Realizing that a whisper,
makes its point better than a scream.
Realizing a caress,
fills me faster than a punch.
Realizing the truth,
energizies my brain more than a lie.
Realizing that life,
awakens me more than death.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Mornings...
I woke up sore as hell this morning from Yoga. My calves and triceps burned. At 4:45, when everything is silent, my thoughts scream at me.
"Don't get up."
"Get the fuck up"
"She's never coming back"
"Maybe today is the day you hear from her"
"You are fucking pitiful"
"You are a brave, strong man"
"You will be alone, forever"
"I saw that girl looking at you yesterday"
"Don't worry"
"Worry about everything"
I start on the treadmill. The self improvement started a while ago, but I'm fairly certain no one noticed. I quit a lot of things. Life will not be one of them. I have to remember, that even if all things don't happen for a reason, this did. There were three people in the gym, this morning. I'm fairly certain I was hurting the worst, inside and out. Yet, the second that first push up started, I was back in familiar territory. No thoughts. No worries, except the next push up. No thoughts. No worries, except the next pull up. No thoughts. No worries, except my abs burning like Syria in the newspaper.
"You need this. You want this. You know that no matter what, no matter how, your mind and body need healing", I whisper in my own ear. I said the same thing to myself at 12:30am, 3:30am, 4:30am. Slipping out of the gym, I can see the shadow of her walking across the street. That shadow, doesn't even deserve me, right now. No shadow deserves me. Yet, one day, I know that it will be every shadow that will be scared of me. They will be scared of the light that I am. They will run and tell the people to whom they belong.
"That man over there. Look at him. You want him by your side. In your time of need, that is a brave soul."
I know this.
"Don't get up."
"Get the fuck up"
"She's never coming back"
"Maybe today is the day you hear from her"
"You are fucking pitiful"
"You are a brave, strong man"
"You will be alone, forever"
"I saw that girl looking at you yesterday"
"Don't worry"
"Worry about everything"
I start on the treadmill. The self improvement started a while ago, but I'm fairly certain no one noticed. I quit a lot of things. Life will not be one of them. I have to remember, that even if all things don't happen for a reason, this did. There were three people in the gym, this morning. I'm fairly certain I was hurting the worst, inside and out. Yet, the second that first push up started, I was back in familiar territory. No thoughts. No worries, except the next push up. No thoughts. No worries, except the next pull up. No thoughts. No worries, except my abs burning like Syria in the newspaper.
"You need this. You want this. You know that no matter what, no matter how, your mind and body need healing", I whisper in my own ear. I said the same thing to myself at 12:30am, 3:30am, 4:30am. Slipping out of the gym, I can see the shadow of her walking across the street. That shadow, doesn't even deserve me, right now. No shadow deserves me. Yet, one day, I know that it will be every shadow that will be scared of me. They will be scared of the light that I am. They will run and tell the people to whom they belong.
"That man over there. Look at him. You want him by your side. In your time of need, that is a brave soul."
I know this.
*p.s. If you would like you can become a follower of this blog. Just saying.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Divorce vs. My Son
Lately, I have leaned on my son in a way I don't think most fathers would or should. Yet, when I think about the advice he's given me in this time of need, I realize that he is amazingly wise and mature for his age. This week has been a cleansing and revamping of my house. So, as a friend and I painted my kitchen I related this story:
My son was around 11 when I went through my divorce. Anyone that knows me, knows that he is my life's blood. Anyone that knows my son, knows he has always been strong and handled adversity in a way that is way beyond his years. So, during the divorce he showed no real signs of wear. It was a rough divorce. Lots of yelling, some broken windows, and I remember one time my ex-wife chased me and a woman down with a truck. All this time, my son kept a good head on his shoulders. Then, there was this night.
I'm tucking my son into bed at my house. His nightlight is on, he is up to his shoulders in covers, and the dimly lit room is shadowed my stuffed animals and legos. He has brushed his teeth, taken a shower, and combed his hair and looks incredibly adorable when I walk into his room. Also, incredibly sad.
"Logan, are you ok?", I ask, as I sit on the edge of his bed.
"Not really, Pops", his cute squishy face looking down into his blanket.
"Talk to me, Boog", best nickname ever, by the way.
"It's this divorce thing. I just don't know what to think of it. It's starting to make me sad.", suddenly a ton of bricks falls on my emotions. My hearts sinks. I want to hold him. I want to cry with him. I want to tell him how fucked up I am over it, also. Yet, something kicks in.
"Hey, look at me Boog", I grabbed him by his little chin. His big, ass blue eyes looked so pitiful and beautiful. "I know that in these times that it might be necessary for you to not only be sad, but be mad. Like really pissed. I understand that, and I would feel the same way. So, if you need someone to blame, here I am. Sitting right in front of you, and whether this affects our relationship today, tomorrow or in the future, I will always understand. I should have done a better job, as a father, as a husband. You both put your trust in me to be a good role model, and a strong man, and I failed. Yet, all I can do is move forward from this, and show you that not only in this situation, but in every situation in the future, that I can be that man. So, if you want to be sad, I will be here to hold you. And if you want to be mad, I will be here to take every punch." There was a long pause. A Mexican stand off.
"Pops, I love you", he reached up, wrapped both arms around my neck, and squeezed like nobody's business.
Here's to you Boog. One day I hope to be as strong as you.
My son was around 11 when I went through my divorce. Anyone that knows me, knows that he is my life's blood. Anyone that knows my son, knows he has always been strong and handled adversity in a way that is way beyond his years. So, during the divorce he showed no real signs of wear. It was a rough divorce. Lots of yelling, some broken windows, and I remember one time my ex-wife chased me and a woman down with a truck. All this time, my son kept a good head on his shoulders. Then, there was this night.
I'm tucking my son into bed at my house. His nightlight is on, he is up to his shoulders in covers, and the dimly lit room is shadowed my stuffed animals and legos. He has brushed his teeth, taken a shower, and combed his hair and looks incredibly adorable when I walk into his room. Also, incredibly sad.
"Logan, are you ok?", I ask, as I sit on the edge of his bed.
"Not really, Pops", his cute squishy face looking down into his blanket.
"Talk to me, Boog", best nickname ever, by the way.
"It's this divorce thing. I just don't know what to think of it. It's starting to make me sad.", suddenly a ton of bricks falls on my emotions. My hearts sinks. I want to hold him. I want to cry with him. I want to tell him how fucked up I am over it, also. Yet, something kicks in.
"Hey, look at me Boog", I grabbed him by his little chin. His big, ass blue eyes looked so pitiful and beautiful. "I know that in these times that it might be necessary for you to not only be sad, but be mad. Like really pissed. I understand that, and I would feel the same way. So, if you need someone to blame, here I am. Sitting right in front of you, and whether this affects our relationship today, tomorrow or in the future, I will always understand. I should have done a better job, as a father, as a husband. You both put your trust in me to be a good role model, and a strong man, and I failed. Yet, all I can do is move forward from this, and show you that not only in this situation, but in every situation in the future, that I can be that man. So, if you want to be sad, I will be here to hold you. And if you want to be mad, I will be here to take every punch." There was a long pause. A Mexican stand off.
"Pops, I love you", he reached up, wrapped both arms around my neck, and squeezed like nobody's business.
Here's to you Boog. One day I hope to be as strong as you.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Halt
This blog has been stopped due to emotional breakdown. Just give me time........just give me time.......just give me time...........
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