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Friday, July 17, 2009

Stardust and straightjackets... Dad's favorite song.

At his memorial three of his musician friends played it. The first few notes reduced me to wracking sobs, while I held my twins for dear life. They were too little to know what was wrong, or why Daddy was so upset, but my little troopers hugged me back, and were very brave.

What kind of man relies on four-year old daughters to hold him up emotionally? The kind with nothing left I guess.

I don't remember much of the service but I do know the coffin was empty as he had opted for cremation. I was glad it was empty. It made things less real.

As usual, my pain and focus was all about me. I couldn't console his wife, or his brother or anyone pain was greater than anyone's. It had to be. My selfishness disturbs even me.

But I knew one thing...

My parents, as screwed up as they were, having an emotional and spiritual toolkit containing only a hammer and a bottle opener, were gone.

I was alone in the world without a rudder. No guidance or direction had ever been given me and I didn't have a play book. Thirty-five years old, and I felt like I was truly alone in the world.

I couldn't pick up the phone grudgingly anymore to make the obligatory phone call. I couldn't bitch about them to friends. I couldn't blame them for my failings.

All I could do was miss them.

I stayed in my attic room for three days, only venturing downstairs to pee and get water.

I talked to them, I talked to myself and I went a little bit mad. The screaming "WHY? WHY? WHY?" in the middle of the night must have been unsettling for my room mates, but crazy will certainly guarantee your private time.

Eventually, with tears streaming down my face, I picked up the shotgun. God didn't exist, my parents had abandoned me for good and my babies didn't really know who I was. Two failed marriages, failed careers, a failed life.

The only thing strong about me was my self pity, self-centeredness and my willingness to use people, places and things to patch up the holes. I had run out of all of them.

I thumbed the hammers back one more time, and placed both barrels over my heart.

I just knew it was going to hurt.

I pulled the triggers.


My roommate had removed the shells.

I laid on my mattress and cried, until I could cry no more...

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 The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.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...