I see this same scenario time and time again.

  Pick a speed.

  Some trucks have started putting that bumper sticker on their doors. Pick a speed. I know that I personally couldn't care less what speed people drive at, just stick with it! Don't allow yourself to be riled up because a truck passed you. Just continue on at whatever speed you chose. Why mess with them? OK me, why mess with me?

  Do you suppose that they know how dumb they look after all those stupid maneuvers? I suppose not.

  A little later on a small pickup with a canopy went past me. Speed limit for me, 60, check. Speed limit for him, 70, check. He rolls past me slowly then stays right next to me, just in front of my bumper. I know what's going to happen. Eventually he will want over and do a panicky brake, then acceleration, to get over.

  Wait for it.......another couple miles......aha! there is the brief signal (a one blinker, love those!)......his truck swerves over and back, appearing to shutter as he realized the truck sitting in his blind spot. He brakes....but that's not the aggressive thing to do....so he guns it and gets out in front. Then he slows down as his exit approaches. I get over and roll right on by him, getting past him before he exits the freeway. Never once did I change my speed.

  So I feel like being acrimonious. Its not easy being witness to the stupidity of others. Being short sided is such a common practice on the highways. I like (in a morbid way), seeing some hazard up ahead and watching just how long it takes before people react to it. Scary stuff.

  Las Vegas got tired of how cars behave around trucks. They plastered a couple trucks with signs that told people there was highway patrol inside of them. Fifty feet wide by eight feet tall signs! They pulled lots of cars over for doing all that stuff. I hope they are still doing it.

  Spokane posted signs up that warned people to give trucks more room. I wish they would enforce that more.

   Hey look! Its snowing now. I love driving in the snow. You might think I am goofy or just plain stupid for liking driving in the snow so much, but I think I have one pretty good reason. Cars get scared in the snow, and that makes them more cautious. They don't tend to go racing trucks.

  I get to drive in the snow tonight! Woohoo! If any of those cars behave badly tonight I can just go past them, and presto, whiteout for them! They can't see anything thru all the snow coming off my truck. Oh sweet revenge. Maybe that's what the Russians meant when they said that revenge is best served cold! I am gonna enjoy this!

 

Merry Christmas

  May your Christmas be filled with blessing. May your family and friends bring delight to you. May the food you eat remind you of rich blessings. May the carols you sing make your heart leap for joy. May any emotional wounds be bound up so you can rejoice. May you be a blessing to a stranger. May the lights and decoration lift your spirits. May you find that special gift that you know will make that special someone light up. May Christmas not be a burden for you. May the warmth of hot chocolate permeate you to your toes. May you have a wonderful New Years celebration.

Mortality

  Dad is in the hospital. He went in on Wednesday after vomiting massive amounts of blood. Scary stuff. The specifics of what is going on are his to tell, but he is doing well and will likely be released Friday or Saturday.

  He called me from the hospital on Thursday and we had a genuine conversation, perhaps even the most genuine we have ever had. When he started vomiting the blood he had a thought that this was the end. "Nobody lives thru this" is what he thought. His gentleness of voice reflected the concern.

  I am unsure how to approach all this. Part of me is suddenly awakened to the brevity of time. Other parts simply think this will blow over and nothing will have changed. I do know that I was grateful for the excellent conversation we had. I want more of those.

  He tried to dissuade me from visiting him in the hospital. What is that all about? Weakness I suppose. "Never appear weak" is the mantra of many people, and dad can be an extreme example of that. For his sake, I hope he is released before I get back to town. For mine, let's hope he is still in there. "Just drive by the hospital and know I am in there. No need to go in." Embarrassed at weakness. Relatable, completely relatable.

  I am hoping this will be a catalyst for change in our relationship. Its not that we haven't been pursuing a relationship lately, we just haven't been able to quite make that quality connection. Its not an attack on him, or an indictment of me, we just can't. Won't. Maybe won't is the correct word.

  I won't let him be who he is and just love him as such.

  I really feel like writing down all the caveats right now of why I won't love him just how he is. Perhaps propose a list of demands and boundaries that prohibit me from connecting with him. The list of changes he could make that I expect would make me comfortable. This list would be compulsory but not comprehensive. I would feel justified in my demands.

  Hopefully my "won't" can change into "wouldn't".

  Grace, sensitivity, and meaning are all wonderful things to desire from other people. Blows chunks when its desired of me!

  Maybe he and I begin to forge new paths of caring and closeness. All I know is that I have been set on a path, I am a sojourner and a pilgrim, and I want to walk a while with my dad.

Accomplishing something

  Listening to "The Mental Illness Happy Hour" podcast and I got quite a revelation. When we are broken or in distress we often think that if we accomplish something our trouble will be over. Its like we assume success negates hurt. While success is often a good thing, with regards to emotional trauma it doesn't have a direct correlation to healing.

  That is not easy for me to accept. But I believe it to be true.

  The reason I struggle with applying this into my life is that I like solving problems. If you talk to me about your struggle I instantly switch to solving mode. The tender, just listen and be there, side doesn't come thru as quick.

  Just knowing that someone is there to share the pain is transformative.

  The inverse would be laughter. Laughter is commonly a public thing. We laugh more and harder with someone rather than alone. We love sharing joy.

  I never try to fix anything about someone when they are laughing. Instead I try and get closer to them. Maybe have a good moment.

  Why do I think happy moments are good and sad ones aren't?

  I hope the next person who comes to me broken, AND wants me to help solve there problem, isn't taken aback when I just want to comfort them and talk. Ok, maybe I will help! Friendships are so messy!

Thanksgiving

  Is this blog really going to fall into the cliché of the season? Am I going to wax eloquently about the need to give thanks? Perhaps a specific list of all the things I am grateful for? How about a rewrite of history explaining how my ancestors messed everything up? Maybe a dissertation on the finer points of turkey carving?!

  For explanations of all that, look elsewhere. All those are fun topics and I love writing on them. But I don't feel like going over territory already conquered. I feel like shattering the rules, going against the mainstream, being a rebel!

  How exactly does one rebel at Thanksgiving?

  Unfortunately I have no idea how. I have a pent up explosive streak that wants an outlet. Mayhem and chaos are my virtues. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I don't want to be mundane.

  So that is my quest. To find a place to vent. A place to cut loose and rock out. Hey yeah....Maybe a concert! Some strum bum thrashing out some good licks! Booyah! Now we are talking!

  Whatever this Thanksgiving has in store for you, I hope its great. We have an incredible freedom and flexibility to celebrate just how we choose. Make provisions for others to feel comfortable and then have a great time!

Solitude

  Solitude is healthier than isolation. Well, that's what they tell me. If one wants to comfort ones self by finding non-dysfunctional words to describe unhealthy behaviors, knock yourself out! But seriously, there are times of solitude that I find refreshing. These moments are sometimes quick and sometimes lengthy, but I cherish those moments.

  Most evenings, when I return to my truck after visiting my mom, the lot at my work is sparse of humans. Occasionally I will find someone in the truckers lounge or see a light on in a truck while someone is reading or watching a show. But most of the time the place is empty.

  I park my car in the back lot. Perhaps two hundred cars are back there. I weave my way thru the cars and walk out next to the shop. Then I encounter the trucks. Sometimes fifty, mostly more. The landscape is dotted with the trucks and trailers. Its dark. In winter there is usually fog. Often its windy. I feel small and insignificant against the backdrop of this huge lot with these trucks. I pause and smile. I ponder.

  Its a healthy pondering. I'm not sad to be alone, nor craving escape from people. I just enjoy the moment and contemplate life. I listen to a distant truck idling and smile, thinking about the warmth I will find when I start up my own rig.

  Out on harbor island, in the Puget sound, I spend some evenings. I park out there when I have a delivery at the port area in the morning. The whole island is empty and quiet. I can walk down by the water and watch Seattle across the bay, seeing all the bustling cars and the lit up buildings. I don't think any of them are looking at my island, pondering if there is a guy over there in solitude.

  I greatly enjoy those moments. Sure, sometimes they side-swipe me mentally and highjack my emotions, but most of the time it is peaceful. Its a great time to think about life. I guess you could say I am meditating amongst the machinery. Maybe that's why I can't be real specific about what I am thinking on these occasions, I am relaxing and meditating.

  Its great to live without escaping. To soak up the moments and let life just pause. I chuckle a little just now because what I am writing sounds like it could be written about the mountains or a lake. I like those too. Sometimes I park near a lake or on a mountain top just so I can experience that kind of solitude. But the solitude among industry is especially significant. Its my one man protest against the isolation this modern world can create.

My Mom

  Happy birthday Mom.

  If you are reading this, then you likely know her. You certainly would know about her compassionate heart, her incredible intellect, and her stunning beauty.

  Her compassionate heart has lifted me thru many troubling days. I remember once that I had skinned my knees. She directed me towards the bathroom and proceeded to wash out my wounds. Trouble is, we only had rubbing alcohol. Yowza! It hurt, but she tried, and that's what really counts.

  She upset lots of people in school by wrecking the curve. She excells in anything she wants to excel in. I have never know her to be snooty about her education. She is bright, humble, and overwhelmingly talented.

  She struggles to think of herself as beautiful. But I see the way dudes look at her. She can get all dolled up and go men-bowling. Set em up and knock em down!

  She has a special place in my heart today. We have spent countless hours chattering about life. I completely enjoy every blessed moment I get to be around her.

  In some of the darkest times in my life she reached out to me. We can speak openly about the tough stuff. We laugh and cry together.

  She chose to move to Spokane and I have been especially blessed. Before she moved here I would visit her while in California. Amazingly, my job allowed me to visit almost every week. When work isolated me to just the northwest, it happened to be just before she was planning on moving up. Now I still see her once a week. Sometimes more!

  If you were to peruse the bible and seek out what a godly woman looks like, pay close attention, she is my mom. God created a princess and made her my mom.

  Thank you mom for loving me. Thank you for knowing how messed up I am, and yet still believing in me. I hope you have a great birthday. The world is much brighter because of you.

  I love you

Judgemental

  I have come to accept that there are some hideously dark thoughts that I have. My tendency towards evil was brought to light just over three years ago. The revelation of my darkness created a chasm between me and some that I love. Some that I don't love too.

  There is a story in the Bible about Hosea. He was a prophet dude who was told to marry a harlet. She ran away from him many times to be with her lovers. After many years of this, she was worn out and her last lover sold her at auction. Hosea went and bought her back. I could almost feel his pain when he proclaimed that they could now be a family. The story draws to a close with us never finding out if his ransom truly redeemed her.

  There is an incredible video that is a modern day rendering of Hosea. Its called "The Hosea Love Story". No words are even spoken. If you didn't know the back story you wouldn't even know it was a Bible story. I hope you watch it. Its in the context of this video that I will write about next. Be sure and watch all the parts.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyWWXSwtPP0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

  My story is one of utter change. Not only in my actions but in my thoughts. Yet every once in a while a thought flashes across my mind and I am stunned at the darkness.

  As you may know, if you read this blog much, I am cagey about the specifics of my flaws. I feel that I would further hurt the people I hurt by writing publicly about the specifics. Its their story to tell not mine.

  That being said, I can tell you about my distant past and my current dark thought.

  I was very sexually active in my teenage years. It became a game to sleep with others. My exploits hurt many. To others it was just silly fun. Nevertheless, I became a dirtball and I kinda enjoyed it. That is the backdrop of my dark thought.

  Currently my wife is leaving me. I shared with my mom how I was worried that she might go and find another. Worse yet, she might find someone else who will hurt her.

  "What if she finds someone else? What if God asks me to wait for her? I hope she doesn't come back dirty."

  Yep.

  I know.

  That's what I said.

  King filthy over here is worried about his wife getting dirty.

  I am trapped in a vicious cycle. I deeply desire forgiveness and grace. I proclaim redemption and restoration. I champion the future and live with the past.

  But I also don't like thinking about forgiving others who have hurt me. They hurt me dammit! I have rights! How dare you do that to me!

  When I told my mom my thought she did a funny laugh and "whoa" all at the same time. Sort of a, "Well look at who thinks he is something now", laugh.

  Oh how quickly I fall back into the camp of people who judge others unrightly. I want to be a living sacrifice. Like someone said, "The trouble with living sacrifices is, they keep crawling off the altar".

  I wish I had never heard the story of Hosea. That video devastated me. I completely break down when he hugs her at the end. I don't really know if I am capable of such things. Yet I hope others are.

 

 

Bathrooms

  Some things you don't have to be taught. Take the first time you saw a toilet seat cover, nobody had to tell you what it was for. It seemed natural that there should be one. In fact now going to the bathroom in a place that doesn't have them almost seems barbaric. This isn't a blog about those blessed butt gaskets, its about some bathroom experiences.

  We had rented an small boat and went cruising around Big Bear Lake. The day was nice, the water was calm, and Jodi had an urge to go. I knew of these floating bathrooms at the far end of the lake so we motored over to them. A few minutes later she emerged a little distraught. Seems there was no gaskets. Worse yet, the seats were spring loaded to stay up, (Guess guys use them the most). She was trying to fabricate her own cover out of toilet paper but the seat would just fling it off! She had to hold the seats down to make it work. Horrible, just horrible.

  My brother in-law would use his shoe to flush the toilets he used. Just lift your foot and press. He really freaked me out! What about the poor next guy who went to flush? It would be like wiping your hands on the bathroom floor! I mentioned this to my brother in-law. He made me to observe how he had no idea what the last guy had done and was thus protecting himself. Genius!

  I regularly use truck stop restrooms. The big chain ones do a superb job keeping them clean. Yet there are a few things that people do in there that disturb me.

  One is the failure to wash. Some dude handles his junk then heads straight for the door. Whatever he touches is junkified! How much stuff in the store has that guy touched? What about the myriad of guys who didn't wash before him. Its a second hand dick store!

  Others leave racing stripes on the back of toilet seats. Yet others splash water everywhere when they wash there face. These aren't men...they are otters!

  My mom doesn't quite trust the gaskets. "The little germs could just chew right thru that thin paper", she once told me.

  When leaving, I started opening the bathroom door with the paper towels I had just used. Hand gasket, very nice!

Rest stops seldom offer paper towels anymore, choosing instead to blast the creepy crawlies off your hands and all over the walls and floor. I put a few paper towels in my pocket to use after visiting those facilities. I don't mind using air to dry my hands, but that doesn't protect them from the door handle on the way out.

  I wasn't always so fussy. Growing up I never thought about these things. What caused me to start? How did I, a roll in the mud, lose a bet and eat donkey turds little boy, start being concerned about germs?

  Your guess is as good as mine.

  One more story.

  I was in junior high. I went downtown to visit my moms ex boyfriends place. He lived in a studio apartment in a hipster building. He wasn't home. I felt the urge to turd purge. I wandered down into the old lobby area. It wasn't much of a lobby but I did notice the public restrooms. After having thus relieved myself I observed the lack of toilet paper. Duck waddling over to the other stalls failed to provide me with any paper. I panicked and looked at the sinks, no paper there either! What to do?!! I can't call out for help, that would be embarrassing!

  Leaving the toilet plugged up by my underwear made me chuckle. It had worked well. Oh sure, I tried to flush it, but that simply could not work. I felt bad for whoever had to unplug that toilet. I am sure it gave them a good story. I wondered if they would try and keep the place stocked better.

  The whole bathroom thing is messy. I like cleanliness and I like being sanitary. I just wish I didn't worry about it. Can't I just do what I do and not worry? Apparently not :)

  My brother in-law challenged me to say something funny in a public restroom. I have never gotten up the nerve to do it, but someday I simply must. Perhaps at a ball game. Those manly dudes would surely laugh. There are two things that could be said. You walk in, step up to the urinal, and say:

"So.....This is where all the dicks hang out!"
         Or
"Brrrr.....The water sure is cold today!"

  I like the first one best!

 

The old brown truck

  Returning the old brown truck to my wife. I have been using it, and fixing it up for the past few months.

  Her grandfather had bought the truck many years ago. After he passed we ended up with the truck. We were going to make payments on it. I failed to make consistent payments. Yet another amends I need to make.

  My wife and I have many memories in the truck. We had a shell on it and went to the drive-in every Tuesday. It transported us to many a camp site. The bench seat allowed my wife to sit next to me while we drove. It has towed all our stuff from California to Spokane. It spent a couple years just hauling garbage for my construction company.

  Its been a great old truck.

  Returning it to my wife is very rough on me. With a divorce somewhere in our future, returning the truck feels like I am having to release all those memories. Just writing this brings tears to my eyes. The sight, smell, and feel of the truck does something to me. I don't want to give it back. I am scared of the closure it seems to be bringing.

  I have spent the last week and a half in Spokane having a vacation. I sort of knew that the truck issue was looming at the end of it. I shared my feeling with my friends and they comforted me...at least they tried.

  I don't know when I will see the old truck again. Perhaps I will need to borrow it for something, or maybe sometime in the future I will be visiting and and can see it then.

  Goodbye for now old truck. Stay reliable for them. I will miss you old friend.

Birthday cards

  My fortieth birthday has come and gone. I don't especially feel different, but I have obseverved a few things about myself I didn't know. Here is one such observation.

  I didn't know how valuable decorating with cards was to making the occasion. Today, when I was doing some clean up, I came across some birthday cards that were given to me. It struck me that I could place them somewhere as a decoration and they could remind me of how much I am loved. I like that!

  At this point in my life I drive truck full time. I don't really have a place I call home and I certainly don't have a place that can be decorated. By realizing that I could put these cards out at my moms house while I visit for a weeks vacation, I stumbled upon a sentimental side I had never know by putting the cards out.

  My understanding of birthday and holiday cards is better now. Some very nice things were written in those cards and I got choked up reading them. (Thank you so much for giving me the cards)

  This Christmas I will decorate my truck. Maybe a string of lights, a small Christmas tree, perhaps a snowflake or two, and some cards :)  Some may call it meditation, I am not sure what I would call it, but I will spend time thinking about the people behind the cards and how much I value them. I will place the cards in a place in my truck where I can be reminded often.

  As a child I tore into cards just hoping for some money. I cast away the card with nary a thought about the person behind the gift. Cherishing the sentiments of those I love is very important to me now.

  For such a simple thing like a card, I feel like I stepped into a new phase of growth today. They are exceptionally beautiful cards and I am now a sentimental old man!

Oh my

One more ad.....just for fun!

Smokie and The Bandit

  The long sleek Firebird whirled down the road, the sun radiating off its inky black paint. The driver slides the car to a stop just in time to pick up a runaway bride still in her wedding dress. A police chase ensues that would end up making cinematic history. Smokie and The Bandit!

  Not sure when I first saw the movie. It was made in 1977 but was being broadcast on TV for me to see in the late 80s sometime. I am guessing I would have been around 12 when I saw it.

  The film hit all the tropes a blossoming young dude needed. It had a spectacular car, a smoking hot babe, an indestructible semi-truck, a larger than life protagonist hunk, and a smarmy sheriff.

  Let's get back to that scene with the runaway bride. She came along at the perfect time for me. Pretty sure she was the first woman on film who caught my imagination. She was pretty, she had a tremendous wit, she seemed innocent, and she loved The Bandit. I was set up for sure!

  The Bandit nicknamed her The Frog. He gave her that name because she was always bouncing around and he wanted to jump her. I didn't even know what that meant the first time I saw it! Adults don't even play leap frog!

  There was also this great scene where The Bandit was smoking a cigarette and The Frog decided to try one. She sputtered and gagged prompting him to suggest that she quit. Her quote was, "Why quit now, when I am just starting to enjoy it so?" I have tried that quote on many people, haven't found any who know the reference. Smoking humor is the new gallows humor.

  That movie really formed an idea in my head of what women wanted. So I set out to apply the knowledge that I had learned. I was moderately successful. The renegade loner who was simply misunderstood. Or so I thought. Turns out when you are a misfit you only attract misfits!

  Part two of the movie starts out having The Bandit holed up in his house apparently drinking himself to death. Never really cared for that movie. I think I am going to go watch them both again. Seems to me that I might view them differently now :)

 

Weight loss

I just thought these ads were so funny!

40

  Turning 40 in a few days. Doesn't seem possible. I know, I know, its kind of cliche to say that, but it really is surprising me. I was childish for most of my life. I think I was supposed to be child-like.

  I didn't really start living until just over three years ago. Until that point I had many distractions that could keep me from being me. Alcohol, drugs, sex...yes please! Oh no wait, those were the things that I did have, and life became miserable.

  Thru a series of horrible decisions I made, life as I knew it radically changed for me on July 6th of 2010. In some ways that day was my true birthday. So, I am only 3! And I act like it!

  There is some wreckage that hasn't been fixed and it breaks my heart. I am uncomfortable with the idea that I may not be able to properly make amends to some people. I understand why I can't, but I wish I could.

  I am planning a pizza and a movie party for me and my friends. I want to celebrate, laugh, cry, and cut loose with my buds. They are the best friends a guy could have.

  I sometimes wonder just how old 40 actually is. Will the coming decades reveal a redeemed life that is surrounded by loved ones? Will I be defined by my wreckage?

  I haven't a clue!

  Past regrets and future tripping are really bad for me. I am free to live in today. Sure I make plans for the tomorrows, but I really only have today. So live it up!

Drive thru dining

  Last night I pulled into McDonalds for two cheeseburgers and a chocolate shake. The drive thru lane was packed. I had to stop a little back from the car in front of me to let traffic thru the parking lot. When the drive thru started rolling again I needed to wait for one more car to pass, then I could make my turn in.

  That's when it happened. A dude swung around me and got in front of me in the drive thru. The minivan behind him looked like they might do the same. I honked my horn in disgust. I squeezed in behind the perpetrator and blocked traffic. But I wasn't letting nobody else cut in line!

  I surveyed the guys suburban looking for evidence that would bother me even more. Utah plates, damn Mormons. Loud exhaust, stupid hillbilly. Various dents, aggressive driver.

  I noticed one of those family cartoon stickers in the rear window. You know the kind with a mom and dad smiling with all the kids next to them, maybe a dog or cat for good measure. The mom cartoon was missing and the rest were all boys (5 of them)! She probably left the bastard due to his erratic driving. He probably likes cutting people off and she is tired of being embarrassed. Those punk boys probably asked their dad to drive crazy.

  Oh man I was having fun. Everything about this guy and his car was cliche. I sat fuming. Honestly, I was getting worked up and was enjoying it.

  I thought about rolling down the window and saying some choice words. Maybe actually getting out and saying something would be better?  Oh how great to make his sons feel like dirt about daddy!

  They get to the window and all they got was ice cream. Ice cream! Damn right I scream! At least the raging guy inside me wants to. But I sit silent like a fool.

  I think about catching up with him on the freeway. Oh how sweet to cut him off. That would show him.

  After what seemed like an eternity he has gotten their ice cream and they pull away never to be seen by me again. I try calming down so I can get my food without ruining the day of the cashier. I pull up and go to pay. I have exact bills and change, I'm a helluva guy.

  The dude had purchased my food!

  Son of a! What kind of! Damn, damn, damn.

  I was really enjoying being worked up. I had a healthy rage going and I wasn't ready for it to end. I was going to eat disgust cheeseburgers and have a rage shake. Now what do I do? This jerk really hacked me off big this time. I don't like eating humble pie and I never order it!

  So that's what happened at the drive thru. The cashier told me that the guy was sorry for cutting me off. It was an honest mistake.

  There is a lesson in this for me. But I am way to cynical to write it down.

Chuck Smith

  Today is a sad day. I am mourning the loss of Chuck Smith. His ministry and life were very instrumental in my life. When he broke Christian tradition and started ministering to hippies, he ultimately broke thru to the very people who would help me in my recovery.

  Chuck understood the powerful love and grace of Jesus. He leaves behind quite a legacy. Many people have learned about Jesus thru him.

  Now let me personalize this blog.

  One of my earliest childhood memories was of Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa. The Children of The Day were performing and I was back stage. The place was so large and there was quite a crowd. I remember being overwhelmed with the size of the place. I don't think I had ever seen anything so big with so many people.

  The Children of The Day group were friends of my parents. I spent many days playing with Marsha's son and daughter. I didn't know it at the time, but my future would rely heavily upon the concept Marsha sung about in her song "Come to the water". I did come Marsha. And I drank up Jesus to the dregs. Thank you for such a beautiful song about such a wonderful God.

  Greg Laurie toured with Children of The Day for a while. I actually don't remember this happening, but Greg would go on to preach and teach to quite large crowds. Greg's messages could be found thru podcasts and on YouTube. When my world fell apart under the heavy weight of my wretched sin, Greg's messages carried me back to the cross. He taught me that I was acceptable and loved. He taught me to stand strong in the truth of the bible. Thanks Greg.

  What does all this have to do with Chuck Smith?

  As I wrote about earlier, Chuck was the one with the vision. God used him to draw people to Christ, the same people who would bring the gospel to me. Countless times I have been reminded just how fortunate my life is and how Chuck helped lay the foundation.

  I never wrote Chuck and told him these things. I am reminded today just how much I need to tell people how much I love them. I am sad at his going home. I am also sad I never wrote him. I need to remember this lesson.

  Thank you Chuck. I love you and am exceedingly blessed because of you. Prepare yourself for a big ole bear hug from me.

Behave!

  I feel kind of bad about my last post. I was pretty harsh on my dad. Sorry Pops. Let me set out a couple more things and lighten the mood.

  I want to dive further into the issue of misbehavior. (Way to lighten it up right away!)

  What to do with misbehaving kids has plagued humanity since the beginning. We see plenty of examples of every philosophy working. Some say just simply love/accept and the kid comes out just fine (and sometimes they do). Others say discipline is needed to promote good behavior.

  I am not advocating either. I think both are true. What I want to expose is motive. Often what motivates discipline or gentleness is annoyance. To the disciplinarian, bad behavior is annoying and must be punished. To the more pascifist, punishment seems mean (ie annoying) and should be avoided.

  So, my dad did what he could do with what he was taught. And I think he tried to do it with love. 

  The point I am struggling to drive across is the desperate need for a child to never fear being left or forsaken. Those fears plagued me. I could pretend to do well, but then I would stumble again. My stumbling always drove a wedge between my dad and I.

  Here is one practical idea that may have helped. Let's paint a simple picture.

  I wanted to do things my way and was extremely lazy. Dad figured that I shouldn't be allowed to freeload and invited me to leave home. This seems very logical to me.

  However, why not meet up once in a while and go out for coffee? That cheeseburger and chocolate shake sounds good. How about a movie? Maybe a hike somewhere?

  My performance as a son should not affect our relationship. The motivation behind spending time together is not about rewards, its about love. Its simply about spending time together and not dwelling on the gunk.

  With all that being said, dad and I are forging a new relationship. We routinely get together for breakfast and visit. We have lively debates about all sorts of things. Honestly, it hardly matters what we talk about, we are slowly becoming close.

  I have a dear friend in Wisconsin whom we will call John. John will like that very much seeing as that is his name. (Dead pan humor....love it!). John and his son are also working out their relationship. His son is very close to my age. When I talk about my past relationship with my dad I can hear the heartache in John. He understands what I am saying, but he also understands my dad. There is so much pain.

  John and I allow each other to share our stories without the need to edit or censor. By giving each other that liberty we are helping heal each other. Its a strange process and I never would have imagined such a powerful friendship.

  There is no way of doing anything perfectly. My buddy John wants to do everything just right, my dad never wants to make mistakes, I never want to fail....but we all will mess it up. Will we still go hangout? Or will our failures dictate our relationship?

Gone fishing

  Growing up I believed there was nothing I could do to help my dad love me more. Regardless of how I behaved, good or bad, I never once thought my dads love for me would change. The problem is, I didn't know my dad loved me at all. Whether I behaved or not didn't seem to matter.

  My dad grew up in a dark household where love wasn't on the table. My dad desperately wanted things to be different for my sister and I. But the dye had been cast, kids who behave well have daddies approval.

  Early on I got stuck in performance mode. Doing good didn't cause wonderful things to happen between my dad and I, it just caused him to yell......a little less. He had a terrific set of pipes. He was a yelling ninja!

  I am not trying to paint a complete scenario of utter horror. There were things my dad would do that were cool. But often those things were done with an expectation that I would somehow behave better now. "Here son, enjoy this motorbike." "Didn't do well in school, remind me why I would bother buying you gas for the motorbike."

  The motorcycle was my favorite thing. Such freedom and fun. I had to steal gas from his truck in order to ride.

  He had this quirky thing where every couple of months he would offer me a "clean slate". I never knew what the hell a slate was or why it needed cleaning. I figured I was being offered a new beginning and we could just forget the junk I had done. Then a few days later I would repeat a prior failure only to have those past failures brought up again. You can't wipe smooth engraved marble.

  My failures were always before me. Behind me. To the side. Below, above....damn. I really had no clue how to escape.

  There was a rewards system that was tried. I learned quickly that I didn't get any better with rewards. I didn't have the kind of patience to get the rewards or the rewards were stupid.

  We tried punishment. Dad would blow up then sulk, punishments never had any rhyme or reason. I could count on a huge speech about choices and how we lose opportunities by making wrong choices. If I chose well I could become anything, but every poor choice means one less thing I could be.

  Once my step-mom told me I was killing my dad. He had terrible indigestion and coughed up colorful things in the morning. When he quit smoking that went away. I still smoke......I blame her ;)

  Ok Josh, why bring this up now?

  Good question!

  I just had breakfast with my dad who tried to convince me that how I behave directly affects my relationship to God. If I behave well God draws me in a little closer. Bad behavior pushes God away.

  Fuck off dad. Fuck you and your earning favor trip. If you want me to be good in order to love me......whatever. But to say that I can earn favor with God is insane. He is so utterly pure and I am so fatally flawed. I can't do it.

  I believe in absolute grace today. I believe God has done everything necessary for me to have a right relationship with him. By offering himself on the cross I have nothing else I can offer.

  OK, enough preaching. Who begins preaching with a curse word anyways?!!!

  I just want to go fishing. Let's go get a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake. I want to be free from performance. Worrying about performance is narcissistic.

  The truth is, I do behave better today. I am a more honorable son. You can rely on me to keep my word. But those things are what happened because I was loved without condition. I am not responsible for those things happening. Those things happened inspite of myself.

  God is not my boss. I am not his employee. How I perform my work has no correlation to how he regards me. He paid a huge ransom to call me his son. Today I am free to fail!

  And fail I do! I probably failed God a dozen times just writing this blog, more if you count my thoughts!

  Martin Luther said that we should sin boldly so we would understand grace. Hey Martin, I get it!

  "When I rightly deserved my dad’s disappointment, he assured me of his delight." - Tullian Tchividjian

......please read my next posting......
 
 

 

Being needed

  Last week Grandma Margie went into the hospital for pneumonia. She is old, frail, and onry. She has the spirit and spunk of a two year old, but her body and mind can't keep pace.

  On Sunday her heart started beating erratic. One side was dubbing and the other wasn't lubbing. The lub side was basically quivering. No lub-dub. Death seemed to be knocking on her door.

  They put a cocktail of drugs in her to stabilize her heartbeat and dissolve the clot that was found on her lung. She was tired from the morphine and seemed ready to check out. She has an order to not resuscitate her, so things were getting tense.

  But let me rewind a bit.

  On Sunday I was on my way back into town and was going to spend the afternoon helping a friend move and then stop by the hospital to say hi to Gram. My mom called me and said, "Grandma is dying". Then my mom broke into tears and said, "I need you here". I told her that it would be another hour before I got there, but I would hurry.

  That's when time slowed down and reality warped on me.

  You see, I'm not that guy. Unreliable, insensitive, uncaring, hardass, all around jerk face......that's who I am. I am not the guy you call in a time of crisis. I cried out to God, "Please help me be of comfort to Grandma and Mom. I don't know what I am doing. I am gonna walk into that hospital, please just show me what I can do".

  That may not be the exact wording I used. Probably more of a panicked "oh crap" kinda prayer was offered. But those were my thoughts.

  Grandma took a few hours to start improving, but she did improve! Last night she even moved into a place that has the facilities to help her. I was able to be there for my mom and grandma.

  I am not used to being relied upon. I hurt people. Don't pass that last sentence up. I hurt people......deeply. I am so amazed that my life has brought me to a place of usefulness. Gratitude is an inadequate word to describe the feeling.

  I really am available to help. I truly can express my own fears and frustrations. I can even be counted on to say inappropriate jokes at all the wrong times! I am Josh, and I think I am comfortable with that.

  It was a great blessing to be called upon to help.

 

 

Helping out

  Had a dude ask me for money yesterday. At first I thought it would be the standard story. I see a fair amount of homeless people and this one seemed no different.
 
  He started by offering to shine up the wheels on my truck (if I had the stuff to do it). He mentioned washing the windows. He asked if there was anything he could do to earn a couple bucks.

  I smiled and didn't say anything. What could I say? Hey dude, I see people like you once or twice a week....go to a shelter. I am not that blunt.

  The guy proceeded to tell me his story. He was an armed robber who just got out of prison. He was left in Tacoma with no money and a waiting list to get in the shelter. He pulled out his wallet and showed me his offender identification.

  Whoa! Wait now!! I was reluctant to help this dude to begin with, now he is a ex-con who was busted for armed robbery! Oh my.

  Instantly I got the thought, "Who would make THAT their story when asking for help?" I could think of many stories to tell, but a felon with a violent past, that's complete nutso!

  My heart melted. I am also guilty of many regrettable things. I also want people to look beyond the past and love me into the future. I desire mercy, so did he.

  In a moment of compassion I saw him as a fellow human in need. He may have needed a beer, some weed, a pack of smokes, or even something to eat. So I helped him. I reached in my wallet and gave him a twenty. It blew his mind.

  I don't tell this in order to try and elevate my feelings about myself. I am a cynical and doubting dude. I have a tough exterior and I like that. But I also like mercy. I like giving others a much needed break.

  On the spiritual side of things.....last night, at my second place of delivery, I found a twenty dollar bill on the ground. I am a spiritual giant!

 

Box of memories

  Recently I asked my wife to set aside things for me that have memories attached to them. She and I are knocking on the door of divorce and I would like to retain those items. What do I want them for?

  I get daily emails from Divorce Care and I got one a couple of days ago that really nailed this subject. It spoke of looking memories squarely in the eye and grieving them. Let the full power of pain wash over you. Hell no!!!! Right?! That's like going to a doctor for a broken leg and having them kick you in the avocados!

  OK, I get it. I must embrace the loss. I must process and not bury. I gotta go to Big 5 and buy a cup.

  Right now I picture having a box full of memories; Memories of our marriage, memories of birthdays and anniversaries, vacations.....you get the idea. I dread looking into that box. How can I do that and not weep? Maybe that's the point. When I am healed I can. It seems so impossible.

  What will happen when I process the pain and I can look back fondly at those memories without being sad?

  Impossible

Fog!

  Encountered the first foggy night of the fall season last night. I know it's not technically fall yet, but tell that to the fog!

  The fog is almost mesmerizing as I drive. I particularly enjoy the fog that is just above the roadway so you kind of do scudding in reverse. The fog softens the oncoming headlights and gives everything a nice halo. When you step out of the truck the fog produces an eerie quite. Its awesome!

  I suppose most people find the fall/winter time treacherous on the roadways. I am not one of those. I really enjoy the fog, ice, and snow. It is of little concern to me that I hurdle down the road riding 40 tons thru inclimate weather. In fact, I prefer it.

  See, the summertime is wonderful in many ways, but the wintertime has its own attractions. The fall and Christmas decorations are beautiful, the roads are less crowded (except on holiday weekends), no bugs, and I get to dress in ways that hide my fat......yeah I know.

  Someday soon I will slide off the road while driving in ice and fog, dying in a massive fireball, and somebody will read this post thinking I am a fool for liking the bad weather. This blog is morbidly prophetic if that did happen. Read this at my wake OK?

   If I did die in a fireball I bet there would be a discount on cremation! 50% off for mostly charred bodies! Now that's a deal. I mean, who would pay full price to burn up a dude that is mostly burned up? Is there a sliding scale for these things? I gotta Google that.

  Fog, then cremation savings, now that's writing!

Relaxation

  How do I relax? Can I relax without being lazy? Does God approve of relaxation? How did Jesus relax? Can I relax around uptight people?

  The first question (how do I relax?) has changed plenty over the years. Catching frogs, tormenting my sister, repainting matchbox cars, experimenting with fire, were all fun things I did as a kid, but I don't think of them as relaxation. Relaxation means taking time from being busy accomplishing things to actively pursuing enjoyment. This definition doesn't quite work entirely, but it provides the foundation for what I now consider relaxation. Today I relax in many ways, the most enjoyable is dispensing grace. Loving on people is by far the most enjoyable thing in my life.

  That brings up the point of laziness. Often times in my life relaxation and laziness were synonymous. Discovering active relaxation has been eye opening to me. The effort involved with relaxation no longer seems a burden, rather it makes the relaxation much more enjoyable. Laziness robbed from me years of true friendship. Laziness cost me creativity. Laziness contributed to the failure of my marriage.

  God approves of relaxation. Ultimately this is the truth of the Gospel, relax dude, you can't do it but God will. Relax in the completeness that Christ bought for you. A person who is perfect has nothing to fret about, and Christ has made you perfect! Relax! Its all good.

  How did Jesus relax? I see a couple ways. He hung out and laughed with the worst of sinners. He rejoiced when someone came to him broken. He loved the unlovable. In one verse we see John leaning up against his chest, try seeing a modern Christian tough guy do that! John relaxed around the relaxed Christ.

  My last question of relaxing around uptight people is the hardest. They take themselves way too seriously. Always seeking approval and never discovering that God approved them a long time ago.

  I try not to worry about it anymore. Buddhism teaches that we should let go of things to be free, Christianity teaches that even if we hold on to things God still finds us pleasing. Who cares about qualifying if the only qualification is to be unqualified?

  Enjoy yourself! The toughest battle I often face is just enjoying life. I don't have to fix anything to please my Creator. Relax in the completeness of Christ.

  I just laid out a beautiful teaching about the completeness in Christ and how that gives us freedom to relax. That means I have it all figured out! Sure, yeah right. I am a compulsive worrier and a habitual over thinker. I can't relax when there is so much that needs fixing. Oh sure, sometimes I taste freedom and I lean on Christ's chest, but other times I am up frantically trying to prepare a meal while my lazy brothers are relaxing with Christ.

  Neurotic doesn't begin to describe how messed up I am. When I finish a good round of relaxing I feel bad. Not all the time, but more than you do. I bet you don't think so. I bet you think you worry more than anybody. Neurotic.

  I can't even relax about this blog about relaxing! I gotta stop this insanity. I need some coffee and a cigarette. I will try and smoke it as lazily as possible. I'm done :)

The Bible and a bottle

  I am learning to walk, not in the literal stumbling about as a toddler sense, but in the "I am a man and here is what I think and feel sense". This is not natural to me.

  I grew up in a house where differing opinions or emotions was discouraged. My mother and father had grown up in abusive homes and hadn't yet processed their own gunk before starting a family. So I was left an emotional cripple. Just like them, I pretended to have it all together. I was quite an actor.

  My emotional retardation carried over into the family my wife and I had created. Opportunities for my wife or children to express themselves just didn't happen. I didn't know what to do with the information. I discouraged the openness that I now seek.

  Drowning my feelings worked. Becoming a know-it-all zealot Christian also worked. Hiding behind a Bible and a bottle was simply a way of life. I became a super smarty-pants about religion and was quite adept at drinking.

  As the years rolled on my addiction to alcohol took very dark turns. Bolstered by the booze, I tore my family apart. My church rejected me. Many in the church rejected my wife for being with me. I became a spiritual leper for whom some believed there was no healing.

  I got sober at the beginning of July 2010. My sobriety came on the heels of a terrible bender. I had purchased some extra expensive scotch in hopes that I could savor, rather than guzzle, the whiskey. Instead I just spent more on getting stupid.

  I threw up a white flag to God soon after. Surrender wasn't conditional. I no longer had any bargaining tools. For the first time in my life I saw the consequences of sin.

  A month before I hit the wall, I was worried my wife would demand that I quit. As that was impossible for me to do, I was prepared to leave her, knowing that I could just drink even more to bury the pain.

  When my wife told me exactly how I had hurt my family I knew instantly that drinking was no longer an option. Drinking and hurting only myself seemed all well and good, but the pain I brought her and my daughters.......damn.

  Sobriety is scary. When I feel feelings I don't like, the only way of escape is by reaching out to my friends. I don't like reaching out! It is sometimes difficult to muster up the gumption to share the gunk. I often think that relief can never be had. But my friends are faithful. They hear me out and point me to the cross.

  As far as the Bible is concerned, I understand what redemption means today. Church was a place where good people taught other people how to be good. Today I understand that the church is filled with screwed up people being loved by a caring God. The people who know they are screwed up serve God the best.

  I like to tell my friends that God loves sinners. And if he loves sinners then he loves me more than them. I out-sin them all!

  The trick I found is to not celebrate my brokenness, rather I celebrate a God who sacrificed himself to pay for my brokenness. I celebrate those friends whom God has sent into my life. 

  My days of booze therapy are over. If I go back I will die. My body can't keep up with how much my mind would need. 

  So I instead spend my time around guys who are genuine. Am I as screwed up today as I was when I got sober? Oh yes! But in a much more healthy way. Until I get put to bed with a shovel, I will always be screwed up. My God likes me screwed up. Its when I think I am doing really good, that's when I stumble.

  God gave me a big ol' hug back in July of 2010. It felt great to truly be home. He has been very merciful and gracious to me. The love and comfort he gives me didn't come cheap. He took every sin of mine, even those really gross ones, and placed them on Jesus. His son was ridiculed, abused, and killed because of what I did. And I love him for it!

 

Elephant seals

  Guess I am worried about my size, specifically my weight. I am a tall dude (6'4") but I am also horizontally gifted. OK, fat! Tubby tubalotamous.
 
  For years my weight has been slowly climbing. Good food, heavy drinking, good food, getting sober, good food, lack of exercise, good food, and driving a truck have all contributed to my present portly state. Did I mention good food?

  Its a classic thing we see all across america. A non-active lifestyle ties together with good food. Its a recipe for largess.

   By now you granola crunchers are thinking "if you ate 'good food' you wouldn't be so big". Yeah, and if I ate only tree bark I would lose it all pretty quick. Say no to the tree bark diet.

  How do you identify a dogwood tree? By its bark.

  Nope, no granola crunching, bunny food diet will work for this dude. I just can't hack it. So today I embark on fatkins again. Steaks, butter, bacon, sausage, eggs.......oh yeah baby!

  Why the title of elephant seals?

  Those dudes have it so good. The most fat bull among them gets the babes. The cows are really cute and totally go for the big guys. Not fair! With elephant seals it appears that big and ugly looks good on a guy. When you look at them you always wonder just how the girl is so pretty and the guy is so horrendous yet they match up! I bet he has a great personality....yeah that's it!

  Its time for me to lose the weight. I let myself get away with eating wrong while I got sober, but three years is probably too much. My support group will help me be accountable. It is either lose the weight or work on my elephant seal calls. I already got the belly waddle down!

Now I lay me down to sleep

  I have begun to notice another disturbing pattern in my life. If I read or think about painful things before I go to bed, I really struggle getting to sleep.

  Now I started doing the emotional work in the mornings. Thinking about life's issues and praying for them at night messes me up, but the mornings seem to work out much better.

  I heard about those bible verses that say to seek God in the morning. I never knew why that would ever matter. Guess I figured out another reason why :)

Softness

  Been reading some of my old postings. I am not a very soft man. Some were preachy and others were harsh. I feel like I have gained a softness that I didn't have before. I still have a long ways to go.

The little sail boat

  When I was a young dude, perhaps 10ish, we made these little sail boats. By little, I mean like just over a foot long. They were the coolest thing! I think we made them to compete in a sailing race. Maybe we were all going to go to the lake and let them go and see whose was fastest.

  I don't remember racing them. Actually I don't remember building them either. I wonder if the boat I played with was my sisters? Damn. I hope not...eww

  Well anyways, we lived on a small lake and I would take it out there to play with it. There was an overflow part to the lake that wasn't nearly as big as the lake and that's where my adventures with the boat took place.

  I would tie a string to the boat to be able to get it back or steer it. Sure the lake was small and I could swim, but the string made me feel safe. I didn't want to lose the boat. Somehow I figured on keeping it and cherishing it forever.

  So, I would launch the boat and try to steer it just right with the string. My friends and I would take turns with it and complain that the others weren't doing it right. Nobody ever did it right, but when you watched someone else play with it you just knew you could do it better!

  I spent hours with that boat. I would get almost transfixed at the way the wind pushed her over and made her scoot thru the water.

  We eventually got good enough to tie two strings to it and tack into the wind. This was a dangerous maneuver and capsizing was always an option. The waves would pummel the little boat as the howling winds would toss her about. Proportionally, the little boat went thru hurricanes with me at the helm...er string.

  I always figured on saving that little boat. Some artifact of my youth. Some other relics have survived but sadly the boat didn't. 

  In thinking back this story I am struck wondering why I never let the boat just sail on the lake. Why confine it to the small overflow? If I was worried about it being stuck on the island that wasn't a big concern. Surely we could have fashioned up something to go to the island. How much fun would that have been!

  I wish I had a memory of letting the boat go. The lake wasn't all that big but I would have enjoyed watching it sail freely. My fear of loss prevented me from capturing a truly momentous occasion.

  I'm not sure if the other kids held their boats in such high regards as I did mine. But I am also not sure if I enjoyed mine as much as I could have. I wonder if they just let theirs go?

  Go little boat go!

Broken hearted

Friends

  I am so grateful for the friends in my life. They have been a great source of strength to this weary soul. As I face trauma and heartbreak they provide a sounding board for me to express my hurt.

  You know, I'm not that good at sharing how I am doing with my friends. Heck, I'm not that good at hearing how you are doing. When we are doing well its easy. But when hard times come the difficulty begins. Sometimes I pretend I am doing well just so my friends will want to talk to me.

  For instance, I will be sharing a bunch about my pain as i go thru this divorce. If I was listening to me I wouldn't exactly know what to say. I truly feel others pain, but what do you say? I like hearing others share their pain. I want to comfort them. But ameliorating pain isn't everything. Sometimes we can only stand next to them and offer hugs and love.

  I don't want my friends to attack my soon to be ex. She is the victim of marrying a broken man. Sure she could join me in therapy and work things out, but she doesn't want to. Does that make her an enemy? When my feelings are running high, the answer is yes! She is an enemy and I hate what she is doing. Then my leveler head comes back and I want to offer her compassion. Compassion that I didn't give her while married. A compassion that I can only give by the grace of Jesus. But sometimes I don't wanna.

  I ask my friends to be patient with me. I will be mean, I will be obnoxious, I will be a pain, I will be a butthole. But I want to be so much more. More nice....not more jerky!

Just get it out! :)

  Just re-read my last post. I am a morbid dude! I just want to make it abundantly clear, I am going to attempt to write and dialog of my thoughts and emotions as my divorce unfolds. I do no want to hold back, but I also don't want to improperly attack my wife. Hmmm, ex-wife.
 
  While I am hurt and feel rejected, I also understand her side. Years of living with an addict took its toll. I will never get into the specifics in a public forum, but satisfy yourself by knowing that I am a huge jerk who treated his wife very poorly.

  Knowing how much of a jerk face I was doesn't limit my pain of being rejected. God has moved greatly in my my life and I am a restored son of the Sovereign Lord. My life doesn't look like it did back then. So I get caught up in thinking that the man I am today is the man my wife is rejecting. Its not! She is rejecting a low down slimeball that treated her badly! I am not that dude any more.

  If you ever meet that creep, kick his ass for me. He hurt far too many people.

 

A new start

  Looks like for the next couple of months I will be struggling my way thru divorce. My life for the last couple of years has had this looming over it. I have held a torch for my wife and hoped that she could somehow forgive me and we could reconcile. That isn't going to happen.

  I find myself wanting to listen to sad songs and read sad stories. I want to yell and fight. I feel invisible and want to be heard. I can no longer numb out with addiction so I swing the other way and want to feel miserable.

  My thoughts are disjointed and I break down easily. I try and put on a tough face but the facade only lasts so long.

  I worry that my friends will grow weary of hearing me discuss the divorce. I'm not sure they can handle me process my emotions and thoughts as I go thru the next couple of months.

  I have watched a couple people I love go thru divorces. It was brutal and painful to watch. Both of them seem to be doing quite well today.

  I don't really think that its possible for me to get past this. I feel so wounded. My best friend has rejected me.