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Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Black is east and up is white...and we get pregnant.

As usual, I was bored. Dead end job, hated the people I worked with/for, no idea what the future would hold, yada, yada.

Christmas was coming and some fool thought I would be a great candidate for a Discover Card, with a pre-approved $1200 limit.

My first credit card. One of the most dangerous things that could happen to a person like me.

I say that for the following reasons: (I learned this about me the hard way and thank God I have gotten better about it over the years, but back then, if I were out of sorts, and meetings were just the same tired rhetoric and the world turned that particular shade of grey, I would do some things, perform certain acts to break out of the mold and get back at 'you', if there was a you at all.)

I will either drink "at you"; I will use drugs "at you", I will have sex "at you" or I will spend money "at you". Sometimes all at once.

This time I went nuts shopping for Christmas. Small items...a lot of small items. Our Christmas tree was piled with presents, some very stupid presents, (fitted sheet holders for the corners of the bed? Are you serious?) but bunches of them. I was briefly satisfied and thought for a minute about making a card payment, then thought better of it. Fuck 'em, as it were, this was my Christmas and they sent the card. That should teach them.

I can't remember if we discussed having a baby or if it just happened. I seem to recall it was a mutual decision, and we tried several times, checking the ominous little plastic strips with alternating waves of hope and dread, and then, finally it was positive.

I was excited. A second chance at normal.

A baby, one that I could be there for, one that might be the glue that could hold this ever crumbling union together (I thought at the time) unlike my first daughter, who by the way I had attempted to find on several occasions to no avail.

(Years later I found out why. My first wife told the judge-as she stood in front of him, looking twelve, bottom lip quivering, her new family behind her, smirking, to include the 'little girl' now grown up, that I had left behind-she thought I would kidnap our daughter, so she went into hiding. Are you fucking kidding me? )

Was it a make up child? Maybe, or maybe a solid, physical means for staying on the straight and narrow, and let me assure you, it gets very straight and as narrow as an Elvis Costello tie, with no room for expression, at least for me.

Because now it's pay bills, work hard, more bills, work harder, she's getting fat, so what, look at the other miserable bastards , shuffling behind these huge breeder bitches at the Mall like the walking dead (who seem to think it's not so much a vagina as it is a clown car)... their lives, their dreams, finished and dead.

Oh yeah...I was happy.

So our parents were thrilled, she got bigger, and after three sonograms we learned we were having twins. The Doctor broke the news by pinpointing Baby A, then Baby B, both girls. I remember I was stunned as if bludgeoned and could not form words. The only time that has ever happened.

The gravity of the situation then became 'doubly' apparent.

Oh my.

And I stepped through the looking glass.

No comments:

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...