Open House

After a craptacular morning yesterday, I got home and tried to write. No luck. Funny how fighting with your teenager can take all the wind out of your sails. I burned a bunch of CDs I'd promised the girl, ran a couple errands and crashed out for a much needed 2-1/2 hour nap.

I felt better, and was looking forward to counseling. Unfortunately it turned out to be a waste of time and money. Tyler kept playing with a helium balloon he'd found out in front of the community center, rolling around on the floor, and deflecting the counselor's questions. When both kids lapsed into a giggle fit, I gave up. Don't get me wrong - I love to see my kids happy. I live for those giggle fits. But I was also hoping we could make some progress on Tyler and his relationship with others in his family. Alas, it was not to be.

Got home with a black cloud over my head. Discovered Raechelle reading her book on the sofa. We chatted awhile, then walked down to grab some teryaki before walking up to Denny for Kayleigh's open house.

Let me reiterate: Raechelle went to my daughter's open house. She took notes and talked to the teachers. She's dissected the school website. She knows when picture day is. It's pretty damn close to being a real family.

I won't lie. Sometimes I see where we're going and I panic a little. You see, there's a bit of a security blanket to being a widower, a single dad. There's some social leeway in that status. You get sympathy. You get help. You can be antisocial at your whim and people chalk it up to grief. And there's also the fact that I got used to being a single dad. Sure, it's hard; it's damn near overwhelming sometimes. But I got to where I not only could do it, but I'm pretty proud of the fact that I navigated my own immediate grief while providing a loving and stable home for my kids, helped them through their grief (as much as I could), ran my household and a couple businesses, and even managed to date. For over three years. I kick ass.

So I have some idea as to what Raechelle is talking about - she finally got out of her "couple" identity and became a strong, single woman. And now, here we are. I guess the Universe doesn't tolerate getting too comfortable in a given situation.

At least Raechelle isn't the only one having mini-freakouts. Kind of evens the playing field. This is exactly what each of us wants... which is why it's so scary sometimes. It's the crest of the rollercoaster, just before the first drop. You know it's gonna be fun. And scary. And your stomach wants to crawl into your throat (and if you're a guy, your nuts want to follow suit).

It's a good panic.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch:
After Raechelle left, I finished up some emails and put the kids to bed, following suit immediately. Awoke at 4AM. Jeez. Finally rolled out of bed at 6, showered and dressed. Took Kayleigh to school, came home and crashed for an hour and a half. Exchanged some emails with the girl and finished this very blog post. Tyler's having some cold symptoms, so it's lucky I'm taking the kids in for physicals today.

Really looking forward to the weekend. Helping Dan & Trish move, looking at a couple houses, and of course there will be movies.

The Friggin' Skeletons Won't Die

This will be short and totally not graphic, but it will help my readers (friends and family especially) understand what's up with me recently.

Some of you know that, aside from the loss of my wife, father and home within a one-year period, I also had some childhood trauma (the details of which I won't go into - those who know are supposed to know). Suffice to say, it's bad (like there's a good kind of trauma). The kind that can really do a number on you if not dealt with. This is all stuff that I'd worked on and gone to counseling over, and done really well - decades ago - squaring away. And I had squared it away (or thought I had), with the help of my wife and Best Friend (TM), Samantha.

But now with Samantha gone, and my father (the one other person I could talk to about absolutely everything because it had happened to him too) gone, I don't have an outlet, except for the counselor, which will work for the time being but obviously isn't the most ideal.

So, on the one hand, I've lost the two people in the world I absolutely didn't need to self-censor for, at a time when I really need to not have to self-censor. And since I process externally by actually "using my words" and verbalizing my thoughts, you can see this puts me in a bit of an uncomfy position.

Then we have the fact that because I'm more emotionally invested in this relationship than any since my two-decade relationship with Sam, some of these old skeletons are popping up from the dead and making me just a tad miserable. Because without the uncensored outlet, I tend to go quiet, brood, stew and internally beat myself up. And I know that's not the right way to heal, which is why I'm in counseling, and why I'm glad Raechelle really wants to be that Best Friend (TM), like I want to be for her. We're just not there yet.

It's nothing anybody needs to worry about. There's nothing wrong between me and my girl. It's just that we've gotten to the point of ripping off the old bandages and showing each other the scars (and I have some pretty big scars), and sometimes they didn't heal quite like you thought they did, if that makes sense.

So if you're in regular contact with me and feel that I've been a bit moody, distant, angry or in any way off-balance, that's why. And it will get better over time.

Moving on...

This Deserves a Second Post

I recently added Dad Gone Mad to the blogroll on the right. He's funny. Like, milk-out-the-nose funny. You know, like I am. Anyway, his post today really hits home to those of us work-at-home creative types. I'm especially familiar with #3.

Had a good counseling session today - just me. It was extremely valuable in illuminating the differences in how I process and communicate in contrast to how others do. Good insight there.

Tyler decided to nitpick his way into a fight today. I told him to finish his chore of unloading the dishwasher before going to his room to play games. Now, we've always defined "unloading the dishwasher" to include the step of "putting away the dishes". It's always been that way, and at no time has it ever not been that way. So imagine my surprise when I came in for some water after doing 3/4 of the front yard to find all the clean dishes stacked on the counter next to the dirty ones.

So off Dad marches to yank the plug from his computer in mid-play, to be returned only after the job is complete. Of course, this is now an opportunity for Tyler to poke and prod: "But you never SAID to put the dishes away..." And no amount of my explaining that "putting away the dishes has been included in the chore entitled Unloading the Dishwasher ever since the dawn of the dishwasher" has any effect - he's in Teenager Land. All attitude, all entitlement, no substance.

Now I know why nobody gave me the benefit of the doubt when I was 14. Of course, in my own defense, I was way ahead in social maturity by his age. We each had totally different childhood environments and traumas, so comparing us is like apples and oranges. In two years, he will be the age I was when Sam & I got together. Yeah. How's that for perspective?

So anyway, the net result is a 3/4 finished yard, an empty dishwasher and a pissed off dad smelling like grass and sweat. I need a shower and a beer.