Category: memories

Easier said than done

Who among you has ever grabbed a piece of paper late at night? Specifically, at 11:30 PM, and frantically scrawled a list of everything they hate about themselves?
Me. That’s who. I watched a beloved character from a favorite show deliver a scene-stopping line. “I am SO tired of my own Bullshit!”, she said. That was my reaction. I began to log my own Bullshit. It wasn’t hard to do; I had a working list in mere seconds.

I’m not loving what I came up with. I shouldn’t love it, it’s the harsh truth. If I am to continue on my constant path of self-improvement, these character flaws must be addressed. They might seem paltry, insignificant, or even false to some. It’s about me, and I can’t be concerned about it making sense to others. In fact, that is number one on my list; stop caring what others think.

I stop short of calling myself full of shit. But I can be a bit hypocritical when I want to. I’m the first person to say that I don’t care about what people think of me. I wish it was true, but it isn’t. I care greatly about what my peers think of me. Not based on matters of image, but how I am perceived and understood. In particular I care about my character. This is an important distinction; reputation is what people think of you, but character is who you actually are. And there lies the issue. I feel that people don’t know me for who I am and what I bring to the table. If I feel that someone doesn’t grasp my intentions or the reasons behind my actions I will feel misunderstood. I hate misunderstandings. My quest to avoid misunderstandings causes me a great deal of anxiety and duress. I consider myself a genuine, good-natured and well-intentioned man. It kills me when I am perceived otherwise.

I suppose that this revelation opens another portal of personal struggle. I also have a sincere expectation of honesty and communication. I am not so concerned with events as I am the cause. When someone wrongs me I need to know why. My recent breakup is a perfect example. After several very enjoyable dates, I noticed compatibility was evident. Despite this, a woman I was dating suddenly told me that she can’t see me anymore. A family matter had come up and she couldn’t do “the boyfriend thing”. It was only a few dates so it wasn’t crushing to me. But it didn’t make sense to me. I have been obsessing over this for over a week. I am outraged that I didn’t get an explanation for how someone can just shut someone off like that. Especially when things were going so well. But she doesn’t owe me that. It would have been considerate and very helpful to me. It would ease the cycle of overthinking and inevitable self-blame. But I’m not going to get my explanation. I’m just going to have to deal with that. She’s not me. I can’t expect “me” in others. Because I want it does not mean that I can have it. I need to come to grips with this.

Easier said than done. But worrying about shit that I can’t change is also on the list of BS that I need to stop.

Now all I have to do is reckon with what I came up with.

Man seeking woman. Maybe. I’m not sure

It would be wonderful if I could understand that I don’t need a romantic partner to be complete as a person.

I want one. That is true. More than anything. Having someone to share my life with is the final item on my bucket list. I have recovered my health. I have gotten myself back on my feet financially. I have gotten my own place to live. All that remains is to get another shot at a meaningful and rewarding relationship.

Alas, dating has been a nonstop sequence of rejection and disappointment. It is only my stick-to-it attitude (that dominates every area of my life) that causes me to persevere. In reality, it should be clear to me that it means that I haven’t met the right one yet. But it’s starting to feel like I’m not dateable. To put a finer point on it, I am starting to blame myself for each failed try. And it is taking a terrible toll on my self-esteem. I’m beginning to think that my very happiness is contingent upon being in a relationship. Which is a shame because I actually have a pretty great life.

The most recent one stings a bit. We only went out a few times but we really connected. She was real. She was fun. She was my type. I felt really comfortable with her. On our third date she asked to be exclusive. I came close to dropping my shields and allow myself to feel happy. The next morning, while preparing for our mutually highly anticipated day together, I got a text from her. Family issues came up, she needs to focus on it, can’t do a relationship right now. There was no mention of whether it was permanent or temporary. Because it seemed to be real, I didn’t dig deeper for fear of making it about me. I told her that if things change, to reach out. Damn, I liked this one. But it stings. I have done the usual overthinking. I can’t, for the life of me pinpoint if it’s something that I did. I also don’t have reason to believe that she is being dishonest with me. I don’t know what to think.

But I hurt. The letdown stings. I can’t help but wonder if I should continue in the dating world. Or should I just hand it over to the Universe? To her credit, the Universe has provided every other blessing in my life. The problem is that I look for signs in everything. Am I going to be looking too hard for love?

I really don’t know what to do. Patience is not something I possess in abundance. And I am getting tired of getting kicked in the nuts every time I put myself out there. A big part of me wants to remove myself from the scene. To grow a beard and make myself as unattractive as possible. To push people away for fear of them getting too close. Unfortunately, that is not who I am. I get hurt because I am open and accessible. It’s one of my few redeeming traits.

Embrace Your Uniqueness: A Journey of Self-Discovery

I was recently asked what my last blog post would be. I had to think about it of course. I decided to write it as if I was actually well-adjusted at the time of my demise. That makes this an exercise in Creative Writing. Here goes.

Be yourself. No matter what. Then embrace it. 

That is what my final blog post would say. 

I cannot tell you how many blogs I have written about finding and understanding myself and what I stand for. I have always struggled with matters of identity. I could go on for days about my findings on this matter. Suffice to say, I showed up at the party way too late.

I’m glad I got here. However, I surely wasted an irretrievable amount of time, effort, angst, and agony in the process. I told the President of my HS reunion committee something several years ago. This was when I was asked for a quote for the newsletter. I said, “I searched high and low, far and wide for who I am. Only to realize that I was me all along.” 

I never thought I was enough. Or the right thing. Or in the right place. I don’t know why, nothing in my childhood explains it. Nobody has ever told me that I’m not good enough except me. It’s as if I placed other people’s expectations of me without their offer or permission. I think I tried to be who and what people wanted or expected. Sometimes different personas for different people or groups. 

I was big and intimidating. So I acted it. But I’m not tough nor do I want to intimidate. That didn’t work.

I was charming (to a degree) so I acted the part of Ladies Man and Playa. But I like and respect women, I didn’t even like hookups.

I was a decent artist. So I tried to emanate artsy and liberal. Turns out I’m a casual artist and I am not wired to take mushrooms and sing Kumbaya around a campfire.

I could go on. Suffice it to say that despite having varied interests and strengths, not a single one of them defines me. They are merely components of me. The day I realized that was a great day indeed. 

As much as I can parrot the tired line, “I don’t care what people think about me” I do. But not in the conventional sense. 

It matters to me that people know who I am and what I stand for. It matters to me that people know that I am a good person. Sure I want to be liked, but I have recognized that respect or appreciation is what I truly desire. 

I have found that the answer is in the company you keep. Your friends will not only understand your uniqueness. The organizations you attend meetings and events at will also appreciate it. The people you spend time with will too. They will know your quirks and pecadillos.  They will know who you really are and what you stand for.

I am the chocolate box in Forrest Gump’s lap. I come in many shapes and forms. They’re all good in their own way. If some of my pieces don’t do it for you, then leave them and enjoy another. I’m me and you never know what me you’re going to get.

Having made that bizarre statement, the overall point is my recommendation to everyone to just be yourself. If you’re not surrounding yourself with people who appreciate the particular magic you bring to the table…well then find a new circle.

Top Life Lessons I’ve Learned

The subject of lessons learned in life came up the other day. I felt inspired to compose a list of some of the most important life lessons that I have learned. Oh, there are so many. And I’m sure I’m not done learning more. Still, it was interesting timing as I am now evaluating almost everything in my life in the interest of self-improvement.

I have learned to be nice always. Some people are barely hanging on and it’s better to be decent to people. Do so until you can’t or the deserving of such treatment fades. We can’t always fix people but we can take comfort if we at least try to help them.

I have learned that it’s not always necessary to be right. Knowing you are and keeping it to yourself is better than trying to prove it.

When reacting to situations, take a deep breath. Act on your second instinct if you must. Words hurt and impressions matter. As the Stoics say, it’s not what happens, it’s how you react to it.

I have learned that it’s true about the fool. Better to be silent and thought a fool than speak and confirm it. On that topic, ears don’t work when jaws are moving. 

I’ve learned to forgive without resolution and to not wait for apologies that aren’t coming. Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. 

If you aren’t invited, don’t go. Nobody should be treated as an afterthought. There was a time when I would allow myself to do this, but I have learned my worth since.

Listen to my gut. It is always right. I remember situations that went south. Relationships that failed are also clear in my mind. I can vividly recall disregarding a stern warning from my gut. I am now keenly aware of my inner voice and plan to follow it.

Finally, as experience has taught me, I need to talk less. While I come from a gregarious and friendly place, I overshare and generally say too much. Maybe it stems from insecurity or trying too hard to make someone like me. Regardless, I’m not engaging in either of those ever again. From now on, my focus will be to listen more and talk less.

I have learned to accept my appearance. I have terrible body issues. I look ok for a person whose body has gone through what mine has. I need to accept that I have limitations to how “fit” I can be. I need to focus on doing what I can and being consistent. I can’t continue to dive behind sofas every time someone points a camera at me. I am depriving the people who care about me of a potential memory. Because one day all that will remain of me are pictures.

There are so many more, but there isn’t enough bandwidth to accommodate all of it.

Embrace Your True Self: Words of Wisdom

“A person who doesn’t know what the universe is, doesn’t know where they are. A person who doesn’t understand their purpose in life doesn’t understand who they are or what the universe is. A person who doesn’t know any of these things doesn’t know why they are here. So what to make of people who seek or avoid the praise of those who have no knowledge of where and who they are?”
Marcus Aurelius

“A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything.”
Malcolm X

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 8.52

I recently saw a question on another post. “If this was the last thing you would write, what words of wisdom would you share?”

That’s easy. Be yourself. No matter what. Then embrace it. 

I can’t tell you how many blogs I have written about finding and understanding myself and what I stand for. I have always struggled with matters of identity. I can talk endlessly about my findings on this matter. Still, suffice to say that I showed up at the party way too late.

I’m glad I got here. Still, I wasted an irretrievable amount of time, effort, angst, and agony in the process. Several years ago, the President of my HS reunion committee asked me for a quote for the newsletter. I gave her this, “I searched long, far and wide for who I am. Only to realize that I was me all along.”

As I said it I realized how prescient my statement really was. When I thought about it, I never thought I was enough. Or the right thing. Or in the right place. I don’t know why, nothing in my childhood explains it. Nobody has ever told me that I’m not good enough except for me. It’s as if I placed other people’s expectations on me without their offer or permission. I think I tried to be who and what people wanted or expected. Sometimes different personas for different people or groups. 

I was big and intimidating. So I acted it. But I’m not tough nor do I want to intimidate. That didn’t work.
I was charming (to a degree) so I acted the part of Ladies Man and Playa. But I like and respect women, I didn’t even like hookups.
I was a decent artist. So I tried to emanate artsy and liberal. Turns out I’m a casual artist and I am not wired to take mushrooms and sing Kumbaya around a campfire.

I could go on. Suffice it to say that despite having varied interests and strengths, not a single one of them defines me. They are merely components of me. The day I realized that was a great day indeed. 

As much as I can parrot the tired line, “I don’t care what people think about me” I do. But not in the conventional sense. 

It matters to me that people know who I am and what I stand for. It matters to me that people know that I am a good person. Sure I want to be liked, but I have recognized that respect or appreciation is what I truly want. 

I have found that the answer is in the company you keep. Your friends will not only understand you, they will accept you. The organizations where you attend meetings and events will appreciate your uniqueness. The people you spend time with will also value who you are. They will know your quirks and peccadillo’s.  They will know who you really are and what you stand for.

I am the chocolate box in Forrest Gump’s lap. I come in many shapes and forms. They’re all good in their own way. If some of my pieces don’t do it for you, then leave them. If one leaves a bad taste in your mouth, enjoy another. I’m me and you never know what me you’re going to get. Even I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that under my awkward demeanor is a man of powerful convictions. A man with a sense of justice. A man with empathy. A man who would do anything in his power to end the suffering of another. A man that not only believes in right and wrong but lives by it as well. I’m not special, but I am not without purpose.

Therefore, if my last recorded word was to be one of advice…just be yourself. Know what drives you and live it. Believe in something so strongly that you would die for it. Then surround yourself with people who appreciate your unique magic. If they don’t, then find a new circle.

Reminiscin’

I was recently asked what was my favorite memory of my Father. One immediately

I will just start by saying my Dad was a god to me when I was young. Unfortunately, I feel that I worshiped at arm’s length. Later in life, I would understand the small gap of air between us. What I thought was reserved was actually his “Dad Hat”. My Dad was determined to be a good father. Committed to give me a good childhood and to make sure I had enough of everything. 

Because he had a lousy childhood and was given nothing, he was ending the cycle. 

What I refer to as reserved was just him trying too hard. I wish he had learned to just be himself around me. He eventually would, and when he did all was good. We enjoyed a very nice relationship in his later years. Nevertheless, Parkinson’s reduced him to a shell of his former self. He died in 2013.

I connected with my Dad through common interests. I made myself interested in things to spend time with him. When he was working on the house, I would hang with him and help out whenever possible. When he was under the hood of the car, I poked mine in as well to see what he was doing. When he watched Sports, I sat with him. I ingratiated myself to get close to him. And I’m so very glad that I did because my love of cars and sports came from him.

But what I love most from my father’s influence is my passion for motorcycles.

My Dad rode motorcycles as far back as I can remember. Motorcycles have an obvious allure. Aesthetically, the sleek styling, shiny chrome, and loud pipes appeal to the senses. The idea of them and what they represent excited the hell out of me. Freedom, danger, independence and (let’s face it) a badass vibe came to mind. That excitement has yet to wear off, but it is rivaled by the sight of my Dad pulling up the driveway on his bike when I was young.

It was agonizing on so many levels as I waited to be deemed old enough to ride on the back. When that day finally came, I was jumping out of my skin with excitement. I can still remember putting the helmet on and watching as dad made sure it was fastened properly. I remember the pre-ride speech about staying still and not making any sudden movements that may throw his balance. I vividly remember as we rolled down the driveway for the first time.

I wasn’t scared. I trusted my father to the moon and back. We went to our favorite place in Salem, MA. We ate pizza and Ice Cream as we watched the people scuttle about. It was a magic day and the place became our place after that day.

The only memory greater than that, my absolute favorite of all, involves the day I met up with my Dad. I was on my own bike to embark on our first ride together. We went to our place in Salem, MA, our place, and ate pizza and Ice Cream. This time, it wasn’t just the destination that mattered but the journey there and back. 

That is how I like to remember my Father. When I bought my first Harley after he had passed on. As I fired her up for the first time, I looked to the Sky and wondered if Dad was proud of me.

Only in the movies

“C’mon, let’s go get the shit kicked out of us by Love.”
Sam from Love Actually

This kid, this character. He’s my hero.

I had never seen Love Actually until recently. I had tired of the standard fare; Scrooged, Christmas Vacation, It’s a Wonderful Life. So, I searched a streaming collection of holiday selections and gave this one a shot. No regrets. It features a great ensemble cast. There are some “awww isn’t that sweet” moments and a great ending. It also includes my favorite type of character, the precocious young lad who believes in laying it all on the table for love. Bonus, he knows the rules of the Rom Com. This is evidenced by his comment, “I have to wait to the end, that’s when you get the girl”.

Now, the benchmark role for such a character is the son in Crazy Stupid Love. A hopeless romantic who never gives up. A believer in grand gestures and a yearning for romance that far exceeds the sensibilities of a young boy. A boy with the patience to actually wait for his one true love and the balls to go after it. Sam captures all that while dealing with the loss of his mother. Despite the sadness and utter turmoil he was enduring, he fell in love. And when he learned that the object of his desire was moving away, he channeled everything into getting the girl.

This post isn’t so much about this kid or his role. It’s about how I’m reminded by him of how I used to be. I never have been capable of the grand gestures portrayed in movies. But I was a devout believer in true love and I would really put myself out there in pursuit of it. I would have, given the chance, tried to get past TSA to stop a girl from getting on a plane. I would drive all night to spend an hour with a woman I loved.
Now, I don’t think I would cross the street for it.

I’ve given up. I choose not to date. I can’t do it to myself anymore. Love and Romance has been reduced to something that is found only in the movies. I can’t reconcile it with real life anymore. On the screen, I see happy endings and bold gestures. But in my mind, and in my gut, I only recall pain, bitterness and disappointment. Relationships now induce feelings of loss and rejection, which inevitably lead to my blaming myself. It’s a vicious cycle I don’t have the stomach for anymore. If for no other reason, I removed myself to protect what little is left of my heart.

Sam’s impulsivity and bravery in Love Actually is something I can relate to it and always enjoy it onscreen. But it’s a foreign concept to me now, putting myself out there. I am capable. I can flirt with the best of them and I am virtually fearless in talking to women. If only I was able to do that when younger. The difference between then and now is that I have no expectation of getting the girl at the end.

It’s a self-preservation thing. Young Sam is ready to let love challenge him. I really admire him for that. It’s a valuable lesson in life and a necessary rite of passage. No matter how bad it is, he’ll get over it.

Me, I’m still reeling from the last beating. Love is now a spectator sport to me.

The Evolving Role of a Dad at Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve and I am very excited about spending time with my family tonight. With my children now grown adults, the dynamic of the Holiday has transformed greatly. Permanently etched in my mind are the Christmases of old. It was always a huge ordeal at my house when I was a kid. My parents loved Christmas and were very generous. My Dad was so dedicated to my mother that he truly could not stop getting her gifts. Sadly, I think it was insecurity masked by generosity but it was certainly based on his love for her. The exchange of gifts was borderline excessive. But I was always provided for and I enjoyed the Christmas holiday.
I enjoyed it less and less as I got older. I began to see it for the rampant and crass commercialism that it was. When the kids were young, I enjoyed it through them. As they got older, I smiled and acted happy. Holidays would become a major stressor for my wife, and consequently on me and I soured on most all of them. But I suppose that is a story for another day.

I did enjoy Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve was always a great night at my house as a kid and remains a fond memory. The house was full of family and friends imbibing in drinks and snacking on holiday treats. It was a zero pressure evening, the gifts were already wrapped, the toys were assembled, there was nothing to do but enjoy the calm before the storm.

Christmas now consists of a party on Christmas Eve, and everyone goes their separate ways on Christmas Day. I love this transition. It reminds me of the old days. But it is much to my ex’s chagrin that hosting duties have been passed on to the kids. She wants to still do it. I think she misses the Holidays when the kids were young. I suppose it’s a natural reaction to aging.

My oldest daughter has hosted for the last few years. It is such a great time. I look ahead to it all year. The kids, their spouses, and significant others gather. A smattering of family friends and new in-laws join for drinks, a nice meal, and then games.
I missed it last year. I had COVID. I was miserably sick and depressed about missing it.
This year, my oldest boy and his Fiance welcomed us all to their nice new apartment. Just reading his texts and emails are warming to my heart, they are so excited to host us all.

This is a small chapter in the “How to be a parent to adult kids” manual. My role of the father has evolved. While my children would disagree with this, I would argue that my children don’t “need” me anymore. It’s not that I don’t have a role, it’s that I’m not depended on by them anymore. This is troublesome for me because that is something that I miss in both my personal and professional life. I was always an integral part of things. Now, I have a support role.
To put a positive spin on this, it is a victory of sorts to be in this situation. During the days of family turmoil, there was a lot of arguing and resentment. I often worried that my children would resent us. I feared they would not have need for us once they were on their own. I now believe that we made the repairs in time. By acknowledging that fear and being proactive about repairing those fractured relationships.
My role now is to be there when they need me, otherwise to sit back and beam with sheer pride at how magnificent they all really are. It’s not about taking credit, it’s just gratitude that it all worked out.

I am so excited about tonight. Still, I harbor a fair amount of sadness. My youngest daughter and my ex are still not speaking. As a result, my daughter will miss yet another family event. This I hate, so many magical moments have happened recently; a wedding, engagement, the birth of a beautiful little baby…she’s missed them all. I can’t say if she is bothered by it but I sure am.

It’s difficult to enjoy a holiday while missing someone. I miss having her around. I need harmony in my life. I guess you can’t always get what you want.

The challenges of surviving

I had a difficult time transitioning back into life on my own. I can’t help but wonder if I actually thought that I would recover from my illness. I had lost everything; my home, my career, my family, and most of what I owned. I spent years dealing with the immediacy of my condition and it took all I had to just get through each day. People describe me as optimistic, but I wasn’t. I merely summoned the strength to get through. In addition, I lied about how I was feeling and put a brave face on so that the people that love me wouldn’t worry about me. Inside, I was depressed at times, very weary of acting strong, and was ready to give up more than once. I actually considered suicide.

I had dreams of what the other side of illness would look like, but they were just that. It’s a tough revelation but I stand by it, I didn’t think it would happen for me and I had resigned myself that I was probably going to die. It really fucked up my plans when I lived.

Well shit, what was I going to do now? Suddenly, I had to come up with a plan for after my recovery. All the things that I wanted to do but thought I never would were now within the realm of possibility.
I could get my own place.
I could go back to work.
I could date again.
I could move back closer to my family, friends, and groups that I belonged to.
I could do anything I wanted without carrying the extension cord to the dialysis machine.

So far I have tackled all of these things. They are all a work in progress and they all proved to be challenging, even daunting. Much madness, joy and sadness ensued, as well as some really great stories. If nothing else, they are great inspirations for blog posts.

A voyeur of my own life

I’m not depressed. Really I’m not. Maybe if I say it enough times then I’ll believe it.
Who am I kidding? If it is or isn’t, this is just what I do.
I isolate. It’s better for me if I acknowledge that I don’t have the stamina that I used to. I’m disabled, maybe I should admit it. When you’re disabled you have to remind yourself that you only have so much in you each day and when you’re tired, then go with it. Lately I’ve been embracing that notion, to perhaps an unhealthy level.

But people are worrying about me. They don’t understand what I’m trying to do. I’m doing a reset. Truth is, I like being alone.
I do my best thinking. I save money. By avoiding people I avoid piquing my anxiety, which is running roughshod over my weak ass lately. I’m safe in my little space. Not safe like a little Gen Z snowflake afraid to get his feelings hurt, just safe from encountering extra stimuli that is going to serve as the proverbial straw that broke the Camel’s back. That’s why I isolate. There is nothing that says that I have to be out there doing stuff all the time. It’s ok to spend time alone.
Did I mention that I was never like that before this year?
It’s true. This is very new. I used to be the guy that needed to be around people all of the time. I suppose that’s before people in my life started letting me down, or just the day that I noticed a lack of equity in my relationships. Equity is a nice way of saying that I’m tired of giving more than I’m capable of and getting the minimum monthly payment back. Disclaimer, I do have some very good friends. But there are a couple that hurt me recently and I’m not going to lie, it stings. It’s causing me to reevaluate how much I give of myself to those that don’t deserve it. While I’ll never pull it off, I’m tempted to dump my trademark “be kind” and not be so fucking nice all of the time. You can be a good person without being a punching bag. Fuck the high road, and fuck anyone that did me dirty.

I have thought a lot about my isolation recently. I have been forcing myself to go out and do something each day, no matter how small. Last night I decided to take the bike out. It was a hot day but by 7 it cooled enough and it was perfect riding weather. I could have called several friends, any one of who would have joined me but I went alone. I drove to a lake and sat at the edge looking at nothing and everything like a first year Philosophy student. Other than some serenity, I didn’t feel much of anything.

Therein lies the problem. I don’t feel anything anymore. Until very recently I was basking in that post-transplant glow. Full of promise, a new lease, the ability to do things that once appeared to be unavailable. Now, I’m joyless. I don’t feel things like I should. I spend my TV time watching Documentaries on subjects that irritate me, made by people I don’t like or respect. I watch indie dramedies in search of that amazing love story that rips my fucking heart out, because I don’t have that but I want to FEEL IT! I’m challenging my entire paradigm to figure out why I am a voyeur in my own goddamn life.

How can I be a spectator of my own life?