It’s hard to sit still, because it makes me start thinking. And when I start thinking, I forget right now.

My father didn’t talk to his mother for a long time. Years.  His brother?  Decades.  Me, for 9 years now. My oldest son has decided to stop speaking to me.  For my birthday, he told me to go fuck myself.  He thinks I made his life miserable.  I don’t think that’s true.  He’s a teenager.  Maybe he’ll come around.  But maybe not.

In the now, I can accept letting him go.

When my father stopped speaking to his mother, he had my brother and I do the same.  My mother said it would be a “betrayal” if we spoke to anyone he didn’t.  I broke that mold at age 23, when I called my Uncle and said “I don’t know what the hell is going on.  But hi.”  I love my Uncle dearly.

My father convinced people exceptionally important to me to cast me out.  My brother, my godparents.  More.

Now, the family I created has crumbled. Divorcing, losing the battle to the well-funded suite of attorneys my ex has at her disposal, I am actually indigent according to the courts, and unable to get a job that would pay what my ex-wife convinced the Supreme Court (in my absence) that I am making, or will be.

I am not flailing. Not yet.  I have moments of Dive, but I don’t.

I have to focus on now. Only now.

With unexpected comfort, I fell in love again. Not just madly in love, which I am, but in a long-term, companionate way which seems like a not-so-minor spiritual miracle.  I have never met someone so capable and engaged.  And it happened nearly by accident, through an intelligent serendipity.

Only now, I can feel how solid the ground is under my feet.

I am not reinventing myself.  I am becoming truer and truer to who I have always been. To the person I was before I became enmeshed in years of subtext.

Of  silent events I could only sense, revealed years later.

Dipping myself in the sociopathic muck of days gone by serves only to occupy my head with noise and useless matter,  clouding my heart from the joy of now.

And damn, if I haven’t started radiating again.

I have to keep in the now. Only now.

Love to all. Even you, the kid who keeps taking the other kid’s phone.

 

If you’re answer is “no” and you are anti-condom, then you can really take your pro-Murder, anti-Choice self and go fly a kite.

A big kite.  Like, a hang glider.  Off a very large cliff, into excellent updrafts… which gently push you towards and to the distant and magical land of Fucktardia.  There, you will land safely, and live your life amongst your logically challenged, dangerous peers.  Preaching murderous theory in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Love to all. Even you, Marky.

 

 

 

They reach back to when they were voiceless, when words weren’t clear because the air was so dense and wet. Grasping at modified memories that codify defenses and seal them off with hidden desperation. Hidden from their own vision. A dark cloud of choice.

I couldn’t outsmart him. I can’t outsmart this.

There are so many things to be thankful for, and this hard lesson is one of them.

There are turning points that are soft curves. Yesterday was a high, steel wall with glass edges. Thank you, God, for helping me make the turn.

 

Love to all. Even you.

 

 

Happy birthday to me.

After months of separation,  years of oh-that’s-why-pseudo-separation, a lovely-but-doomed friendship, and a lot of figurative truth-screaming from the mountaintops, I woke up this morning at four AM and realized the weirdest thing.

I really am giving up.

When I got sober, I had to give up the idea that I can drink normally. It’s not a moral issue, the chemical thing, but I can’t do it. Now, I’ve had to give up the idea that I can “win” ethical or moral arguments with the truth, or at least… what I believe the truth to be.

In the A&P a few days ago, the cashier and her manager were loudly discussing what to do about the fact that I gave my Coinstar voucher AFTER the items were rung up. They kept bringing in higher-ranked people to loudly ask me if I HAD ANY MONEY.”

I finally yelled – and I mean in theater conversational yell:  ”No!  I do not have any money!  But since you’re announcing this so loudly, could you also see if you have any EXTRA SMALL CONDOMS in the back for me?  I’m out.”

The manager laughed, and said “You’re a comedian, huh?”  He was being genuinely friendly. The lady behind me in line snorfled.  I said “Hey, this lady likes the condom joke, that’s a good thing.”  And…And… She looked at my, eyes alight, and said conspiratorially:

“I HAVE TO.”

 

Holy shit. She outed her husband for having a tiny wee-wee, and completely made my day.  That was amazing. Because she wasn’t being mean. I swear to God. You had to see it on her face.  She’s just accepted her situation and, I guess, adapted.

The POINT here is that I give up.  I’m not engaging my oldest to prove that I’m on equal footing with my ex.  It angers him and will never, ever work.  I can’t “win.”

I give up trying to make lawyers see lying is wrong.  I’m just going to prove myself right… only to the point where I get divorced without getting screwed.

I give up being anything but on the planet (for as long as I’m allowed), being true to myself, not drinking, and being as present as possible for the people I love.

As possible.  That’s the key thing here.

In two hours, I meet with two lawyers. One of them believes I’m delusional. She thinks I believe I am Elmo. I am not making this up. They are suing me to pay for the privilege of meeting with them to get this divorce on track.

So here I go. Happy birthday to me.

43 years old, starting over but having everything.

Love to all. Even you, thriver.

 

p.s. Championable went offline, I’m restoring posts. Sorry.

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