I exercise?

I hate exercise. I used to play ultimate Frisbee in college. Well, shit. That’s a lie. I used to practice with the team, but when I found out you had to drink a whole pitcher of beer as an initiation on your first road trip, I opted out. Because, I was too fucking Christian to drink. Which of course, nowadays all my favorite bartenders would find hilarious.

But, it’s true. And it's also true that this week may have changed my opinion of exercise. What a fucking waste of time, I used to think. Like, if you’re playing basketball. cool. Or soccer. yeah, see...there's a point to that. Or throwing the disc in a park with a bunch of sweaty dudes. Fuck yeah. That makes sense to me.

but, I never understood running. Or the need for more than one ab. Or what practical use a muscle would ever have in my life. But, this week I realized I gave up on my diet after losing the first 30 pounds. And it was going to take something other than my normal game plan of not eating food to get back down to my pre-girlfriend weight.

So, I went for a walk last week. And assumed it would be awful. But, I put my headphones on and walked as far as I could while listening to frank turner’s album “positive songs for negative people.” And it was actually a great time. it made me feel good. it was so confusing. do I actually like exercise? when I told riley I exercised, she said “is it the apocalypse?”

But, I think part of it actually being okay was having space to collect my thoughts and having frank's album be the soundtrack. he is so fucked up, but such a great writer. i actually wrote him a note after seeing him play a show a couple months ago and linked the blog entry i wrote about it. he was kind enough to respond and say thanks for coming and "cool blog".

i don't think he really read the blog, but we write from the same place...pain. we have experiences and need to get that shit out. he just happens to be really great at it and i can seemingly barely make it through the day at times. but, i need his kind of voice to inspire me to get the fuck back up.

and when he’s reminding me “god damn it’s great to be alive”, I go back to the times when my life was lived in a pitch black. like the shitty motel room i got to inhabit after getting kicked out of the house. or the "how the fuck do i get out of bed?" from last august. being alive at all in 2016 is way better than that shit

I came back from those pits. And this week I fell into another one. just out of the blue...i think i'm doing pretty well and all the sudden i'm having nightmares and can't seem to get my head to good. but, i wrote my journal pages twice a day instead of once. and exercised. and i finally feel great today after a week's worth of battling. and that's how it always is. my head gets fucked and i use the tools i have to unfuck it. it always gets better, but holy shit is it a lot of work. and i'm glad this week i added exercise to help me in the fight.

while walking my way to better thoughts, frank sang a song called “mittens”. (Ha! Side note…that reminds me of an ex-girlfriend to whom I’d say “how did you sleep?” and she’d say “like a glove.”) frank says “we used to fit like mittens, but never like gloves”.

And he talks about pouring out his love to someone and knowing they had something great together, but looking back all he got out of it was a pair of hand-made mittens and a bunch of “ignored love songs”. And that is a familiar experience.

That’s how it was with the ex. I could write my heart out. but, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t ready to battle her past. So all my words and that grace I passed out to her around this time last year ended up only amounting to “ignored love songs”.

what fucks with me is that i had something to give in that relationship. i was really doing great when we met. therapy was helping a ton. and i actually checked my old, super secret blog last night and found that i wrote 375+ blogs from '08-'11. it's crazy to think back on how much confidence i had back then. i went from working through my shit and feeling good at the beginning of that last relationship, to right back to the starting line in the end.

However, I am, painfully slowly, managing to make it through my rebuilding year. And I noticed this week that my worst day was the day I didn’t exercise. All the other days I’ve been able to battle down my demons. So…fuck…I have to give credit to the exercise enthusiasts. They’re on to something. Intervention me (preferably like they intervene on frank in it’s always sunny…here’s theclip) if I ever go off the deep end and end up with a bicep.

But, no shit...I really have loved walking around the park. And today I had a moment when I realized one of the best things I can give my kids is an appreciation for good comedy. Huh? No really, it's a big deal. Their mom will take them to church and get them all moral-like.

But…shit…side note. I was talking to riley about how Jesus hung out with the broken hearted and the people he had the biggest problem with were the religious folks. Riley was surprised to hear that. And I’m thinking “what the hell are they teaching you in church?”

So, maybe I need to make sure I drop in some real to mix with their mom’s love of organized religion. But, also I have a huge responsibility to explain to the kids that guys like dane cook and jim belushi are not funny and you can’t trust people who think they are.

The unbreakable kimmy Schmidt was our gateway show. They loved it so much that we’ve transitioned from the painfully unfunny Disney/nickelodeon shows to 30 rock and parks and rec. and it is the greatest thing ever to watch the kids laugh at stuff that is actually funny. Today it was jack from 30 rock negotiating on josh’s contract by saying “you know what’s absurd? These photos I found of josh rough housing with lance bass at sea world.” Comedy gold.

If the kids can grow up real, confident AND funny. Good god. There’ll be no stopping them. may they never end up in the black holes I’ve crawled out of. May they only see me fighting to get through my shit and never experience the kind of shit that makes me the unconfident, easily fuck-up-able adult that I am.

But, man I can’t even explain how good I feel today. everything is not okay. i fought like hell this week, even doing the unthinkable...exercise. and to know i beat down my demons...again...that's a pretty great feeling. today has been a freaking magical day. and my kids have been a huge help in me wanting to get through my shit to the other side. they inspire me to be a better person and give me a reason to keep fucking fighting when I want to give up. (side note: i stopped drinking on days i have the kids, which is great, but you have no idea how badly i wanted to turn the Teen Choice Awards into a drinking game the other night.)

The other day riley said, “daddy…guess what? When I went to schlitterbahn there were 4 other people more pale than me.” What? You counted pale people? Hahahahaha. So great. Kid makes me want to be a better me so that I can enjoy all those moments. Long way to go, but this blog feels so much lighter. Hope I’m about to catch a season of happy. the shit from my past is dark, but i'll keep writing my way towards the light.

and to that point, it really is amazing how much i've written since the divorce. I found my old super, secret blog last night. And was stunned when I saw that I’d written 380+ posts. That’s over 500 blogs including the ones out here. Add the thousands of pages I’ve free-handed for years and that is a shit ton of words that i've needed just to be this fucked up version of me. i can't imagine what a mess i'd be without writing. and i can't imagine how much better i'll be when i get through this tough stretch. although this week has been rough, i know that i've got this. i always get it back to my best self when i'm single. it just takes time. gotta keep self-improving with writing and gasp! exercise.