Day: September 12, 2018

I woke up this morning with a sore ankle and a shitty, self-defeating mood. I started to measure things out in minutes and mistakes, as if suddenly recognizing exactly how much of my life up to this point has been defined by bad decisions. That darkness spread out of me and formed a cloud that sat over my entire household. The boys recognized it right away. How could they miss it? I stormed into their room just a tick after 6 AM, shut the noise fan down and demanded they get dressed and get downstairs for breakfast. Under normal circumstances, being up and ready for breakfast is a good thing, but the darkness had me. I wasn’t yelling or stomping around. In truth I was limping from a badly throbbing ankle whose injury had apparently materialized over the course of the night while I slept.

There were four solid minutes where I hypothesized that I hadn’t slept at all. Instead my body had been hijacked in the middle of the night by someone or something and the injury came as a result of whatever actions my soulless body had been directed to take. Occam’s razor (and a smidge of common sense) won over in the end. I recognized that there is likely a simpler answer to the conundrum. Perhaps cancer. Once the darkness settles, cancer provides a timely answer to all of the big questions.

I moved on. I made breakfast for the boys and settled into a phone-based video game as they ate. I lost. Repeatedly. This did nothing to improve my mood. I considered contacting my partner, but common sense held its ground. I knew if I contacted her then I’d let the darkness out. Then she might let it in.  Instead I held it in. I limited my vocal interaction with the boys and drove them to school. I did finally contact my partner and shed some of the dark on her, but she didn’t respond. She’s brilliant and beautiful and funny (sometimes) and knows when not to engage.

So I came back home and came back here, to the page, where I decided the best course of action was to pour that dark into the page for a solid ten minutes and hope that it is satisfied by my meager offering.

So much of reality is dependent on the attitude we bring to it. This darkness is a part of my reality because I allow it to be. I can change it. I can push it back into the closet of my soul and in that create space for light and happiness. I can create the conditions for my happiness or I can allow the world’s woes to thud against my skin like water falling from a showerhead, washing away my pride, my love for life, and my desires. I don’t wish to be cleansed of those things. I wish to remain dirty with joy and hope and possibility.

I know this was triggered by the recent cycle of failures my kids have faced. I know I see their failures and think, ‘What could I have done differently.’ I also know I cannot do that. Their burdens are their own and I recognize I’ve put them in positions to be successful. They have to work towards that success and create it for themselves. Still, I see my failures reflected in their failures and those moments cleanse me of hope and pride.

Some Thoughts:

1. As I go to post this the problem has been corrected. We online!

I continue to experience intermittent internet failures with the site at a rate higher than before the provider’s purchase by site5. From this I can extrapolate that site5 sucks worse than the previous host. Still, I’m paid up for quite some time that I have to bear it. Bearing it is the family theme for the night. My kids and I are all learning the important lesson of how to put up with both mediocrity and external perceptions of us that impact our ability to function. Even the youngest is facing this reality. In three seasons he’s gone from 1000 yard running back to Left Tackle. This has nothing to do with his play. By all accounts—even those of his present coach—he’s improved dramatically. Yet the way the offense works, he is not going to be in a position to do more than line. In truth, should he stay in this system, he will never do more than play line.

We have to move on. I’ve resisted it for a long time, but now I am going to give in to the real here: He’s a bad fit for the system and his learning has topped out.

All the boys are struggling in the football way. The freshman is riding the bench and is completely discouraged. The pass catcher is running routes like a maniac but hasn’t had one pass thrown his way. In reality, they see him as a running back instead of receiver. They see him as a linebacker more than a corner. Even at this young age all three boys are watching their opportunities narrow to a single point not determined by themselves. It is a rough lesson of life that I do not want to stick. I want them to believe they can do what they want if they try hard enough. I don’t find that to be naive. Instead I find it to be hopeful. That’s been missing in action for a long time.