Recurring dreams

  Seems that every time I interact with my ex I am in store for intense dreams that evening. The dreams always revolve around her leaving, my disbelief, an explanation of repentance, and a discussion about recovery. Last night was no different.

  She sent me an email, all she wanted was for me to start writing her checks in her maiden name. Didn't really phase me. Tho I did wonder how long until that changes again.

  Its the dreams I have afterwards that cause me to marvel. I figure that my subconscious mind is forging new connections. That's good! But the dreams are sad. I am left feeling unloved and unforgivable.

  It takes me a while to clear my mind in the morning. Feeling loved and lovable doesn't come cheaply. While many have chosen to love me in spite of my dark past, she could not.

  I think the dreams could offer up an indication of my healing. When the dreams stop the healing is completed. Sounds good to me! Its not very scientific and it likely isn't true, but when those dreams stop, my heart will finally be comforted entirely.

 

 

Oblivious

  I love writing about those moments where I don't quite get what's going on.  My inability to pick up on cues is staggering.  I am a social cripple! I present such a case:

  I arrive at a truck stop and settle in. A short while later, I notice that a coworker is going to park next to me. She appears stressed. She needs help backing her trailer in...... Uh oh!

  ("She" is a problem. Not this one in particular. All women. Well....most women. Here's the thing, I tend to sexualize female encounters. Rather, that's what I did for many years. These last four years I have been getting my black belt in situational awareness. Today I can treat women with respect! But, I had to become a dork to avoid certain situations. Dorking out, this will become key later in the story.)

  I hop out of my truck, pausing only to put on my superman cape, and help guide her into her spot. She is very grateful, explains how she is worn out from driving all day, and how nice it was to help her out.

  No problem. Glad to help. Have a pleasant night. I get back in my truck.

  My friends are playing online and I join in. We are all chatting and having fun. That's when I get a knock on my door.

  She's back!

  I then that I noticed her truck had moved. She mentions that the parking is better at the other end of the lot. There is a spot next to hers down there and perhaps I should move. Leaving in the morning would be much easier from those other spots.

  She's right. But I don't care. I'm comfortable right here. Besides, I want to get back to goofing off with my friends.

  She hands me a movie. Its a part two of some dumb movie I didn't care to see part one of. She says that she wanted to thank me and saw this movie. Figured I might like it.

  I'm like, "Nah, I got Netflix. It works just fine. Thank you for the kind thought. I gotta go. Have a nice evening."

  I left her holding some snacks, movie in hand, wanting to thank me.

  Now, at the moment all I could think about was getting back and hanging with my friends. At the moment, my phone was blowing up with text messages wondering what was going on. (My friends had heard a females voice and then I went silent). I wasn't aware of the texts yet. I was still outside.

  After her and I parted ways I noticed all my texts. My friends were really worried. They thought a lot lizard had grabbed my attention! I had a good laugh as I told them it was just a coworker.

  Then it hit me!

  I think she wanted some company watching the movie! I remember how strange she looked at me when I said I had Netflix! Netflix doesn't have ME ya big dork!

  Oh well.

  I have practiced the art of not flirting for years now. I am really slow to the draw! I'm glad I am.

  Right now I am on a quest to find myself. Sure a night of passionate popcorn eating might be fun, but it would wound me. I'm not looking to start anything with any women.

  But how funny is it that I couldn't even pick up the clues! "I have Netflix!"

  Oblivious dork! I love it!

 

Vacation!

  For the second time in my life I have a paid vacation! Woohoo and whoopteedoo!

  Its time to be serious about fun. Very serious! Ha!

  I caught myself trying to figure out how to end the vacation early and get back to work. I am a workaholic. So when I told my boss what day I am coming back I purposefully took all the vacation. The full two weeks! Well.....not the entire two weeks, I am coming back three days early so I can use that time for when my sister visits in December. It is important to have time available for her.

  Why was I starting to obsess about returning to work early? Who cares! I thumb my nose at my neurotic nature and refuse to dwell on it any longer.

  Its time to check out for a while.

  I have plans on working on the 1956 Chevy pickup, flying rc planes, going to a play, bike riding, disc golfing, picnicking, movie watching, video gaming, and being lazy.

  I think I might have scheduled too much!

  Anyways, for the next 11 days I am free to do all the stuff I like to do, and I like to do cool stuff! I am super grateful that I am at a place in life where I can enjoy life and live it to the fullest.

  Watch out Spokane......its time to party!

Codependent

  Turns out I have a case of codependency. I don't know when exactly it struck, but I definitely have it.

  It is so annoying!

  When did caring about others cross over into this unhealthy space?

  For instance, today another driver backed his trailer into my truck. Not a lot of damage done, he only dented the shield over the exhaust stack. Seriously, no biggie.

  I begin worrying about this dude. He is a new driver in training (that means he is broke and might lose his job). I share with him a couple of blunders I had made when I started driving. We exchange info. All is done.

  But its not done for me.

  I have to swim around in the cesspool of my mind for the next hour or so. I wonder if there is anything I can do to help, perhaps I could pay for the shield. Should I have gotten his email? I have his phone number, but emailing him might be better. Is he going to be fired? Will his family be OK? Is he going to jump off the next overpass? Was this the final straw for him????!!!!!!

Arrrrggghhhhh

  Why must I care so much? Its not about them, its something about me. I like to rescue. Even when I shouldn't, even when its bad, I want to be the hero.

  Enough already!

  I need to find the perfect balance between caring and wanting to help, versus enabling and being stepped on.

  It is a delicate balance. Some people need a strong man to balance out their struggles. Others need a man strong enough to tell them to do it themselves.

  I have my own story concerning this.

  I was attending a secret society meeting. (Ominous right?!!) While at the meeting, I decided I would divulge all of my dark secrets. In open forum! Some zealous dude decided that he needed to protect me. He cuts me off and asks me to share at some other time. Screw him, I share anyways. When the meeting was over he approached me and explained how he was trying to protect me.

  I was gracious and thanked him for his effort. Then I talked to a friend about it. My friend wondered why it was that guys responsibility to protect me. Yeah, why?!!! It was a very good point indeed.

  I have come to accept that I am responsible to stand up for myself. If I feel unsafe or at risk, I need to do something about it. I am responsible.

  That is my job.

  Why then do I desire to do that same job for other people? Because I fundamentally believe that if there is conflict I need to end it, no matter how much it costs me. And because I have done that my entire life, I became emotionally weathered and proceeded to medicate away my frustrations.

  This is a big insight today. I don't take this lesson lightly. My mission isn't to be a hero. I want to be a helper, but first I have to be diligent with why I want to help. I am tired of cleaning the mud out of the welcome mat of my soul. I am tired of putting myself at emotional risk just so someone else will be comfortable.

The Ring Toss (part two)

  Well I made it! Some friends and I got together at the IHOP restaurant right in the Costco parking lot. We had dinner, chatted a bit, then walked out to toss the ring.

  I made no formality about it. I had figured that I might say a prayer, perhaps talk about a specific memory, or somehow express my sorrow. There was no need. These men have been by my side all along. They knew the scene. All of them, at one time or another, had listened to my laments about my marriage. They helped carry me thru the garbage.

  We walked over to the tree and looked for a place to toss the ring. On the far end of the lot was a big grassy dip that would likely have a dry well in the bottom. We headed that way.

  Things became quieter. We were all a little nervous. Someone commented how strange it would seem seeing a group of men walk across a parking lot and down into the ditch.

  One of the guys started to lift the grate off the top of the well. Another commented how I could just drop it down the grate. I was in a fog. I couldn't speak.

  Without saying a word I dropped the ring, turned, and walked away. The pain was so immensely powerful at that very moment, I simply couldn't think, let alone speak. Tears started flowing.

  We walked out of the ditch. We had maybe spent 30 second down there. Someone commented how strange it would look to see a group of guys walk into a ditch, one tries to take the lid off the drain, then another reaches down and drops something into the drain. I thought that was funny and started laughing.

  He had broken the ice. I am so grateful.

  We started joking around and being silly dudes. We fellowshipped in the parking lot for quite a while. I could tell that the men weren't going to leave until I was OK. That was a nice gift.

  The last gift I got that night was a friend calling me in the midst of a crisis. We were all about to head out when the call came in. My friend was hurting and wanted to talk. I offered for him to come out and meet us for dessert. He accepted the offer. I was so grateful that I could be of service.

I felt completely loved and valued the entire time I went to toss the ring. I even felt needed.

  Thank you.

  Thank you to the men who were there that night.

  Thank you to you the reader. Many of you who read this have walked this road with me.

  Thank you to all who have journeyed with me.

  Now I am a single dude.

 

The Ring Toss

  So tonight I have scheduled a moment to toss my wedding ring. Mind you, this is my silver ring, I will keep the gold one just in case one of my daughters would like to have it.

  What is this whole ring toss thing about? I guess its a fairly common thing. People stop by a lake somewhere and give it the old heave ho. It supposed to bring a sense of closure and peace. Perhaps it can be a time of reflection on the past and a powering forward into the future. I like the idea.

  A couple years ago my friend went and did this. That was when I had first heard of this idea. His story stuck. I found myself drawn into the rawness and brutality that such a moment could bring. I purposed to do the same when my divorce came.

  But let me talk about the wedding ring a bit.

  When we married we were broke, dig in the couch for dinner money broke. Somehow we got these inexpensive rings. I vowed to buy her a better one at a later date. We eventually got better rings, but it was done on credit, and that provided yet another point of contention that we would utterly fail to work out.

  The ring I had gotten married in became too small. Years of married life had expanded my horizons :) For an anniversary she had it resized. Resizing it probably cost more than it had originally cost. But it was quite a gift!

  I never wore my ring. I made up some crap about safety at work. The reality was, I just never wore jewelry. It felt uncomfortable. It made my finger raw.

  I tried wearing the resized ring. Then one night I took it off, set it on the table next to the couch, and marched my way to the bottom of many beers. The ring got thrown away in the morning with the beer caps. I want to cry just writing that. My ring and ultimately my marriage were swept away in a flurry of beer caps and shot glasses. Damn.

  Shortly after becoming sober I went to the store and found an identical ring. I bought it, put it on, and have only taken it off to sleep. When I wake up and put it on, it reminds me of her and my hope for restoration. I knew it would be uncomfortable but I figured that it would help me remember to pray for her. Every time I thought about my wedding ring I would have a quite moment. It worked very well.

  My ring finger has a groove in it. It has a distinct tan line. The fingers next to it are callused just right so the rubbing isn't an issue. I can't imagine not wearing it. I am scared. I suppose that when I look down upon that naked finger I should take a moment and make sure I am present. I imagine some pain coming my way when I miss the ring.

  Thinking about it now, I think it is like a comfort blanket. A small indicator to me and the world that my marriage still has hope. I gentle reminder that I belonged to someone. Someone who, although I did not understand her present behavior, I trusted her character.

  Back to the ring toss.

  Where should I go to toss it? I asked my friend and he asked me if we had a special spot that had a specific meaning. No special places by lakes or streams came to mind. But one memory did come to mind.

  Shortly after becoming sober she and I met up and went to a meeting together. After the meeting I took her back to her car. It was in the Costco parking lot. We sat and talked. I put some music on and tried to dance with her. She was embarrassed, but she was laughing and seemed so happy. I asked her for a kiss. Fireworks!!!! 

  There were literal fireworks going off as we kissed! The baseball game had ended nearby and they were setting them off. Our timing was awesome!

  I placed a lot of hope in that moment. I bought her a card, that when opened would light up and make fireworks sounds. I saw her face when she opened the card. She didn't know it would make sounds. We were in public and she was slightly embarrassed. But I could tell that it meant something to her.   Priceless!

  I had hoped she would open the card from time to time and she could remember back. She could remember the hope. She could remember the excitement. She could remember me. But, she ended up forgetting.

  I wonder what faded faster, the batteries in the card, or her love for me?

  I think its obvious where I must go tonight. I will park by the same tree. I will bring up her face and all the memories we had. I will think back on that evening and all the hope it gave me. Then I will let her go. I will let the hope go.

  I will find a storm drain or something to throw the ring into.

  I think it would have been easier to have thrown it into a random lake. I think this makes it much more real. If there are fireworks going off tonight I may have to shoot myself. That would be way too much.

Villain!

You know the cliché of a Hollywood villain? His hair is black and slicked back. His nose is perhaps a bit too pointy. He is a mustachioed man whose mere presence makes you cover your wallet. He is cunning and crafty.

  I am become a villain! Muwahaha!
 
  When I woke up yesterday I wasn't. The day started out much like any other: Have some breakfast, read a devotional, drink some coffee, enjoy a smoke...... It was an average day.

  My life is filled with such days. I work hard, I play well, I love on people, and I just try and get by. For four years my life is relatively mundane. Working and paying bills seems to take up an inordinate amount of time, but my recovery depends upon my faithfulness to being current with both.

  So when I saw the letter from my ex's attorney, my heart fell out. He painted me as a man who refuses to pay my share of taxes and won't support my child going to college. Suddenly, with the stroke of an attorneys pen, I had become a villain!

  It isn't really much of a surprise. Divorces have a way of making people use harsh words. Divorces don't happen unless a degree of hatred can be maintained. That's just the way it is.

  But I was hurt. The last four years I have spent trying to repair the wreckage of the previous years. For four years the bills have been paid and I have faithfully given extra for my daughters when asked.

  I am not seeking to justify myself or drag people over to my side of the street. My side of the street is filled with years of wreckage. I have been busy shoveling my own dung up, I don't need to fling poo. I just need to share my hurt.

  So, how do you become a villain? Get in recovery, try and rescue your marriage, watch everything dissolve, and voilà.... You too can become a villain. All it takes is a little hate.

*************************************************************************

   Let's shift gears and have me ask you a couple questions. Did I just take it too far? Was I been fair? Am I portraying myself as holier than thou?

  Again, I don't want to be justifying myself. I am plenty screwed up!

  I feel wrongfully attacked. I want to yell. I want to cry.

  A temper tantrum would feel really really good!

  Oh man, can you imagine how great that would be, laying on my stomach, pounding the floor with my fists, and screaming out obscenities! Yes, please!

  Where could I do that without looking like a fool? Is that what I am doing by writing about all this stuff? If writing about that stuff is throwing a tantrum, its not working very well!

  I want my throat to be sore.
  I want my fists to hurt.
  I want to go sulk in my room.
  I want dad to tell me to suck it up you little baby.
  OK, maybe not the last one!
  I want to rant and rave.
 
  In short, I want this damn divorce to be over. I wish it didn't have to become a personal attack. Why can't she be amicable? Somebody make this stop already!

   Arrrgggghhhh
  Pound pound pound
  Kick kick kick

  Nope, words didn't quite do it. I gotta call someone and scream for a while. I better warn them before I start.
 

When dreams go bad

  I like dreams. I enjoy the freedom and flexibility they can provide. I enjoy the ability to explore and create. In particular, I enjoy the insight into the mind they can bring.

  But, I despise the bad ones!

  Who knew it was possible to be weeping in a dream, to then wake up from the dream to a tear soaked pillow? And how did my mind decide that last night was the night to rattle my cage?!!!

  I'm a spiritual guy. I believe God can influence dreams and give visions. How then do you deal with them? How do you know if its God showing you something? And if he is showing me something, what if I don't care to see it?

  If God inspired last nights dream then I am clueless as to what to do with it. If its simply my mind trying to process the gunk, why did it randomly pick last night to erupt?

  I haven't the slightest clue!

  I don't like the gut wrenching and soul churning dreams. I can do without my night time swallowed up by Freddie Krueger. These don't feel like my mind is sorting out the complex feelings. They feel like a sadist is playing my worst fears.

  Can someone please turn down the volume on these stupid dreams?!! Enough already! I hurt, I get it, now can we move on?

  I called up Mom to tell her about the crying thing. She has had the same experience! Ugh, it tears your heart out. I never knew that was a thing. Disturbing eh?

  The specifics of what I dreamed about aren't important. (Guy loses girl, guy dreams of her, blah blah blah, weep weep weep). I am just marveling at the power of the mind. And I wouldn't mind if it stopped!

  See what I did there? The mind thing? Punny. Is that even a word? Funny with a "P". Its "punny"! Ha!

  I think I need to relax. The dreams were brutal, but I am chilling out. Is there a trick to reading something nice before bed so the dreams are better? Maybe Field and Stream? I've never had an emotional dream about fish!

 

Counsel

(When someone asks 4 ur counsel or feedback, ask them 1st if they want "counsel" or "encouragement." The former may not feel like the latter.) - Dr. Henry Cloud

  When I read that Tweet it hit me right between the eyes. How many time have I been guilty of giving advice, when really what I was being asked to give was compassion? Far too many.

  Its starting to disturb me. I see it crop up in the most simple of conversations! Its like I have an innate need to solve problems. I blame testosterone. Who doesn't, right?!!

  Ugh

  How did I live for so long not caring about other peoples experiences? When did I start solving problems rather than actually caring? It grieves me. I guess the good news is that there will always be heartache and I can redeem myself by caring and not solving.

  Hooray for your future heartache! I can feel better by not solving it! Oh wow. Narcissistic much?

  I know, I know....that's not really what's being said here. But I marvel at my degree of self involvement even when pondering how it is I can help others. I am truly incapable of loving another above myself. Platitudes can't perform.

  But I will keep trying, OK? Come at me with your problems bro! I promise to not solve any of them. I will just be there to here you and be upset with you. Maybe once that's done then we will start solving stuff, but usually just letting the feeling out solves most problems.

  I guess I just want to relax a bit. Painful situations are OK for a spell. We can take walks and discuss the stuff. But we don't have to always solve everything. That's freedom and grace!

 

 

The Obituary

  A couple of posts ago I mentioned writing an obituary about my marriage. Turns out its much more difficult to get started writing that than I thought. My attempt here is to describe why it is hard, and how I can't possibly do it justice.

  Twice in my life I have had to say goodbye to everyone.

  The first happened just after highschool. Having been moved around a lot growing up, I never had a close group of friends. But highschool had changed that. The first three years were spent at Riverside Christian Highschool and I had gained many friends. Chaos and confusion in my life gradually consumed the friendships, leading me to leave all of them behind. The culminating moment was when I stole a battery charger from a friends garage. When I was discovered I was so embarrassed and shamed I never went back.

  So when my ex and I started seeing each other, it was with that wreckage in my not so distant past. Somehow I knew that I would someday hurt my bride and I would be alone again. So I kept guarded and medicated with drugs, alcohol, and pornography. Mediocre attempts were tried to stop those behaviors, but they were halfhearted and short lived.

  Gradually my family felt the impact of my sickness. It was a slow motion travesty.

  I had become an expert on building facades. I could present myself as one who had it all together, yet inside I was a mess. My wife saw the disparity but was helpless to intervene.

  My drinking became steadily worse. Blackouts were common. I didn't know it at the time, but energy drinks and hard alcohol is a recipe for amnesia. I drank both frequently.
  Sometimes the blackouts were amusing, often tragic. Trying to piece together who I had talked to, and what we had talked about, was always an adventure.

  But the blackouts grew dark. Arguments and horrible behaviors came out when I drank. It was a brutal lifestyle. My last night drunk was July 5th of 2010, and I had behaved very badly.

  (I am sorry I won't write about the specifics in this forum. The people I hurt and the stuff I did aren't things for public consumption. They are things that get talked about in close personal settings.)

  We separated. That became the second time I have had to let everyone go. This time I had to say goodbye to my own children. Fuck me. Nothing can prepare a man for that kind of pain.

  My children are still very hurt by who I was. Reconciliation hasn't started between us yet. People in recovery tell me to just stay the course and become well, someday I can make those amends. It hurts to think about how long that will take.

  A couple of days ago my older daughter referred to me as Josh, not Dad. She went on to say that she wasn't ready to talk. Guess I am further away than I had even guessed.

  This is another one of those blogs that is all over the place. I hope it makes sense.

  My ex and I never talk, and my kids don't want to talk to me either. I wish I could escape. How much pain can one guy truly bear?

  Escaping isn't even a viable option anymore. Having made contact with my true self severed the connection I had with distraction. The darkness and fog aren't attractive anymore. Its like I see a beautiful distant land on the horizon, and addiction is a storm I had crossed a while ago in the sea. I may not be on the distant shore yet, but I sure as hell ain't gonna turn the ship around.

  How am I supposed to write an obituary?

  Do I love her? Yes
  Do I miss her? Yes
  Were there times of joy? Yes
  What about holidays? Many were great

  See what I am doing there? There is nothing to learn from documenting the moments in a clinical sort of way. I need to cherish the good times and be grateful for them. In a sense I should work towards achieving a state of peace towards the past.

  So maybe someday I will write it all down. Perhaps in a novel or something. That would be fun. What could I call that book? It should be a comedy, a tragic comedy. Insert silly book title here.

  Writing an long obituary isn't feasible. I don't feel emotionally centered enough to do it. I twinge in pain as I think about happy memories, and I roil in horror at the bad ones. There isn't much I can look at without a degree of sadness.

  I hate being defined by my past. Someday, hopefully, my daughters will reach out to me. Someday, hopefully, I can reconcile with my ex (keeping in mind that reconciliation can mean just being able to make amends and thus be able to amicably talk).

  Will I write an obituary? Perhaps not all in one chunk. I think I will document the memories in the blog. This may bring a focus to these writings. Then again, I may continue my random thoughts. Either way, I walk away from these notes a bit refreshed. I really like the ability to go back and reread my past thoughts.

  Except for the misspellings and bad phrases, I hate seeing those! You with me, right?!!! I mean, come on, the emotions and realism is good and all, but try and edit a little! Who can read such ramblings!
 

Kettle Falls welcome sign

Kettle Falls

  My job often takes me to the same places every week. As I do my routine, I often overlook the beauty that surrounds me. Here I am, a guy who frequently drives all over the Northwest, becoming blasé in my appreciation of the grandeur.

Huge mountains with staggering glaciers on them? Meh, saw it last week.
A massive river with 100+ ft waterfalls? Yawn, I drive by it all the time.

  I could keep going. That's not the point. The point is, I am often too wrapped up in my own plaque to look at the world in child-like wonder. My awe vanished.

  So I had an unusual delivery on Friday. It went north of Spokane 90 miles to this cute little town called Kettle Falls. After dropping the load at the mill I parked by the river. Stunning. Absolutely stunning.

  In the middle of the night I woke up and just listened for a while. Complete silence. Not even the sound of a humpy frog. What an unusual sound. Silence.

  Whoever hijacked my sense of wonder and awe, would you mind returning them? I think I am missing out on some spectacular things.

Grieving

  I was told that the grieving process would come in waves. I was told that some days would be good while others painful. Any attempt to circumnavigate heavy emotions just delay becoming better.

  Today is one of the tougher days. Its her birthday. Everything inside of me wants to send her a note. My mind screams, "Just show her that you care!" But the issue is not whether or not she knows that I care, its that she has chosen to not want that sort of contact.

  So, I write this specific note in an attempt to quiet my mind:

  Happy Birthday Jodi,
  I hope someone reaches out to you and shows you that they care. I hope the cards, notes, and gifts really make your day. When you blow out the candles, may your wishes come true.
  Love, Josh

  0_0

  That opens my eyes just writing that note. I am inexorably tied to her. My struggles with the separation are slowly subsiding. That makes me a bit sad. Its like I want the pain. Like somehow without the pain all the years would mean nothing. Forgetting isn't possible, but being OK doesn't seem right. If I am able to accept and move on, then maybe we never had love anyways.

 

Comfort

  Just got done talking to my sponsor. Today marks four years sober! Woot!

  Tonight I am going to my home group and get my coin. Strange thing tho, I woke up wanting to go without my wedding ring. Then I could pick up a babe! Happy four years to me, right?!! Let's celebrate with a smooch!

  Whoa there turbo! I am in no shape to start dating, its just that I want the comfort of feeling attractive. The knowledge that I am desired really appeals to me.

  But what could I attract right now?

  If she was healthy and smart, she would not be attracted. She would look at my current divorce, the separation of my kids, and conclude that I wasn't ready yet. She would be a  wise woman to conclude that. I need more healing.

  On the other hand, a woman new in recovery would fit the bill quite nicely! She would be worried that she was damaged goods. She would see my four years as quite attractive. She could instantly think I am a white knight come to rescue her. We would forge a new path into the depths of despair....holding hands!

  What part of that sounds wise? I wear this ring for that reason. I cannot be trusted when an attractive woman gives me  "those eyes". I turn into a teenage boy full of raging hormones. I have always been suave, only now I can speak the language of recovery, so I could carefully craft my words to attract her emotionally as well. Disaster!

  I want a companion. Someone whom I can bless and be blessed by. I need to be careful that I don't fall into a relationship out of desperation or loneliness. Some more healing has to take place. A finalized divorce might be a good idea also!

  So yeah, women are great comforters. I want to be comforted. Maybe I will just go flirt. What could possibly go wrong?!!!

Go see the fireworks

  I am on the eve of my fourth year being sober! Woohoo! It has been terribly painful and immensely rewarding. I have lost friends and gained new ones. The relationships I have now are authentic and powerful. Life is pretty good.

  The last night that I got drunk was July 4th of 2010. On the 5th I had a couple of beers and was getting ready to plow in yet one more time. That was the moment when I was told exactly what kind of jerk I am when I drink to oblivion. Those few seconds changed everything.

  We had an option to go see the fireworks. I opted to stay at home and drink. Seemed like the right thing to! By making the choice to stay and drink, I set in motion a series of horrible events that I cannot change. That moment haunts me. Often I would choose to drink rather than live life. It cost me dearly. It cost my family dearly.

  So, when you have a choice, go see the fireworks! Trust me, you ain't missing a thing!

 

Indulge me a little petulance

  I am a few days into the discovery of my ex's new love interest. My support structure has helped navigate me thru the painful thoughts. I am greatly aware now that I will survive, flourish, and become even more healed. Armed with the knowledge that I am doing OK, let's get sideways in our discussion. Indulge me.

  I have looked at pictures of the new guy. Not a very striking guy! Handsome and debonair are not words likely to be associated with this creep. He is instantly forgettable...well...maybe not for me due to the circumstances.

  I am so pleased that he is not a looker! It would be crushing to my self worth if he had been handsome. I know it is petty, but it feels sooooo good!

  I am doubling down on the diet. I am going to buy a bike and stay riding it. I plan on thinning up and getting in shape. One day I will meet this guy, and when I do, I want to blow him out of the waters with my machismo. Booyah!

  Living well is the sweetest revenge. Looking good helps!

  Come on Josh, aren't you being a bit vain? Yup.

  Aren't you just projecting ugliness onto him? I suppose...but he earned it. Let me have a look at his picture again......nope......not projecting! Ha!

  If she is attracted to him, doesn't that make you ugly as well, seeing as she also liked you? Not at all. The fact is that I am so attractive it scared her into going for the dog. Woof!

  You are so mean Josh!

  Hey, I am just trying to be real. I sort of snickered at the idea of her dating a turd and me showing up with a beauty. Justice served!

  I will be a fit and firm hunk of manliness. Women will swoon. Men will weep. My ex will know that she chose poorly. And I will do my best to not rub it in....while flexing as I pick up something.

  Is this all fantasy? Sort of. I really do want to get in shape. I am working hard and eating well to achieve that goal. I want to present myself as a new man. Outwardly hunk-a-lishous, while inwardly a sensitive man. Cue the swooning babes!

  So Bozo (that's not the bozos real name) you may have came in and grabbed her attention, but you did it while she was vulnerable. You also did it while divorcing your own wife, turd breath. You make pond scum look smart. You make me sick. You are merely the stuff she dragged in on the bottom of her shoe. Eventually you will wear off.

  How about you man up and go try and fix your own marriage? If it can't be fixed, take some time off and come to grips with what you may have failed at. Its good to be able to see circumspectly, go try it. And leave my soon to be ex alone, instead of creating new wreckage. Its better for everyone. Stop being a predator of weak women. I was one and I recognize it in you. Get help butt breath.

 

Dilemma

  My recovery friends have helped out in the most amazing ways. Yesterday felt like my world had ended, today I begin with a new hope.

  I was presented with a dilemma. I could continue to pine away for my ex, hoping that she would wake up, or simply accept and move on.

  She appears to be entering into a destructive relationship that has plenty of landmines. It has the appearance of how our relationship had started. The trouble is, it often takes years for the problems to surface and become painful enough to address. Even if they do develop there would be no guarantee of her suddenly wanting me back, or even entertaining the idea.

  The fellow she has chosen was a leader in the church. Six months ago he stepped down and filed for divorce. His divorce is still pending. My ex's divorce isn't final yet either.

  I can see how these two hurting people could think that they will help each other out. They will be trying hard and putting their best foot forward. There is always a slight chance that it could work, but without healing its hard to see how.

  I believe the path to recovery involves investment, time, and rigorous honesty. I am not good at any of them, but I am doing it. Its not apparent that these two have done the heavy lifting.

  Goodbye my sweetie. I will be writing an obituary of our marriage. I will always cherish our memories. I won't always be bitter. I have no idea if my future has a new love for me, but I am certain our love won't reignite. I will weep and mourn. I will press into the feeling and do my best to not suppress them. You would be proud of who I have become. I will still love you, but it won't be the same kind of love. The years of confusion and pain are closing, I hope you will emerge happy. I hope you don't get hurt again.

Heartache

  Just found out that my wife is dating another dude. I suppose its more accurate to say, my soon to be ex is dating another dude. The divorce hasn't happened yet, that happens next month. Their relationship is serious enough for her family to know about it and know that they are working towards something serious. His divorce won't be final for a while. Two people going thru divorces deciding to date.......

  Last August she told me to forget about her. She didn't want to be pursued and she didn't want me to hope for reconciliation. I still did. Of course I did.

  Finding this out wrecked my day. Countless tears, screaming, and moaning. I have a headache.

  While I am so grateful for my group of friends who stepped up and kept me on the phone, it doesn't solve the problem. The problem can't be solved. The decision to date means that there will never be reconciliation. There can't be. I will never have that emotional connection with her again.

  I had hoped that she could meet the real me. Perhaps the pain caused by the old me could be transformed. Perhaps she wouldn't fear me.

  I am a recovering drunk and sex addict. Those addictions lead me to some very dark places. In the darkness I wounded and trampled on the very people who cared about me most.

  We had a while together after recovery had started. We became closer and talked more earnestly. Hopes were high. But the victories were small and the old battles were bloody. Eventually she couldn't hold out anymore. And now I am sure of it.

  I sit here right now.

  The pain is fresh. The tears sting. My hope is dashed to pieces.

  They tell me that life and love will return. This tremendous weight will be lifted. I can't see how.

  It was a very rough day.

End of life

  In kind of a bizarre twist to an otherwise acrimonious relationship, my dad has started to become gentle and loving. I only wish it didn't have to happen because of cancer.

  It started a few months ago with him finding out about his liver cancer. He began vomiting up large quantities of blood, was rushed off to the emergency room, only to discover in the coming weeks that he had the liver cancer.

  Fast forward to a couple weeks ago. He had been having pain in his left arm for a few days, then suddenly it broke. Place the arm in a cast, do some tests, and...crap...bone cancer.

  Seeing Dad weak and vulnerable is difficult. I wish he didn't have to go thru the treatments and fear. I wish the answers came easier.

  Its hard to reconcile my feelings about his physical trauma with my feelings about his emotional vulnerabilities. I have enjoyed this new side of him. Our conversations are more honest and deep. Why did it have to happen towards the end of life?

  We spent years debating politics and religion. We had countless hours dissecting the intricate details of what is wrong with the world. I watched as he carefully avoided any true bonds with people. I watched him avoid bonding with me.

  I'm still nervous when I see him. I keep expecting the legalist to emerge. Can this softer man really continue?

  There are those who can ask the same questions about me. My reformed life is still young. I only recently became a loving and compassionate man. Looks like my father, like me, may have experienced enough trauma to change him. I am working on giving him the same forgiveness I want. It is tough to do. I am a hypocrite.

 

Breaking diets

  So I took a couple days off of the diet. No biggie right??! Well.....OK.....the weight didn't just leap back on or anything, but the cravings, THE CRAVINGS!

  Stopped for lunch and had a sandwich. Figured some M&Ms would go well with it and grabbed a small bag. But wait, those bags are two for a dollar. Gotta save money right? Hold on, the cashier has a coupon for half off....four for a dollar!!! Yeah, I got four. Damn.

  What was I thinking? I don't have to worry about my wallet maintaining weight!

  Tomorrow I begin again. I am really excited about drilling a new hole in my belt. Let's get serious again...after I finish those sweet chocolate candies. Two peanut and two chocolate, awww yeah!

Forgiveness and resentment

  I wrote a post back in 2011 titled "Forgiveness and Resentment". I never posted it. It has become my own little reminder of who I want to be. In it I discuss how messed up people are and how easy resentment can fester. I am a champion, a king if you will, of resentments. 

  But it is getting easier to give grace. Allowing space for others to flourish sometimes hurts, but its better than the alternative.

  I dunno, I just read that only post again. It made me nostalgic for where I was. At the time, my mom was going thru divorce. I would stop by her house a couple times a week and we would walk and talk. Those talks helped deliver me. It formed a bond with Momma. I marvel at how wonderful those times were. What a gift.

  I forget how beautiful the path I have walked is. The valleys and mountains make for a tremendous backdrop for the man I am becoming. Its OK.

Well Upholstered

  Ah, the age old battle of weight loss, such good times!

  It began a couple years after I got married. Slowly, insidiously, I began consuming more than I expelled. The years of hyper-activity had meant that I could eat endlessly and never gain anything. I suppose it also helps that I had youth on my side. Nevertheless, my insulation rating was becoming greater.

  In July of 2010 my world dissolved. Countless wounds to my family had culminated in a tragic finish. It was painful enough to drive me into recovery. I began taking an accurate assessment of who I had become. Here is an over simplification of who I was:

Morbidly obese
Addicted to porn
Addicted to alcohol
Addicted to self righteousness
Addicted to control

  As friends helped me put down the addictions, the fat thing had to had to be put on hold. I wanted to be skinny, I wanted to diet and become healthy, but sobriety from alcohol took priority.

  Chocolate and burgers were the key.

  I found that I could transfer some of my cravings for alcohol over to sweets and burgers. It was effective. Today I am approaching 4 years sober! Yay me! Yay fat me!

   A couple of times last year I started and stopped a diet. These would last just long enough for pizza and ice cream to beckon me back into their loving arms. So soft and gentle! When I was hurting, Ben and Jerry's understood compassion.

  The turmoil and heartache of my impending divorce prohibited me from carving out these comfort foods. Days when I was especially hurt, I could plow into the food and find relief.

  So when I came to terms with divorce things started changing. (As a side note, I may have come to terms with it, but it still jacks me up sometimes). I began my diet again in late January. I am proud to announce that I have shed 25 pounds! Truthfully, I still need to lose another 25 before its super noticeable. But my belt don't lie, I have run out of holes and need to drill a new one! Booyah!

  My diet is so boring. I need to get a fridge for my truck so I can mix it up. For now it is mostly hardboiled eggs, cheese, beef sticks, and bun-less hamburgers. I mix it up with salads and broccoli. Monotonous.........so monotonous.

  Diet coke slows my diet down. But its very difficult to give it up. Water doesn't quite have the same "washing it down" quality after I finish a smoke. A smoke! I know, I know...where was that on my list? Some other day in the future I will deal with that.

  I am still a mess. No surprise there! I can't get it all fixed immediately. Things take priority, especially those things that hurt others. Its a strange feeling to learn to accept ones limitations.

  I look forward to being skinny. I see the outline of the guy I used to be in the mirror.  When I am skinny I can attract the babes, that would show my ex! I wish I knew what kind of woman she was intimidated by so I could date one of those.

  Wow! Anybody got some pizza and ice cream?

 

18 years

  My last anniversary with my wife has come and gone. Yesterday marked 18 years of marriage. Soon she will be my former wife. The ex. The one who got away. A woman I used to know.

  She sent me an email complaining that I had not started paying for my life insurance. I had forgotten to switch over that bill. She took care of the bills and I never quite had the knack for them. So, when I took mine over, I was an emotional wreck and I forgot one. Simple mistake.

  She also complained that I had put my car insurance on her credit card. Mind you, I am an authorized user and had a card. Regardless, I did it....and I meant to! I also went bowling and put that on her card! She didn't mention the bowling.

  I charged her card in a deliberate act of rebellion. I knew she would complain and I wanted her to! I paid her back for the charges and told her that I wanted to be an asshole for a day. Better than a bitch for life! Ha! I didn't say that bitch part to her, but oh boy did I want to!

  It disturbs me, this divorce stuff. I am being forced into a situation where I will no longer have feelings for the most important person in my life. As my fondness of her subsides, I worry that I will become bitter.

  Speaking of bitter...the Jews have a thing on passover where they eat bitter herbs to remind them of the years in Egypt. In my own twist on this, I think that I will .... Wow, just went morbid there. Really??!!! I was gonna set up a time annually to remember those years.

  Here is one of my more demented ideas about ways to remember. An annual ceremonial hanging of the stuffed animal frog that she bought me. (She thought it was cute and that someday I might be a prince). I could read the letters she wrote me of love and hope, while the frog gets its neck stretched. Eating those "bitter herbs" would be great. Morbid.

  Maybe I torch the damn frog. Put some sappy music under me reading her love letters. Film the whole thing and send her a tape. How do you like me now witch!

  I dunno folks. Divorce is brutal, dark thoughts come, I am comfortable with that. Seeking solace in the knowledge that this too shall pass. Like eating too much cheese, its painful but it passes.

 

 

Michael

  Michael wasn't a friend, he was barely an acquaintance, what he was was the younger (annoying) brother of my highschool girlfriend. As I entered into my junior year of highschool he was a freshman. We sort of had the same friends and we did kinda hangout. But he was always the annoying little brother.

  His wife found his body Monday morning. Suicide.

  Twenty two years of never seeing him, or thinking about him, and yet I can't imagine this ever happening. Its tragic. Why this? Why now?

  How will his wife be able to cope and grow? What trauma does this do to the kids? Will they navigate the murky waters of recovery successfully? Can some good come out of this?

  I have compassionate thoughts for his family. I grief for his family. Somehow, somebody please go help.

  Somehow I find within myself a tiny sense of relief. I know its messed up in a dark way, but finding out that I'm not the only one who went down the road of destruction brings an eerie comfort. Listen closely, I am not at all happy with their trauma. It is just that I didn't know people had problems, at least more than superficial problems. I felt alone in a world of normal people, this helps change that.

  I want to be careful. I have no idea if he was plagued by mental issues, addictions, or any such thing. I just wish I had a crystal ball that I could have seen the future and gotten help. I wish I somehow could have known the pain of life and been more helpful...sooner.

  So I take a moment to think about Michael. I have no clue how he got to such despair. Frankly, I don't care how he got there. My heart breaks for him and his family. Such pain and sorrow.

Peter part 2

  I wrote that last post while sitting waiting for my truck to be unloaded. Its a great time for listening to podcasts, reading, playing video games, or catching up on my favorite TV shows. Occasionally I write.

  I wrote about Peter because he is a Bible character I can kinda understand. His years of faithfulness to the cause were almost wiped out in one night. His anger and resentment weren't hidden away like it was some shameful thing. He was unfaithful to a faithful God.

  I struggle with unfaithfulness. Whether it be God, family, or friends, I don't find within myself the ability to stay true. I rebel, push back, or don't engage. Its like I have the unique ability to destroy the very things I like.

  Things were going well for me. I figured out how to be productive at work, people at church thought I was important, even my wife was modestly happy. Inside me was a sea of uncertainty. I was a seven year old stuck in a thirty year olds body, and I could pretend well.

  Life became a blur of work, church, and drinking. When not working I would fret about the jobs I had left to finish, when working I would think about booze, and when boozing I would think about religion. Not all the time, mind you, just when I was feeling powerful.

  Church became about acting just right. Be the guy who greets people, be the one who helps them move, visit the infirmed, pretend to care. I read the Bible just to hone my skills as an orator. I listened to sermons to memorize the cadence and style of good preaching. I learned about dispensations, theology, Christology, Calvin's T.U.L.I.P., eschatology, etc...  I struck out, not to deepen my understanding of God, rather I struck out in quest of strength.

  The strength I sought was in reputation. I could converse with the heavy weights. Most average church goers had limited knowledge of the scholarly works, and if i had the knowledge, I could appear like a good man.

  It troubled me that my wife knew the truth. She put on a good face and pretended that I was what I appeared. Years of pretending has taken its toll.

  Maybe this is why Peter blows my mind. He was just a fisherdude. He had no agenda to fill, no church to impress, he just met a man that would radically change his life. Peter stumbled into history being himself.

  That is what I seek to do.

  I must give honor to my beliefs. Yet, I must recognize my inability to follow my beliefs. Proclaiming the truth and obeying the truth aren't so easy to do.

  The truth is that Jesus paid my debt. I had been taught for years that once I accepted his payment it was my duty to stay debt free. That is a fallacy. It smells like smoke! If I am relying upon myself to rescue myself, from even my future actions, I am trampling on the debt that was paid.

  Sorry to get all preachy. I feel like Paul when he said that within himself he finds no ability to do the good he wants to do. That's why the gospel is such good news. It removes the burden from the drowning man and places it on the lifeguard.

  I heard a good story that if you see a big fella thrashing about and drowning, the safest thing to do is to wait until he is almost going under, then rescue him. To do so sooner would jeopardize both your lives. That's what God did with me! I hated it! But I'm glad he rescued me!

  Back to Peter. Here was a guy with issues loved by someone who knew those very issues. Every mistake, every lie, every bit of cowardice, it was all understood before hand....and he was still loved. I am still loved.

  Folks, its a cruel world. Its important to be kind and be aware of others hurts and misfortunes. It matters that we champion human rights. Root for the underdog!

  Belief matters also. I am not postmodern in the slightest. Jesus said what he said and I believe him. Either he was right or he wasn't. Either my beliefs are correct or I am wrong. Regardless, it is my duty and honor to love others.

  Have a happy Easter folks. Remember, nobody ever became a Christian because you complained that they only come to church on Christmas and Easter. Huzzah!

Peter part 2

  I wrote that last post while sitting waiting for my truck to be unloaded. Its a great time for listening to podcasts, reading, playing video games, or catching up on my favorite TV shows. Occasionally I write.

  I wrote about Peter because he is a Bible character I can kinda understand. His years of faithfulness to the cause were almost wiped out in one night. His anger and resentment weren't hidden away like it was some shameful thing. He was unfaithful to a faithful God.

  I struggle with unfaithfulness. Whether it be God, family, or friends, I don't find within myself the ability to stay true. I rebel, push back, or don't engage. Its like I have the unique ability to destroy the very things I like.

  Things were going well for me. I figured out how to be productive at work, people at church thought I was important, even my wife was modestly happy. Inside me was a sea of uncertainty. I was a seven year old stuck in a thirty year olds body, and I could pretend well.

  Life became a blur of work, church, and drinking. When not working I would fret about the jobs I had left to finish, when working I would think about booze, and when boozing I would think about religion. Not all the time, mind you, just when I was feeling powerful.

  Church became about acting just right. Be the guy who greets people, be the one who helps them move, visit the infirmed, pretend to care. I read the Bible just to hone my skills as an orator. I listened to sermons to memorize the cadence and style of good preaching. I learned about dispensations, theology, Christology, Calvin's T.U.L.I.P., eschatology, etc...  I struck out, not to deepen my understanding of God, rather I struck out in quest of strength.

  The strength I sought was in reputation. I could converse with the heavy weights. Most average church goers had limited knowledge of the scholarly works, and if i had the knowledge, I could appear like a good man.

  It troubled me that my wife knew the truth. She put on a good face and pretended that I was what I appeared. Years of pretending has taken its toll.

  Maybe this is why Peter blows my mind. He was just a fisherdude. He had no agenda to fill, no church to impress, he just met a man that would radically change his life. Peter stumbled into history being himself.

  That is what I seek to do.

  I must give honor to my beliefs. Yet, I must recognize my inability to follow my beliefs. Proclaiming the truth and obeying the truth aren't so easy to do.

  The truth is that Jesus paid my debt. I had been taught for years that once I accepted his payment it was my duty to stay debt free. That is a fallacy. It smells like smoke! If I am relying upon myself to rescue myself, from even my future actions, I am trampling on the debt that was paid.

  Sorry to get all preachy. I feel like Paul when he said that within himself he finds no ability to do the good he wants to do. That's why the gospel is such good news. It removes the burden from the drowning man and places it on the lifeguard.

  I heard a good story that if you see a big fella thrashing about and drowning, the safest thing to do is to wait until he is almost going under, then rescue him. To do so sooner would jeopardize both your lives. That's what God did with me! I hated it! But I'm glad he rescued me!

  Back to Peter. Here was a guy with issues loved by someone who knew those very issues. Every mistake, every lie, every bit of cowardice, it was all understood before hand....and he was still loved. I am still loved.

  Folks, its a cruel world. Its important to be kind and be aware of others hurts and misfortunes. It matters that we champion human rights. Root for the underdog!

  Belief matters also. I am not postmodern in the slightest. Jesus said what he said and I believe him. Either he was right or he wasn't. Either my beliefs are correct or I am wrong. Regardless, it is my duty and honor to love others.

  Have a happy Easter folks. Remember, nobody ever became a Christian because you complained that they only come to church on Christmas and Easter. Huzzah!

Peter part 2

  I wrote that last post while sitting waiting for my truck to be unloaded. Its a great time for listening to podcasts, reading, playing video games, or catching up on my favorite TV shows. Occasionally I write.

  I wrote about Peter because he is a Bible character I can kinda understand. His years of faithfulness to the cause were almost wiped out in one night. His anger and resentment weren't hidden away like it was some shameful thing. He was unfaithful to a faithful God.

  I struggle with unfaithfulness. Whether it be God, family, or friends, I don't find within myself the ability to stay true. I rebel, push back, or don't engage. Its like I have the unique ability to destroy the very things I like.

  Things were going well for me. I figured out how to be productive at work, people at church thought I was important, even my wife was modestly happy. Inside me was a sea of uncertainty. I was a seven year old stuck in a thirty year olds body, and I could pretend well.

  Life became a blur of work, church, and drinking. When not working I would fret about the jobs I had left to finish, when working I would think about booze, and when boozing I would think about religion. Not all the time, mind you, just when I was feeling powerful.

  Church became about acting just right. Be the guy who greets people, be the one who helps them move, visit the infirmed, pretend to care. I read the Bible just to hone my skills as an orator. I listened to sermons to memorize the cadence and style of good preaching. I learned about dispensations, theology, Christology, Calvin's T.U.L.I.P., eschatology, etc...  I struck out, not to deepen my understanding of God, rather I struck out in quest of strength.

  The strength I sought was in reputation. I could converse with the heavy weights. Most average church goers had limited knowledge of the scholarly works, and if i had the knowledge, I could appear like a good man.

  It troubled me that my wife knew the truth. She put on a good face and pretended that I was what I appeared. Years of pretending has taken its toll.

  Maybe this is why Peter blows my mind. He was just a fisherdude. He had no agenda to fill, no church to impress, he just met a man that would radically change his life. Peter stumbled into history being himself.

  That is what I seek to do.

  I must give honor to my beliefs. Yet, I must recognize my inability to follow my beliefs. Proclaiming the truth and obeying the truth aren't so easy to do.

  The truth is that Jesus paid my debt. I had been taught for years that once I accepted his payment it was my duty to stay debt free. That is a fallacy. It smells like smoke! If I am relying upon myself to rescue myself, from even my future actions, I am trampling on the debt that was paid.

  Sorry to get all preachy. I feel like Paul when he said that within himself he finds no ability to do the good he wants to do. That's why the gospel is such good news. It removes the burden from the drowning man and places it on the lifeguard.

  I heard a good story that if you see a big fella thrashing about and drowning, the safest thing to do is to wait until he is almost going under, then rescue him. To do so sooner would jeopardize both your lives. That's what God did with me! I hated it! But I'm glad he rescued me!

  Back to Peter. Here was a guy with issues loved by someone who knew those very issues. Every mistake, every lie, every bit of cowardice, it was all understood before hand....and he was still loved. I am still loved.

  Folks, its a cruel world. Its important to be kind and be aware of others hurts and misfortunes. It matters that we champion human rights. Root for the underdog!

  Belief matters also. I am not postmodern in the slightest. Jesus said what he said and I believe him. Either he was right or he wasn't. Either my beliefs are correct or I am wrong. Regardless, it is my duty and honor to love others.

  Have a happy Easter folks. Remember, nobody ever became a Christian because you complained that they only come to church on Christmas and Easter. Huzzah!

Peter

  Peter and I go way back. He was a fisherman, a fighter, and very opinionated. He had a bad case of foot in mouth disease. He was brash and temperamental. He was a passionate bear of a man.

  I relate to Peter because I am all of those things, and more. I liked it when he would argue with Jesus. I enjoy the accounts of his betrayal. I marvel at him when he naval gazes while Jesus offers to forgive him. I am shocked that he didn't ask the writers of the new testament to not include all his blunders. I suppose that he wasn't worried about his reputation, rather he just wanted to give his sworn testimony. Still, I would have told Matthew not to write that slanderous stuff, Peter didn't.

  Easter was a time of torment for Peter. He spent the previous couple of days telling Jesus that Jesus was wrong about everything. He vowed to fight to the end for this political messiah that he thought he was promised. When that failed, he disavowed any knowledge of Jesus and cursed at him. He watched all his dreams of the previous 3 years die on a cross. He was a man of guilt and shame, and he had lost his way.

  Some time before Easter Peter was on a mountain with the boys when he saw Jesus transfigured. This scene of Jesus in all his Majesty was so powerful that Peter wanted to erect a church right on the spot! It says that he had no idea what to say, so he said the church thing. Silly boy.

  But that's me. Moments of great growth or spiritual understanding are wonderful, but I often want to capture the lightning. I want to freeze joy and suck ever last drop out of it. I try and box God in.

  This relationship with God is a wild thing. He is an untameable God. He chooses the whacky and downhearted to display power.

  As I reflect on the events of the first Easter and how Peter reacted, I consider my own shortcomings. I am not a good representative of Christ. I run away and hide when things get tough. I deny even knowing Him. I run away and go back to work. Just like Peter.

  I am so grateful that none of this relationship relies upon me. I can't be good enough to merit any favor from God. I can't be bad enough to overpower the forgiveness bought at the cross.

  Happy Easter

Misogyny

  I always kinda figured I was somewhat misogynistic. Growing up I never could relate to females and I figured they were just impossible to know. As my body matured into a man, my mind remained juvenile. Never trying to explore this reality, I objectified women.

  I just finished reading the definition of misogyny. Primarily it is defined as hatred of women. Now I'm not so sure I was misogynistic. Sure, pornography can be viewed as hatred towards women. Objectifying women can be taken as hateful. But I still reject the idea that I hated them.

  And now I attempt to explain why without having a hail of verbal gunfire head my way.

  I simply wasn't capable of properly talking with women. It didn't draw from a deep seated hatred or resentment, I was just an awkward goof. Heck, I'm not even sure if I had anything worthwhile to talk about. If I did I didn't know how.

  I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't blame women and I never have. My emotional capabilities were stuck somewhere in the stone ages. Eating and having sex seemed like a pleasant enough future.

  I wasn't even capable of sharing with a woman that all I wanted was sex. Instead I would try and lure them in with promises of friendship and devotion, only to be turned away after a short while. It was brutal. The times I did share that all I wanted was sex, I got the sex, but I felt queasy about it.

  My wife married that freak. That selfish and confused little boy tried to play house. What a mess that became!

  My wife read all the, "Be nicer to your husband so he won't be such an ass", books put out by the christian women. I'm sure there are witch's who need to hear that, my wife didn't. She needed something more like, "Don't put up with his bull, go seek help".

  But few people will seek the help. The shame about what was going on, the despair of hope, conspire to make one isolated.

  My poor wife. We began with such promise. A small wedding by the pastor who had counseled us, and a desire to raise our kids in a godly household, all came crashing down upon the rocks of addictions.

  I am infinitely more capable of being real today. I carefully dissect emotions and ways to express them. I allow for others to share theirs. Women are no longer simply sexual objects, they are vibrant and intelligent.

  I have two therapists. Both are female. Both are well thought out and quite articulate. They have insights into life I could have never dreamed even existed. I am a blessed man to have been given an opportunity at emotional growth.

  My hairy knuckled pursuit of zaftig women in peril is on hold. I need to become an emotionally mature man first. Confidence is not maturity.

 

 

Sister visiting

  Dad has liver cancer. I had no idea the diverse emotional challenges that could present. The latest one to present would be my sister wanting to visit him this summer. I shiver at the thought.

  I spoke with him about this last week. Not the shivering part, the part about her wanting to visit! I offered to pay half her way and let her have use of my car while she was in town. He grumbled a bit about seeing if he could afford it and said he would get back to me. He likes the idea of her coming, grumbling notwithstanding.

  In the interim week I have thought some more about it. I have lots of concerns for my sister visiting. Would my dads money make him feel entitled to critique her life? Will she be comfortable staying with him? Will she regress into the neglected little girl? Heavy stuff.

  He called me yesterday and asked if he could talk to her about visiting. He wants to work out the details with her. I was somewhat offended.

  I wanted to broker the deal. I wanted to deftly navigate the emotional quagmire of the past and clear a path for a great visit. I wanted to discuss with him how he could make her more comfortable. I wanted to carefully construct the "perfect visit" for her. Is she capable of visiting him and not being hurt?

  Oh man. Why do I get worked up in a lather over my dad? I have figured out how to relate to him. I know how to defend myself when talking to him. Defend myself!!!! Unpack that a bit.

      "Hey Josh, how are you and your dad getting along?"

      Great, I think he loves me, I know how to defend myself.

      "........"

      Why are you staring at me?

  Yep. As sad as it may seem, defending myself is something I had to learn in order to be aware of his love. The attacks I feel were sometimes just his way of trying to care. Also, part of becoming a man is sparring with dad.

  Back to my sis. I don't want her to have a difficult visit. I don't want her to feel trapped. Free time to relax when visiting family is important to me, so I wanted her to be able to go have fun in the city.

  It hit me yesterday that I don't have to rescue her. I offered to help financially. My car can be borrowed. What more am I responsible for? Nothing! Woohoo!

  A massive burden dropped off my shoulders. My sisters relationship with dad is not my issue. Not that I don't have concern, I just don't have ownership. I am set free from that.

  Its been a long journey out of codependency. Turns out that love allows others to experience pain. We can help process, we can help mediate, but we can't dictate.

The anxiety I felt about this is lifting. Maybe without all the anxiety and stress I can be present.

 

 

Unrecognizable

  And they are off!

  Confusion takes an early lead,

  Anger begins to make its push on the back stretch,

  Disillusion has the rail,

  As we push into the final corner bitterness is showing signs of strength!

  I know, a horserace analogy for divorce isn't the most clever, but it works! So many heady emotions, so many glimmers of hope trampled under foot, heck even the announcer can't predict the winner! No matter what horse you bet on, its a race full of losers.

  There is a cliche about divorce that goes something like, "You won't be able to recognize the person you thought you once knew". My arrogance thought that it wouldn't happen to me. I REALLY knew her!

  I called her yesterday. Had a question about a bill. The phone call was pleasant and we figured out what was up. A couple hours later I get an email telling me not to call again and to only communicate with her thru email. She was upset that I had called her when she was preparing to go to church and worship God. She said my phone call was unnecessary.

  Unnecessary

  I hate that word. It described what I have become to her. It negates 18+ years of relationship we have had. It peals off the skin of hope that I had and tosses it away.

  She seems to be riding the bitterness horse quite hard. He is the easiest horse to ride and he seems to outlive all other horses. He is a stud and procreates like a damn bunny. Bitterness is always a contender.

  Many have gone thru painful divorces before me. That comforts me is some bizarre way. I see these people, they seem happy, and that gives me hope. The ones who have blossomed into loving people really draw me out. I think I can make it.

  I steady my horse. We enter the starting blocks. The powerful horse trembles and quakes in anticipation of the gates opening. Steam rises from his mighty nostrils.

My horses name you ask? Humility, Fear, Anticipation, Hope, Gratitude, Concern, Clamor....... He goes by many names. Today I'm gonna ride Honorably.

 

Unrecognizable

  And they are off!

  Confusion takes an early lead,

  Anger begins to make its push on the back stretch,

  Disillusion has the rail,

  As we push into the final corner bitterness is showing signs of strength!

  I know, a horserace analogy for divorce isn't the most clever, but it works! So many heady emotions, so many glimmers of hope trampled under foot, heck even the announcer can't predict the winner! No matter what horse you bet on, its a race full of losers.

  There is a cliche about divorce that goes something like, "You won't be able to recognize the person you thought you once knew". My arrogance thought that it wouldn't happen to me. I REALLY knew her!

  I called her yesterday. Had a question about a bill. The phone call was pleasant and we figured out what was up. A couple hours later I get an email telling me not to call again and to only communicate with her thru email. She was upset that I had called her when she was preparing to go to church and worship God. She said my phone call was unnecessary.

  Unnecessary

  I hate that word. It described what I have become to her. It negates 18+ years of relationship we have had. It peals off the skin of hope that I had and tosses it away.

  She seems to be riding the bitterness horse quite hard. He is the easiest horse to ride and he seems to outlive all other horses. He is a stud and procreates like a damn bunny. Bitterness is always a contender.

  Many have gone thru painful divorces before me. That comforts me is some bizarre way. I see these people, they seem happy, and that gives me hope. The ones who have blossomed into loving people really draw me out. I think I can make it.

  I steady my horse. We enter the starting blocks. The powerful horse trembles and quakes in anticipation of the gates opening. Steam rises from his mighty nostrils.

My horses name you ask? Humility, Fear, Anticipation, Hope, Gratitude, Concern, Clamor....... He goes by many names. Today I'm gonna ride Honorably.

 

The clock

  The clock on the wall indicates thirty minutes til I need to leave. What is to follow terrifies me. I journey to get the paperwork for my divorce from my wife's attorney. The paperwork will be a pretty fair assessment of what this part of my life will look like in the coming months and years.
 
  I want to freak out for a while. I'm scared.

  Part of me feels like a phoney for having fear. The whole "Fear not, trust God" stuff isn't working right now...OK maybe a little bit...but certainly not as much as I would like! A crisis of faith? Not really. Its more of a crisis of losing my best friend, and I don't want it to be ugly.

  For a week I have been watching this time arrive. Questions have been swirling around in my head. Will I find amicable papers, or a war compact? Who really knows? Not me, not yet!

  I have plans to be with friends tonight. Ones of whom I can freak out around. Ones who will give of there strength to buoy up this fragile man. Friends who I have found solace and comfort in.

  Its down to twenty minutes.

Codependency

  Turns out I am quite the codependent, entirely unsure how to handle situations that arise for other people. When there situation seems tough, I internalize it, thus creating shame for myself.

  Cryptic enough for ya?!!

  Here is what happened:

  I arrive at a shipper and am getting loaded (the truck....not me....ha!). My coworker gets a phone call from the safety department stating that he had hit a mirror on a car. He is a new guy and becomes visibly distressed quickly at the thought of having a write up.

We look the trailer over to see if there is a scrape or mark on it. Couldn't find a thing. But how much of a mark could a mirror leave?

  While I feel empathy for the guy, and that is good, I also start to freak out a little internally. I feel like I caused the problem. Sure I can logically find my way thru that minefield, but somehow anxiety still knocks on my door.

  Maybe its anxiety and not codependency. Whatever the label, I am tired of having these moments. I have enough crap that I cause to worry about. Why bother having undue stress over others stuff?

I truly hope the guy doesn't worry too much. Its really a small thing and it will ultimately not ding him much at all. Now to convince myself of that!

 
 

Insidious

  I really believed that separation and divorce would be one momentous, painfully brutal, occasion. Oh how wrong I can be!

  It is dozens upon dozens of tiny rejections. Every little thing that was once "ours" has to be severed. Divorce really isn't like losing a limb, its more like being scrubbed with steel wool. People tell you its going to be OK and you will heal, but she shows up to scrub away more everyday.

  I worry that my friends will bore of me talking about the divorce. Every little thing that gets changed rattles me and I want to talk. But to say what? "Yep, she is still leaving, it still hurts". Boring.

  Dreams about some other guy have started up. I wake up frustrated and upset. I cannot conceive of a day where I will see my wife loving another. I know that day will come.

  Sometimes I daydream about happy memories with her. Maybe that's not so wise!

  My thoughts are so disjointed. I can seldom stay in one spot for very long. I'm trying to medicate my emotions thru distractions. Unfortunately, I really love talking to my friends, and they aren't letting go.

  I have to be willing to be meek. My tendency is to man up and shove the pain away. Strong men are cool. Loners are lonely....at least I would be. Men who are meek are loved. Not wimpy! Manly men, doing manly things, who talk about manly stuff!
 
  I think its manly to share about life. Even in failure. Its the insidious side of humanity that says we can go it alone.

Survival kit

  You know how you are cruising along, minding your own business, when suddenly you remember a thing from way back when? The survival kit, that's what I can suddenly now remember. Or maybe I forgot that I remembered it. Either way, its a fresh memory right now. But I digress....

  Mom and Dad had built a house in the mountains. It was the late 70s. The hippy, live in a commune, fuck the government phase had past. Now the  isolation, live in fear, fuck the government phase had begun.

  Life was chaotic, but we were taught to put on the happy face towards society. Not actively taught, more like.....well I don't know what its like. There was some shame, but I also thought it was all normal. I didn't understand why other kids had so much privilege. So pretend happiness was the order of the day.

  If your biggest asset is putting on a front that everything is OK, by isolating you can be "real" more often. Why pretend to be fine when you can separate your family away from society and be a jerk all the time?

  Isolation promises many things, it can't keep any of them.

  So here I was, a kid around 9 years old, Mom was investing heavily in alcohol futures, and Dad was disillusioned with his faith. My sister and I were trying to figure out who to please to make the insanity stop. Not that we knew that was what we were doing, we just thought it was normal.

  One day a survival kit shows up. Maybe it was a cub scout thing, maybe dad bought it somewhere, all I knew was this thing was way cool. It was an oval cylinder, perhaps six inches tall x four wide x two deep. It had everything! Space age blanket, fire stuff, fishing stuff, knife, coffee, water purification tablets, etc.....

  I would read the list countless times. Was this really all I needed to survive? It was an alluring proposition.

  In bold lettering the tin said that if you opened it you would never get all the stuff back in it. Oh how I wanted to see what was in there! I never did muster up the courage to open it up.

  We kept it on a shelf in the laundry area. Occasionally I would pick it up and read the label. Countless times. I might be projecting my current thoughts onto a younger me, but I think I took solace in the idea that the survival kit always had my back. If things got too rough, grab the kit, and head out.

  Being alone in the fields and mountains brought great joy to me. It was more than an escape, it was childhood. Yep, in spite of all the gunk, I got to be child sometimes also. So perhaps the survival tin was an extension of my desire for adventure.

  Either way, the tin had an impact. I am positive its creators would never have imagined that their product found leave such an impression on a young dudes life.

  Everyone needs a survival tin.
 
 

Partaking

  Its been a beauty couple of weeks. Without going into specifics, on February the sixth, I witness someone reach out with compassion and grace towards the person who hurt them. Gratitude. Oh so grateful. Its good to observe someone begin forgiving the person who hurt them. When you are the one who did the hurting.....its overwhelming.

  This sparked off a few days of unmitigated joy. I even called up some close friends and left them messages of how well I was doing. It is important for close friends to hear all the stuff, even the good stuff.

  One might worry that relying upon someone else to provide your joy is potentially harmful. That's a valid concern. That's what makes this time so much the better. Its not reliance, its partaking. Partaking in the love offered.

  This journey has been one of finding myself and not flinching. Its one of taking the hard look at the dark stuff and finding comfort. And so, I was complete before all this happened.

  AND IT HAPPENED!!!!

  OK, it began.

  But I can not put exclamation marks behind "it happened". So there!

  At any rate, the last couple weeks were euphoric and I am excited to see where this next fork in the journey goes. There are many incredible things (and tragic) up ahead, I plan to be in attendance at all of them. Its all part of being a sojourner.

The note

  "Will you please change your address on this card so it goes to your moms? Thanks"

  Pretty simple note. My wife and I are separated and she doesn't want my credit card statement coming to her anymore. So why, for the next ten minutes, was I hacked off?!! Its stupid, right?

  Maybe if you could just see the note, you might then see why I felt like flipping out. Sure she has excellent penmanship, her point was simple and straight forward, but there is venom in between the lines. Can't you see it?!!

  This isn't about changing an address. Its a big, "Fuck off, get out of my life." Am I being too sensitive? Most likely. I mean, I spent ten minutes trying to figure out if I would spend the next two days being pissed about this. A simple note does that to me....wow.

  Thirteen minutes later and the address was changed. All that's left to ponder is why I can't just do the thing and not end up doing mental gymnastics trying to source out hidden meanings.

  Divorce sucks.

OK here is the note. What's with the exclamation at the end! Am I supposed to be excited for the note....maybe SHE is....I am going to go ponder that for a while. Just kidding folks! I am going to go smoke a camel. They are tough to light, but they smoke forever!

Football

  Its been an interesting football season for me. It started out with me mildly caring about football, because my mom does, and crescendoed with me hooting and hollerin at my TV!

  Oh sure, at one time I was a follower of the sport. I watch the Saturday Night Live skit about Da Bears, learned who a few of the players were (GO Fridge!), and was immersed into the realm of the NFL. I watched as Emmett ran and Aikman threw. The Cowboys cheerleaders were intoxicating and the sport was a place of companionship.

  Unfortunately,  years of religious drubbing had taken its toll, sitting in a pew piously pitying the unwashed masses who would dare miss church for such vulgarities. I'm not even sure I ever desired to be more faithful to God by being so holy, I just seized upon an opportunity to exert control over others. Here was a way to place myself firmly in the Holier than Thou land! And boy did I!

  So when I became a sentient being, football needed close evaluation. Mom had become a powerful force of love in my life. She loved football. Should I risk the scorn of the professional religionists? Could this sport be enjoyable and even, dare I say, a good thing?

  Seattle won, so I guess that answers the "good" question! Ha!

  At the start of the season I watched some games with mom. It was terrific! She hooted and howled at the screen as I gazed on in wonderment. How come I couldn't relax that much? As the Seahawks continued their dominance, reflections of my youth began returning. I was mocked once for liking the Seahawks, but I really did like them, my family was from there. At one time I could sit with friends and cut loose watching a game!

  The season progressed and I found myself becoming more and more interested in what was happening. I was slowly becoming a fan again.

  So, when I had the chance to watch the Superbowl, I did. Reflections upon years gone by, celebrations of the game at hand, and dreams of future Superbowl parties, were all present and accounted for. Completely out of character, I barked at the screen and found a taste of freedom that was lost somewhere back on the trail.

  Oh, my friend, it was glorious! If Denver had won this blog might be more somber, but they lost, wooopiiieeee!!!! It was great!

One last thought......

"Pastor wants you to have the same passion for church that you have for the Super Bowl. Scream at him if he fumbles his words during the sermon." - Church Curmudgeon

Relaxation and flying

  Been pretty content the last couple weeks. Work slowed down and provided me with many opportunities to visit friends. The really cool thing is that I didn't blow those opportunities by being an isolationist or trying to run everything! I just was who I am and let life unfold. Good times.

  Been doing a lot of flying lately. Its therapeutic and terrifying. There is a tremendous amount of exhilaration that comes with taking the little remote plane up, flying it around, and safely landing it! When you screw up, and a crash looks highly likely, that's when the terror comes!

  I had crashed many planes in my day. I am grateful to say that I haven't crashed any since I picked up the hobby again. Maybe I am being too cautious? Maybe today my pleasure in flying is the experience of hanging out with my friends, rather than just the flying, so I am not flying as risky of maneuvers.

  We flew off of a couple frozen lakes. The first one had fishermen so we had to walk out quite far to fly. There was some sort of long legged bird out on the ice who stretched its wings out and yelled at our planes whenever they came near. Grumpy old bird. We flew around and had great landings. Success!

  The second lake was wide open. No fishermen and no peeved bird. We were set up for great fun. Trevor had just installed ailerons on his plane and was hoping to graduate from trainer to intermediate pilot. But, he hadn't planned on the wind. 10-15 mph winds with gusts over 20. He had flown in heavy winds before, but not with ailerons. A smooth takeoff and gentle turn were quickly followed by moments of terror and a modern day reenactment of lawn darts. Despite hitting the ice straight down, his plane is repairable, and that was a relief.

   It was my turn. I took off and the plane bounced around. Testing the slow speed flight was spectacular with moments where the plane would just drop five or six feet. Would my plane be able to land in all this turbulence? That's when adrenaline started flowing. I managed to land it safely and even went up for another flight. We decided then that I needed to be first up, so I can please the flying gods by offering up a descent first flight. Well....maybe its to check the wind high up....flying gods....really?!!

  Speaking of flying gods, starting work on my old remote planes reminded me of an axiom in the hobby.

  Be careful hooking up the electronics, there is a genie inside. If you see the magic white smoke escape, he will never return to function properly again.

  No magic white smoke has escaped any of my planes lately. So I am good. The hobby has been much more rewarding than ever before. Trevor set aside an area in his garage for working on them. There is a wood burning stove and even a bag of coal! It is truly a man cave. I love it!

  The times spent with him and my nephew are very rewarding. We all have plane projects and we hang out and build them. These are the best moments of my life. I am doing something I love, and people I love are doing it with me.

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!