Envy (or Why Can't I Keep It Together)

Welcome back,

Sorry to return on such a somber tone but... here goes.

It's at moments like these that I find myself at my most weakest. Not physically but emotionally. When I feel like I'm losing control of my life, I lose control of my emotions and my vulnerabilities seep through the surface...

I cried today... I cried at not having a father. It's not as if he's dead or if I didn't know him while growing up. It's quite the contrary. He's very much alive and he has had an impact on my life. The problem is that the impact was mostly negative. When I became an adult (the magical age of 18 when the law determines you're no longer a minor), I decided to live my life in a way that was opposite to the example he set for me. I credited him with teaching me how to be a man by showing me what NOT to do. But I realize now, many years later, I still have a lot of work to do.

I sit here weeping as I realize that I may have ended up more emotionally stable had he actually died when I was young. Or if only he had decided to leave my mom instead of staying and slowly inflicting the damage he did to me, my mom, and my sister, like a deadly cancer. Instead, I sit here, with tears streaming down my face as I type this, envying those around me who have a father they respect, and love, and can turn to in times of need. I hate them... well, that's not entirely true nor is it fair. I hate that they have the luxury of having a good man, or even just a decent one, at their disposal.

I need someone to turn to. I need to feel safe. I need a rock to lean on. I need the wisdom that only comes with age. I need a father. Just not the one I have.

I don't typically cry. But lately I've found it comes really easily to me. I want to do so much more for those I love but feel handcuffed by my financial circumstances. Although money isn't everything (this isn't a cliché thrown in for effect... it truly isn't) I can't help but look at the situation we're in and recognize that we'd all have a little more piece of mind if we just had a little financial comfort. Instead, we claw and scratch and scrape together what we can to survive. I'm tired of surviving. I just want to live.

I want to enjoy life without wondering if my bills will get paid. Wondering if I'll have an apartment to live in next month. Wondering if I can get through the week. Wondering if I'll have food in the kitchen to cook a meal tonight. Wondering if I'll regain my sanity soon. Wondering what will drive me further down this hole next.

I want my dad. I need my dad. Shit... at this point, I'll take any dad. But only one will do. And that man doesn't exist. He never did.

Thanks for sticking with me, faithful reader.
Until next time......

My New Apartment (Part 3)

(NOTE: Sorry that this took weeks to write. This arguably has been the hardest of the 3 parts to write...... I hope it was worth your wait.)

If you need to catch up on the story, here are the links to Part 1 and Part 2

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My last week in the old apartment was fairly uneventful. The one thing I should have been dedicating my time to was packing. I had found the new apartment relatively quickly and there was a very small window to get my things over to the new place.

Instead, I was overwhelmed and exhausted with my work schedule. After getting home late after teaching each night, the LAST thing I wanted to do was PACK. Each night that week, I reasoned I had time the next day. That line of thinking didn't work when it got to be Thursday and I knew I had friends helping me move Friday night. I started getting things together in earnest on Thursday night.

I had devised a GENIUS plan to move all of my things to the new place. I was going to recruit several of my male friends to help me take furniture and bulk items to the apartment on Friday night and another group of "volunteers" would come by on Saturday (for the morning and afternoon) to take everything else. This would afford me a little extra time to pack (last minute, of course) on Friday night and MAYBE even Saturday morning. It would also allow me to rent the truck for only 24 hours.

The one snag in the ill-conceived plan was the timing of it all. You see, for those of you who don't remember, Halloween fell on a Saturday this year. I was basically asking my friends to help me move on Halloween weekend. This didn't prove to be a problem on Friday night as I got several dudes to come by and help me with what I figured was the more difficult part. The problem I had was finding people willing to help me out on Saturday. In the end, I only had about 3 people helping me the entire day.

I picked up the keys to my new apartment on Friday afternoon and picked up the UHaul truck before 5pm. My friends began arriving shortly thereafter for the big move. After several hours of heavy lifting, I took my boys out for some pizza and wings. The next morning, with many things still left to pack, I was disappointed to find that very few people were available to help me. Everyone's Halloween plans was beginning to interfere with my moving plans (grrrr). Not that I blame them but I have to admit being a little disappointed with the lack of help.

Eventually, with the help of a select few, I managed to get everything moved to my new apartment by 2AM (yes, you read that correctly*)! Oh, did I forget to mention that this was also when daylight savings time ended? When I say I was done at 2AM, I mean 2AM AFTER the clock was turned back one hour (so I was done by 3AM by my internal clock). There was JUST enough time for me to wash up and head out to my friend's Halloween party.

......

The first few weeks in the new place took some getting used to. There were many things about the life I knew that had been disrupted by the move. For starters, I was always used to living with SOMEONE. For most of my life it was my mom and for a couple of years it was with my ex. There is a lot to be said about having someone in close proximity to you. A residual closeness that I had gotten so used to and found so comforting. I didn't have to speak to the person but knowing someone was around was a nice feeling.

Now that I was living on my own I was more aware of how alone I was. Being forced to a position of self-sufficiency wasn't the issue. It was not having anyone to talk to. Not having anyone ask me a question or even tell me about their day. I had gotten so accustomed to these things in my life that I didn't realize how important it was for me to have someone with me.

There was so much alcohol that I had brought from the old apartment I figured I either needed to start drinking it myself or plan for the housewarming party. I recall the first night in my apartment I decided to have a celebratory cocktail and I made myself a margarita. The next night, I mixed myself another drink which I had with dinner. The following day I was in the mood for my 'nightly' drink while I was cooking. I had a pre-dinner cocktail and another one with dinner. Over the next few days, my own personal Happy Hour progressed to the point where I would have at least 3 drinks a night. I would go to bed buzzed daily (there were a few nights were I can say I was legitimately drunk).

This couldn't continue long term and there were two factors that led me to stop drinking as much as I did those first two weeks on my own. The first was a practical reason and it was financial. Drinking is an expensive hobby if you do too much of it and I wasn't ready to commit to buying a bottle or two every week. The second factor was much more personal. I've alluded to my father in my blog before... and it is partly due to him that I was able to stop drinking as much as I did.

My father was an alcoholic. He was in severe denial and I suspect that to this day he probably still believes he never really had a drinking problem. Though he had his moments of kindness, overall he was not a good man to my family. His way of coping with the stress in his life was to drink. To be honest, he was a better person when he was drunk. But it was this realization that really hit home with me.

I was dealing with the loneliness I was experiencing by distracting myself with my daily drinks. Alcohol was incorporated into nearly every aspect of my nightly routine. Since I got home late after teaching, I would mix a drink before starting to prepare dinner. I'd drink during dinner. I'd drink after dinner. I'd regularly fall asleep on the futon in the living room and wake up to a TV that had been on all night and staring at a half empty glass by my side.

I've since stopped drinking in excess thought I still enjoy a drink or two every now and again. In the weeks leading up to my move (and even a little after), many people told me that a person starts learning a lot about themselves when they live on their own. I didn't quite see that learning process manifest itself until I managed to clear my head of some clutter that had been keeping me from discovering who I am. I understand that the process is an ongoing one. It's an awakening of sorts; a discovery, if you will. And it is one that I'm genuinely excited about and I cannot wait to see where this journey takes me.

Until next time, faithful reader......

* A special thank you goes out to Anthony for his help on my moving weekend. He was the only one who came to help me on both days and even helped me almost until midnight on Halloween. He was heading out to the same Halloween party I was going to and I felt guilty that it was my move that made him go to the party so late. I am eternally grateful for his help during my move and I hope to someday repay him in kind. From the bottom of my heart, thank you brother! I owe you big time!