Jan. 28

Two years ago today, I started this blog. What started as a way to deal with my divorce spawned many threads which, at times, threatened to overwhelm me. Some of those threads have come and gone, though I will say this: this blog has been an important part of my healing and overall therapy. 

I'm (slowly) reading a book about a woman's coming to terms with her childhood sexual abuse. Most of her life she kept a journal. At some point, her journaling turned into a book. She said she was introduced to "reflective journaling," and that was what got to the heart of her troubling past. It doesn't take much to realize that's exactly what I've been doing here without knowing the term for it. 

It was here, in the summer of 2018, I finally came to terms with my childhood abuse, both at the hands of my father and my brothers, as well as the psychological abuse that was pervasive in my household. It was in my childhood that the seeds were planted that turned into a garden of harm, a garden I tended dutifully with my own hands until I realized I could burn that shit down. Now I grow different things, and instead of tending to my hurt, I smother the weeds. I don't know if anything good will come of my life, but at least I'm trying. 

Another theme that existed since the beginning was my love for a certain woman. It seemed like such a beautiful foil to the immense pain I felt after leaving my marriage. It was like a salve for my soul. It allowed me to feel things that were life-affirming instead of gut-wrenchingly awful. She was my solace. She was my muse. She was the most beautiful thing I could think of, and I held onto her tightly in my darkest nights. For that, I want to thank her. Though she is not in my life, and though she may never know exactly how I feel about her, I still want to say it. The luckiest man on earth can call that woman his. I am not that man, though I consider myself lucky to have simply known her. What a beautiful, powerful soul. What a fragile, yet strong heart, and a presence I wish I could feel the rest of my life. 

Two years I have plodded through all sorts of pain. I want to thank everyone for the time they spent here reading about some poor man they don't even know. The things revealed here were 100 percent true as much as I can certify the truth. Do you trust me? There were times when I employed hyperbole, but overall, this has been an honest effort by a simple man going through a very human struggle. 

Somehow, the prevailing theme became that of my faith and walk with God. I understand a lot of that comes off as esoteric and fantastical. When I talk about my faith, I'm not writing for an audience. That's all for me. If anyone gleaned something of worth from all of that, then even better. I was just writing my experiences and thoughts.

I've changed over the last two years. I'm still trying to figure out how exactly. Are those changes good or bad? Yes and yes. When I was in high school, sometimes I would get on my bike and ride down to the office where I worked and read stuff and write my thoughts. By getting out of the house, it helped me. It was just my parents and me then. Still, I knew my household was not healthy. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen my parents display much warmth toward each other. I would also hole up in my basement bedroom, listening to music or drawing or just staying away from everyone. Remember that. I'll come back to it in a second. 

Divorce is like a bomb going off. After it goes off, nothing is the same. Everything is rearranged, fucked up, blown up, missing, broken. It's like a death where no one actually dies. You just feel sad all the time. People look at you like you should just get over it. But you will probably never get over it. What everyone needs when they go through the aftermath of an explosion or a death in their lives is support. Support that doesn't give up or tell you to suck it up or that it was your fault. You need stability because your whole world just changed in front of your eyes. It needs to be there every day. For me, it wasn't there. Was I supposed to go to the coldest people I know — my parents — for help? Was I supposed to go to the one person who probably knew best how I felt — my ex — for help? Was I supposed to go to any number of friendships that were only friendships in name for help? There was no one. I struggled through it all by myself. There was minimal support. There were blatant unsupportive words and behaviors. And there was pervasive blame. After all, it was my choice. 

There were extensions of support from my brothers. And one of them sent me a check for $15,000 to help me get a better car (after I made sure my ex had a reliable and fairly new car). That qualifies as a lot of help. I was glad for all of that, and I don't want to forget the help I received. Selling our house netted about $35,000, which was split two ways, obviously. And my parents paid for me to take classes, for which I also received financial aid  (which went into my savings, cus, well, I'm not stupid). Those were huge financial blessings, and they were unexpected. I didn't care about money because what is money to a drowning soul? But now I can look back and say, "Wow, all of that was amazing." It was humbling. It was incredible. Still, the monetary blessings didn't help me pull myself out of a morass of pain. Only God did that. In my darkest hour, He was the only one there. Without help in those moments, I wouldn't be here today writing this. That's the bottom line. 

I have focused a lot on my pain and childhood (which is more pain) in this blog. I won't apologize for that, but I do want to shift to writing about my many amazing blessings. Many years ago, I thought it would be nice to be disabled so I wouldn't have to go to work every day. I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice to just stay at home today — and every day?" Well, that's the wrong attitude, of course. I have a healthy body that can work, and that's an amazing blessing. I feel blessed having the opportunity to work every day. I have talents God gave me, so that's what I will do. Thank you, Lord. That's the attitude I want to have — extended to every part of my life.

So, two years went by *just like that*. Thank you to any and all who were along for the ride. I hope you got something out of it. I sure did. 

Thanks for reading ... and God bless.