As is often the case, it's been quite a while since I've written anything in here.
Oh sure, I've posted just about every video I've uploaded to YouTube, but that isn't quite the same as a written post, and I know it. I'll admit, I'm surprised somewhat by the high level of views some of the blog posts seem to have accrued, although it hasn't translated into YouTube success as of yet.
Last time I wrote, it was Christmas. A few things have changed since then and a few more are likely to change again.
I built my PC, a project I've been wanting to do since, oh, 2014. It's a pretty beastly machine if I say so myself. It has an i7 5820k processor, lots of fast storage, and a GTX 1070 to run all my games at very high settings and still get great frame rates in the games I play. I have a pair of monitors now, one at 144hz to keep the gaming smooth.
My ex received notification that they are ready to place her in a public housing unit soon. We don't know when, but it's going to happen at some point, which means a major life change (no more every day with Kylie sadly).
Things are still going relatively well at work, even as a lot of stuff is changing there and we're putting together a plan that hopefully means less stress on all of us and the rest of the staff barely notices anything new is going on.
Speaking of Kylie, she's going to be 4 soon. This little girl that at one point was just a lump that cried and occasionally ate is a full-fledged toddler, running full steam and bouncing off of everything. She's my everything and the reason why I do all the things I do to try and keep her life as easy as possible.
None of that is the reason I'm writing anything though. No, unfortunately, for the first time in what feels like ages, I felt that old friend self-doubt starting to creep into my head. It slowly worked its way into my mind yesterday morning, getting my mind working, then went full steam ahead, bringing me down for a little while.
A lot of things contribute to this of course. Being single and basically incapable of dating for the last two years certainly played a factor in it. I've done a decent job of not worrying about that aspect of my life, but I suppose it was only a matter of time before it pushed its way back to the front of my mind.
And now 24 hours later, I feel silly for even feeling that way, but I still want to explore, and maybe even explain to myself, how it happened and how I've already moved it back into the back of my mind.
To keep it simple, the self-doubt stems from earlier years. I was treated very poorly by peers when I was much, much younger, and I never really completely recovered from those days. In a lot of ways, I never forgave some of the people involved in the cruel jokes that were played on me back then, but I suppose some of that is human nature.
Some of it stems from recent things. My teeth being in poor condition certainly hasn't helped. I was never known as someone with a great smile, but that was more a reluctance to smile. That reluctance isn't so heavy now, but now I am insecure with the actual condition of my teeth (one of the lovely joys of genetics) and therefore resist many urges to smile except in certain company.
Some of my self-doubt is related to the fact that who in their right mind would want to even think about dating someone who has bad teeth, has a kid, and has an ex for a roommate? Some of those things are just things in my head, but the last point has been reiterated to me multiple times the few times I've attempted to actually talk to someone.
So I don't even try.
Another mostly unfair aspect of the self-doubt is feeling that certain women I know already would be absolutely perfect to date (mesh well, they get me, etc.) For various reasons, it won't happen. In some cases, distance is the driving force, but in other instances, there are other factors that I simply won't get into as no one needs to know all the details.
For some reason, it hit me hard yesterday though that I feel like some of the best matches for me are impractical at best, and therefore why even bother trying?
It's a weird place for me to be. I very rarely get sad/depressed/whatever you want to call it. I've put a lot of effort into improving my demeanor, not being such a cranky butt, and just being a better person in general. I no longer go on facebook posting attention-seeking things and I try to remember that things I post could be considered a reflection of the job I have.
I've toned it down significantly, something I'm reminded of almost every day when I look at my memories. The further back the posts go in time, the more melodramatic I sound and the more I cringe reading them.
I was worried about so many dumb things five, six years ago. I craved attention. I wanted to be, well, wanted. Unfortunately, my methods to get attention were self-destructing and more often than not, drove off people who otherwise I could have had friendships with and whatnot.
The number of people I exchanged comments with back in those days that aren't even on my radar these days is higher than it should be, but I do realize some of that is just people moving on in one way or another.
I know I'm a better person now though. Little things don't tend to drag me down. I'm not obsessing over who wants to talk to me, who doesn't, and if I'm going to date again. I'm not chasing people trying to convince them I'm worth talking to.
So it feels weird when I have an off day, a day where I feel completely worthless.
And it keeps things in perspective for me.
There are people that spend 90% of their lives feeling that way. The sad days FAR outweigh the happy days.
I can't fathom living life that way because my mind isn't wired that way. Sure, yesterday was not a good day for me, but I'd be willing to bet that unless I let my guard down, most would never have ever guessed it was a bad day. I didn't let my guard down though. I tried very hard to not let it impact how I treated other people because other people weren't the reason I felt how I felt.
I've grown as a person over the last couple of years. Having Kylie has helped me realize just how trivial other things are in life. I used to be a HUGE sports fan. I was so invested in all the teams and was the type of person that would get real angry if the team I rooted for didn't perform well. It would affect my mood and how I treated people.
While I still follow my teams and try to go to games, my life does not revolve around sports anymore. I've probably watched maybe 5 Cavs games this season and I LOVE basketball. I love the Cavs. But Kylie wants to watch Bubble Guppies so guess what's on my TV?
I find it scary now when someone on social media flips out over sports. Or anything else that isn't family, job, or health related. We spend so much time worrying about things that aren't important and often lose sight of what is. The worst I've been about that in the last few months has actually been because of this PC I built.
I was so hell-bent on doing it, it consumed me. Yet even then, it wasn't all that bad because Kylie helped me with so much of the process. She helped me unbox most of the parts, helped me build a lot of the stuff, and has constantly been involved at some point with the process. Just watch my last video in the PC Build Vlog series. She pretty much helped me build my chair from start to finish, helped me put the softbox lights I bought.
So even in something that had consumed me, she was part of it and it became something we did together at times.
My mentality has completely shifted since Kylie was born. I'm a happier person because of her.
My boss has helped push that in me too. Whether she ever really knows it, Kelley has been a huge factor in getting me to stop being such a grump and be a better person.
I still have a lot of room to grow, but I feel I've come a long way.
Some might wonder if this means the snark is gone, if I've stopped using sarcasm.
I haven't. But I pick my spots better and do a better job of showing compassion when it's needed.
In the end, if I'm meant to date someone, it'll happen. It won't likely be soon because of my current situation, but someday, someone could potentially come along that's perfect for me. One bad day doesn't change that mentality, but letting that one bad become a bad week, then bad month doesn't help things either.
I mean, I've become the type of person I used to loathe; the happy-go-lucky look at the bright side kind of person.
I can typically see the positive in any situation now and always tell myself it could be worse. I know it could be. I see it every day in people who are clients where I work, people who are truly struggling with issues that often aren't of their own making, but due to things beyond their control. I've seen how bad it can be, how much the mind can go, how dark it can be.
I'm not anywhere close to that and hope I never am. Depression and anxiety are horrible things that a lot of people still don't understand. Mental health overall continues to be something that most would rather avoid than try to understand, and those who suffer from mental health issues often find themselves all alone in trying to cope.
It's a terrible thing.
Anyway, I wanted to write something to get a few things off my chest and I wrote a damn novel as always. If you've read this far, bless your soul.
I might do more, I might not. I do occasionally vlog on my YouTube channel and I'm considering getting more personal with them, but I'm still undecided. YouTube can be a vicious place, but then again, so can social media overall.
That's a rant for another time.
Thanks for reading.
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Monday, November 5, 2012
Kids change things
I know.
The title is about as obvious a statement as you can make when it comes to kids and what happens. The thing is, most probably don't realize how true it is.
Let's back up a step though. Being in a relationship changes things. Simple decisions aren't as simple, choices you make can often have unseen repercussions. That simple night out with the boys is now the basis for an argument. That extra hour to play a game means you don't want to spend time with your significant other.
These aren't things that I've necessarily experienced with Rachel, but they are things that happen. People say they're okay with certain things, like video games and the night out, then when it happens, flip out as if you just committed the most awful sin imaginable. Some people have earned the scrutiny that was brought onto them, but sometimes it's just an overreaction that gets taken way too far.
You have to work to manage your time better in a relationship, work to find common ground, and work together to resolve issues that pop up. Relationships, as everyone already knows, require trust to get very far and a little bit of faith as well. If you can't trust the person you're with, then it's bound to fail. If you lack faith, then it can makes more of a struggle, but it can be worked through.
Having a kid adds to the changes.
For a guy, it means less time for you (if you've managed to maintain some of your "me" time) as you now have someone who depends on you and your significant other to raise them, protect them, and feed them. That hour you had before or after work to play your game? That likely won't be there unless the child is sleeping at that desired time.
The nights out? If you'd rather continue going out week after week than spend time with your growing child, then I have to say something is wrong with you. This of course excludes the occasional night out, which I recommend spending with your significant other as she's probably ready to get out away from it all for a little bit before she panics about the well-being of the kid and you end up going home early.
I've already seen how kids can change things. 75% of the tv time is spent on either the HUB or DisneyJR with the rest of the time split between Rachel and myself depending on the day of the week. The living room and Payton's room is a perpetual mess as those are the two main areas she can be found. There's usually at least one mishap a week involving a spill of some sort, the most recent being a glitter explosion in Payton's bedroom.
If you are a neat freak, I would suggest therapy before having kids as you will probably have a mental breakdown. I've resigned myself to the fact that it's inevitable that our apartment will be a mess. You have to pick and choose your spots to clean, just as you have to stay on top of laundry and dishes or before you know it, you're buried.
Just about anything can be disrupted by a child, from a simple trip to the store, to getting food, to bedtime procedures. Things will change, become more complicated, and often leaving you ready to pull your hair out and just sit down and call it quits.
But then you'd be missing the best parts of having a kid around. The hugs, the playing, the fascination with simple things, the endless energy, and the laughter. Sure, they cry too, but they laugh a lot and as they grow, they understand more and more about what's going on around them.
Having an infant around, as we will be introducing next spring, adds a new dimension to things. Until it learns to crawl and eventually walk, it's completely dependent on you to get around, to eat, and stay warm (or cool depending on the time of year). Sleep, already a precious commodity for most, becomes harder to come by. Diapers will be changed several times a day up until the point the child finally decides that potties are useful, and not just for playing.
There will be doctor appointments, check-ups, near heart attacks when the child discovers the joys of power cords and outlets, incidents with the animals, and any number of other things that would cause any person to stop in their tracks and hope to God that their child is okay.
Am I ready for this? I think like a lot of hopeful parents (that is, people who really do want kids, not just the ones who say so), I want to believe that I will be. I want to believe tht I'm ready for the challenge and will rise up and raise a healthy, beautiful child who will eventually rule the world.
Will there be rough spots? Yes. Will there be disputes on what's okay and what isn't okay? More than likely. Will I fold like a cheap lawn chair the first time my child cries? Probably. Will I do my best to not be like a lot of first-time fathers who get walked on? I will, but I can't promise anything. This is one area where I'm definitely heading into the unknown, and while I've been around kids, this will be the first one that is truly of my creation, not the result of dating someone who already had them.
The main thing I feel right now is excitement. I'm ready for this, as much as I can be anyway. I don't think I'm going to falter, I don't think I'm going to be a pushover, but I honestly don't know how it's going to go. I do know I want to be there at every step of the way as much as I can be.
The changes are coming, but it's going to be a blast.
Now get out of the laundry basket, you damn kid!
The title is about as obvious a statement as you can make when it comes to kids and what happens. The thing is, most probably don't realize how true it is.
Let's back up a step though. Being in a relationship changes things. Simple decisions aren't as simple, choices you make can often have unseen repercussions. That simple night out with the boys is now the basis for an argument. That extra hour to play a game means you don't want to spend time with your significant other.
These aren't things that I've necessarily experienced with Rachel, but they are things that happen. People say they're okay with certain things, like video games and the night out, then when it happens, flip out as if you just committed the most awful sin imaginable. Some people have earned the scrutiny that was brought onto them, but sometimes it's just an overreaction that gets taken way too far.
You have to work to manage your time better in a relationship, work to find common ground, and work together to resolve issues that pop up. Relationships, as everyone already knows, require trust to get very far and a little bit of faith as well. If you can't trust the person you're with, then it's bound to fail. If you lack faith, then it can makes more of a struggle, but it can be worked through.
Having a kid adds to the changes.
For a guy, it means less time for you (if you've managed to maintain some of your "me" time) as you now have someone who depends on you and your significant other to raise them, protect them, and feed them. That hour you had before or after work to play your game? That likely won't be there unless the child is sleeping at that desired time.
The nights out? If you'd rather continue going out week after week than spend time with your growing child, then I have to say something is wrong with you. This of course excludes the occasional night out, which I recommend spending with your significant other as she's probably ready to get out away from it all for a little bit before she panics about the well-being of the kid and you end up going home early.
I've already seen how kids can change things. 75% of the tv time is spent on either the HUB or DisneyJR with the rest of the time split between Rachel and myself depending on the day of the week. The living room and Payton's room is a perpetual mess as those are the two main areas she can be found. There's usually at least one mishap a week involving a spill of some sort, the most recent being a glitter explosion in Payton's bedroom.
If you are a neat freak, I would suggest therapy before having kids as you will probably have a mental breakdown. I've resigned myself to the fact that it's inevitable that our apartment will be a mess. You have to pick and choose your spots to clean, just as you have to stay on top of laundry and dishes or before you know it, you're buried.
Just about anything can be disrupted by a child, from a simple trip to the store, to getting food, to bedtime procedures. Things will change, become more complicated, and often leaving you ready to pull your hair out and just sit down and call it quits.
But then you'd be missing the best parts of having a kid around. The hugs, the playing, the fascination with simple things, the endless energy, and the laughter. Sure, they cry too, but they laugh a lot and as they grow, they understand more and more about what's going on around them.
Having an infant around, as we will be introducing next spring, adds a new dimension to things. Until it learns to crawl and eventually walk, it's completely dependent on you to get around, to eat, and stay warm (or cool depending on the time of year). Sleep, already a precious commodity for most, becomes harder to come by. Diapers will be changed several times a day up until the point the child finally decides that potties are useful, and not just for playing.
There will be doctor appointments, check-ups, near heart attacks when the child discovers the joys of power cords and outlets, incidents with the animals, and any number of other things that would cause any person to stop in their tracks and hope to God that their child is okay.
Am I ready for this? I think like a lot of hopeful parents (that is, people who really do want kids, not just the ones who say so), I want to believe that I will be. I want to believe tht I'm ready for the challenge and will rise up and raise a healthy, beautiful child who will eventually rule the world.
Will there be rough spots? Yes. Will there be disputes on what's okay and what isn't okay? More than likely. Will I fold like a cheap lawn chair the first time my child cries? Probably. Will I do my best to not be like a lot of first-time fathers who get walked on? I will, but I can't promise anything. This is one area where I'm definitely heading into the unknown, and while I've been around kids, this will be the first one that is truly of my creation, not the result of dating someone who already had them.
The main thing I feel right now is excitement. I'm ready for this, as much as I can be anyway. I don't think I'm going to falter, I don't think I'm going to be a pushover, but I honestly don't know how it's going to go. I do know I want to be there at every step of the way as much as I can be.
The changes are coming, but it's going to be a blast.
Now get out of the laundry basket, you damn kid!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Release the minion!
I will admit, I don't always strive for things that most people would go for.
Most guys out there aren't hoping to settle down with the right girl so they can fulfill a dream of having kids of their own. Most are out looking for someone they can spend a few years with before they consider starting a family.
My goals have always been different though. I think a lot of it stems from when I was younger and the experiences I lost out on when I was kid due to the things going on with my dad. I've always felt I missed out on a lot, that I didn't get to experience the same kinds of things that most did. I suppose in my unrealistic frame of mind, I've always felt that I'm still missing out on things, and not just because he passed away recently.
I don't want that same experience for my future kid (or kids). I don't want them to grow up and wonder the same things I wondered. I always envisioned myself being a better father to my kids than my dad was towards me. I want for them what I missed, what I wished I would have experienced.
For instance, I would have loved to have a dad that I could still sit and watch sporting events with. Granted, I have the best thing going in that I have a girlfriend who loves baseball and football, but it still would've been nice if my dad would've been stable enough for us to all take in the Browns or Indians. It would have been nice to still be able to throw the ball around and talk about stuff like we briefly did when I was kid. Again, I have Rachel for these so I feel fortunate in that regard, but it still would've been nice if I had that growing up with my dad. I could've asked him all the stuff I had to figure out on my own when I was in high school and maybe, just maybe, would've missed out on a lot of the awkward moments I endured.
I can't overstate how awesome it is to have a girlfriend in Rachel who loves football and baseball though. Guys, always appreciate it when you find a girl like that because there are certainly a number of them out there who could care less about sports in general.
Instead, I chose to avoid my dad as soon as I didn't have to see him on a regular basis. I chose to drift as far away as possible simply because I had had enough of the problems he had. I had enough of him yelling, his conspiracy theories, and all the other things he used to say and do when he was on his drug/alcohol concoction.
I don't want my child to have to do that. I want him/her to relish the moments we have, grow up and know that I'm there when they need me to be, but also to push the way my mom tried to push us. I want my child to fondly remember his/her childhood moments, not possibly be the plot behind some made-for-tv special about child abuse and drugs.
Why all this gibber gabber? Rachel is pregnant and expecting her second child and my first. We were trying to wait to make an official announcement, but the cat's out of the bag and I can now openly write about what will be first experience in fatherhood.
What are my emotions? I'm excited, I'm happy, I'm anxious, and even a little scared. This is as unknown a territory as a person can possibly enter. Sure, there are thousands of books, online articles, and other sources of information on being a parent. There's the expertise of Rachel, who has three years experience now. Yet you never really know what to expect. Is it a boy, is it a girl, will they be a loud baby, a quiet baby? Will they listen when they get older or will they be defiant? Will they need meds? Will everything come out okay?
Yet despite all the uncertainty that comes with the pregnancy and then actual raising of the child, I'm excited. I look forward to being the dad that squishes his kid's face just because it looks funny to him. I look forward to carrying him/her around as an infant, then complaining when they can walk but still want to be carried. I look forward to their first words, then getting irritated because they won't stop talking back to me because they want that one singular toy.
I have a chance to do the things with this child that I wanted my dad to do with me. If I'm lucky, this child will enjoy video games like me and I'll have a video game buddy (even better if Payton and Rachel join in). I've always admired a youtuber by the name of paulsoaresjr who plays and records Minecraft, but also plays with all three of his kids and his wife on occasion. It may not seem like much to most, but it's a way for him to stay connected with his kids as they get older, something most parents have to face at some point (two of his kids are in high school now).
I look forward to all the appointments leading up to the child being born, the first laugh, the first cry (after that, I'll probably be done with the crying), the first time I have to get up to take care of the baby in the middle of the night (again, probably done after that), the first crawl, the first steps, the first fall, the first run, the first big fall, the first teeth, and so on.
So while there are uncertainties and questions, there's also excitement and joy. I get to be a dad, and it gets to be my minion.
Yes, I've been calling it a minion. There's nothing any of you can do about it either.
The end of May is a long way away though. That means there's plenty of time to prepare for all the things that come with having a new baby. Supplies will be bought, a bigger living arrangement will be pursued, and we will try to be as prepared as possible when the new life comes into the picture.
Our minion will need a name once we know whether we're having a boy or girl, and that to me is going to be one of the more challenging parts of the equation. In the past, I had thought about names, but when I go through and think about it now, nothing jumps out at me yet. Maybe it's because we don't know the sex of it yet, but as of now, even going through some lists of baby names, nothing has jumped at me just yet.
Life will certainly change come the end of May. Rachel is still encouraging me to sign up for next year's Warrior Dash, but I've been hedging since it takes place at the very beginning of June and I don't want there to be a conflict. Now, don't get me wrong, if Rachel is in labor when the Warrior Dash takes place, I'm not going. Simple as that. In an ideal world, the child would come either before or after the actual event.
The world isn't ideal though and things already somewhat revolve around the unborn child. I have to consider the idea of buying as many baby supply items as possible so that we don't have to worry about that as much during the first couple of months. I have to make sure I have money set aside because there is going to be a period of time when Rachel isn't going to be able to work.
In the end, I'm excited for the future new addition and the changes it will bring. I'm excited for the memories that will be created by this addition.
Most importantly though, I'm excited about the chance to be the dad that I wish that I had.
Get ready world, our minion is coming.
On a side note, we ran in the Run of the Dead this past weekend and it was a pretty good time. Some of the zombies talked a little more than I thought and some of the zombie kids were a bit rambunctious, but it was still fun and something we'd both do again given the opportunity. It was down in Plymouth, OH, so it was a bit of a drive to get there, but we got there early and ran at a pretty decent pace considering Rachel hadn't run in a while and is a couple months along with the pregnancy.
But yeah, the main point of this? I have a minion on the way.
Duck and cover people, duck and cover.
Most guys out there aren't hoping to settle down with the right girl so they can fulfill a dream of having kids of their own. Most are out looking for someone they can spend a few years with before they consider starting a family.
My goals have always been different though. I think a lot of it stems from when I was younger and the experiences I lost out on when I was kid due to the things going on with my dad. I've always felt I missed out on a lot, that I didn't get to experience the same kinds of things that most did. I suppose in my unrealistic frame of mind, I've always felt that I'm still missing out on things, and not just because he passed away recently.
I don't want that same experience for my future kid (or kids). I don't want them to grow up and wonder the same things I wondered. I always envisioned myself being a better father to my kids than my dad was towards me. I want for them what I missed, what I wished I would have experienced.
For instance, I would have loved to have a dad that I could still sit and watch sporting events with. Granted, I have the best thing going in that I have a girlfriend who loves baseball and football, but it still would've been nice if my dad would've been stable enough for us to all take in the Browns or Indians. It would have been nice to still be able to throw the ball around and talk about stuff like we briefly did when I was kid. Again, I have Rachel for these so I feel fortunate in that regard, but it still would've been nice if I had that growing up with my dad. I could've asked him all the stuff I had to figure out on my own when I was in high school and maybe, just maybe, would've missed out on a lot of the awkward moments I endured.
I can't overstate how awesome it is to have a girlfriend in Rachel who loves football and baseball though. Guys, always appreciate it when you find a girl like that because there are certainly a number of them out there who could care less about sports in general.
Instead, I chose to avoid my dad as soon as I didn't have to see him on a regular basis. I chose to drift as far away as possible simply because I had had enough of the problems he had. I had enough of him yelling, his conspiracy theories, and all the other things he used to say and do when he was on his drug/alcohol concoction.
I don't want my child to have to do that. I want him/her to relish the moments we have, grow up and know that I'm there when they need me to be, but also to push the way my mom tried to push us. I want my child to fondly remember his/her childhood moments, not possibly be the plot behind some made-for-tv special about child abuse and drugs.
Why all this gibber gabber? Rachel is pregnant and expecting her second child and my first. We were trying to wait to make an official announcement, but the cat's out of the bag and I can now openly write about what will be first experience in fatherhood.
What are my emotions? I'm excited, I'm happy, I'm anxious, and even a little scared. This is as unknown a territory as a person can possibly enter. Sure, there are thousands of books, online articles, and other sources of information on being a parent. There's the expertise of Rachel, who has three years experience now. Yet you never really know what to expect. Is it a boy, is it a girl, will they be a loud baby, a quiet baby? Will they listen when they get older or will they be defiant? Will they need meds? Will everything come out okay?
Yet despite all the uncertainty that comes with the pregnancy and then actual raising of the child, I'm excited. I look forward to being the dad that squishes his kid's face just because it looks funny to him. I look forward to carrying him/her around as an infant, then complaining when they can walk but still want to be carried. I look forward to their first words, then getting irritated because they won't stop talking back to me because they want that one singular toy.
I have a chance to do the things with this child that I wanted my dad to do with me. If I'm lucky, this child will enjoy video games like me and I'll have a video game buddy (even better if Payton and Rachel join in). I've always admired a youtuber by the name of paulsoaresjr who plays and records Minecraft, but also plays with all three of his kids and his wife on occasion. It may not seem like much to most, but it's a way for him to stay connected with his kids as they get older, something most parents have to face at some point (two of his kids are in high school now).
I look forward to all the appointments leading up to the child being born, the first laugh, the first cry (after that, I'll probably be done with the crying), the first time I have to get up to take care of the baby in the middle of the night (again, probably done after that), the first crawl, the first steps, the first fall, the first run, the first big fall, the first teeth, and so on.
So while there are uncertainties and questions, there's also excitement and joy. I get to be a dad, and it gets to be my minion.
Yes, I've been calling it a minion. There's nothing any of you can do about it either.
The end of May is a long way away though. That means there's plenty of time to prepare for all the things that come with having a new baby. Supplies will be bought, a bigger living arrangement will be pursued, and we will try to be as prepared as possible when the new life comes into the picture.
Our minion will need a name once we know whether we're having a boy or girl, and that to me is going to be one of the more challenging parts of the equation. In the past, I had thought about names, but when I go through and think about it now, nothing jumps out at me yet. Maybe it's because we don't know the sex of it yet, but as of now, even going through some lists of baby names, nothing has jumped at me just yet.
Life will certainly change come the end of May. Rachel is still encouraging me to sign up for next year's Warrior Dash, but I've been hedging since it takes place at the very beginning of June and I don't want there to be a conflict. Now, don't get me wrong, if Rachel is in labor when the Warrior Dash takes place, I'm not going. Simple as that. In an ideal world, the child would come either before or after the actual event.
The world isn't ideal though and things already somewhat revolve around the unborn child. I have to consider the idea of buying as many baby supply items as possible so that we don't have to worry about that as much during the first couple of months. I have to make sure I have money set aside because there is going to be a period of time when Rachel isn't going to be able to work.
In the end, I'm excited for the future new addition and the changes it will bring. I'm excited for the memories that will be created by this addition.
Most importantly though, I'm excited about the chance to be the dad that I wish that I had.
Get ready world, our minion is coming.
On a side note, we ran in the Run of the Dead this past weekend and it was a pretty good time. Some of the zombies talked a little more than I thought and some of the zombie kids were a bit rambunctious, but it was still fun and something we'd both do again given the opportunity. It was down in Plymouth, OH, so it was a bit of a drive to get there, but we got there early and ran at a pretty decent pace considering Rachel hadn't run in a while and is a couple months along with the pregnancy.
But yeah, the main point of this? I have a minion on the way.
Duck and cover people, duck and cover.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
It never really goes away
I'm not going to pretend that the last two days were easy.
It was hard seeng so many people struggle so much with my dad's death. There's a part of me that wonders if that moments is going to come for me, but there's a part of me that thinks it never will.
I don't say that because it would make it easier to deal with, I say it because it's the truth.
During the wake, I didn't feel anything. Today, at the funeral, knowing it was the last time I was going to see him in the flesh, I didn't feel anything. Part of me wonders if that makes me a bad person, but I know a lot of it is because of how large our disconnect really was.
The real kicker for me today was going to the banquet hall after the funeral and seeing so many people drinking. Now, I know that they all weren't drinking to get drunk, but I just couldn't understand drinking after the funeral of a man who had such a large drinking problem.
That said, this isn't going to be about the bad stuff with my dad. I've written far too much about that in my time, so it's time to look at the good things he did.
The thing I learned the last two days is that my dad had problems, but he touched a lot of people. His former coworkers were really broken up over what happened and they had a lot of trouble seeing him in the casket. There were people who came from out of state to say their final goodbyes to my dad, mostly because they remember how much fun they had with him.
The pictures that were up said it all. There were pictures of him at work, pictures of him at home, but most of the pictures were of him and kids. You could literally trace the kids in the family by looking at these pictures. You had the pictures of him with my sisters and me. Then there were pictures of him with cousins, kids of cousins, and then Teresa's kids.
He was a kid magnet and he let them do whatever they wanted to him.
When I was a kid, he used to get down on his knees, give me a football, and tell me to try and get past him. I would run into him as hard as I could sometimes to try and knock him over and he took it. Every single time.
My dad had problems, but when he was right, there wasn't a better person in the world. That added to the frustration I had with him over the last few years, but I can never take away the fact that there were good times.
This death hit a lot of people hard. My mom had a tough time with it as did my sister of course, but there were others who were hit just as hard. My grandparents, especially my grandfather, were shellshocked. It just hit people in a way that, while expected, was still something to see.
A nice touch my mom threw in on the board of pictures she made was putting a picture up with Rachel and me. She wanted to put Payton up there, but had a brain cramp and didn't think to look on either of our Facebook pages to find one. Nevertheless, it was a nice gesture.
Equally nice was my former coworker Shannon making an appearance. I was definitely not expecting that and it was very, very appreciated, as were all the kind words people said to me on Facebook. Some of you reached out to me more than others, but every comment and post were appreciated.
I've said some harsh things about my dad. I know this. But there's no more time for it. He's passed on, forever in my memory and those who knew him.
Dad, we didn't see eye to eye very often. In fact, you infuriated me sometimes. I had very little desire to speak to you most of the time. I stayed away from family functions specifically to avoid running into you. But I didn't want to see you go, not like this. I wanted to see you at least try one more time to get it straight, make amends for your actions in the past.
You didn't get that chance, and while death is a terrible thing, I have to think you're in a better place now, that you're no longer suffering through whatever mental illness you had.
Our relationship was never what I wanted it to be, but you were still my dad. I always loved you even when you made me so angry that I couldn't even think about you.
RIP dad.
You were too young.
I don't want people asking me repeatedly if I'm okay. I am. I have a good support system and there are people who need my support much more than I need it. My dad was the main person helping my grandfather out in Ashtabula, so I'm going to try and make it a point to help him as much as I can going forward.
Truth is, my dad wouldn't want any of us to dwell on this. He'd want us to move on, have fun with our lives, and keep things in perspective.
I hope that the rest of the family does so, although I think it's going to be very difficult for some.
Again, thanks to everyone who's reached out to me.
I appreciate it.
Happier posts will be coming. I have a Warrior Dash to go after, a fitness class to continue, and so much more to enjoy in life.
Don't take it for granted.
It was hard seeng so many people struggle so much with my dad's death. There's a part of me that wonders if that moments is going to come for me, but there's a part of me that thinks it never will.
I don't say that because it would make it easier to deal with, I say it because it's the truth.
During the wake, I didn't feel anything. Today, at the funeral, knowing it was the last time I was going to see him in the flesh, I didn't feel anything. Part of me wonders if that makes me a bad person, but I know a lot of it is because of how large our disconnect really was.
The real kicker for me today was going to the banquet hall after the funeral and seeing so many people drinking. Now, I know that they all weren't drinking to get drunk, but I just couldn't understand drinking after the funeral of a man who had such a large drinking problem.
That said, this isn't going to be about the bad stuff with my dad. I've written far too much about that in my time, so it's time to look at the good things he did.
The thing I learned the last two days is that my dad had problems, but he touched a lot of people. His former coworkers were really broken up over what happened and they had a lot of trouble seeing him in the casket. There were people who came from out of state to say their final goodbyes to my dad, mostly because they remember how much fun they had with him.
The pictures that were up said it all. There were pictures of him at work, pictures of him at home, but most of the pictures were of him and kids. You could literally trace the kids in the family by looking at these pictures. You had the pictures of him with my sisters and me. Then there were pictures of him with cousins, kids of cousins, and then Teresa's kids.
He was a kid magnet and he let them do whatever they wanted to him.
When I was a kid, he used to get down on his knees, give me a football, and tell me to try and get past him. I would run into him as hard as I could sometimes to try and knock him over and he took it. Every single time.
My dad had problems, but when he was right, there wasn't a better person in the world. That added to the frustration I had with him over the last few years, but I can never take away the fact that there were good times.
This death hit a lot of people hard. My mom had a tough time with it as did my sister of course, but there were others who were hit just as hard. My grandparents, especially my grandfather, were shellshocked. It just hit people in a way that, while expected, was still something to see.
A nice touch my mom threw in on the board of pictures she made was putting a picture up with Rachel and me. She wanted to put Payton up there, but had a brain cramp and didn't think to look on either of our Facebook pages to find one. Nevertheless, it was a nice gesture.
Equally nice was my former coworker Shannon making an appearance. I was definitely not expecting that and it was very, very appreciated, as were all the kind words people said to me on Facebook. Some of you reached out to me more than others, but every comment and post were appreciated.
I've said some harsh things about my dad. I know this. But there's no more time for it. He's passed on, forever in my memory and those who knew him.
Dad, we didn't see eye to eye very often. In fact, you infuriated me sometimes. I had very little desire to speak to you most of the time. I stayed away from family functions specifically to avoid running into you. But I didn't want to see you go, not like this. I wanted to see you at least try one more time to get it straight, make amends for your actions in the past.
You didn't get that chance, and while death is a terrible thing, I have to think you're in a better place now, that you're no longer suffering through whatever mental illness you had.
Our relationship was never what I wanted it to be, but you were still my dad. I always loved you even when you made me so angry that I couldn't even think about you.
RIP dad.
You were too young.
I don't want people asking me repeatedly if I'm okay. I am. I have a good support system and there are people who need my support much more than I need it. My dad was the main person helping my grandfather out in Ashtabula, so I'm going to try and make it a point to help him as much as I can going forward.
Truth is, my dad wouldn't want any of us to dwell on this. He'd want us to move on, have fun with our lives, and keep things in perspective.
I hope that the rest of the family does so, although I think it's going to be very difficult for some.
Again, thanks to everyone who's reached out to me.
I appreciate it.
Happier posts will be coming. I have a Warrior Dash to go after, a fitness class to continue, and so much more to enjoy in life.
Don't take it for granted.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
I should be sad
I should be crushed.
My weekend should've been completely ruined, completely turned upside down.
I should be an emotional wreck right now.
I found it yesterday that on Wednesday, my dad died of an apparent heart attack, most likely brought about because of his continued problem with alcoholism. The night he died he had left drunken voicemails for my mom, who along with my sister, is completely devastated by the news.
See, the day he died was their wedding anniversary, and while they had been divorced for many years, she still loved him and it's pretty likely that he still loved her. So she's understandable having a hard time with this, just like my sister, who unlike me, tried for years to continue to have a functioning relationship with him.
Me?
I had detached myself from him years ago. Most who know me well know that. I've written a few blogs detailing why I feel the way I do about him and why I was done giving him chances.
When the news was given to me, there was no sadness, there was no remorse, there was, well, nothing. I literally had no feeling one way or another about finding that out, which I suppose shows just how little I felt for the man that was partly responsible for me existing in the first place. I just wanted to make sure I was there for my mom and sister.
I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about it all though. I've always sometimes wondered "what if" when it came to him, so I of course started thinking once more what if he hadn't had the alcohol problem, what if he avoided drugs?
The bigger thing for me though is what if the rest of his family had stepped in rather than act like nothing was wrong. What if they had heard our pleas for help rather than turn away from us? What if they had forced him to face the reality of his actions rather than enable him?
There are certain members on his side of the family that just irritate me with their actions. Most are caring people who mean well, but there are a couple who just are clueless and think they know what's best. One in particular still hasn't grown up and acts like a 20 year old when they are older than that.
There's a part of me that wishes I could sit them all down in a room, tell them to keep quiet, and tell them about all the stuff that they don't want to hear about. Tell them all about the nights that he came home at 3am and scared us all because he was so drunk, so high, and looking for a fight. I'd tell them that it wasn't just one night, it wasn't just two nights. It was repeatedly over the years. I'd tell them how we were afraid of the repercussions of his actions, his dealings with drug dealers. I'd tell them how we weren't sure he was even going to come home sometimes.
I know that will never happen. A lot of his family lives in a world where his problems weren't that bad, that he wasn't an alcoholic, he didn't do drugs, and he wasn't mentally unstable. They refuse to believe that anything was that bad, that he meant well.
I kind of feel sorry for them. It must be nice to live in a world where people don't have serious problems, drug issues, or alcoholism.
See, I live in a world where I see it all the time. I work in an environment where I see it constantly. I see the people coming through and know that he was someone who should've been going to a place like where I work. But I know it would never happen. He never admitted to having a problem and a lot of the family didn't accept that he had a problem.
Now he's dead. Dead because of the primary problem that he had. His parents outlived him and that's not something that should happen.
He didn't deserve to die. I'm going to say that now. All the animosity, all the anger towards him, all the years that went by without us talking didn't make me wish him dead. I was perfectly content with not talking to him and going about my life. It's had its ups and downs, but things are fairly stable now and I have very little to worry about other than figuring out my car situation.
There has been some talk about my sister and I being beneficiaries of something, but I'm not sold on that. I do believe it's possible that he had something set up, but I also wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. In short, I'm not going to hold my breath on this.
Instead, I'm going to continue to look forward as I always have. I have my Warrior Dash coming next weekend, which I need to continue training for. I have a very good job. I have a great girlfriend who has a funny kid to keep me entertained. We have great pets (even though Kisa needs to cut out the peeing thing).
I'm going to wrap this up now with another pitch for my fundraising activity. I haven't received any donations in a while and have been stuck at $205. If anyone wants to donate, you have until Sunday, August 26th to do so. So please, give a little towards St. Jude. It's a good cause and helps motivate me to run even harder.
It was encouraging to hear the trainer of our fitness class tell me that he thinks I'm going to be good to go for it, but I'm going to keep running all week as I prepare for it. He gave me some good tips for training for the race/obstacle course that I'm going to heed. It means missing a class, but I'm going to do my best to make up for it the first few days this week and in the classes after the race.
Anyone who wants to come watch me can as well. Just comment or if you know me, contact me and I'll tell you where to go.
My Donation Page
Hope everyone had a good weekend. I'll write a separate blog about the weekend and the race in the next couple of days.
My weekend should've been completely ruined, completely turned upside down.
I should be an emotional wreck right now.
I found it yesterday that on Wednesday, my dad died of an apparent heart attack, most likely brought about because of his continued problem with alcoholism. The night he died he had left drunken voicemails for my mom, who along with my sister, is completely devastated by the news.
See, the day he died was their wedding anniversary, and while they had been divorced for many years, she still loved him and it's pretty likely that he still loved her. So she's understandable having a hard time with this, just like my sister, who unlike me, tried for years to continue to have a functioning relationship with him.
Me?
I had detached myself from him years ago. Most who know me well know that. I've written a few blogs detailing why I feel the way I do about him and why I was done giving him chances.
When the news was given to me, there was no sadness, there was no remorse, there was, well, nothing. I literally had no feeling one way or another about finding that out, which I suppose shows just how little I felt for the man that was partly responsible for me existing in the first place. I just wanted to make sure I was there for my mom and sister.
I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about it all though. I've always sometimes wondered "what if" when it came to him, so I of course started thinking once more what if he hadn't had the alcohol problem, what if he avoided drugs?
The bigger thing for me though is what if the rest of his family had stepped in rather than act like nothing was wrong. What if they had heard our pleas for help rather than turn away from us? What if they had forced him to face the reality of his actions rather than enable him?
There are certain members on his side of the family that just irritate me with their actions. Most are caring people who mean well, but there are a couple who just are clueless and think they know what's best. One in particular still hasn't grown up and acts like a 20 year old when they are older than that.
There's a part of me that wishes I could sit them all down in a room, tell them to keep quiet, and tell them about all the stuff that they don't want to hear about. Tell them all about the nights that he came home at 3am and scared us all because he was so drunk, so high, and looking for a fight. I'd tell them that it wasn't just one night, it wasn't just two nights. It was repeatedly over the years. I'd tell them how we were afraid of the repercussions of his actions, his dealings with drug dealers. I'd tell them how we weren't sure he was even going to come home sometimes.
I know that will never happen. A lot of his family lives in a world where his problems weren't that bad, that he wasn't an alcoholic, he didn't do drugs, and he wasn't mentally unstable. They refuse to believe that anything was that bad, that he meant well.
I kind of feel sorry for them. It must be nice to live in a world where people don't have serious problems, drug issues, or alcoholism.
See, I live in a world where I see it all the time. I work in an environment where I see it constantly. I see the people coming through and know that he was someone who should've been going to a place like where I work. But I know it would never happen. He never admitted to having a problem and a lot of the family didn't accept that he had a problem.
Now he's dead. Dead because of the primary problem that he had. His parents outlived him and that's not something that should happen.
He didn't deserve to die. I'm going to say that now. All the animosity, all the anger towards him, all the years that went by without us talking didn't make me wish him dead. I was perfectly content with not talking to him and going about my life. It's had its ups and downs, but things are fairly stable now and I have very little to worry about other than figuring out my car situation.
There has been some talk about my sister and I being beneficiaries of something, but I'm not sold on that. I do believe it's possible that he had something set up, but I also wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. In short, I'm not going to hold my breath on this.
Instead, I'm going to continue to look forward as I always have. I have my Warrior Dash coming next weekend, which I need to continue training for. I have a very good job. I have a great girlfriend who has a funny kid to keep me entertained. We have great pets (even though Kisa needs to cut out the peeing thing).
I'm going to wrap this up now with another pitch for my fundraising activity. I haven't received any donations in a while and have been stuck at $205. If anyone wants to donate, you have until Sunday, August 26th to do so. So please, give a little towards St. Jude. It's a good cause and helps motivate me to run even harder.
It was encouraging to hear the trainer of our fitness class tell me that he thinks I'm going to be good to go for it, but I'm going to keep running all week as I prepare for it. He gave me some good tips for training for the race/obstacle course that I'm going to heed. It means missing a class, but I'm going to do my best to make up for it the first few days this week and in the classes after the race.
Anyone who wants to come watch me can as well. Just comment or if you know me, contact me and I'll tell you where to go.
My Donation Page
Hope everyone had a good weekend. I'll write a separate blog about the weekend and the race in the next couple of days.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Flashback! why I didn't follow in my dad's footsteps
Some who have followed the things that I've written over the years (and those who just have known me) know that the relationship with my dad has been frosty at best (and non-existent at the current time).
Some have given me a little grief about it, saying I should let bygones be bygones, but it isn't always as simple as that. There are just some things that in my mind, are unforgivable, things that you just can't shrug off and say oh well.
My dad is the type where if you don't do things the way he thinks you should do them, he gets mad at you and tries to force you to.
Case in point: when I was signing up for classes initially after high school, my mom and I had talked about how many credit hours I wanted to take. I wanted to work as much as I could and figured since it was just Tri-C, I wasn't going to overwhelm myself right out the gate. In a couple years when it was time to get more serious about it, I'd cut back on work and pick up classes.
My dad was furious about this. The whole time I was up there signing up, he was arguing with both my mom and me about how many classes I was taking. Even after I told him it was up to me, he continued to insist on taking more classes.
This post isn't about college or things like that though. This about what happened when he found out what kind of work I was doing.
He never really cared for the things I liked. He didn't like the things I watched, the music I listened to, or how I went about my business. He especially didn't like that I was working in a pharmacy. When he was sober, he was just not thrilled with it, when he was drunk or high, I was a pipeline for my mom to get whatever drugs he thought she was taking.
His favorite was to accuse me of stealing Demerol from the narcotic safe to give to my mom. While the "safe" (kind of hard to call an unlocked cabinet a safe) at the store I was at wasn't the most secure, there was still the matter of the perpetual inventory that was kept on all class II narcotics. If I had ever taken any Demerol (or whatever else he thought I was stealing), someone would notice.
He just didn't like what I did, was bitter towards my mom because she wouldn't get back with him, and generally wasn't in his right mind, which I fear has been permanently lost.
No, he wanted me to follow in his glorious footsteps as an iron worker.
Now, I have nothing against iron workers. I think a lot of them do a job that most wouldn't envy, whether it be on the ground or several stories up in the air. It didn't even have to do with getting dirty on the job. Hell, I probably could've dealt with the height issue for a good paycheck.
What worried me was how unstable the industry was. My dad was having a hard enough time staying employed (despite the drug/alcohol issue, he was an excellent worker) and jobs weren't exactly sprouting up. Sure, I could've taken an apprenticeship and gotten lucky, but it didn't look good. Most jobs were laying off workers or postponing work and many of the factories that produced steel were shutting down.
It just didn't seem like a very stable career choice and that's something I've always been conscious of. It's why I've stayed in the environment I've been in (although there's currently a saturation of pharmacy personnel).
My dad would try on occasion to convince me to try, saying the invitation was open as long as I was interested, but after a couple years, he finally dropped it.
Funny to think that a few years after that, the steel industry almost completely collapsed overall in the United States and iron workers were being laid off left and right. Granted, it's stablized in recent years as even my dad has at times gone back to work, but it's still not an industry I'd feel very good in.
I think if my dad hadn't gone down the road he went down and a lot of things had played out differently, I would have strongly considered the idea of following in his footsteps. There was a time when he was a good dad, someone I would've loved to look up to, but when he started to spiral out of control, that's when I stopped looking up to him.
Instead, he fell into the drug/alcohol addiction and to this day has been unable to turn things around. While things may not have played out exactly as I had envisioned, I don't regret anything that has happened.
I certainly do not regret the decision to avoid his footsteps.
Some have given me a little grief about it, saying I should let bygones be bygones, but it isn't always as simple as that. There are just some things that in my mind, are unforgivable, things that you just can't shrug off and say oh well.
My dad is the type where if you don't do things the way he thinks you should do them, he gets mad at you and tries to force you to.
Case in point: when I was signing up for classes initially after high school, my mom and I had talked about how many credit hours I wanted to take. I wanted to work as much as I could and figured since it was just Tri-C, I wasn't going to overwhelm myself right out the gate. In a couple years when it was time to get more serious about it, I'd cut back on work and pick up classes.
My dad was furious about this. The whole time I was up there signing up, he was arguing with both my mom and me about how many classes I was taking. Even after I told him it was up to me, he continued to insist on taking more classes.
This post isn't about college or things like that though. This about what happened when he found out what kind of work I was doing.
He never really cared for the things I liked. He didn't like the things I watched, the music I listened to, or how I went about my business. He especially didn't like that I was working in a pharmacy. When he was sober, he was just not thrilled with it, when he was drunk or high, I was a pipeline for my mom to get whatever drugs he thought she was taking.
His favorite was to accuse me of stealing Demerol from the narcotic safe to give to my mom. While the "safe" (kind of hard to call an unlocked cabinet a safe) at the store I was at wasn't the most secure, there was still the matter of the perpetual inventory that was kept on all class II narcotics. If I had ever taken any Demerol (or whatever else he thought I was stealing), someone would notice.
He just didn't like what I did, was bitter towards my mom because she wouldn't get back with him, and generally wasn't in his right mind, which I fear has been permanently lost.
No, he wanted me to follow in his glorious footsteps as an iron worker.
Now, I have nothing against iron workers. I think a lot of them do a job that most wouldn't envy, whether it be on the ground or several stories up in the air. It didn't even have to do with getting dirty on the job. Hell, I probably could've dealt with the height issue for a good paycheck.
What worried me was how unstable the industry was. My dad was having a hard enough time staying employed (despite the drug/alcohol issue, he was an excellent worker) and jobs weren't exactly sprouting up. Sure, I could've taken an apprenticeship and gotten lucky, but it didn't look good. Most jobs were laying off workers or postponing work and many of the factories that produced steel were shutting down.
It just didn't seem like a very stable career choice and that's something I've always been conscious of. It's why I've stayed in the environment I've been in (although there's currently a saturation of pharmacy personnel).
My dad would try on occasion to convince me to try, saying the invitation was open as long as I was interested, but after a couple years, he finally dropped it.
Funny to think that a few years after that, the steel industry almost completely collapsed overall in the United States and iron workers were being laid off left and right. Granted, it's stablized in recent years as even my dad has at times gone back to work, but it's still not an industry I'd feel very good in.
I think if my dad hadn't gone down the road he went down and a lot of things had played out differently, I would have strongly considered the idea of following in his footsteps. There was a time when he was a good dad, someone I would've loved to look up to, but when he started to spiral out of control, that's when I stopped looking up to him.
Instead, he fell into the drug/alcohol addiction and to this day has been unable to turn things around. While things may not have played out exactly as I had envisioned, I don't regret anything that has happened.
I certainly do not regret the decision to avoid his footsteps.
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