I Got F*cked
There are boundaries in blogging that I wrestle with. There are things that I don’t share because they aren’t “my stories” and because there are people who will try to use those stories to hurt me.
That isn’t paranoia speaking. I am not a victim and I don’t walk around watching out for black helicopters or worrying about all of the people who are out to get me. I say this because I have been the beneficiary of some very special treatment because of blogging so I know things can happen.
It is not my nature to tiptoe or walk around a fight. I am not the guy who is afraid to mix it up but I am also old enough to know that some of these fights aren’t worth it.
I don’t need to wave Mr. Winky around to prove he is bigger than yours and frankly I’d rather not. People get embarrassed when they inadvertently step on me and I can’t tell you how badly a well placed stiletto heel can hurt.
Are We Poor?
My kids asked me today if we are poor and I damn near split a gut. We aren’t poor. We aren’t homeless. We don’t go hungry and no one worries about having clothes to wear.
But the truth is that our situation isn’t what it once was. I take responsibility for some of that. I haven’t any problem saying that nor do I consider it a contradiction to say that I got fucked.
Yes, I removed the asterisk, but let’s not get caught up in that.
I got screwed by the greedy and irresponsible. I got hammered by things outside of my control and it would be easy to rant.
I could tell you about how I was fired on the day of my grandfather’s funeral. They knew where I was and what I was doing that day. I could share more details but that should give you real insight into their character.
I could tell you a few other stories about bad things that happened. I wouldn’t have to exaggerate or make anything up. I could share the sad and sordid tale and make some of you cry.
But I don’t want or need to. Some of that is pride and some of that is recognition that my situation could be much worse.
Gratitude and Frustration
You see I am torn by the contradiction of gratitude and frustration. I haven’t recovered as fast as I would have liked to. I haven’t climbed back to the top of the damn mountain yet and it irks me.
It hurts me to hear my kids say these things. I don’t want to just give them everything because they won’t appreciate it. I want them to work for some of this but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to provide.
As a man and a father this is the sort of thing that stabs at your core. If you let the darkness overwhelm you it will suck the very essence out of you.
But gratitude won’t let that happen. I am well aware that our situation isn’t what I want but it is not that bad. Not only that I know that I will get back to where I want to be.
And I can say that this experience has taught me a million different lessons and forced me to recognize that I had to change paths. It has been hard but rewarding. There have been moments of doubt and more pain than I would like, but shit happens.
A Plan of Action
I have a plan of action that I am following and I expect this will help us get to where we want to be. It is a flexible plan that was created so that adjustments could be made when necessary.
The reason I share all this is because I am done being force fed negative energy by the people who love/hate Obama/Romney. The world is not going to come to an end if he is elected or re-elected. Life will go on and we will do what we have always done- adapt and overcome.
Adapt and overcome comes from a line in Heartbreak Ridge. BTW, that link is NSFW.
Why Write About It?
The answer is simple. This is cathartic for me. When I write things down it helps me to clarify my thoughts and ideas and to vent.
I am not waiting around for change. I am doing my best to make it happen. Part of that is making it clear to friends, family and whoever else is listening that whining about what could or should be won’t make anything happen.
Action. It is about action. Action makes me feel better.
This isn’t a one act play. The way I see it we are at intermission now and I have the entire second act to perform.
Sometimes life is hard, but nothing good comes easy or so I sometimes whisper in the dark.