I Woke Up On The Ground

“But when I thought I was getting better, I woke up on the ground.” Pinegrove

I drove to Lawrence tonight to see a band I love. I stayed sober. I went alone. I guess that’s the first time I’ve done that. I don’t mind going to shows by myself, but when I do, there’s going to be a full glass of jack and diet riding shotgun.

So, I guess tonight was kind of refreshing. And I gained the knowledge that it is possible for me to be the weird old guy by himself while simultaneously being the weird sober guy by himself. I can’t say I loved it. But, it was a really cheap night and one of the best shows I’ve been to.

I’m a sucker for lead singers who are skilled banterers. And Evan…who fronts Pinegrove…he was pretty great. And I just realized one of the things that made him so likeable as a human being was how at ease he was with himself. He was in a foreign land among strangers, but he talked to us like we were best friends, telling us about getting into an hilarious twitter convo with Chili’s official twitter and ending up with free lunch.

What I loved is that the whole incident thrilled him. it was actually really cute. The lead singer from Vampire Weekend liked one of his tweets and you could tell that tickled him. Evan has a lyric that goes, “I resolved to make new friends. I like my old ones, but I fucked up, so I’ll start again.” I would totally volunteer for that arrangement.

His voice is great. The sound is fun. And the lyrics are real. like the one I started this blog with. I have been pretty fucking overwhelmed lately, if I let myself think about it, that I might be in the worst shape I’ve ever been. So that idea of feeling better and then waking up to the reality that I’m actually on the ground. I can relate.

Like, there was a way I was before Sarita. The blogs I wrote were about fucked up shit, but there was so much confidence in my voice. It was like this effortless, sing-songy, fun voice I found. I hope it was the real me. I loved writing those blogs. It was so easy to intertwine the humor and the fucked up.

But, writing now is still fun for me, still life-giving, but more laborious and less funny. And I guess that’s, in part, because I don’t see much humor in life these days. I already woke up on the fucking ground. As a kid. After the marriage. I didn’t need to add an after Sarita to my story.

My all time low was getting buried while trying to process shit post-sarita and having riley have to call her mom to come get the kids, because I was non-functional, just comatose in my room. The therapist I saw a couple times that year called it a retraumatization. And I shudder to think of that moment where I was in such a dark place that the ex-wife, when she came to pick up the kids, rubbed my arm as I lay there sobbing.

And there’s something so fucked up about that in and of itself, because of the shit I still can’t come to terms with as far as who she is and how deeply her shortcomings continue to affect me as a co-parent, but even moreso back to the days when I played the husband character. I got off track, but the point of all of that is “on the ground”.

Yeah. I fucking know that feeling. Or underground. Or buried. Or made to feel like the culprit when I’m the victim. However you want to put it, there’s just been this recurring theme in my life that the people that are supposed to be the ones who love me end up being the ones who leave me alone in the fetal position.

And I think, I’m an easy target. Like, I don’t think “who can I prey on or who can I take advantage of?” but, it’s almost like the only people I attract are people who take my kindness and generosity and leave me in a heap. Which, when you pile all the relationship trauma I’ve been through on top of each other, I think the reality is, I can’t face it or I would implode.

So, bit by bit I write shit out, but taking it all on would only fucking confirm what I was made to feel by a dad who cared about other people’s kids more than he cared about me, right? I’m worthless. If you look at my story and how I’ve been treated.

But, what I love about my story is that I fight. And I don’t treat people the way I’ve been treated. And I care about my mental health. And write like a mother fucker to make sure my kids end up with less fucked up head space than I have. Them never having to know the self-doubt/piece of shit/fuck up/worthless hamster wheel that is my mind, that’s all I can hope for.

And there are glimpses for me that their mental health prospects are so much better than mine. And that means the world. It’s not all in vain. I’m not swept under the rug. I’m not going to go unappreciated. It will make sense to them how hard I have to work to keep my head above water. And hopefully they won’t have to fight as hard as I do, but will instead just get to enjoy life.

The other night, I had my second lengthy heart to heart with Riley that I’ve had in the last few weeks. And one of the things I brought up as we were talking was the parallel between a huge group of Nazis saying “heil hitler” and a huge group of kids at vacation bible school all singing a jesus song in unison.

I had never thought of the similarities until we were talking. And I think most people would find it a huge reach to compare the two scenes at all. But, I’m not most people. And the point was the power of the group. We see video of huge crowds all screaming heil hitler, but there’s no fucking way everyone in that group of nazi soldiers agreed with everything that racist dickhead preached.

But, good fucking luck being the one soldier who stood up and yelled “jews aren’t that bad”. That wouldn’t have gone great. And similarly, standing on your pew at VBS asking what about the gays or the muslims or any point contrary to what the Christianity they were all heiling, would have gotten you in trouble rather than getting praise for being an independent thinker.

Racists exist, because they are raised by racists and surrounded by racists. Stepping outside of the main stream takes an unbelievable amount of courage. You just go with the flow. At least that’s what most people do. Raised Christian. Stay Christian. Raised racist. Stay that way.

But, see…what I was able to share with riley was…fuck…it just dawned on me why I’m so fucking alone. It was my choice. I could have stayed married. I could have stayed Christian. I could have stayed racist (I can’t say my parents were, but my uncle was). I could have stayed homophobic.

But, something about the whole thing felt wrong. I told riley I was broken hearted and dying on the inside and instead of compassion and an ear, what I got from the church was shit for not contributing in bible study. Fuck bible study when I’ve got gaping wounds that need attention.

So, I split that whole scene and it was the best thing for me. Fuck these unreal people patting themselves on the back for tying the original greek into the fucking god damn mother fucking cultural context of saint paul’s letter blah blah blah. I just want to go back and shake them all and yell, “it doesn’t fucking matter.”

But, as it turns out, that’s not a popular thing to say at bible study. Or vacation bible school. And if hitler had dissenters, they would have been crucified along with the jews.

Mass murder. Holocaust. The nazi party is not okay. What they stand for. what they did. Nothing about their way of life is acceptable. But, we have freedom of speech in this country and they get to march in Charlottesville. And the president chose to call out both sides for being at fault. And a woman lost her life, when a racist decided it wasn’t okay for protestors to protest his people’s message.

Fuck no man.

And the president called some of them “fine people”. And he pardoned a racist sheriff who was found guilty of heinous crimes. And this week he called people peacefully protesting “sons of bitches”.

You can’t consider those three situations and not conclude that the president is a racist. There’s no listening to the nfl players. Or the stories of sheriff joe’s victims. There’s only “white is right”. And maybe Obama came too soon. We thought we had gotten to this great point of progress in this nation, only to have the underbelly that is the reality of where we really are expose itself in electing a truly awful human being to lead our nation.

“grab them by the pussy.” “have you ever fucked a n*gger?” actual quotes from the man we elected.

You’re god damn right we should take a knee. Fuck that guy. You’re a rich white man calling peaceful protestors sons of bitches. How does that feel to every marginalized minority? A president dividing us. a president who clearly is not of the people, for the people. I mean, he is, as long as we’re talking about white people.

And then, tying this back to the “woke up on the ground” comment. All the progress. All the pain. Mlk. Rosa parks. Rodney king. Riots. Lynchings. Slavery. Living through hell. Going through life judged by the color of your skin. Being hated for no reason. And then…Obama! Praise the lord. Followed immediately by…Trump! There is no god.

I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like to be a minority and hear the shit that comes out of the president’s twitter. The military is fucking awesome. What they do to protect us. the sacrifices they make. Fucking unbelievable.

But, the nfl protests and respecting the military are two entirely different issues. We’re talking about a president who is dividing us. united we stand mother fuckers. Divided we fall. dear north korea, we’re busy fighting about racist bull shit, now would be a good time to attack us. fucking ridiculous.

The issue at hand is race. The issue at hand is that the president doesn’t give a shit about bringing us together or making America great. He’s quick to name call, whether it’s black nfl players or meryl streep, but slow to acknowledge that he’s the problem.

I wrote a blog a long time ago about mlk saying that “riots are the language of the unheard.” You can only put up with injustice for so long before you reach a breaking point. And if peacefully protesting/exercising your right to free speech gets you called a son of a bitch, but fucking running over the rights of Mexicans and Mexican americans gets you arrested and convicted, but later pardoned. Come on. There’s zero defense for that being okay.

You’re creating an America that is the exact opposite of great. And when other human beings choose to call you out, you call them names. they’re the problem not you. Hitler. Vacation bible school. Usa 2017. Don’t question the powers that be. That’s our fucking lesson?

Fuck that. Keep screaming out. keep peacefully protesting. Keep using intelligent words. That’s what I like about this band I saw tonight. he puts words together well. And there was such a great feeling hearing a bunch of other random people from Kansas screaming out the lyrics to songs that I know well, but couldn’t believe other people knew too.

This band is not well known. Their work is not main stream. But, fuck being in the majority if the majority is wrong. I told riley last night about how young life takes kids on a mountain climb the day they deliver the talk about what a sinner everyone is. No one fucking stands up and says that’s manipulative. It’s understood to be part of the drill, because the last thing they’d want is for the kids to be able to think for themselves. that’s cult-like thinking. That’s not letting the gospel be the gospel. That’s kimmy Schmidt level brain washing.

And I am fucking amazed to hear so many people defending trump and endorsing racism (whether directly or indirectly). We have to keep screaming out. we have to keep kneeling. We have to keep finding our people. There is strength in numbers, but we can’t know who else believes what we do unless we voice our opinion. I have the utmost sympathy for my minority friends. This shit is not okay.

We can’t just stand by. We can’t just let it be. And I will say, there was such comfort tonight hearing other people sing along to lyrics like “I am out of my god-damn mind” and “I’m spectral for days on end”. Life is too fucking much sometimes. But, let’s talk it out. let’s reason it out. let’s not all be mainstream, or better yet, flip the mainstream to where we can all be proud of our flag and our race relations and our progress. Let’s heal, not open more wounds.