Ground Swell

Typically I blog about emotions; expression there of, what invokes them and how mine have been impacted. Tonight, I speak fundamentally to a very basic inspiration. Also, since a "blog" is a web log and I wish to log the goal I am about to set for myself.

We draw inspiration from the strangest of resources sometimes. I believe sometimes we wait for a significant event just so we can tie together that occurrence with a change we want to make. I certainly invoke the spirit of a New Year by making certain resolutions and the following is one.

I will not cite the article specifically but I read one about Jerry Seinfeld recently and I have not been able to get the influence of it out of my head. I am not even a Seinfeld fan per se but the author of this article shared some words of wisdom from one of the most successful actors ever.

Paraphrasing Seinfeld's words, he said the key to his success was basically repetition. He made sure every day he was writing jokes and he did his best to not break that daily streak. You would think the secret to a man's $850 million dollar net worth would be something more profound but to him it is just that simple. This man is obviously talented but success boils down to effort. Now, he never said you had to write a side-splitting comedy scene daily or a perfect set-ending joke before bed time, he just said you had to write 'something' every day and not break the streak.

He said not to break the chain in working towards perfecting a craft you have a passion for. Poetry has always been my passion. I think back and recognize that I wrote my first poem at age 13 and wrote my most recent one this year at age 37. I could say I have been writing poetry for 24 years but that is bullshit. Why? I stopped what I was doing last night and counted every poem that I have ever written and realized I have written 48 in that time span. Taking those 48 and spanning them over those 24 years, that means I've been writing 0.006 poems per day (if I round up).

No wonder I think my content sucks, I have hardly done any work!

I acknowledge that I have been worried of what people would think of bad content. Moving forward into 2017 I will be making the decision, posting the content regardless of quality and just working towards not breaking that cycle. The goal? 365 Instagram posts in the 2017 calendar year. Some of this work will not be good. Hopefully the exercise and spent time will pay off to greater and more frequently good work.

So here is to 2017 and an increased level of effort towards a passion that I have neglected for egotistical concerns. Here is to the rest of you finding your passion or rediscovering it and doing something with it. Finally, here is to adding passion and compassion to 2017 in general. We could certainly damn well use it given how we all lacked it in 2016.

Onward and upwards, my friends!

As I Cut

I have never shied away from admitting the fact that I am an emotional masochist. I completely understand the perception that arrives to people when they learn of an emotional cutter and despite my awareness of that stigma, I embrace it; it is what I am.

In a previous blog, I recognized the fact that there is an aspect of depression that I have found myself to actually enjoy. From a surface scratching standpoint, I benefit from it because it allows me access to a darker place where some of my favorite writing and poetry have come from. There are probably deeper seeded reasons behind this unusual enjoyment but I will now abandon any effort of further excavating that site and simply explain why it exists and how it works.

I hang onto old emotions like a type of hoarder. I take every broken relationship, every reconciled friendship, every personal loss and compartmentalize them. They are locked away in a box somewhere instead of purging them completely like I probably should.

Now, my intent is to one day look over each of them and appreciate them for what they are. For the most part, I am successful at that and there is some positive energy created. I would absolutely be lying to you if I told you it stopped there and this is where this process takes a bit of a darker turn and the masochistic tendencies set in.

I pull those broken pieces back out of the box and arrange them in front of me, trying my best to recreate them the memory. I will find the one shard of them that is the sharpest and represents the aspect that originally hurt me the most. I hold it, adoringly in my hand and then with the quickest of movements, I will cut myself with it.

The pain of that loss instantly rises back to the surface. I am transported back to the very moment of the loss and relive it again. I appreciate the wonderful moments that might have led up to that time and then allow the eventual weight of it to sit upon my shoulders again. Somewhere in that moment of self-loathing, volunteered pain and the feeling of a spiked emotional nerve, my head and my heart align with the pen in my hand and I capture that moment. A longer cut and a stronger sensation bring about a more accurate description and the more vividly my words can paint the picture.

Sounds awful, right? It's not. The appreciation of the people that read along and the expression of expelling those words are where the healing process begin for me. The more I expose myself to that moment, the more numb I become to it. Over and over again, I am able to better cope with it until finally it does not hurt anymore.

I do not ignore or disregard my emotions, I produce with them. My coping mechanism is not apathy, escapism, nor is it any type of substance or alcohol. Instead of running away, I jump in the car, put my seat belt on and charge forward into emotional adversity at full speed, seeking to crash. Somewhere in the midst of that effort is a wildly inspired and violently beautiful head-on collision. In the wake of screeching tires, shattered glass and twisting steel something wonderful is created. The uniqueness of that creation is one that I am proud of and works to replace the bad that helped to create it in the first place.

A Word To My Son

I woke up that morning much like any other day. I went on autopilot and followed the same routine I have for years now. The reason why I didn't hit the snooze button today was because you were starting an exciting new milestone in your life; September 6th, 2016 was for your first day of Kindergarten. I was extremely excited for you. Even you have been fired up about your first day as you would be doing "real homework" soon. Seeing you genuinely excited about something always makes my heart smile.

I drastically underestimated what today meant to you and the impact that it had upon me. How could I see this coming? For years now, we have dropped you off at a day care with a classroom-like setting for about 8 or so hours. Kindergarten was less than a seven hour day. Sure this will be new people, new teachers and a new setting but the process is the same, right? No. This was the end of an era and as much as I was excited for you, I was slightly saddened.

Today is the day you first begin to face the world. Seeing you stand there with your hair combed, curious eyes flashing and positive attitude showed me your confidence and it confirmed to me that you would be okay. With that, I kissed your forehead and told you to be brave. Your mother, Ryan and I began to walk away from you. Usually I am good at recognizing when you need to face something and when I should step in. I looked back as you noticed we were gone and there was a sudden solemn look on your face and God dammit, it broke my heart.

In that moment, I realized this was this first of what will be countless moments you will have to face adversity without me to protect you. A father's first priority is to protect. In situations where we cannot, we must be there to pick up the pieces and help mold them back together, making you stronger. Physically, mentally, psychologically, philosophically-- any capacity needed. You have given me a few tough day care drop offs but this was the first time I knew I could not run back to you, hold you and cure that strikingly somber look on your face.

You stood there among stranger's children, carrying a backpack that was grossly disproportionate to your tiny torso. It was a metaphorical sight, for today you would begin your journey towards your lean shoulders learning to carry heavier loads than you were previously used to in life. You would begin to face true social and emotional adversity and by trial and error, figure out how to navigate it. Let me tell you, when it comes to you being able to figure out life and find your identity, you are ahead of the game in that fight.

You carry with you the soft heart and pleasant disposition of your two grandfathers. You have a giant, selfless heart that may someday give your three grandmother's a run for their money. There are men that I know that have the greatest amount of tenacity for life that I've ever seen and you get to call them all "uncle". Half of you comes from a man who wears his heart on his sleeve; no matter what you are told, embracing your emotions is a strength and never a weakness. Hopefully you develop enough of my charisma to achieve compromises in life easier but not too much of it as to get you into trouble with women. Well, not too much. The other half of you comes from a woman that could not be a better mother; she is the definition of fearless and the level of effort she puts into those of her loved ones is second to no one else. If you can learn to "try" at half of her level, you are ahead of most of  your competition.

You, my son, have the genetic cards dealt into your deck, stacked in your favor. I dare say that you have a support system around you that is remarkable, flexible, supportive and is well in tune to provide exactly what you need and never to deliver on our own needs over yours.

You have all of this going for you but the toughest part is sitting back and watching you play the hand. As much as I want to tell you how playing a certain card impacted me, you have to be the one to select one from your hand and put it in play. As much as I want to influence the risk assessed by the amount of the bet you want to make, I have to accept they are your chips to win and lose. I will support you through those losses but I have to let you feel their ramifications just as I will be with you through every win and allow you to revel in their victories.

You were named after the hopeless romantic fictional character Knox Overstreet from Dead's Poet society so you would do well to embody that spirit and live every day to its fullest. Most importantly, you will make us proud by discovering exactly who you are and living comfortably within the confines of what that wonderful human being will become. I love you with "anything and everything" that I am.

Singularity

The phrase "reasons why I'm single" has swept through the interwebs and picked up a laughable and semi-negative connotation. For longer than a millennia, mankind's different cultures have been shaped by this socially (and spiritually) recognized ritual and to venture later into adulthood not married unnecessarily carries this type of stigma that would leave us to believe we are unfulfilled, unsettled and somehow unhappy.

For a fun writing exercise tonight, I thought I would put a positive spin on that cliche and fight the good fight for those that of us that find solitude perfectly fine. I would like to attempt to teach a lesson to those of you that seek to match make single friends, I'd like to stop those of you from playing the "you're running out of time" card at family events. Lastly, I'd like for you to stop worrying about the single people in your life; our relationship status is not your obligation.

First up in this discussion is probability. There are people out there that happened to cross paths with someone else that created such a chemistry, such beautiful electricity and created such a scale of balance between the two of them and they concluded their search. Most of us know at least one couple like that, recognize that they are not perfect and still envy their bond. Probability did not strike like that in my life. Perhaps it did a long time ago and I failed to act; I'll never know. I've said it before but what if some of us just make bad decisions? What if some of us find someone, see nothing but hope for the good in them (to a fault) and it does not surface consistently? Then, we stick by their side for too long and our happiness drowns along with our projected potential for them. That type of person is single today because they held out hope for too long. There are far greater crimes and far fewer actions a beautiful soul can make, you would do well to remember that if you believe this might describe a friend of yours.

Secondly, I will speak to divorce. Why? Well, because I am and I have dated women that are divorced. Whether or not children are involved, it is an absolutely unique circumstance and completely on a case by case basis. That person made a vow to honor someone the rest of their lives and for whatever reason(s), they permanently changed their mind. Believe me, to face that decision, children, family and friends is a Herculean task. Do not, for one second, think that a divorced friend of yours is wounded and needs your help. If you have not been through a divorce, they have already successfully pushed through more emotional relationship adversity than you have, they do not require your assistance; give them their due space in terms of them being single.

Lastly, satisfaction. Some people get by in life with not getting enough satisfaction in their relationships, and that's a shame. Others get by in the way of receiving too much and never yielding it in return. For some of us, we need balance. If we bring a lot to the proverbial table then we expect the same back. If our heart is not in it and we cannot reciprocate the level the other person is putting in, then that will not work either. It is extremely possible your single friend is comfortable and they know damn well what they want. We absolutely will not settle for anything less than exactly what we want and there is no sin in that so your single friend does not need your absolution.

All in all, the challenge here is for single folks to get comfortable in your own skin if you are not already. Build the best house you possibly can by cleaning out your closets of emotion and finance and put forth the best physical version of yourself that you can. Lastly, for those of us that have a significant other, stop trying to be our realtors by listing fire sales on the home next to us; perhaps we will find our own neighbor organically, in time.

Rise. Then Rise Again.

Looking over my last blog post, I still recognize that I am on what feels like the right path. I recently had what I found to be a bit of a revelation or a milestone, if you will, along that road that I'd like to share. A friend of mine recently mentioned something he read, allow me to paraphrase; "People that have anxiety live in the future and people that have depression are stuck in the past. Live in the present".

Well, something I said in that post was that some aspect of me masochistically enjoys depression but I wasn't sure why at that point. In that paraphrase above and after much thought, it makes more sense. I have found that when one is depressed, it seems to have a bit of a jail cell feel to it. I know, it's a common metaphor, bear with me. The irony is that we keep ourselves in that cell. Every crack on the wall is familiar to us. Every crevice is carefully studied to the point it feels like an old friend. There is a strong familiarity you are filled with when you cannot emotionally kick start yourself out of a funk because essentially you are in your own head; you know exactly how it feels, hence familiarity. We all have a comfort level around what we know and sometimes we stick to that. I believe that's why I stayed in it so long and couldn't shake it.

As I explored that cell and really got to know it, it occurred to me that any remorseful thoughts I had or hurt that I felt was not the entity that put the lock on the door; I was. I allowed myself to live in the past. I played out the fantasy of how a relationship would come back around again. I felt remorse for a heart that I had knowingly broken. I put myself through anguish because I didn't take the steps I originally wanted to better provide for my son. I invoked negative self talk for things I had failed at in my job. It was awful, unnecessary and all in the past. I had to let it go. I put that fucking lock on the door myself and it was time to break it open.

Driving to work the other day, a song came on that spoke to me. The lyrics were one that rang of surrendering and finally feeling free with moving on. The sun was shining and I had some things to be excited about at my job. I had everything right there in front of me to move on and just needed to throw up a white flag and surrender to that which ailed me. Before I knew it, in truly ridiculous and dramatic fashion, I had tears running down my face and I was laughing all at the same time. The driver in front of me was lucky I didn't rear end him in the overcome emotional state I was in. You see, I forgave myself and that was all I needed to hear.

I acknowledged that I was okay with putting that lock on the door. The emotional torment I put myself through was unjustified and could finally end. I was not upset with the time I had wasted or any opportunity I'd let pass by because I knew now that there would only be more on the horizon.

For anyone that fights that fight consistently, my heart goes out to you. You might believe outside circumstances have perpetuated the feelings you have now. Part of that may be true but you have a choice. A cliche tells us that even though we get knocked down, the substantial response is to stand back up no matter what the level of adversity. Rise. Then rise again. Loving yourself and surrendering to what you cannot control is the only adequate energy in getting your legs under you. Friends, family, loved ones can support but you have to choose to stand. I rose and I stand now. Granted those legs may be sea legs at best and I will probably falter from time to time. Regardless of the state, I have arrived and I am here.

Where is here? The present. My goodness, the view is plentiful and the warmth ever so intoxicating.

Coming To My Terms

There are times when people become so lost in a mental ailment that they seek a guide to help get them out, professional help.

In my adolescence, I faced something that required me to go through a type of counseling. My opinion of that experience was not one of help but one of meddling. I honestly believe that that process did more bad then good so I am admittedly bias against enlisting that type of help should I need to in the future. That's my motive operandi though, internalization. I will push everyone out and away and work to methodically pin the problem down, dissect it, understand it and then embrace it. When that process is through, I will re-emerge and connect. I am not saying that this is the correct way to handle things but just what seems to work for me or at least the action I default to.

I have finally been able to uncover the identity of a severe problem I have had for the last 18 months. Initially I thought it was just a broken heart and it would pass but it was a deeper affliction than that. My work has completely changed which yields a lot of frustration and anxiety but this was more circumstantial than that. Finally I uncovered that what I have been truly dealing with is depression. Sounds crazy, right? The folks I interact with on a regular basis would probably tell you I am upbeat, always positive and that I laugh loud and often. This is all true but I know that many times it is me over-compensating for the fulfillment I lack.

Paradoxically spoken, depression is a funny thing. Those who have never suffered with it have trouble comprehending how someone cannot just move on, let go, change their outlook and perk up. For those that have dealt (or do deal) with it, it is difficult to explain but I will give it a shot for the sake of the writing exercise.

Depression is not so much an incompleteness in someone's heart as it is a tiny black hole in the center of one's soul. A black hole uses immense gravitational force to draw in every thing around it. The pull of it is so great that it even pulls light in and never releases it. That is exactly what depression does to any amount of happiness we may experience in our lives. Psychologists theorize on the chemical nature of depression from their outside perspective just as scientists must hypothesize externally from the internal nature of these gravitational anomalies.

I do not have a map for my way out of this and do not wish to hire a makeshift cartographer to help. The internalization process I mentioned before had already begun and whether it was right or wrong, I began to push people away. For a significant amount of time I stayed out of the bars and dried out, so to speak. I understand exactly what the issue is now and embrace the fact that it is indeed a problem. I have found what I believe is a path out of these woods and have a ways to go but it feels right. The odd truth is that in some masochistic way, there are qualities of depression that I actually enjoy. That part I haven't quite figured out yet but I have grown tired of self loathing. The encore to my pity party is winding down. Time is a powerful force and I just need to continue to apply it and for me to stay the course.

I purposely held back on posting this blog entry because I feared the potential reaction from family and friends. To get to the center of this, I needed solitude and my guess is I would have gotten anything but that had I posted it while dealing with this. I am hard-headed, naive, and quick to deny help; I get it. Evolution has physically brought defense mechanisms to living things much like experiences do to humans but on a psychological level. Either instance should be accepted as a natural behavior and not looked at indifferently.

This has been my lesson to learn, these were my terms to come to and this was my  personal evolution. They say you do not appreciate what you have until it's gone and being content is something I have both missed dearly and long for again. The difference this time is that my appetite is more well suited to crave something that is actually healthy for me.

My appetite is wet and I am almost home.

Close to Home

When we all look at the big picture of life together, most understand that while it is up for debate on why exactly we are here, we are able to genuinely appreciate the small victories where we hear of one human displaying a level of compassion for another and it inspires us. Unfortunately life happens and routine sets in and it causes us to put our blinders on. We love our blinders, don't we? Suddenly we make the mistake of making snap decisions based upon something intangible and oft misguided; our feelings. I am as guilty if not more guilty than most in this mistake but I do feel that recently, I am on a better path to fixing that.

Humans typically do not make major changes in their life without meeting the precipice of adversity. Breakups make us get in shape, new jobs make us work harder, children re-prioritize our lives, etc. In similar fashion, we seldom stop to appreciate what we have until some type of loss forces us to recognize what is truly important. Until something comes along and knocks us sideways, we may continue straight away with ridiculously unjustifiable grudges.

Very recently, a friend of mine who is one year younger than I passed away suddenly. This was one of my roommates in Arizona 16 years ago. Now, him and I lost touch just because life happened so it is not like we were close but when a life ends too young, it still hits close to home. For those of you that have heard my epic tale of a road trip to Mexico, he was our driver. He was a husband, a father, a successful entrepreneur from what I gather and undoubtedly from what I have seen on social media he was loved by so many it's almost overwhelming to thing think how much he is missed by so many.

When you get the news that death touches tragically, those blinders I mentioned earlier fall away quickly. You begin to think of what is truly important to you and reconnect with your own mortality and it will make you look at things differently. A once great friend of mine that I had a falling out with almost 20 years ago also got the news that this man passed away. We have since began to speak again, finally burying the hatchet we let divide us so long ago. It is a shame it took something like this but I will not discredit the message because of the vehicle that forced it to arrive.

What else was I reminded of in the wake of this loss? Aside from that friendship that I am working to currently reconcile, I think back on the last two year repeat loop that my heart was on and realize...

Life is too short for me to hold onto the time when I had feelings for someone who no longer reciprocates them, so I have let them go.
Life has too much beauty in it for someone to spew ugly words at me because I broke their heart so I will simply appreciate their source with a warm smile.
Life has too many options for us so I will no longer pursue ones that do not benefit me.
Lastly, life has proven again that it is too fucking fragile for us to not appreciate what is currently whole and beautiful, set before us.

Carpe diem, my friends. The sun shines on another day tomorrow. You owe it to your finite nature to make the most of it.

Nomad

Leading up to my eighteenth birthday, I already knew that I wanted to leave Aiken, SC. I had no idea what I wanted to do but I knew I needed to leave. I had a GPA that reflected the sub-par passion I had for school and knew it would get me no where but a local, community college and I tried that route. Regardless of my terrible collegiate effort, in 1998, having a few hundred dollars in my pocket and with my parents help, my brother and all his support took a one-way flight to Atlanta. Next thing I knew, I was following my parents to the airport and then he rode shotgun while we headed North. This is what I wanted at the time.

Looking back now, since then I have done nothing but roam from situation to situation (whether it be logistical or romantic) becoming a proverbial vagabond; an emotional nomad. Since then, in 18 more years, I have bounced around between Arizona and a relationship here, to South Carolina and a relationship there and then ultimately to Michigan with relationships everywhere... nothing lasting more than 4 years; marriage included. In my last blog, I assimilated myself to a wrecking ball. Holy shit was I right with that.

Some people can jump from relationship to relationship without issue. When they find the one that works, they keep it and then no one knows the difference. Me? No way. For whatever nature vs. nurture or incomprehensible reason, I cannot. God forbid I look at emotional adversity with logic and move on. No...I have to dissect exactly what happened, take it in for every painful thing I perceive it to be and then, maybe then, think about moving on in some light regard. Oh, and don't let me find some new romance during that process. I will back burner everything in sight of that new found attention and ignore the festering, obnoxiously loud pink elephant in the room that begs to be addressed... No, I will ignore Hell and high water and the swelling levy. Just when I think I have my backyard clean and think I am emotionally available and that life is good, THAT is when said levy breaks and I attempt to emotionally claim that I never saw it coming and throw up a white flag. This is both idiotic and self deprecating.

I need for the chain to my wrecking ball to cease to swing so that I can finally find my center. I achieved this two years ago. I had what I thought was perspective and a partner that worked. I thought that what I had at that time was a new momentum but we could not hold on. I have yet to deal with that and I swing violently again looking to slow. I can suffer collateral damage no longer. It hurts too much and my heart demands it to finally be still.

So, here's to slowing to a liberating halt in 2016 and finding that center again. Distractions be damned, I will finally discover the standstill that I require this year.

Birthday Wishes

Somewhere, possibly in London, you walk in a truly naive fashion. You entered into a relationship decades ago that has now probably been swept away in a sea of youthful learning experiences. What you learned from that broken relationship has possibly shaped the man you are today, or perhaps it has not. I don't know. I have no idea. The point is yet still naively you walk but this is no fault of your own. That fault lies with her for now.

Never in your wildest dreams would you ever fathom that that relationship you discarded so long ago could have ever yielded something with such momentous impact in your life today. Now, you probably live a life that pays no tribute to that relationship. Why would it? There would be no need. You were possibly in your early twenties, living in a country, foreign to your own. When the relationship broke apart, you headed to back England to restart. This time period probably seems like a lifetime ago.

What if I told you that relationship yielded a child that you never knew of? What if I told you that not only do you have a son that turns 37 today but a wondrously curious and starry-eyed grandson that turns 5 next month. God, is he a beautiful soul. I wish you knew. He serves as such a bright light in a dark, dreary world for me and I wish you could share in that light. As jarring as that would be, I long to see that expression on your face when you find out.

You have no idea that we even exist. There is no telegram we can order, no email we can write, no Facebook friend request we can send and there is certainly not a telephone number we can dial to find you. You will remain a stranger that I may never know and we remain a concept you have no idea to even conceive. That hurts tremendously.

My son will grow up in a family on his mothers side that he is physically related to and knows well. It is such a wonderful family to be a part of. He can look to them and physically identify the likeness between them and himself. As the representative of his his father's side, I cannot offer that convenience. You have no idea what I would pay, what I would give or what I would sacrifice for him or myself to have that luxury. There is no unit of value that identifies or encompasses that potential debt, it is emotionally priceless.

My only link to you is a woman that 8 years ago decided she wasn't ready to meet me. Your only option to learn of me resides within the guilty heart of a woman that decided to never speak of me. Her own parents, her own spouse of 25 or more years and his children have just as much of an idea that she conceived me 37 years ago today that you do; absolutely none.

I believe in the power of attraction. I believe that the things I ask the universe for will eventually come to fruition. I do not pray but every night before I fall asleep I think of you and I think of her. I send thoughts to my biological mother that she find the strength to face the adversity she must in order to find her way to me. I hope as she ages, she finally casts off the regard for what others might think of her and then she might reach out to me. This would lead me to you. I know exactly what it's like to find out you have a son, soon to be born, in the womb. I have no comprehension of what it would be like to find that your first born turns 37 today by I hope to somehow inflict that adversity upon you one day.

I've never met you but I have missed you. I wish you could feel some fraction of the emotion I felt to write this. I wish I could bare witness to the shock and tears that mine and my son's existence might perpetuate upon you. I hope we can inconvenience you one day and I will continually wish for her to take that first step in order for that to occur.

This is your son wishing you well on my birthday in hopes that you and I somehow stumble upon a broken, difficult road that leads us to one another. I look forward to sharing in the strange type of healing endeavor that only a father and son can partake in after a lifetime of being separated.

Valentine

For those of you that know me well, you know that I am not a fan of my birthday. If not, it's a longer story but Valentine's Day serves as the replacement and I would like to elaborate on that today.

36 years ago today, just before my first birthday, I was legally adopted by my parents after living with them and being a part of their family since I was 7 days old. I was officially a Currier. A birth date is little more than an anniversary of when you join a family. I didn't join my family on my birthday, I officially joined it on Valentine's Day. 

They say you can't choose your family but that cliche does not apply through adoption; that's what we do. As a father now, I recognize the deep bond you develop with your child and how fascinating it is to look at your children and realize they represent half of you and your more dominant genes; they are literally your better half. My parents did not have that luxury. My parents were driven not by the obligation of blood but by the choice of love.

Dwell on that concept with me for just a moment.

I am someone else's child that was given up for whatever reason, as is my brother and was my sister who passed away over 11 years ago. My parents sought out to take in a child of another. They chose to take on the delicate task of explaining to a developing mind that they have other parents elsewhere in the world and why that's okay. Further down the road, they had to deal with the hormonally charged, teenage angst that would come from this fact and would then be unfairly be pointed at them. They consciously chose and signed up for all of this. That is a choice that I had no say in but am one I am eternally grateful for its outcome.

Valentine's Day is a Hallmark created, obligatory reason to express love to someone. As much as I hate that and blogged about it last year, many of us take part in it. Thankfully, I have a much deeper reason to appreciate February 14th outside of whether or not I happen to be in a relationship. Today is the day that I reflect on the fact that my life was a choice and that my heart goes out to the two beautiful souls that stood at the front of that line and took action, without hesitation.

To my mother and father; there are so many things that I have said and done in my younger adulthood years that I will regret for the rest of my life. One thing that I will never regret is the man I am today. I can stand with pride in that identity -with my flaws and strengths alike- because you stood by your choice. As we continually "choose" each other, I thank both of you for that for starting this relationship. I will always be thankful for my life with you; the outcome of your selfless choice. 

White Flag

I surrender. I quit. I relinquish my sword. I give up.

As I approach the age of 37 next week, I am left to embrace the fact that I am a single, divorced father. I have nothing left to do but accept just that. Since my divorce three years ago, you may have seen me rise through Facebook posts, born witness to tagged pictures or may have heard stories of a significant other but alas, to this point, none of those situations have actually substantiated to anything that has worked. That is not to say that I am without fault, just stating the status.

I submit to the idea that right now, I am in no (nor may I have been in any) condition to take on a relationship with anyone, no matter how much I think it might work or might have worked. Years ago, a friend playfully dubbed me as a "serial monogamist" but I now find that term as funny as it is accurate.

I really thought I had it. I did. Not long ago, I looked back and recognized how throughout my life leading up to my marriage, I cannon-balled through relationship after relationship and finally recognized the collateral damage I left in my path. I waxed poetic on how harmful that was and moved away from doing so. Then, before I realized it, for the past two years, I had been doing the same. My intent was true but execution was coupled with ill regard for the others around me. That trespass is mine to own.

In the wake of solitude, many of us would arrive to different conclusions. According to our friends, we either have yet to meet "that" person or find that someone that is "just right" for us.  All of this assumes there is someone out there designed for us. Horseshit.

What if there isn't? What if everyone was individually charged with the task of finding the person they are able to exclusively make the general concept of life work with them? What if we needed to condition ourselves to the idea that we not only individually have to be ready for the opportunity to meet the right person but we held ourselves accountable to making the right decisions with that person once we met them? Further along that point, what if some of us have just been unlucky? Perhaps we even make bad decisions in choosing who in the first place. Maybe we stuck around too long or gave too many chances to who we thought the right person was. Perhaps, perhaps,perhaps but who knows?

For now, I am done trying. For now, 2016 is mine and my son's. I will look forward to taking a larger step towards home ownership this year, working on my poetry and writing more than just when I feel inspired, focusing on the abundant amount of opportunities I have in my career right now and even addressing this developing "Dad bod" I have going on right now. If by the end of the summer I have six months worth of my bills in a savings account, a substantial amount of writing work completed, feel really good about the consistency of my performance in my career and can post the most douchebag photo of myself (I'm talking shirt off, bathroom selfie and complete with ear buds and tilted baseball cap) then I'll consider the first half of 2016 a success.