Peace of Mind

I used to live in a shitty apartment. But, I worked hard and have upgraded to a shitty duplex. There’s something about time with the kids in these a little too small living spaces that is really great. I was thinking earlier about how nice it used to be to just go sit on my tiny patio in my old apartment. The kids would be in bed or at their mom's and the patio was always this quiet place where I could just be thankful.

Thankful for the kids. Thankful that I’ve survived what I’ve been through. Thankful for therapy that flipped the family tradition of making sure Atkinson kids grew up thinking they were pretty worthless. And, actually…that’s funny…I just remembered a chat I had on that patio where a girl told me “the reason I think people are drawn to you” and it was one of those defining moments. It blew up the lenses my childhood fitted me with and let me see that people actually like me.

And for a damaged kid like me, that kind of thing really hit the spot. so, maybe I’d gravitate to my porch when I needed to simply smile at how far I’ve come. Hundreds of hours of therapy. Thousands of hours writing. I did all that not so much for the end result or those porch moments, but more so that I could make it through a day. What writing gave me…what good story time with friends gave me…what therapy gave me was the greatest thing…peace of mind.

I was always so insecure. So focused on what people thought about me. I developed a sense of humor, I’m sure, to get a quick plus in the likable column. And that was always fine, until a joke bombed. Then I was double fucked. Instead of just appreciating myself for who I was, I was stuck using other people’s reactions to my jokes as the measurement for whether or not I was worth a shit.

And even there I am getting stuck, because where that should come from is the most second nature thing to me as a dad. My kids know I adore them. And want to hang out with them. And that I’m on their side. And I think when you’re raised with abuse, you learn to not trust your parents I love yous. The actions said I was leave-behind-able. So, I bought into that.

For years. but, then a therapist came along who blew up the way I thought about myself. She framed things as they really were. People from all different phases of my life have enjoyed me, but I was too fucked in my own head to see that. And I think that’s why those nights on my patio were so sweet. I’d just sit there in disbelief that I had peace of mind. That I had so much to be thankful for. that I was lovable.

And it dawned on me, that I haven’t been out to my patio in years. that quiet, contemplative time where I could just sit still and give thanks hasn’t existed, because my mind hasn’t been at peace for years. every few months another relationship issue would bomb the shit out of my self-worth. And each time I’d lose a little more of my peace, until finally my mind and I were pretty disconnected.

I’ll never make sense of what happened. But, god damn have I tried. The pages I’ve written. The hours I’ve spent with my head completely fucked. Talking things through. Trying to get to the other side. Chasing that peace that I had before my last relationship. It never came. That peace.

And that’s so fucked up. All of it, but especially that I would have to chase peace for my mind. I had a lifetime of getting my head fucked, made better by a godsend of a therapist, only to get it re-fucked by the actions of someone who claimed to love me. And that’s hard to write, because as I’m typing out the letters, it’s dawning on me how this most recent head fucking is just a rerun of the lack of peace my mind could get as a kid.

Again, it’s the same out of breath shit from a couple blogs ago. Because…you see…I’ve never had anyone know me as well as I let this last girl know me. I shared everything. My whole, fucked up story. You can read this blog from start to finish and know way more about me than you probably want to, but it went even beyond that. I shared all the stuff I can’t publicly talk about regarding my family and failed relationships.

So, to the kid who felt rejected by his own dad…to share openly my whole story only to get re-rejected. It was “I love you” again just being words that didn’t line up with actions, but worse because all those years of hard work with therapy and writing were undone. I got back to questioning my worth. Am I loveable? All those basic questions that we all need to be able to answer affirmatively if we’re going to take on life.

I went from patio time where everything was great and hope was back, to this utter despair/can’t get out of bed, shut myself off from everyone. It took so much fucking energy to rebuild after the divorce and it felt so good to know my work paid off, both for me and the kids. but, then to watch…it was almost like I was a spectator watching…to watch myself day after day staying in the fetal position after this last break up…looking back now…it’s no fucking wonder I ended up like that and that i've have had trouble keeping my head above water.

I knew 35+ years of lows. And then therapy got me to actually feel instead of shutting off all emotion. My therapist showed me life in color, when before everything had been dark. I can’t even put into words how great peace of mind was to a kid who had spent his whole life hitting himself in the forehead with his palm because of what an idiot he was.

Not an idiot, said that therapist. Peace of mind. You’re the biggest fucking idiot of all time, said the aftermath of that last relationship. No peace. Mind. Fucked.

So, tonight I get to just take a deep breath and realize that more patio times are in my near future. I have a chance at peace again. There’s no more “what really happened?” or “what’s the actual truth?”. It’s just me. I can always write my way to good when I don’t let some other damaged person inflict their hurt onto me. And right there. I had no idea where I was going with this but I just let out a huge sigh of relief. I have peace of mind again.

When people make you lose your mind. Those people have to go. My kids don’t deserve a dad who lacks peace of mind. And there were countless times over the last few years where my head was just gone. how the fuck did I put up with it? Why was I patient? How did I fall for it when it was incorrectly labeled “love”?

Ha. This is going to be too much, but you know the great bookends in the movie juno “it started with a chair” (the chair where juno and bleeker made sweet, sweet love) and it ended with a chair (the chair where always wanted to be a mom vanessa rocked her beautiful, adopted baby).

I had this one girlfriend one time. Before we got together, she was trying to decide between me and her boyfriend at the time. Uhh…run would have been the correct response from me. I didn’t and when she picked him, she sent me a text that said, “I would have had to have been a fucking idiot to pick you.” It was a joke. And really not a funny one. But, see…it was a lot funnier than the bookend. The other side. Where I became the fucking idiot. To have put my fragile mind back at risk. To have made my kids suffer because I kept picking chaos instead of running away at all the other signs that things were way, way off.

I didn’t run, because it was home. I was sure we’d work it out. we’d get to the other side where things would be better. We did get to the other side. I just didn’t expect that would mean that things wouldn’t get better until I was back alone on my patio. it started with a patio chair. and i'm right back there making sweet, sweet love to myself (metaphorically speaking as far as you know). I’m broken again. But, I have a chance now to rebuild that self-love that got lost somewhere in that last relationship.

I would have walked through anything with that last one. But that doesn't work when it comes at my kid’s expense. My kids know that we can talk about anything. That I want them to be real. That I will walk through anything with them. I will stand up to bull shit, even if it takes me way too long to see things clearly.

So, I was getting down earlier thinking about how this new being single situation has some ripvanwinkle elements. When I was last single I had a job. And interacted with people. And had a bar that I went to regularly. And had a best friend who was single. All that changed when I woke up from this four year nap.

So, I get to rebuild again. And at times over the last few months I’ve gotten down on myself and I realize that’s fucking bull shit. You see people at work, you get a boost…they’re happy to see you. You have a neighborhood bar where they yell “matt’s here” when you walk in and that feels pretty great. But, see…I work at home. And as a result, I haven’t had those little pick me ups. I’ve had to feel shit and face it and it’s felt a lot fucking heavier, because of my lack of other adult interactions.

And god damn. More peace of mind right there. If I could tell every last detail of what happened in the last relationship…fucking hell, it’s amazing I made it to the peace of mind I’m enjoying tonight. and thinking back to the blog a few days ago where I let out some of my hurt. One thing that I thought was cool…out of all the people who read about my hearbreak and reached out in one way or another…no one…NO ONE…said anything negative about Sarita. And that’s perfect.

Here’s what happened. Here’s a small part of the story of how I got hurt, but it’s not about villains and heroes. i could have made her look really, really bad, but that's not the point. It’s about finding healing. And I get my peace and get my healing through talking about it and/or writing about it. Being alone with my hurt doesn’t work. Telling my story and having people tell me that I inspire them and that I’m valued and loved and not alone. Come on man. It’s too much. I write for my own sanity and to think that other people appreciate it is kind of crazy to me.

Sometimes I feel cursed. Or like a sucker who is easily taken advantage of. But, man…I’m kind. I’m generous. I was really, really good to that last one. See…fuuuuuckkkk. Even stuff like that…until tonight’s peace…I’ve had a hard time complimenting myself. I used to be great at it during the therapy years. all right. I’m done talking for tonight. that feels like a break through. Peace to your mind.