Category: legacy

The boys

In my ongoing quest to reconcile my past, accelerated by some upsetting recent medical news, I chose to address a particularly thought-consuming relationship. I reached out to a very important group of friends with whom I have lost touch.
Some backstory.
There is a group of friends that I was glued to the hip with since high school. The friendship was formed at a supermarket where we had all worked. Work banter evolved into hanging out and we eventually became a standing reservation in which weekend parties, football games, and a weekly gathering at a local watering hole for drinks and wings were the norm. They became my circle, “the boys”, and remained so for many years. It wasn’t until we all got involved in relationships and had family that we drifted apart.
Well, that’s not entirely accurate. They continued to get together, I was the one who dropped off the face of the earth.
It wasn’t all my fault, I worked crazy hours including nights and weekends and it was hard. They accommodated my schedule when possible and made a real effort to include me but eventually, we lost touch.
In hindsight, I think I lost touch. They continued to be active friends. Marriage and family happened and they adapted. I wasn’t part of that phase. I don’t think any of them have ever met my children, nor I theirs. If not for social media I wouldn’t know what they looked like.
Per usual, I blamed myself for it. Some of it perhaps fairly, most of it maybe not.

This is not to say that we didn’t speak. One friend from that group has been a consistent friend and very supportive of me as I have dealt with the many challenges I have faced. I am thankful for him. I regret a lot of the opportunities I missed out on regarding him but still feel connected. As for the others, I just feel like a bad friend.

More later…

Anniversary

I received a notification today that this is my 11th anniversary of WP. Wow. That’s the longest I’ve ever stuck with anything.

To be fair, it wasn’t until 2017 that I became a frequent participant. I had always struggled to find a theme, something that I could build on. Well, my entire life collapsing in a span of 6 months in 2017 certainly filled that need. I told my story.

I told a story of failed health, of being at the bottom, lying on my back looking the only place I was able. Up. Because, short of a six foot burial plot, I had sunk that far. When I began blogging, I had little to occupy my time so telling my story became my new pastime. The blog served a purpose. I achieved badly needed catharsis. I dedicated myself to transparency and brutal honesty and then forced myself to read it and face whatever revealed itself to me.

Then I got well. My story was told. I took a break from blogging. I figured that I had nothing to tell. What I failed to recognize was that I was starting a new life. I’m not the sick guy anymore. I have more to my identity, and more importantly, I have an obligation to deal with the myriad character flaws that my journey of discovery and reconciliation revealed to me. My story is not until I write the last chapter.

I think I’ll continue the streak and get a few more years out of this. Basically the same approach I take with my life.

Fellowship

I really love being a Mason. It is so good for my soul. Choosing to join the fraternity is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Few things in my life leave me feeling as spiritually fulfilled. I wish I could bottle the sensation that a night of fellowship with friends old and new gives me. Unfortunately, few things satiate me in such a way.

It is an exciting time in my little corner of the Masonic world. My lodge has emerged from difficult times and now stands strong and healthy in both membership and finances. In a day and age where Masonry is going in the same direction as many fraternal organizations, downwards, my lodge is, at least for now, keeping the wolves at bay with a slight but encouraging uptick in membership.

Masonry will never return to its heyday. Post WW2, Korea and Vietnam, men flocked to Masonry because it provided a fraternal, male organization that resembled many aspects of military life. Unfortunately, in those times many men worked one job, and wives stayed home as many men did what they pleased at night. Life is simply not like that anymore, most families have both adults working at least one job, demands on time are greater, gender roles have evolved, and membership has consequently dwindled. In addition, it is a faith-based organization in an increasingly non-religious world.

But challenging times often return people to their core values of seeking truth, certainty, and comfort and Masonry continues to offer those. Our fraternity heavily stresses friendship, bonding, and support and men need that today. This is evident in the recent uptick in membership.

Now, we have to give them an experience to keep them. That’s where I think I come in. As a former Master, my duties are to enjoy basking in the feeling of having met one of the greatest expectations of a Mason, that of leading a lodge. I can do what I choose to do. Last night, I recognized the need for organization, mentoring, and development of our newer members. I think I will gladly take this on.

I think it is what I am meant to do at this moment in my life. I have been looking for some purpose and, as these things tend to do, this one revealed itself to me when I least expected it.

Just how I like it.

Change is in the air

I love Autumn. Please don’t tell “Summer Me”, I don’t want any hurt feelings. Summer is my favorite season because I love long days, the feeling of the Sun beating down on me, and all of the activities that we cram into a very short season. I romanticize the glory of Summer all winter long because I certifiably hate winter. It’s not so much the cold, but instead the short days and grey skies. SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is a real thing. But after Summer and before the dreaded Winter is Fall. And I love it, despite what comes after it.

About mid-August each year I begin looking forward to Fall weather. The cooler air is a nice break (my asthma welcomes it), a whole new set of outdoor activities awaits, the bugs are gone, and, at least in New England, the scenery is magnificent. Bring on the Fairs, cider, pumpkins, and sweatshirt weather.

This fall will be special for me for 2 reasons.
First, I can coast a bit after a very busy, not-very-fun Summer. I dedicated this summer to working. I really dove into promoting my side hustle of cleaning cars and also worked a part-time job. I had a very successful summer. For a person with my health history, I really pushed myself. I did well with it, I am much healthier as a result. I am also much better off financially.
Additionally, and most exciting, there are some significant changes in the coming weeks. Due to my revived health and improved finances, I am finally moving out of Mom’s house.

Moving away from Mom is bittersweet. We get along great and she is sad to see me go, but it’s time. Whether it is valid or not, I cannot get past the notion that a grown-ass man shouldn’t be living with Mom. There are those that disagree but I can’t get past it. I need to feel like I’m on my own to a degree. Moving in with my good friend and podcast partner Steve will benefit me. We’re very close friends and it should be productive as well as fun.
Mom will be fine. I’m only doing this because she spends half of her time in Florida now. She doesn’t need me as much and I hate being alone when she’s gone. Also, I’m only 2 hours away.

I’m on the precipice of getting my life back. Seeing my friends and family more often (I have no friends where I am, it’s a much older community). Also, my beloved Masonic circle is based where I am moving and after almost a year away from it, I am eager to dive back in.

Here’s to change. The changing of the seasons and the changes in my life. After years of setbacks and lateral moves, I am finally moving forward.

purpose

I need to find something gratifying to do with my life.

Despite some recent emotional ups and downs I must concede that my life is going fairly well right now. My health is excellent, which is paramount to all else. My numbers are perfect, my Doctors are nothing less than thrilled with the performance of the new kidney.
I have been working hard all summer. This is satisfying on more than one level; I am pleased that my body had risen to the task of long days and physical exertion. 3 years ago I was nowhere near able to do what I have been doing this year. I really feel great.
Additionally, I have really built up my savings. While I am nowhere near financially secure, I was destitute not terribly long ago.
Because of my financial improvement, I am about to get a very large monkey off of my back. I am moving out of mom’s house. This is bittersweet because I really like it here. It is a nice place. I’m surrounded by beautiful country, the people are nice, and my mother and I really get along well. Still, I have yet to embrace the notion of a man my age living with his mother. It’s something I can’t get past.

I am moving in with a friend next month. He’s a good friend. He welcomed me into his home when it all fell apart in 2016. I had to move when I got real sick but he has welcomed me to return. He is being very fair with the rent as a favor to me. He is looking forward to the company as well. We are doing a podcast together as well as tossing around some other ventures and getting in the same room should yield some positive results. The biggest bonus, the driving force behind my wanting to move is that I will be closer to my children, friends and my Masonic community.

Yes, all is going well. I have put the desire for a companion on the back burner for now and it feels like the right decision. I have only one thing left to feel semi-complete. I need to find something that is gratifying to the soul. When I promised the Universe that I would give back as often and as generously as I could in exchange for the gift of another chance I meant it. When I was working with addiction clients I was living up to it. Unfortunately, I had to stop that. Now I need to find something else. Either as a part-time position or as a volunteer.

I am only happy when I feel I am living a life of purpose.

Walls

The beard is back. If for no other reason, it’s the closest thing I have to a force field. I’m back to playing social defense. People, especially the fairer sex, have done some possibly irreparable damage to me lately, and the only thing I can think of, besides making a Tee shirt that reads Not interested in meeting new people that may hurt me, the beard will provide that extra layer of protection.
I’m uglying myself up.

How sad is it that I’m finding ways to shield myself? How did a person with such a good heart and intentions, who genuinely likes people, who talks (talked?) to strangers, and who loves to laugh, become so jaded? To be clear, I am still all those things listed above, but I now view them as liabilities and aspects of my personality that I would rather keep from the world.
It’s a sad state of affairs.

I hate that it has come to this but here I am. I can’t be the person I want to be for fear of spiraling down the rabbithole of anxiety and disappointment, and the ensuing self-flagellation when someone lets me down or hurts me is simply exhausting.

I’m putting up walls. This way is easier.

Instead of seeking the companionship that I can likely do without, I want to focus more on the bigger picture. My energy needs to be channeled into finding my purpose and riding it into what I can only hope will be a fulfilled life. There is something I should be doing and I need to find it. I know that the Universe saved me, more than once, for a reason.

Chasing people that don’t get me or aren’t worthy of me is just getting in the way.

2 years

2 years ago, on a quiet Sunday afternoon I got “the call”. I’ve received important calls in my life but this was the biggest. The Kidney that I needed so badly, the one that I had resigned myself to accepting that I would probably never get, was waiting for me.

The timing couldn’t have been better. I was not doing well at all. Dialysis had been really beating me down. For the first 2 years of treatment, I was breezing through treatments with ease. Until the one day that I wasn’t. My blood levels became constantly unbalanced and the side effects were bizarre. Treatments became unbearable and for the first time in my life, I was experiencing despair, even intrusive suicidal thoughts.

I raced home to pack a bag. I drove on the edge of my seat for 2 hours to the hospital where I was received in a hallway lined with applauding medical staff. It was a surreal moment, to say the least.

I emerged from surgery as if I was a new man. The first day with a new kidney is a remarkable experience. The brain fog, fatigue, malaise that characterizes Renal disease is just gone and replaced by a clarity of mind and renewed sense of hope. It’s beyond medical or physiological, it’s almost spiritual. I wasn’t beaten down any longer. I was in pain, excruciating at times, but it was glorious.

I’ve been given the gift of new beginnings twice. First, a coworker selflessly donated to me in 2011. I hate that her gift didn’t last longer but I am still indebted beyond measure to her. My second donor I never met. She saved my life by filling out an organ donor card. Bless her anonymous soul.

I am truly blessed. Or just the luckiest man alive, if you subscribe to such a thing as luck. Regardless, it is concerning that sometimes I lose track of that.

I need to stop doing that. My story is awesome and I need to not only tell it but to live it. The mere fact that I am still standing after all of the shit that I have been through is nothing less than remarkable. While I’m not prepared to step in front of a train, I’m seemingly bulletproof. I need to embrace that more. I can start by no longer allowing small things get in the way of a fulfilled life.

I know I have a purpose. I also know that experiences tend to find me. If I continue to wallow on what is directly in front of me I am distracted from what’s on the horizon. There I will find the next great happening in my life.

I’m always telling people to look up and around, not just straight ahead. Maybe I should follow my own advice. No more wallowing in petty shit and no more time wasted with people who don’t deserve me.

Fortunately, I have these yearly reminders of the fragility of mortality to ground me and set me back on the right track.

Under Construction

One good thing, perhaps the only thing, about breakups is you find yourself wanting to work on yourself. After the dust has settled, all of the blame has been addressed and reconciled, and the impulse to blame myself for everything has subsided, I find myself in a better place. Not a great one, but better.

The Stoic in me has again resumed its throne at the front of my psyche and I have found strength within myself to ask the right questions, place errant emotions in their respective boxes, and provide the tools to choose how I react to things. I came up with that, Stoically speaking, I need to decide to flip this thing into a positive. And that is by emerging somehow better than I was before. And that can only be achieved by working on myself. One really can never do enough of that.

I have been drinking a lot. Eating badly. Too much 4:20. I haven’t been working out. Sure I’ve been active, I have worked 2 jobs all summer and have been very busy. But I’m not taking care of my body. Consequently, I’m failing on both fronts of life. I’m not physically or emotionally fit.

One is easy. I dumped out the last of the 1.75 of Scotch and gave away the 30 pack in my fridge. I restarted my Intermittent fasting and I have been working out again. Surprisingly, despite my period of neglect and excess, I gained only a few pounds. But fasting and a change in diet have cleansing properties that benefit both mind and body and I feel a bit better.
I expect to get my swagger back soon.
Of course, my swagger is nothing but a defense mechanism. I may walk upright and confident, that is just so that people will leave me alone. My confident and self-assured facial expression, that is a mask as well. My good-natured humor and dad jokes are a partial veneer as well. I’m not in a particularly good mood and I don’t find much funny these days.
But these things will get me by as the internal construction continues. The physical aspect is challenging but it’s still the easy part. Getting my psyche whole is going to take a lot of work. After a long and arduous search of my soul,

I know what I have to do.

I need to get myself right before I can hope to share what and who I am with another.

On associations

Even when I’m doing a good job of not dwelling on the past, it still rears its ugly head. If I had to guess, it is almost always in the form of association.

I came across the movie Johnny Dangerously on HBO MAX today. There really aren’t words to describe how much I love the movie. It’s just the slapstick, parody silly shit the doctor has always prescribed. I know every line. Of course I watched it.

So where does my mind go? Ernie.

Ernie is not his real name. I wouldn’t give up his real name. It’s a nickname and a funny one at that. His premature receding hairline and oddly shaped head gave him a striking resemblance to Ernie of Ernie and Bert fame. He was a good guy and, like everything else in his life, he rolled with the nickname. He never had it easy. Girls eluded him, he never got his shot at Stand-up Comedy, he lost his brother to a tragic suicide soon after High School, his relationship with his family was very complicated.

I was there for all of it. We were, after all, best of friends. After High School, we both attended the same College. I was a year ahead of him so I spent my Freshman year without my sidekick but once he arrived, goofy smile and Pork-Pie hat in hand, we were inseparable. When we weren’t in class, we were in the cafeteria, smoking, drinking coffee, and socializing. If we weren’t in school we were probably playing hooky and underage drinking in our favorite bar down the street.

I shared my difficult times with him also. When my relationship with my father took a bad turn, I stayed at his house many nights. I was very close to his family. They treated me as another son.

We leaned on each other and got through those times. Often with the aid of laughter. Never underestimate the power of a warped sense of humor. Comedy specials on HBO, cartoons and movies were our refuge. We shared a love for Bloom County. I think the lovable oaf Opus the penguin was a relatable character to us. We could quote both the cartoons and the movies line for line. And we did that a lot.

Johnny Dangerously was our favorite. Now, it brings back the sense of loss of how we drifted apart for so many years. Of not seeing him, along with the rest of the guys that I spent all of my time with in my late teens and twenties, since we all went the married with kids route.

And,of course, the shock and heartbreak of learning that he was recently arrested for sexually abusing his own son. My friend (can I still call him that?) is going to spend the rest of his life in jail.

Between the shock, disgust, anger and countless other confusing emotions, I still cling to the memories of a better time. Thanks to associations. Silly movies, in this case, stand for the good and the bad times alike.

The straw

I have to hand it to you. You’ve done something that few have been able to do. You’ve brought me to a place that few have made me go.

I once called you my best friend. That is a lot for me to say because I don’t let many people into that inner sanctum, that place close enough to me where I become vulnerable. You earned my trust, my loyalty, and the status of being beyond question. “True Blue” if I recall correctly. So I didn’t worry about you. When we were in a room together I knew that there was one that had my back.

Boy, do I feel foolish now? You were holding the biggest knife.

Looking back, I don’t know when it started. But I sensed the vibe. But there was no incident of note, no regrettable conversation or words wished unsaid. Yet we drifted apart. Still, we always had the fraternity. We were Brothers after all, and that is an unbreakable bond.

When it was your turn to assume the Big Chair, it was left to you in flawless condition due to my efforts. Because it meant that much to me that you succeed. I delivered a charge to you in which I praised you as a friend and wished you the very best.

You in turn took the moment for yourself and left me with an extended and unshook hand.

I wish that was where the indignities had ended. I hoped beyond hope that it was an oversight. That perhaps, the moment had overwhelmed you and it was and you were unaware of how you offended me. But as you progressed upon your path, the animosity towards me and ambivalence to your flock continued.

The vibe became a distinct and profound “fuck you.”

Well, your last request, should I call it a decree, told me that I was at a crossroads; do I continue to absorb the disrespect or do I finally say enough?

I say enough. You cannot count on me for support. You may not ask me for assistance. You may not expect my loyalty to the fraternity to supersede my own self-worth.

I have a hell of a line. But you, my former friend, have crossed it.