Rick ran me up one side and down the other about this blog. He feels it’s too one sided…and it is. He says it paints our lives like June and Ward Cleaver, stumbling through life with no greater problem than keeping Eddie Haskell from getting Wally and the Beav into hot water. The truth is our lives are far from the placid 1950’s image of the Cleaver’s suburban utopia. We don’t have a sitcom existence, trouble free and destined for happy endings. Our reality show, the unedited version, is filled with trauma and unresolved conflict. When I write I choose not to include all of our dirty laundry. My objective has been to find a way out of the pain and the only way I know how to do this is by focusing on what anesthetizes the ache. I wake up most mornings knowing that bills haven’t been paid, taxes are looming with the possibility of dire consequences, and as hard as I try I can’t find a way to help alleviate the burden this puts on those closest to me. Our path of communication has become so narrow we sometimes go through weeks of not talking. I worry constantly about how this will effect Emmy’s grown personality. What kind of example for a productive life are we setting for her? Does she close herself off in her room because she’s a teenager exercising her young wings looking for her privacy or is it because she wants to avoid our searing silence? There isn’t a day goes by I don’t contemplate walking down to the garage and going to sleep to the toxic fumes of the running motor, my escape from the constant mental anguish only a turn of the ignition away. I feel doomed to parade my failure in front of my family. I fear the day I end up bussing tables for former high school classmates who made fun of me when I was an aspiring “artsy”, the ones I tried to escape from, leaving their taunts and snickers of “queer” a far off echo. The battle in my head runs even in my sleep as I struggle with my failure as a provider for the ones I love most. At times it’s so lonely I find the only friend I have is this blog.
So that’s why I try to write with humor. If I can edit out the pain and focus on the moments of joy that make life a little more bearable, then the blog is doing its job and I can hold on. I can feel a sense of accomplishment even if my reward is only the words I’ll leave behind. It’s my therapy. It’s my gift to myself. It’s what lets me sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. It’s what restores my dignity and allows me to smile at myself. It’s what gets me to another day. It’s what gives me hope.
So enough of this self-indulgent crybaby tirade, the pity party is over. Reality has been duly noted. I get to choose what I put in here and how I choose to open the curtain on the play of my life. A good play needs conflict and dimension. I’ve now put that in act II. It’s time for act III and the play’s resolve. I am choosing to put on my rose colored glasses for the final act.
LESSON 19:
There's truth in letting a smile be your umbrella
Lee, I don't think you paint your life as a rosy sitcom,just because you write about something in a witty and entertaining way does not mean you have eliminated the pain...even in a clearly "cheerful" post,the format of this blog directs the reader to take all of this with a dash of salt,even if that goes right to the wound.You feel yourself at the bottom of a well, but remember,Rick has his own depression, and in a different way than you.I'm sure your coldness and silence affects Emmy-but she is also a teenager with her own problems that she thinks nobody could understand.Normal.I'm sure you have looked in to some sort of community counseling for your family?? You need each other, and blame is pointless. Lee you look at the world half full, keep doing that! and blogging is giving you a sense of order and completion that you obviously need! I get it. What does Rick do to get out of himself?? He desperately needs an outlet to recharge his batteries and spirit, even if he can't fathom such a "pointless" thing...right now.Take care,it will get better,know that...have faith in that!
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