Next Chapter

Two nights in a row, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night, unable to get back to sleep. Last night I tried watching that Netflix show Narcos…it only woke me up. Tonight, I’ll give writing a shot and see if it can put you and/or me to sleep.

Typically I don’t have any trouble sleeping. I probably don’t sleep enough, but it’s really rare for me to wake up wide awake and to have it happen two nights in a row…well, maybe it has something to do with the importance of the month of October to my story.

Eight years ago this month is when my wife kicked me out of the house. And four years ago this month is when I started up with Sarita before I should have. Maybe I’m having trouble sleeping at night at the thought of what’s in store for these next four to eight years.

8 years ago I was a dead man. As of a few weeks ago I was pretty close to the same. But, I have experience starting over. I know what I need to do. I know I’m capable of losing friends and girlfriends and entire social networks and coming out okay on the other side.

And once I picked myself up and focused on the kids and on writing every day, things have slowly gotten better these last few weeks. Just like they slowly got better when I first left the marriage house, sought out therapy and was encouraged by my therapist to write.

Writing really is that tool that takes me from utterly head fucked to it’s all good. It’ll be fun to look back on my old hand written journals at some point and realize how far I’ve come. Right now it’s hard to see that I’ve grown at all, unless we’re measuring my Buddha belly and/or my ability to get to the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels.

When I first entered into that post-marriage space, Mr. Daniels gave me a little bit of a boost…story time with strangers was easier if Jack help bridged the gap from a little kid who was really unsure of himself to socially confident Matt. There were good moments in there, but liquid induced story times aren’t as real as I wanted them to be.

We’re all fucked up, but that’s not good enough. We have to want to flip that and get better. Yesterday I had one of my many moments of wanting to get better…they’re great plans always…I’m going to lose 40 pounds and take a break from drinking.

Inevitably, after such promises to myself I end up saying “just one more cupcake” or “I sure am thirsty.” And get through my next phase of life drinking myself stupid only to try to write myself sane.

I’m just not healthy these days. It’s how it goes for me coming out of a relationship. I struggle. But, then at some point, I find the best me when I’m lonely…when I don’t have someone else to tell me I’m funny or I’m sweet or I’m deep or whatever. I’m given a bunch of damn time with myself and I’ve got to find the good. And I do. And I will.

What seems to be different about this space is the recognition that 8 years from this month, both kids will be in college. I better fucking get used to the lonely now. I get the kids half the time and I don’t need to spend the time without them acting like a goddamn fraternity boy. Just get back to the lonely. Get back to the writing. Get back to the things that make me great. The bar that I called home closed. The girl that I called girlfriend isn’t here anymore.

So, what better time for me to get back to self-love. Reminding myself that I don’t need the feedback of others to appreciate the good in me. But it has been really fun to see that good mirrored by the kids’ faces as I’ve made an effort to make this shitty little duplex our latest space to call home.

The kids have their rooms all decorated.  Blake told me how much he needed a soccer goal for his space. Done. Riley went crazy at Michael’s and crafted her way to a room that she loves. On facebook, I made fun of the IKEA desks I put together for them, but the truth is, they turned out perfect. They have space to do their homework. And continue creating their YouTube empires.

God damn…now I’m tearing up again…back at the old apartment, they shared a room…but it was home. We tried to force home with the girlfriend and the dog in a nice house in the suburbs. But, that space was chaos and not good for the kids. So, I feel really lucky to get to start over and make them feel at home and safe and all the things I didn’t feel as a kid.

8 years. That’s all I have left with them. I’m not going to look back on these years and be thankful for all the bourbon I drank when they went over to their mom’s, but I am going to love having gotten to take the boy to the park to throw the football or coach his soccer team. And Riley and I went to Costco together yesterday. It’s what we do. Kid loves story time. Just like her dad. Those are going to be the times I look back on and cherish 8 years down the road.

So, I’ll keep focusing on the kids. They seem to be the only relationship I have that works out. And if they turn out okay, that’ll mean the world to me. I’ve fucked up by thinking that me being happy has something to do with me finding a significant other. Man…I’ve already got two. And they mean the world to me. So, I’ll keep talking them through the real moments of life and laughing with them through the rest. I can go back to sleep now. The next chapter is already here. Gotta keep loving the kids. And get back to loving myself. And as for me finding love with an adult, human female, I’ll borrow the offensive wisdom of high school MatthewBlakeAtkinson and say “girls are for fags.”