You Wanna Know the Truth of It

“Charlie for God’s sake…you wanna know the truth of it?” asks the title character in Tom Waits classic Christmas carol, “Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis”. Prior to that question she had spun a tale of how great she was doing. She quit dope. Gave up the whiskey. And had a great husband who took her dancing.

Turns out her fairy tale life was bullshit. I was that hooker 10 years ago. God damn our Christmas card made it look like we had our shit together, but come Christmas 2007 not pictured was the husband. Christmas cards and the facebooks and instagrams make us look like beautiful butterflies.

Spoiler alert. A butterfly I am not. I got my ass kicked again by life and a failed relationship this fall.

It was another hard to breathe/heart-sinking/not again type reality for me. And looking back it’s just fucking embarrassing that I let myself get so caught up and gave up so much of myself, hoping that this time would be different.

I spent money I didn’t have. And didn’t work anywhere near as much as I should have. For a solid 2 months. And I’m paying that tab currently…trying to get back on top of life mentally and financially. I basically have grounded myself from all social activity and spending. I haven’t eaten out, taken an uber or gone out for drinks in the last 6 weeks. I’ve worked my ass off.

And today was a pretty good day. I had told the kids that Christmas was cancelled due to lack of interest on my part. Or lack of money. Or something. I didn’t really say that exactly, but they had previously begged and begged me to take them to a YouTube conference in LA next summer. They agreed to make it their only birthday and Christmas present. Both of them.

Both of their lives are YouTube-centric, so I agreed to take them. And I agreed to let it be their only presents. And until I buckled down on spending these last few weeks, it looked like it might have been reality.

Fuck. I just took a deep breath and looked around the room at the presents I was able to buy them today. I’m so fucking lucky that I didn’t bankrupt us with my reckless spending. Good god. What the fuck is wrong with me? I just want to please everyone and buy people drinks and take girls to dinner, but there are only two people that I need to take care of. And in order to take care of them, I need to take care of myself.

I’m still writing every day. I’m still battling my demons. And it’s been a bumpy go of late. I want to fast forward. I want to be okay. And be over my heartbreaks, but I’m sure there’s still shit from the marriage that stings. And I was acknowledging today how much loss there was after I broke up with Sarita.

The kids knew her well. She was who I went to shows with. And socialized with. And made clever comments to during Mad Men. And maybe the first chance I had at a new relationship I went all in on way too fast, because I fucking miss having someone to talk to about my day. And give a shit about me and my daily struggles.

It’s a lonely fucking life these days. But, good god…going back to the caterpillar stage is so much healthier for me than pretending that I’m flying high in some relationship that takes me away from being the best me. Rebuilding. Again.

It took all I fucking had a year ago to get rolling again. I was pretty fucking undone. I didn’t say my final goodbyes to Sarita until about this time last year. It seems like a completely different lifetime. Like I was someone else entirely. Just like 10 years ago, I was still married and don’t even really remember the guy that I was.

But, tonight I made peanut butter balls for the kids…by myself. And I get to wrap these gifts and carry on our holiday traditions on my own. And that thought helps me reset. Remembering what I’m doing for the kids.

I had a facebook memory pop up tonight that was Riley giving me a journal 3 years ago. She knows I write 3 pages in my journal every day and she wrote something at the top of every third page. Last year on this day I read her words, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

That was 11 year old Riley. And I’m tearing up again at the thought. I do feel like I go unappreciated at times. And since childhood, I’ve been cursed with the thoughts that I’m unlovable. So, to get feedback from my daughter that I’m doing something right is pretty overwhelming.

Those kids are it. I have to make sure that they’re set up to live a great life. To know they are adored by me. And that I’d do anything for them. They’ve known for years that the only thing I care about is the real. And one day I’ll tell them all the stories of my relationship failures when they were growing up.

It’s taken a toll on me, but by extension, it’s hurt the kids too. I think that’s the part that kicks my ass the most about these last two relationships blowing up. It hurt my beautiful kids. And it’s my fucking job to protect them from hurt. In both cases, I broke up with the girl, in part, to protect the kids from having to deal with the future ups and downs I was bound to experience in those relationships.

So, look at that. I got where I needed to get tonight. Thanks to a hooker from Minneapolis telling the truth. I guess you could call this my Christmas card. The state of my union is fucked. This was supposed to be my rebuilding year. And I hit a speed bump that set me back even further.

But, in the words of John Oliver “Fuck 2016.” I get a do over. I’ll take another rebuilding year. And when I get back to LA with the kids this summer, it’ll feel pretty fucking great. We were there 10 years ago. That was our Christmas card. Perfect marriage. Beautiful kids, ages 4 and almost 2. All smiles at Disneyland.

The real had swallowed us whole the very next year. But, I wouldn’t fucking trade the life I ended up with. I was a dead man 10 years ago. Hollow eyes. No spring in my step. I wasn’t writing at all. I found a therapist who got me on track. And writing has saved me repeatedly since then.

All the sudden, I’m feeling fucking great. It’s not that I have my shit together on any level. It’s just nice to get the truth out. This wasn’t my year. Neither was last year. But, the kids are doing great. There are positives. We eat…pretty much daily. We have a roof. And presents under the tree.

The kids are going to be smiling big smiles on Norwegian Christmas. I ordered the Norwegian pastry (Smorkage) from the bakery we went to on our trip to Seattle last summer. It’s supposed to get here tomorrow, but only because I paid more for shipping than the cost of the pastries. Shit. Maybe it’s moves like that that have me nearly bankrupt. The kids will make fun of me dancing around, singing “O Jul Med din Glede”. And we’ll share laughs and eat too much.

And that's a big deal...the honest laughter and good times we get to enjoy. Because, there is so much fucking darkness in my family’s past. It takes a lot out of me to battle my mental health and steer the family in a healthier direction. I was thinking today that my Uncle Bill was racist as fuck. He used to drop bombs in the middle of Christmas dinner that made everyone uncomfortable. I understood that to be wrong, but what about my folks homophobia? It took a long time for me to recognize how their comments about gay people were just as fucked up as my Uncle's comments about black people.

We were taught to “just be a good girl and everything will be okay” (my mom’s go to phrase for dealing with life). We were not fucking okay. And masking all the generations of utter fucked-up ness in Christianity didn’t do us any good. You have to take that shit on. And flip the god damn script. My kids know that I value story. Everyone has one. Listen to people’s story. Don’t try to force them to believe what you do. Learn from other people. Gay people. Black people. Even Christians probably have some redeeming quality deep down. Maybe not.

Ha. But, really…I’m lucky to have broken free from the cult I grew up in. I’m glad that I’m able to think for myself and say fuck the main stream. Yes…it is utterly fucking lonely at times, trying to chart a new course, but I think the payoff will come when I see the kids Christmas cards one day with their own families and the smiles are legit. And they grow up to be good human beings.

I am doing my part. I am fucking trying. And I don’t think I give myself enough credit. But, man…Riley smiling and being all bubbly on her YouTube channel…that’s legit. And Blake doing great in school and loving the sports he plays…there’s pure joy in that kid. And the time the three of us spend together…it’s gold.

We’re family.

And it’s fucking beautiful to know that the abusive, racist, homophobic, bull-shit christian family traditions that were my childhood reality aren’t going to be passed on to Riley and Blake. This year sucked balls. Again. But, it had its moments. The Cubs won an important game and the kids are a dream come true. I’ll take it.