35.881800,-79.042540 to 35.856360,-79.112570

An oldie but a goodie….

“It’s about how you get up, not how you’ve fallen”

When I started this blog as a place to express myself, I started right off the bat with my first post with the statement: “I’m a dad, a divorced man, a wishful musician and an adulterer, (reformed).”

Today as I reflect on that statement and definition of myself, I can understand and remember the headspace I was in at the time, but I would have to retract that statement and use this one:

“I am a Dad, A divorced man and a wishful musician. I am a man who is divorced. I am a man who sees a flawed human in the mirror but also understands things happen and appreciates the man before me.”

While this experience has been hard, likely the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced, the lessons I have learned along the way have shaped me into a much better man and while I wouldn’t suggest this as a path to learning, I wouldn’t change anything that happened along the way. I think I needed to get to this place to have the clarity I have today (ok – there are some things I would change but not the lessons!). I am thankful, if not grateful for clarity.

The other part of this blog has been mostly about anonymity, I tend to talk around things and leave out specifics so as to keep those who know but might wish to be unknown safe. In this post, I intend to lay out my truth in an effort to find some reconciliation with myself and as part of this, share the truth as I know. It has to be stated – contracts are in place, this matter has been settled, no one named here risks any legal action and since we were all parties to the same stuff, I don’t feel too bad about using any specific names (although my therapist will still be some fantastical bass player) after all, I did pay extra to ensure my affair partner was indemnified from the fullest extent of the law. That last statement isn’t being boastful, she didn’t want me to, but I needed to protect her in the only way I knew how at the time, so I did. Faced with the same decision again – I would do it all over again.

When my affair began 4+ years ago, I was a married 46-year-old man who was unhappy in his marriage and met someone equally unhappy in theirs. This person happened to be my neighbor Virginia. Funny enough, I have an earlier memory of meeting her on the deck of a P&O Ferry between Dover and Calais when I was about 14. She was magnificent and beguiling then, at 46 to me. she was more-so – but the P&O story is a story for a much different day. I won’t for an instant not imagine that the universe brought her to me a second time and I was then and am still thankful it did, even for the pain. The universe is a strange and mystical place….

Our relationship started innocently enough, it’s started with a drunken kiss on a waning full moon. We had both been very attracted to each other and she was in that moment the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. It was like a dream. As it turned out, we were both unhappy and saw someone who needed a partner who would be there for them. For each of us, in retrospect, I think we were both naïve. When we started it I never thought in a million years I would fall so deeply in love with her or she with me. What began as a white-hot passionate affair grew into a deep and abiding love, not without issue, but deep and abiding. Virginia and I went through a crucible together in term of living through private investigators, lawsuits, contracts, arbitrations, etc… it was a hard and difficult path we chose. What strikes me still today is the memory of gathering together to reflect on what transpired and focus on the future.  I can still recall very vividly a dinner at Acme in Carrboro… it’s weird the things you recall…  Our relationship was a partnership that while weird and containerized in the early times, in retrospect, was mostly good once we were each separated/divorced from our respective spouses. I say mostly good because, as indicated in my earlier blog statement, I carried a fair amount of guilt and shame for being an adulterer and allowed others to leverage that in order to manipulate me. In retrospect, I can see all the ways Virginia reacted to this abuse.  I was wrong to let it take place at the time, but when you’re in the eye of the storm, you don’t always see dry ground around you. I allowed my children to leverage my guilt as well as my ex-wife. While I divorced, it took time to set all the ugliness aside.  What I am regretful for is putting Virginia through this storm with me and having her watch me suffer. Having watched someone I love suffer myself, it’s heart breaking. I was in a bad place for a long time. I am a stubborn man. She needed more love from me and for me to relent and let her give me the love she wanted to give. I was afraid I would lose everything I had and then some, the love of my children, my family, etc… so I resisted. In the end it took me this time to have this level of clarity. Again – the clarity gives me a sense of relief that I won’t let happen again. When someone offers goodness and love to care for you – it’s important that you trust them to love you well.

My relationship with Virginia spanned over 4 years with multiple breakups along the way. Early in our relationship, we spent time walking in the woods, sharing dreams, frustrations with our families, supporting each other and dreaming together.  Later on, once separated, we were able to establish a regular relationship, dinners, nights out, nights in and the nature of our partnership changed. Although, the manipulation in my world continued to bleed over into hers, we were able to spend time together more openly. Although I have to admit, I allowed my shame and guilt to shape how I interacted with her. A regret of mine to be sure. To this day though, the happiest Christmas I’ve experienced as an adult was spent with her and her kids. We had wonderful trips, lots of laughs, vivacious conversations where we argued pedantic points much to the chagrin of the other but overwhelmingly shared a deep and abiding love between us. There really is too much to catalogue here…. most of it good and bad still remains in my mind. Mostly good.

Our love was pure and while we were seemingly twin-flames, we could argue as passionately as we loved. These arguments were exacerbated I believe by each of our own insecurities. In the end though, we could embrace and move forward, for the most part.  Along that timeline I continued to struggle with my own demons and she very patiently waited for me. In the end we parted ways, but I have come to reflect on the time, the pure amount of time it has taken me to get to this point. Over the past 3-4 years I’m pretty sure I alone have kept several distilleries and brewery’s afloat. I have been suicidal (documented here), I have been bi-polar (why this blog exists in the first place), I have been massively depressed and yet through it all this person sat with me and watched me suffer offering kindness and love and it was very much lost on me.

I’ve spent a long time loathing and disliking the man in the mirror. For once I don’t mind the guy I see, he’s smarter, more empathetic and forgives more quickly. Throughout our relationship, this wasn’t the case. It has taken time, continued reflection and work to get to this point for me. Unfortunately, my relationship with Virginia fell victim to this roller-coaster of self-dount and self-hatred.

Virginia and I were not without our own issues.  Both of us have experienced trauma and suffered as children, we suffered loss and diminishment.  Our individual needs for acceptance and self-preservation along with a healthy dose of self-hatred made our relationship that much harder to experience. Life had been easy and hard for each of us. Having been married before, I knew all too well, the one person who can destroy you is the person closest to you who has all your secrets and knows all the soft spots to press when things go sideways. She and I had our own peccadillos and were adept at exposing them while hiding others. This is my blog, I can only say from my own standpoint, I can understand and see with more clarity how all of this unfolded and where things went askew. In the end I can take responsibility for being massively depressed, manipulated, terribly stubborn and needing time to heal. I needed time to learn to forgive myself for my transgressions and to see myself in a new light. Life goes on, memories remain, the happiness that was can’t be diminished.

So here we are now and it’s November of 2020. During COVID times and we just elected a new administration. Hope is on the rise as is the daily infection rates. My relationship with Virginia, like the Trump administration, had lots of stops and starts but in the end crashed and burned. I am moving through time and space and continuing to do the work to heal. The work I am sure will be on-going. My therapist, Ray Brown is a trusted advisor. Helps me move through the ups and downs and get back to seeing someone in the mirror I recognize as a good man. Virginia, as far as I know has moved on, every now and again I hear from her. What I want and hope for her is that she ends up happy, loved and accepted.  There’s a whole big part of me that wishes I were the man providing that happiness, love and acceptance, however logic prevails and wishes may come true, in this case, I have to live my life and move on open to what is in my life and what the universe allows to come into my life in the future.

Thirty-plus years ago, a heartbroken Peter wrote “Love is like a rusty faucet, you can turn it off as best you can and yet there will always be a drip.” I come back to those words and that imagery because while we have each moved on, there is an aspect of my heart that will always have a place for Virginia. I can hope that perhaps, she feels the same, however, I can only abide in what I know in my own heart and mind and hope that type of love comes round again.

Stay Salty my friends, love deeply, forgive quickly, spread kindness to yourself and others and be someone’s rock when they need support or a place to rest. In the words of my therapist – be well and be kind to yourself.

-Peter

Crushed, Screwed and Mending…

Screwed!

About 4 weeks ago I had an auspicious birthday and rolled up to a new decade, from here I think I have the down hill run to meeting my maker. Not that I’m in a hurry to do so, but it makes me think a good deal about the road I’ve taken to get here and the path I’m on at the current place in my life. Reflecting seems to be a bad habit I have, but I do think there are two kinds of people, those who see life as an opportunity to wear you down over time like a stone or one that allows you to evolve and change as a crystal grows and changes. Hell – even a diamond is created out of great pressure! There’s no mistaking my situation as one that might yield a diamond, but I am very adept at turd polishing!

Recent events have put me in the place I don’t really enjoy inhabiting. So about 3 weeks ago, 10/13, I had a little mishap on my motorcycle which included a 5-10mph low-side in the backcountry of Northern Pennsylvania while riding the Mid Atlantic Back Country Discovery Route (https://ridebdr.com/mabdr/). There I broke my clavicle and cracked my eyebrow open (4 STITCHES – killer Bond Villain Scar) which resulted eventually in surgery, but I’ll pick up that story shortly, Thankfully I was riding with a very old friend of mine from college, someone I trust implicitly and who’s known me for a good long time. When I think of this guy, I don’t think, yeah he’s my good friend, he’s been a constant over these many years in and out – but always, along with his lovely bride, a very dear and constant friend.

One would think turning 50 and breaking a bone and requiring surgery to place some titanium in my shoulder would have chilled me out a little bit. It has to some extent, but what it has revealed to me is the goodness of the people around me. I’m not comfortable being handled. I don’t like people having to go out of their way to take care of me. Tying my shoelaces so I can go walk, cutting my meat so I can eat. Walking the dog, blowing the driveway, in Robs case, cutting short our adventure on day 4 because I had a slight get off and could no longer ride. The accident I would say has allowed me to refocus on taking it easy, being cognizant of where I step and to some extent how I interact with people. Even at the grocery store little kindnesses and grace permeates my interactions with people.

These, for lack of a better term, Graceful kindnesses, have laid my emotions bare. Little things, the PA at the doctors office helping me put my shirt back on my bum shoulder/arm. The Anesthesiologist spending copious amounts of time with me before surgery talking me off the ledge. The surgeon who is not only brilliant, but practical. My kids, my neighbors, my friends who demonstrate caring and compassion in helping to care for me and help me get things done. Let me tell you, for me it has been a humbling and utterly revealing experience. These have taken someone who’s usually highly emotional and turn those tears up to 11. I am not sorry for being emotional nor do I see it as weakness – I see it for what it is which is beautiful.

As I spoke with my surgeon this morning, he told me he wasn’t happy with the fixation of a couple of the screws in my clavicle. They’re holding fine, but he had hoped they would have better purchase in the bone – so I guess in the end, the screwee got the upper hand on the screwer! That said, it requires a couple of extra weeks in the sling but I’ll take it. On the other side of this I won’t be the man I was before. I’ll have somehow evolved a little, picked up a couple cool new scars and learned to slow down and let others help me.

Excuse the Dermabond – this should have a nice tattoo of sisyphus on it in about a year…..pushing that rock up the hill!

So this whole post would be sugary sweet and totally unlike my normal posts. There has to be a reference to something salty… in this case not so much salty as in a reference to Peter, St. Peter that is… About 4 years ago, I was excitedly exposed to the painter Giotto (c. 1267 – 1337) who was an innovator in his time, although, like all good things, was venerated after his death as a master instead of while he was walking this earth. Since that introduction, I’ve been drawn to his work. Specifically – to this Triptych which was commissioned to be an alter-piece for one of the Alters of Old St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Something about this speaks to me and brings me happiness. So much so – if you’re over to my place – you may well spy it hanging on my wall.

An odd choice for a 50 year old single man, Giotto’s work speaks to me in a way that makes no sense and yet makes complete sense.

Until next time – stay salty my friends, if you can’t be salty – then be the rock in someone’s world and prop them up. Be available, forgive, give grace, show enduring love, help someone in need and help yourself by being someone’s rock.

Connections….

On a total fluke I happened across a thread on an online forum regarding depression. This thread was kicked off in 2007…. that’s right – 13 years ago and for some reason, reading in 2020, this thread gave me solace. Group therapy … people chiming in regarding their own struggles with depression. Jesus what a revolution. For the first time in forever, I read accounts of people who see themselves the same way I see myself.

….if one wants to get through it, they do. They find help. It starts and ends with the individual.

if one wants to get through it, they do. They find help. It starts and ends with the individual.

I think its worth the journey, the journey back to yourself.

advrider…..

I have been struggling lately with the person who looks back at me in the mirror. That man is an adulterer, a fraud, a shadow of the person who existed prior to the affair. Lovable perhaps, someone with much to offer the world around him – but in his opinion, a charlatan. I am committed to working my way through this fog, it feels very much like a glacier is pressing down on me and it’s grinding it’s way across…. but fuck me – it’s what I have to muscle through to get to the other side.

I revisited some music lately which causes me to have a massive emotional response – suffice it to say, whatever it is, it causes me to de-compensate. Happiness is the only thing that comes to mind – but still it’s odd…. in this case, it’s the juxtaposition of the vocals of Wilson Pickett and Duane Allman’s guitar mastery…. listen if you dare – at 2:43 it gets amazing….

https://youtu.be/0y8Q2PATVyI

So Peter – what is this of connections …. what in the heck are you getting at? I’ve spent some time speaking with Rocco – he keeps telling me to let people love me, to accept their kindness and accept that there are folks in my world who care for me. That my role in their existence is important. You can, if you are depressed, understand how this is hard to fathom. My take on this is somehow you need to accept and take things on faith. I am fortunate in the connections I have made with those people who care for me and offer a different viewpoint.

It’s been two days (or nights) of solid sleep for me … this seems to make a difference in how I perceive the world around me – I am thankful for the sleep. Thankful for the support, thankful for the love that surrounds me.

Maybe this isn’t so salty….too sweet perhaps? I’ve always been told it’s the salt that brings out the sweet…..

Ambien w/Whiskey or Lead….???

Iceberg

I’ve found myself suffering as of late, while this isn’t any new news, it is different in how it’s manifested itself. When I started writing here, it was an exercise to get my feelings out in a manner whereby I felt a little better after writing along with the hopes that my insights might help someone else along the way, just enough to know they weren’t alone. In this case, I have never felt more alone while not being alone. Writing serves as an outlet but not the relief it has been in the past. It is a head scratcher.

The suffering in this case feels like being suspended in water, somewhat able to breath, somewhat able to hear. My vision for some reason seems to be impaired. Naps and deep breathing help somewhat, but I’m unsettled. In my chatting with my therapist, he just says, “Peter, you are depressed.” I keep pushing back on him in terms of trying medication again, not because I’m anti-medication, but because while I can’t quite feel as well as I wish and know I can, I know the medication will give me a temporary reprieve and then dull things again. Emotions are good – I don’t mind having them. For the first time in a long while I seem disconnected from them. As I have indicated here depressed is as Jim Carry says, is your body’s need for ‘deep rest.’ I find a bit of solace in knowing that my frequent naps and need for extra sleep are just my body’s way to find the deep rest it needs. I’m hoping the cooler weather as we roll into the fall will help me to get moving – as they say – 30 minutes of vigorous exercise is worth so and so many milligrams of anti-depressant. I’m not trying to be stubborn in this respect, but rather, find a more natural means of dealing with it.

So why Ambien or Lead? A month ago, around the time of my last post, I was contemplating joining Tony and my dad, I was beyond upset, I was staring down into the abyss and trying to find a way to make the pain go away.  My choices – an ounce and a quarter of #6 Federal Birdshot or 10 Ambien washed down with a nice, very rare, hard to get whiskey.  The issue is my shotgun has a 28″ Barrel – it’s a reach… guess that’s a good thing – I knew what I was doing when I bought it! Obviously, this post is written in the middle of August, so I am still here and very much of this world. Although, I’ll confess here, it is a weekly if not a daily struggle for me.

It occurs to me – you may, if you’re this far, asked yourself – Tony? Who’s Tony? Mr. Bourdain who is unfortunately not with us any longer. A person I admired, a ‘famous person’ I would have been very unlikely to meet if he had endured on this earth. If you ever watched his show, and you too are like me, depressed, you start to recognize where he was in a very quiet, self effacing way, showing us his depression. When his death was made public, I wasn’t surprised, as it had been right there all the time. I feel in some ways, similar to him in that the worthlessness I feel is driven down. After a lifetime of doing this, it becomes very second nature. Unless you know what to look for, you’d never know. In my idea of heaven – if I get there, I can finally catch up with Tony and have a beer and just exchange ideas. I’m honestly not in any hurry to get there – I just want the pain to go away. The suffering and the weight are starting to wear on what’s left of my sanity.

What so far has kept me on this side of the world, is somewhat twofold – my ex – will receive a windfall should my demise come before our agreement comes to pass – I refuse to line her pocket more than I already am. The other one is my children – I worry they might not understand how I could leave them – although the big one is off to college and doesn’t seem inclined to include me in her life, the little one might not show the level of interest, but her kindness might suffer and while I sit here in a great deal of pain, I refuse to hurt either of them more than I have.

In reviewing this post – it doesn’t seem very salty – it seems bitter and reflective of my general mood.

 

Puzzles and pieces and belonging

Recently – very recently, I had the opportunity to see inside a vacation of a tight knit, lovely and loving family. I very much felt like an outsider looking in. It was eye opening to say the very least as my own family, that is, my siblings and I are deeply fractured, so this experience was wonderful and illuminating as ever. I left wondering if I ever will fit in a family again. If my own kiddos will extend an invitation to me about the lives they lead. If I will ever ‘fit’ in a family unit again. If I will ever allow myself to be worthy of love and able to receive the comfort and support of a ‘family.’

In about 2 weeks, I’ll hit the milestone of 6 years after the loss of my father. That loss caused a shift in the lives of so many people, mostly mine, but also my kids and my now ex-wife (actually – she’s been my ex for 3 years!) as well as friends and family members. Being the first person in my family (aside from my uncle) to divorce has been an interesting evolution. Navigating birthdays and my ex is always a difficult situation although the upside is it’s getting easier. What is always surprising is the overwhelming feeling of failure when you go back and see old memories in photos of your once ‘happy’ family. I struggle with this old vs new reality. While I can’t take full responsibility for the entirety of this new normal, it still hurts knowing you caused the whole thing in the first place.

What has been a recurring theme for me is being alone. Alone in my own head with my thoughts is a dangerous place. In the absence of alternate information, I have a tendency to create a storyline in my head – I’m not worthy of love, I am a screwup, I am just lucky to be here plodding along with my whatever it has become life. While these are recurring thoughts I am good at pushing them away with copious amounts of beer and/or bourbon, it’s the quiet times when this becomes almost unbearable. My therapist, let’s call him Willie Weeks, and I keep going around and around on these topics. Every now and again I get closer to an answer and then I stop and deflect. It is to me akin to putting a red hot poker to your temple, if I stop and think on this topic – a red hot poker to the temple seems less painful than dealing with this emptiness.

I titled this one Puzzles Pieces and belonging…. I am still very much puzzled if any part of me will fit into the larger aspect of a new family unit or at least belong, I can only dream of being considered a constant and beloved member of a unit. What I want more than anything is to be loved and cherished, accepted and understood… I guess this is what everyone wishes for …. I just don’t seem to be worthy of it quite yet. Now THAT is a salty statement!

Awakening

A strange thing happened to me recently which has shaken my knowledge and perception of love and life. It has caused me to feel much more deeply than I ever thought I was capable of feeling. While on the one hand I am logically worrying that this is an upward swing of emotions and yet another highest of highs almost like mania – I feel really really bad. Recently I ran into a former love, I say former, because I stopped that relationship because I was unable manage living in two worlds and I was tired, tired of my medication and in a bad place where one goes when they aren’t happy with anything. I was overweight, drank too much, was pulled in too many directions and blind as I could be that my love only wanted to help me – instead – I shut her out too. So then I decided we ‘weren’t compatable’ ended the relationship and moved along.

Then I started another one – a blissful happy romance with someone from my past with whom I shared a great past, but never once crossed paths. It was wonderful, healthy and loving.

For several months – then I started to wonder as I came off my meds and healed a little more, as I got more spring in my step – I started to wonder about my past love. How was she? What’s she up to? I would see her in passing around town being cautious to not engage. I was trying to keep a solid boundry. Then one day I saw her and the floodgates fell wide open, I had a viceral reaction that stayed and is still a constant. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, my heart pounds and aches. So what do I do? I break off my new relationship because I can’t (and won’t) be in a relationship with someone for whom I can’t look in the eye and profess complete adoration for. Lying and Love I’ve found, as a former adulteror, do not go hand in hand.

So what now? My former love is in a relationship and I, of my own actions, are left alone to ponder what if – to try to peice together why and hope that someday, this longing and this pain my heart subsides. It’s a funny thing pain – you hurt someone, they hurt you – if you won’t or can’t face the reasoning behind the pain with substance and honesty it will never abate.

I guess the best part of this, if there is a best part of this, is being able to be honest with myself and those around me who I care about and love. Being transparent and loving in that transparency seems to make things a little better. I am able to be honest and tranparent with my children who only want dad to be happy. I guess I’m back to being hopeful that if love goes away, true love will come back and make a happy home.

Y’all stay salty – enjoy the spice of life – remember, forgive first and love always.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

It’s been maybe a month or just under since I stopped taking my meds. It’s been an amazing month or so at that. Yeah I cry way too much for now, but it feels so very good to feel. Being able to feel without worrying about feeling like too much is a great place to be.

While I still have a tendancy to beat myself up for past actions, I can at least being to consider forgiveness for myself. Someone I care for deeply laid some truth on me in regards to forgiveness and being content with life as it is (which is pretty sweet!) and I’ve found myself vaccilating between two differing musical mantra’s:

One I had been saying for a long long time – hoping for things to get better. Sure enough, with a whole lot of therapy, good friends, divine intervention and sheer luck they have. I found myself listening to this and competely breaking down in tears – thankful and mindful of the journey I’ve taken.

The most recent emotion along these lines is joy. My therapist – Willie, suggests I abide in the goodness and enjoy the feelings. The funny thing is how Amazon music’s selection algorithm place String Cheese Incident’s ‘Joyful Sound’ in the mix. It’s at this point the dichotomy of feelings, those I had been managing the past two years – between ‘it’s got to get better’ and being content and happy with where I am today hit me. I am one fortunate SOB.

So then Pedro – What does all this goodness have to with the labels? If you’re so content – what’s the big deal one might ask…. it’s a fair question (if one at all)……In order to shed light on my hatred of labels – one has to go back a couple generations in my family to understand how anxiety and lack of self confidence breed pettiness. I’m not the only child in my family – two came before me and they, like me, have their own issues with axiety. How it manifests in each of us is different. After the loss of our father all hell, as they say, cut loose. We are beyond disfunctional. As most families are – we have our sibling rivalries – the elder two – have grudges that predate my existence (I’m nearly 49!) and their respective spouses have dug in as well to help carry those grudges (along with a few of their own!).

This in itself isn’t news – as mentioned – find a family who doesn’t have disfunction and then go buy a lotto ticket – what I’ve learned is we’re all nuts. As I said – it’s not news – except our mom – has a big birthday at the top of 2020 – I mean BEEG – with a zero behind it and everything. She’s invited her own family to come from overseas, her local friends, lifelong friends, church family and pretty much anyone who knows her to come celebrate 39×2+2 laps around the sun. This idea scares the ever loving bejesus out of me. I seriously doubt (while I hope I’m wrong) my two siblings and spouses can be civil if even for a little bit for our mother’s sake, I fear this might not be possible. It makes my heart ache for my mom. Having two kids who love each other completely and then considering the relationship between all of us – I hurt for my mom and have a level of fear that her birthday party ends up being a warzone.

Things 1 and 2 are toxic. In an effort to start clearing the air, I went to thing 2’s house this weekend to ask forgiveness for whatever I may have done to offend her. This was a mistake on my part. After being verbally and physically threatened by thing 2’s spouse over the weekend I lost all ability to cope. Yes – you read that last bit correctly – it took one man – 2 inches from my face physically menacing and threatening my family to cause me to run to a dark place. To rip off the scab I’ve been nursing for a long time and cause real distress. It hit me – these people I love as my family – siblings and their mates are bullies – like REAL BULLIES. Not unlike my ex and her family who use words and labels to devalue me, my family uses a different set of labels to devalue and demean each other. Asshole, Bitch, Loony Tune, MotherFucker, etc… They save other ones like ‘Golden Boy’ and you’re just like Uncle (fill-in the blank of shitty uncle).

Sounds fun eh? It’s not – the one thing I did determine through this excercise is establishing distinct boundries, as was suggested by a very intelligent and sane person, is the only way forward. Limit the exposure for myself and my kids from these people, play nice – but keep an open eye and be ready to defend. Not so much being salty as feeling like your family is rubbing salt into their own wounds…….

Confusion…..

Roughly 30-45 days ago there was an upset in the force – after a prolonged period of unhappiness I made a change, decided not feeling was as bad as feeling too much. Since then, I reduced and removed my meds (with physician oversight!) as well as removed alcohol from my daily regimen. I’ve added activity in the area of going to the gym and have become much more active socially. All good things…..

So then – why all the confusion? Right now I’m blaming this on coming off the medication. I’m up and down, happy one minute, anxious the next – is it the medicine? Is it me? Is it all the mistakes I’ve made along the way which got me here? I really don’t know. My kids tell me I’m grumpy (gee – dad doesn’t like being ignored and has grown a spine), my ex-wife vaccilates between being a co-parent and beating me up for my past transgressions (you know – I’m a two-timing, 24/7 lying philanderer who should be lucky I get to enjoy my children and put food on the table). There are several different narratives going through my mind in quick succession, each gives me pause, because of the way my thought process works I have this need to evaluate each one then move on. It’s a noisy place in my brain.

One of the things I’m not entirely sure of is when the meds fully go away if my brain will allow me to get back to the tranquil place I was before I started to not feel – or if I will return to this place where I am anxious all the time. I don’t think that’s the case and I will return to crazy land. Nearly 2 years of therapy has helped me to recognize when things don’t feel quite right, the work (and the reading – oh the reading!) has allowed me to understand to give myself a break and share with someone safe how I’m feeling. All that said. I often times find myself falling back into the belief that …’maybe I’m too much, maybe I’m too weak, maybe I’m too sensitive…’ which then again allows me to let others take advantage of my own shame.

It’s going to be an interesting ride the next couple weeks as the meds leave my system and I try to find my own point of equilibrium. I hope for anyone who may read this they understand the need to endure and move forward through the questions and trusting your gut. For me – I’m going to see where this goes. If I have to go back on a little meds – so be it – although a part of me wonders if with the right support, love and understanding if growth without meds isn’t the better way for me.

Stay salty my dear friends…..

Depression, deep rest and coming up for air

I’ve suffered for a good part of my life with very strong feelings, lots of times it felt like a yo-yo. Sometimes super highs would be followed by soul crushing lows. At one point as a 20 something despondant college student someone suggested something (ie Meds) to help me deal with the highs and lows. A discussion ensued with my parental units and they were supportive, but did point out there would be things I’d have to give up (like beer and I like beer) to be on the meds. An interesting thing happened after that point, I learned, through speaking with a therapist, to control my highs and lows without the need for meds. Things were, for the most part, alright. Yeah…strong feelings were still there, but the massive chaos seemed to dissipate and was controllable.

Marriage and kids tested this chaos as more pressure comes with getting older and having a family to care for. I would blow up sometimes to beat my spouse to blowing up and being nasty to our kids. By sucking the air out of the room, I took the heat for being the bad guy, but also didn’t have to deal with anyone being nasty. In effect I could control the outcome with being the one who was a blowhard. Over time, this isn’t so cool either as you worry about what’s going to set someone off so you go off yourself seemingly unprovoked. I had lived with this behavior as a kid and now I was perpetuating the same abuse on my own kids I endured. Let me tell you – that realization doesn’t make you feel any better as a parent. Worse yet – go to church and realize that God the Father loves us despite our failings and then look at how you treat your own kids by yelling at them over stupid things – oy vey…. Capitol G GUILT!

About a year ago, I was sitting in church on one of my favorite liturgical days of the year – Pentacost. Everyone wears red, we read about how wondrous God’s words are that they are able to be heard in the native language of everyone hearing the word of God. As if God were speaking to them directly. As wonderful as this all was, I was miserable. I wanted to die and was trying to figure out my exit plan…. this was the depression talking. Thankfully, I had built in a pressure valve and called a dear friend for help, called my therapist and my Primary care provider, a week later I was on anti-depressants and starting to feel much better. I was ashamed it took me 25+ years to get to this point and thankful I got relief from the anxiety I had been feeling for so long.

Over the past months I’ve found myself on a slippery slope back towards the darkness. I have a dear friend and classmate who describes depression like falling down a hole. He’s a much better writer than I am, an award winning journalist actually, but he’s right – it feels like you’re drowning. Lately I’ve lost the ability to cry which is troubling, I’m a crier – I cry when I’m happy, sad or just plain moved. It feels good to get that emotion out. I look forward to the day when someone makes me cry happy tears again.

Ok – so what about this coming up for air thing? Where’s the positive? Good question. I recently had a bang up day – a really great day – like it went to 11. I had a great weekend, a wonderful lunch, locked down a venue for a very special 80th birthday party for someone I owe nearly everything to capped off with lots of magnificent feelings. Jim Carey once said that depression is really your body’s way of saying you need a deep rest. I will buy that description. As for me today, I feel like I have ridden the free diving sled to 100 feet and I’m now ascending, my lungs are filling with air as much as my heart is filling with gratitude as I rocket back towards the light.

I’m as lucky as they come. I am Loved. I am healthy…things are looking up.

Stay Salty my friends – life needs a little spice

On rocks, bottoms and new beginnings

I was talking with Rocco the other day and mentioned this blog as well as my fascination with things that just endure…. and my name. I like to think sometimes at different points in our life, we’re either a calm or raging ocean bashing ourselves on the rocks relentlessly or sometimes we’re just the rocks taking a beating standing up to the chaos. If you’re the rock, you endure and support, if you’re the rock, you can be a foundation. (If you’re a round rock, you can keep Sisyphus from being successful unless you’re the hill he’s rolling the rock up!) What does that mean exactly? I don’t know…. but I’m searching for an answer. I do know I’ve been the rock and I’ve been the chaos and witnessed the damage the chaos can do.

An old friend of mine shared this nugget : https://youtu.be/Bg_Q7KYWG1g

It’s a worthwhile 10 minutes – the takeaway for me is when you hit the bottom, at least then you have a firm foundation to build from again, so like Sisyphus, you get up, re-evaluate, make sure everything works as it should, making adjustments for what you just learned moving forward however you’re able. Stand up – endure – move forward. With new knowledge and purpose.

Begin Again.

Hoping to take my own advice… stay salty my friends.