Anchors, Aweigh! [Part 5 of my story of making the best decision of my adult life]

PREVIOUSLY…

The second time – could’ve been another day, could’ve been later that day – I revisited the notion after a long day at work. For a good month or so I’d spend at least 15 minutes in a stall in the men’s room crying softly. The feeling would just come on all of a sudden; I’d have to log off the phone, hold it in while I walked quickly to the restroom, hope no one else was in there, and just let it out as quietly as possible, sometimes stuffing toilet paper in my mouth to help keep it muffled.

...but you already know what I'm thinking...
…but you already know what I’m thinking…

Following one of those many days I had a similar mental exchange. Except when I got to the accomplishing part it seemed a little easier; I was already in my car and there was a highway right over the hill I could have a fantastic wreck on. But then I thought of the other people who might be possibly involved. And then the third voice barged in again, asking what the fuck I was thinking.

You know what I’m thinking, I responded.

RIGHT – BEFORE YOU DO YOU ANYTHING YOU’LL REGRET, MAKE A FUCKING PHONE CALL!!

And then, I don’t know, I just came to my senses and called back home to North Carolina and talked to my surrogate mom – I was ashamed and scared to tell her what I had been considering. Ashamed for the stigma surrounding people possessing such thoughts and scared to admit it because that somehow makes it more real.

She wasn’t mad, she wasn’t ashamed, but she was scared for me and suggested I call my former therapist. I called her right away and we talked for a few minutes. I called her again a few days later; no more thoughts along those lines, and by that time more people were coming into my life.

The all caps, bold and italic lettering voice I think was the voice of God; or my guardian angel if you think God is above using the f-bomb.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anchors, Aweigh! [Part 4 of my story of making the best decision of my adult life]

PREVIOUSLY…

Have you ever seen a dog chasing a car? Ever wonder what a dog would do if it actually caught the car? That’s kind of what it was like when I moved to Ohio. I didn’t really know what to do once I caught the woman I had been pursuing for going on three years. So, I just made her my life.

I had no other friends except those I met through the church I started attending because she was already attending. I wouldn’t spend any time with those friends unless she was at work or otherwise occupied. I basically felt as though I was nothing without her.

2011...I seriously had no idea what I was doing, but denial played a strong part. Good thing I hadn't really started drinking yet.
2011…I seriously had no idea what I was doing, but denial played a strong part. Good thing I hadn’t really started drinking yet.

That’s too much of a burden for anyone to bear, the burden of another’s existence, of another’s value. And it proved too much for her. Ultimately that relationship failed and because I had invested so much of my life into it, when it was gone and she was absent from my life all of a sudden, I felt like I had nothing. What was the point of waking up each morning only to feel the worst I had ever felt in all my life? Day after day, each hour of each day, each minute of each hour.

There were two distinct occasions – shucks, it might have even been the same day, time was just slushing along, all mixed up – but I distinctly remember two separate times at which I seriously considered ending it all.

One of those times was one morning as I woke up. My internal dialogue went something like as what follows:

What’s the point?

We have to go to work.

But why?

Because, we have to. Responsibility.

But why? What’s beyond that? Why keep on doing this?

Because we’re here.

What if we weren’t?

I imagine we’d feel a lot better.

We wouldn’t feel anything.

That’d feel better than this…

And then I started thinking about how I could accomplish it and I guess as I woke up something else woke up and barged into the conversation:
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING??!

That was enough to scare me back from the proverbial edge.

…the first time…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A KICK IN THE PANTS

Last night I had the opportunity to attend a panel discussion on web series. The panel consisted of three folks (Bernie Su, Hannah Cheesman, and Julian DeZotti) who have produced series for online distro and consumption and have a significant measure of success.

Check out The Lizzie Bennett Diaries and Whatever, Linda.

There were a few folks there I know from the Collective and a lot of folks I’ve never seen before.

It was my first panel discussion, so I figured I’d go whole hog into the experience and ask a Q during the Q&A portion.

I wasn’t planning on bringing up my ambitious goal of writing a 13-book series, followed up with a 3-5 season web series, culminating in a 1-3 film theatrical event, but when my question on audience-building apparently proved too vague, my hand was forced.

Even now my mind is a little foggy as my head was spinning, but what I took away from the event was: JUST DO IT.

I mean, there I was…I told them the span of the idea and that it’s a bit of a cross-pollination of Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, and Chronicles of Narnia. And these industry professionals, as well as a lady and gentleman of high import for the industry in Hawaii, all admonished, encouraged, and just told me to DO IT – WRITE THE STORY – DO THE THING!

DO THE THING - by Arvaus on DeviantArt.com
DO THE THING – by Arvaus on DeviantArt.com

Thing is I’ve known I’ve needed to do the thing for quite some time now! I just…haven’t.

I’ve hemmed, I’ve hawed; I’ve put the pro in procrastination but the time of side quests is done. The Dragovian Trials have adjourned and it’s time to go after Dhoulmagus.

So, in terms of stortytelling, of writing, producing, anything, it’s all going toward finishing BOOK I of the KNIGHTS OF THAELION.

Jenn’s been encouraging me ever since our first date (if memory serves (regardless, it’s a good story)). Other friends, along the way, have encouraged me over the years. The inner voice keeps encouraging me.

And yet…RESISTANCE ALWAYS RESISTS. This is why it’s important to be in community with others.

Flyntax and co. have been banging around in my brain since I was 13. Time to let ‘em out.

 

Reflections on Imminent Fatherhood (or: Holy Shit, I’m About to be a Dad) #3

[I don’t even know if I’m using proper capitalizAtion in the post titles…]

A night storm...
A night storm…

At the end of a long day you’re ready to just crash; but you really ought to take that shower…just one more thing and then – oh, wait. After the shower you have to still floss and brush.

Okay.

Shower. Floss. Brush.

Pajamas.

Pillow.

Sleep.

KA-BANG

During the quiet, peaceful tones of night and sleep wind currents, air pressures, moisture levels and the like have all been conspiring, colluding, and colliding to create a thunderstorm.

With the rapid expansion of super-heated air, you’re jolted awake.

=================================

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but somewhere early on in my life I got it in my head that I’m not worthy of good things. Anything I’ve ever wanted, loved, enjoyed, appreciated is always taken away from me long before I’ve had a chance to really experience it.

At some point later I learned that if I do enough, that if I work hard enough I will be able to earn the right to possess good things. However, with the ability to earn comes the propensity to lose. And so, I would, at times, earn these good things. Not too long after, I would ultimately slip up and then lose that which I understood I had earned.

Entering my 30s, a few years back, I started to finally really get it.

Shit just happens. Good and bad.

The only thing we have even a measure of control over is how we respond to shit, great and small, good and bad, wonderful and terrible.

How we respond to it on one level corresponds to how we respond on a different one. Usually good to great and bad to worse.

It’s taken some monumental disillusionment to destroy that way of thinking – that is, that one must earn the gifts life brings.

And yet, such ways of thinking are so scorched and enmeshed within my soul, scarred into my spirit, wrinkled into my brain that as the clock of life clicks ever closer to the birth of my first son, an irrational yet palpable fear, at times, consumes me.

Some complication will arise claiming the life of my wife, my son, or both.

What have I done to warrant having such a joyful relationship these last two years? What labor have I performed to earn such a great marriage this last year and a quarter? And now a child? And now a son??

Surely every terrible lapse in judgment I’ve committed will catch up with me in mere moments…no, me suddenly dying would be too merciful.

There’s a place in my heart from which a voice declares, “You must live long and in misery for the crimes against reality you’ve committed!” That voice reverberates in my head and I have daymares; it echoes in my lungs and my chest grows tight; it resonates in my gut and everything is awful.

But in the smile of my wife, in the kindness of a stranger, in the misfortune of a colleague, in the wetness of the rain I am reminded for the umpteenth time that there are forces much greater than my will at work in the world.

In the grand scheme of things I’ve not done a damn thing to earn a damned – or blessed – thing.

Jenny loves me freely. Regardless of what I do, li’l ol’ what’s-his-name continues to grow within her body.

God is just and merciful; the universe is fair and gracious; petty things have no place in the dispensation of circumstance.

=================================

With the rapid expansion of super-heated air, I’m jolted awake.

History is but a vivid dream.

In the waking world, life is what I make of it, depending on how I play the hands I’m dealt.

I’m grateful for the night storm, waking me from my nightmares.