Wake Up

You ever have one of those weeks where the root canal that you put off kicks your ass and leaves you crying like a little girl and pounding pain meds while waiting impatiently for your emergency dental work? I’ve had better weeks. But, the meds are making it bareable…I’m slowly beginning to feel like myself. I even showered yesterday. Baby steps, bitch.

As I’ve spent almost the entire week on my back I’ve noticed that the more days in a row that I’m out of my normal routine, the further I get from feeling like myself. I’ve just felt off. I haven’t had the desire to do my daily morning writing pages, but I’ve watched a lot of golf on TV.

But, the bull shit rut that I’ve fallen into has to go, although it was pretty fun to watch that slightly chunky 17 year old hold the lead in the US Open. Just like his lead was brief, I need to ensure that my rut stays brief by picking up my pen.

I was thinking today about enjoying being sick when I was a kid…or at least enjoying the sympathy that my mom gave me when I wasn’t feeling well. Like comfort or home…that feeling was elusive…but if I could just get the chicken pox or fall off my bike I could feel loved, at least for a period of time.

It was temporary and I had to always go back to real life, but as a kid my day to day feelings about life and myself were like the rut I’ve felt these last few days. Taking breaks and feeling something else is a nice change. My mom’s kind words did for my soul what the vicodin has done for my tooth.

I think I craved that kindness and gentleness from my parents in a way that an addict craves the drug or drink. Like, you get that ahhh moment of relief where none of your real life problems matter, you’re free…you’re home. Or, duh, maybe the whole point of the addict craving home via self-medication is that they, same as me, didn't get that home feeling in their childhood house.

Obviously getting a sense of home in that way is unhealthy, but that’s just how it worked for me and I think the same is true for addicts. We fall into a pattern…unhealthy ruts or traditions and just accept them as part of life. Life becomes less real and more of an escape from the real.

I just watched this show about LA gangs. It started at a funeral. The kid was in his twenties when he was shot by a rival gang. His little daughter, probably about 4, was saying goodbye to his open casket. It was brutal to watch.

Yet, when they interviewed the victim’s mom, she was remarkably unemotional. She said something that implied that since the gang has been around for so long, it was essentially tradition and there was nothing you could do about it.

She just watched her granddaughter crying her eyes out over the loss of her daddy and she seemed to just shrug her shoulders. At the end of the show it was revealed that the mom was also affiliated with the gang. The shit she passed down to her kids was being passed down to their kids.

I think her two year old grandson and another child of the murder victim said it best as he looked at his dead father, “WAKE UP!” We can watch it as outsiders and see that as the obvious solution. Wake the fuck up and quit being part of a lifestyle that causes you to lose family members before their time.

But, breaking family traditions or going against the flow of your community is one of the hardest things there is to do. We want to fit. We want to blend. We don’t want to rock the boat. Well, dad’s dead…so now what? Nothing changed. Until less than two weeks later when the mother lost another one of her sons in the gang war that started with her other son’s death. Oh wait…no…nothing changed.

Gangs are family for those with broken ones. It’s home for those who don’t have one. But, it’s temporary and for all the good it promises on the front end, you’re going end up taking it in the back door on repeat, losing family members to violence or prison.

I was talking today about what people fall for when they’re at their lowest point…this gang is going to be the answer…I feel so powerless…but look at all the power they have. My example from my own life was falling into a network marketing/pyramid scam. I so hated my life that it didn’t take much convincing even though any kind of rational thought would have saved me time, money and embarrassment. But, I was going to be part of the family and get rich and live happily ever after.

I got in a lot of debt and my dad ended up bailing me out. That’s not usually how Disney writes those fairy tales. But, really…I needed to take care of my shit myself. I made the mistake. I should own it and fix it. It’s nice to have family, but I got too comfortable taking my dad’s money as a substitute for the love I didn’t feel.

I guess me getting pyramid scammed was the adult equivalent of getting sick as a kid. Oh, I lost my job. Oh, I can’t pay the mortgage. Help me daddy. What a little pussy. I was a grown ass man who let himself fall victim to the fucked up family traditions.

It’s been such a great experience for me to step out of the traditions that I was expected to continue. National Geographic channel isn’t rushing to my side to ask me all about my thug life mainlining hardcore Christianity, but I think it’s an interesting story.

Because 5 years ago, Riley and Blake might as well have been yelling, “Wake Up” to me as I slept walked through life. I wasn’t myself. I was in a rut and had been for a long time. I needed something to get me to see things more clearly.

Like, I talked about the mother above…it’s easy to see shit from the outside, but when you’re neck deep in Bible studies and prayer circles, it’s pretty fucking hard to not see that as the only way until you're ostracized from the church and forced to see it that way. I'm sure I could've been taken back into the flock IF I fell back in line. But, I'd already played that game and felt like a human version of a shell game...I was flat empty and felt fake.

Turning to them to answers...yeah I could've done that, but honestly the church didn't have the answers I needed when I was at my lowest point.  I had to have therapy. Not from a textbook "Christian" psychiatrist with one size fits all canned answers, but someone who actually listened and saw that what I always needed was grace and to feel loved. I could jump through hoops to earn love, but that ain't grace. And thank God for my kids, because they’re the main reason I wanted to go to therapy...to right the wrongs and unfuck the Atkinson family.

It looked on the surface like I was fucking it up further…a stripper and divorce aren’t usually signs that things are going in the right direction. But, it took something drastic to get me out of my rut…to make me leave my comfort zone.

And it’s weird, because my comfort zone was the exact opposite…it was so fucking uncomfortable. I just didn't realize it until I could look back and see it clearly. My whole life was claustrophobic. I didn’t even know what feeling like myself meant. So, I guess it’s cool this week that I noticed that I didn’t feel like myself. And I can just sit down and write and unfuck myself. This is where I’m at home. This is where I belong. I’m so fucking lucky I didn’t get caught up in the Norwegian mafia like the rest of my family. :)  Well, we Norwegians have our own issues, but I'm glad I was forced out of the Christian mainstream to realize I wasn't a fish out of water after all. Losing my breath happened in the mainstream....once I was out, that's where I caught a glimpse of who I really am.

I’m glad to have found my thing. And hope to keep writing my story. It’s the same as anybody’s story, right? We’re all looking for real home. And we all fuck up and pick cheap substitutes at times. But, man that feeling when we experience it…that’s the long term vicodin that our soul needs and craves. We don’t need parents who sometimes make us feel loved or parents who expect family traditions that are unhealthy. We need real. The mindbender that let’s us see that we don’t have to run from our shit or ignore it or cope with it in shitty ways just because everyone else around us is doing it that way. We can face it…take it on and heal.

I was talking to Riley this week about how writing is my thing and Blake’s thing is sports. I wanted to know what she thought her thing was. She paused for a second and decided on “gymnastics and sleepovers”. She’s the coolest.

When my tooth kicked my ass this week, the kids couldn’t do enough nice things for me. That’s humbling…that they want to take care of me when I’m down, because they love me…and that’s what our family is about. I feel so loved by them and know they feel it back...love isn't reserved just for when we're sick. I’m home, man. Thank God I woke up for this.