reality

If I were to be completely honest...

If profanity bothers you, read no further.

 

I spent my entire day on yesterday working on my home restoration project on West 17th.  I would say that 98% of the day was done without a radio playing.  The only distrations I encountered were the occasional visitor or a trip to the lumberyard.  I enjoyed the time and smells of construction thru and thru.

As I worked, the silence gave way to some very good time to think.  As I was working, I couldn't help but think about my life and how I ended up here.  I paused a moment and walked over to the window that peers out of the front of my house and I looked over at the home I lived in when Blake was killed.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge as they say.  The journey from that house to the house I'm standing in now, well, there was a lot of shit I had to get straight in my head in those travels.  Blake's death and my two divorces fucked my head up.  There is honestly no other way to put it.

My first divorce was hard for me, circumstances that led to this divorce were tough.  As I look back now, it was the beginning of misunderstanding within.  To rebuild my life after this divorce, I strived to come back financially.  Insisting this was the way as I had no idea how fucked my brain was already.  

Then Blake's death.  I miss him, yes, and will each and every second that passes.  If he could step in the door this moment, I would instantly begin replacing the regrets I have.  My first divorce left me angry, I took some of this anger out on my son.  If there is one thing that fucks with me, it's that single action I can't take back.  If there were a stronger word, I use it.  

My second divorce was the tipping point for me.  Let's just say there was "no more room in the inn" for fuck.  The way my marriage ended literally sent me spirally out of control, the only way out was death, but I knew that it either had to be at my hand or to somehow find the patience to live it out.  I've never come so close to blowing fuck all over the wall, it's where it belonged.

It's not easy to type and I'm sure that it's not easy to read, the talk of suicide or the idea that I grasp with all my might that certain experiences in my past fucked me up in the head.  I don't want to hear, "be strong" or "it's OK" or "we love you" or "    " or "     ".  Honestly, I don't need a single outside condolence as I've found exactly what I need in this life.

It's not external and it's not a thing, it's the simple understanding that there are certain things that are very difficult to understand, to solve, to get answers too.  It's the simple understanding that I am me, a man who's lived a life with ups and downs, yet here I stand.  No better or no worse, but I understand. 

My past fucked me up in the head.  It's when I appeared insane to others I was actually seeking my sanity, which led me to my reality.  As I continued to work yesterday, I smiled.  I'm home, not the physical place, but the one within.  Maybe my brain is a bit blended, but I know that it is and just knowing brings peace, clarity and the power to overcome just about anything.

I sat down for dinner a couple weeks ago with Taylor and told her, "I'm so grateful for my life, all of it".  Even the part that's a little fucked up, it's my reality.    

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