The bag of apples

This place and this time are probably the hardest for me to handle.  This house that I used to call mine has been filled with pain and confusion and miscommunication for so long that it is painful to sit here alone after the boys go to sleep.  The memories that creep over me are of good and bad times.  I feel the loneliest here. I have felt lonely here before, but never quite alone.  If I could curl up with my boys to ease the pain, I would.  But that doesn't help them adjust or me move on.
This place also still  give me such great moments of joy.  As I was tucking the boys in to sleep, I stood by Jacob's bed.  We had been talking about the separation while we cuddled before bed, and he wanted to try to understand more.  We talked about all the different aspects of what was happening and what we could do to help ourselves feel better while we were going through it.  He and I have talked about my journal before, and  before I left I gave him his own.  We started talking about why it was important for us to journal.  He, like myself, can easily get caught up in his own head.  I explained to him that if we didn't find a way to get the bad stuff out that it could hurt us.  I described it as a bag of apples.  I told him that if we bought a bag of apples and in the middle, where no one could see, was a bad one it could spread it's fungus to the rest of the apples in no time at all.  I explained that maybe the person who bagged the apples put it in the middle because if we saw that bad apple we wouldn't want the whole bag.  Maybe they thought that we would think they were stupid for putting that bad apple in there to begin with.  I explained that why or how the apple got there wasn't important.  We just needed to get the apple out of the bag so there would be room for more good apples.  After about 15 min he said, "Daddy, I have a bad apple that I haven't gotten out yet."  He went on to explain that when I first moved it would hurt him too much to even think about writing that down. We talked about his bag of apples for quite a while.  It was so joyous to know that by the end of it, he had a way to explain to me or his mother that he needed our help dealing with some of these apples.  And he had a real understanding that I believe it is my job to help him get rid of the apples that are too big and ugly for him to handle alone.
Every week I look forward to my time with my boys, and moments like these make me understand that if I couldn't talk about my bag of apples with him, he would never be able to talk about his bag of apples with me.  This is where the pain yields some fruit (no pun intended) in the form of strength and openess.
I wish for them to experience all happiness and the root of all happiness.

The Caretaker

I have always thought of myself as being the caretaker of any relationship I was in.  I always thought that I was the one that made sure that things were good.  Whether it was my marriage, a friendship, a familial relationship I thought of myself as doing the work to keep everyone happy.  If that sounds odd to you, the reader, I am no longer shocked.  As I look at myself honestly I can see that being taken care of has been a theme for me. I felt the most ""loved and appreciated" if someone else was doing what I should have been doing for myself.  I have always laughed it off as, "I just don't pay attention to detail" or "I am looking at the big picture, being creative."  In retrospect this is a recipe for disaster.  Why would someone want to take care of their own business and mine because I my head was in the clouds?  As I now struggle to do just that, I can more fully understand the strain that I put on my relationships by being incapable of behaving as an adult.  That is certainly an area of focus for me now.  Accepting help when needed and being taken care of is still a fuzzy area for me and yet such a contradiction.  I have always prided myself on not needing any help.  I built a corral by myself, I bred my cows or loaded pigs or chased other guy's cows around stanchion barns because I didn't need any help.  While at the same time being seemingly unable to have any idea where I was spending money or how to make anything other than frozen pizza or know when to go to the dr or how to even groom myself until specifically directed to do it.  I have changed some of these things and am working very hard to change the others.  Becoming an independent, functional adult seems like a ridiculous goal at the age of 37, but it is certainly one of mine.
I don't feel like there is any resolution in this post.  It doesn't end neatly or with words of wisdom gained from some sage.  Because it is so much of my struggle, I think that I won't have any resolution on this point for some time.  Without the situation I now find myself in, I would never have even tried.  There is no point in "if onlys," so I will move forward into my struggle with a little bit more resolve.  With a more determination that I won't make more discoveries too late.

Gratitude

It has come to my attention recently how good the people around me are for me.  I have seen that it is necessary to put healthy people around me to help me act in an appropriate way.  The support that I have received from both friends and family has been surprisingly impressive.  The gifts of time, support, love and material goods has made me feel loved and appreciated.  It has helped me untangle from the negative aspects of my life and focus on the good parts of all of it.  I would say that I have had an optimistic view throughout this long process, but occasionally I find myself amazed at the emotional progress that is possible when you are in a healthy environment.  It makes me want to redouble my efforts to get the rest of my family to STL.  By extricating myself from an unhealthy job I have begun to see the areas of my work life that have suffered from my codependent spiral of the last few years.  By no longer being surrounded by all of the various unhealthy relationships I am able to begin to see the ways in which I was responsible for my current situation and how to ensure that I will never again return there.  On my first night in an empty, dark apartment, with no furniture, no internet, very little light and six pack of Natty light I sat in a lawn chair in the middle of my living room.  I told myself to focus on the pain and loneliness.  I never want to forget that feeling.  I never want to get lazy enough, sick enough or dumb enough to put myself in this position again.  It is still lonely.  It is still painful, but I know that this is the worst.  I will regain my strength.  I will regain my ability to give and receive a healthy and true love.  I am rediscovering my juicy nougat, the good stuff that is me.  The best parts of me.  I am rediscovering that I can be a responsible, mature adult without being old.  I am relearning what is required of me to function on a daily basis.  I am learning to ask for what I need and to give what is required.  It gives me great hope for not only me, but for everyone involved.  This is by far the most painful adventure I have ever undertaken.  But it is by far going to be the most rewarding.  With the many pitfalls and trials that lay ahead, I can focus on these times of hope and reflect on those times of pain with fondness. I will take advantage of the opportunities that I have been given and the rediscovery of good people in my life.

God is Love

Okay, pick your jaw up off the floor.  It will become more clear later, but first a back story.
Several years ago I read an article that was suggested to me about one of the bus riders through Georgia in the sixties.  I cannot for the life of me remember his name or I would put a link to the story.  In the article he talked about the pacifism of Martin Luther King and the movement in the sixties.  He talked about how when they would get off the bus, they knew what was waiting for them.  He knew that there were men with fists and clubs and guns that were going to harm him.  He knew that the only way to not get angry or to hate the men doing it was to love them.  The only way to not strike back was to love who they were, not what they were doing, but who they were.  I read that article years ago and the love he felt for his abusers astounded me.  It was after reading that story that I determined that I too was going to become a pacifist.  I too would love.  I felt the power that a true love can wield.  I believed in that kind of love.  The part that I found the most confusing to me was, how could someone who so believed in what love can accomplish know so little about what it was?  How could I, a person who can honestly say that I love everyone, let his marriage crumble around him?  I have struggled many nights and deleted many blogs on this topic.  Then, in a talk I listened to by Pembra Chodron she explained that a truly loving person must start within himself.  The first person in list of people that you would wish to find happiness and the root of happiness was yourself. She explained that if I could make even a pinprick into the reservoir, over time the true nature of love would wear a larger and larger hole.  This is described in many books as frozen emotions or many different thing by many different people.
Today, as I was driving back to S-ville I was thinking about a time that the boys and I were in the car listening to "The Once and Future Carpenter" by The Avett Brothers.  Jeffrey asked me what he meant when he sang, "If I live the life I'm given, I won't be scared to die."  I explained it to him as, if you do your best in everything that you try you will be happy knowing that you could have done nothing more.  As I followed this thought through, I remembered previous times of emotional tumult in my life.  I remember saying to myself and others around me, "I know that they were doing the best they could at the time."  I began thinking about my marriage.  If I could offer that kind of love and forgiveness to others then why not myself?  I know that I did the very best that I was able to at the time.  I know that my wife had done the very best that she could at the time.  And that we both still are.  As I pondered this, my eyes began to tear up.  But the difference this time was that they were tears of joy.  I could feel the love for myself, for my wife, for my family for all others beginning to well up inside of me again.  I felt as though my small pinpricks of effort had released a small but steady stream of true love within me again.  I began to feel as though I am truly accepting who I am.  I am truly accepting of it all.
This is where the god part comes in.  I believe that love is my god.  I don't worship it in a traditional sense.  I don't give it sacrifices in a traditional sense.  I don't hold books about it up as sacred or not from human hands.  But it is my god none the less.  I believe that this is the love that christians call God, that muslims call Allah, that the chinese call Chi, that the buddhists call the Buddha Nature, that every race of man has had a word for.  I believe that love is the reason we are here.  It is love that makes an existence on this planet possible.  You may call it anything that you like, but to me it is love.  It is true, undemanding, heartfelt love.  It is the love that allows forgiveness and brings peace.  Both I am in great need of.

Lean into the point

I am feeling a bit scared and sad this afternoon.  I have realized that the books I have read about codependency were right.  It is not something that recognition alone can alleviate the suffering.  The recovery is where it feels the real work begins.  Understanding why I have behaved the way I have for basically my whole life does not change that behavior.  It is up to me to do that.  I am set to sign on an apartment later this week. That returning realization that nothing can ever be the same brings with it the sadness and fear.  I am determined not to dull the point this time.  I am determined to feel the fear and sadness with an understanding that it comes and goes.  I am determined not to let guilt take over my feeling of excitement.  I am determined not to continue to be a human wrecking ball.  I am determined not to use inappropriate crutches just to alleviate the hurt that comes with this kind of change.  I will get back to looking these things straight in the eye and dealing with them honestly.  Honest with myself and everyone around me.  I have been trying to allow those that love me and care for me do just that.  Knowing full well that I cannot at this time repay anything close to what is being given to me.  I have no idea what I am doing, but I know that I have to figure this out for myself.  I know that I will slip up again and I know that I will forgive myself, ask for forgiveness and begin again.  Lean into the point.  I tell myself that 40 times a day.  Lean into the point.

losing focus

I have spent the last couple of years in a fog created by codependency issues, alcohol, and fear.  I started working my way out of that fog in November.  I was shaken to the core when Angie and I decided that we needed a divorce.  I had spent so long trying to control and manipulate and force her to love me that I had forgotten how to be a husband.  I had lost my focus on the only thing that should have mattered.  I had driven a wedge between us and never realized what I was doing until it was too late.  Well, I started to get my shit together in November.  I had finally been hurt enough to force me to look at myself and determine what I was doing.  I began working daily on becoming a better man and father.  I had made pretty good strides thanks to counselling, daily journaling and friends and family.  Then I moved to STL.  I started out strong and focused.  I was doing well on maintaining my progress.  Then I started to lose focus again.  For the last 3 weeks I have been struggling.  I have made poor decisions, bad judgments and treated others poorly.  I feel like I have had another moment or two of clarity.  I have tried to begin to get back on track.  To stay focused on recovery and rebuilding.  I am forgiving myself completely and moving forward.  I am trying to correct a few of those mistakes and apologize to those people.
This is hard.  Harder than I thought it would be.  But I will make it through and I will become a less frustrated, petty and angry man.  I will become a more loving, honest and compassionate father.  I am heading up a hill on a cold and windy day.  I have never been beaten by a run and I will not give up now.

nothing to do with the buddha

It turns out, that the blog is a helluva a good idea.  It is necessary.  It is informative to those who are interested.  It is a wonderful outlet.  That is until you are with people who want to hear what you have to say.  Blogging becomes redundant when there are enough people who are interested in what you have to say.  It is an interesting phenomenon.  I find it hard to blog because the words I would use, the things I would say are already out there in the atmosphere.  It is not the permanence of the words that I seek through blogging, but getting them out of my head.  This is not an indictment of blogging or me, but a recognition of human interaction that I desire.  I am not done blogging or even taking an extended hiatus.  I am merely recognizing that when I can spill things out, the blog suffers.  I love words.  I always have.  It turns out that I may have a limited number of them.  I have always thought of myself as a quiet individual.  Perhaps, that is because when I said what I have to say, I am done.  That being said, there is nothing more relieving than letting people know who you are.  I think that is called being vulnerable.  I am enjoying a revival of that in my life.  I hope that you all, and myself, benefit from that.  I truly believe that without being open and honest with myself and everyone I encounter, it is I who will suffer.
I wish for you all to find happiness and the root of happiness.