I guess this is where I start…
1)
It’s my blog. I’ll write what I want. My filter
is broken and my give-a-damn is missing. So, read at your own risk! Actually, I’m
kidding. Well, about the give-a-damn, anyway.
2)
I might not post every day. I like to keep
everyone on the edge of their seats. So, if you like the blog, just check it
every day.
3)
No snarky comments (well, maybe a few, but don’t
be mean to me; my psyche is fragile!).
4)
I’m out of rules…it hurts my brain cell to think
that much.
I figured this
would be a chance to voice my opinions in my own forum, to air my bitchiness, and
to hopefully have some self-therapy. It’s much cheaper than a real therapist, you see. I also hope
that I’m funny or comical some of the time. I mean, I always think I’m funny;
others disagree, for some reason…
So, I suppose I
should put in the obligatory paragraph about myself. I don’t find myself
exciting at all. Maybe unusual, or odd. Eclectic?? I’m 44 years old. I’m now a
member of the growing lower class. I pretend to be middle class (it makes me
feel better about myself). I actually haven’t been truly middle class for a
long time. However, I truly kind of think that this whole class thing is silly.
I don’t know what would work better, but I think the class system is terrible,
hurtful, and very divisive. I’m a proud gay man. I’m out. My closet was about
the size of a broom closet, and it’s much better out here. I was becoming
claustrophobic inside it. Closets are for coats, people! I have been married
twice. Yes, to women. It only took me 35 years to find out why THAT wasn’t
working out. My first wife was and is a wonderful woman. We were best friends
but terrible spouses. She realized very early on what was up with me, and
quietly, gracefully divorced me. Of course, I was heartbroken. I did after all love her. She and I both
survived and moved on. We have a wonderful daughter together who is now almost
23. I think that she has both our best qualities, and some awesome ones of her
own. She’s classy, independent, and strong. Then there’s my second wife. Not
cool. Not cool at ALL. I look back, and I’m not sure why we married each other.
I think then I still felt that if you got someone pregnant, you married her. It’s
how I was raised, you see. Conservative home, family, etc. So, we got married.
When we were preparing to move in together (before we were married), she had a
sort of strange meltdown over something actually very insignificant. That was
my first warning sign of her apparent instability. I should’ve known, should’ve
realized, etc. But, shoulda, coulda, woulda…We stuck it out for a total of
seven years together. We have a son together. He’s fourteen, and his mother’s
toxicity has very negatively affected my relationship with him. She has a
strong influence over him. This normally would be good, but it has been
detrimental in so many ways. She was verbally, mentally, emotionally, and psychologically
abusive to me. I, being the “nice guy”, just took it. And it wore me down.
After we divorced, and I came out, I think it reached its pinnacle, and I
became very, very depressed, my self-esteem plummeted. Ultimately, I became
suicidal, and made four attempts. I took drugs. It was my weapon of choice
against myself. I was careful to only use those prescribed to me. I wouldn’t
even know which street to get them off of! I’m told that they were what should
have been lethal to me. I spent a lot of time in the psychiatric ward. Five
stays in all. During that time, I learned a LOT about myself, a lot about my
ex-wife, and had some life experiences that are unrivaled! Ultimately, because
of events related to the depression and Bipolar Disorder Type 2, I lost my
apartment, my job, my car…and basically my son. That is a story in and of
itself, so we’ll cover that in a subsequent post! There were some positive
things arising from all this: I got to live in Atlanta, GA with a beautiful
friend. She helped me begin to stand up again. She gave me some hard truths, a
lot of love, and most of all, encouragement and compassion. I love her more
than she knows! I was also able to live for a brief time with my daughter again.
Her amazing Mom and her boyfriend actually invited me to live with them for a
while. It was a blessing to me, being able to be close to my daughter again. We
had lived geographically apart for quite a while. I had a chance to work in the
fast food industry for a period of time. Honestly, people, it wasn’t as bad as
it had been portrayed to me. I was trying to go into management. My health put
the kibosh on that, though. As I recovered from that health scare, I lived with
family in Southern Illinois. While there, I began to realize that the places I
had lived all my life were actually toxic to me. They had outlived their
usefulness to me. Sad, but true. I was ready for a change. So, I made a very “snap”
decision to pack up and move. I had friends in Kansas with whom I chatted a
lot. One of them and particular knew about my desires to relocate. He made the
offer for me to come out, visit, and if I liked it, to stay with them. Within
two days, I had packed, loaded up the car (a rather pathetic Ford Escort) with
all my stuff and my neurotic dog, and drove to Manhattan, KS. I left a note for
my family and haven’t looked back! Of course, they were freaked out, upset, and
thought I was crazy. I just told them that I was safe, not starving, and that
yes, I was crazy. I do have papers to prove it, after all! They settled into
the idea. It’s all good now. The living situation with my friends ultimately
was not working out, and they introduced me to Dan, my love. We went on one
date, I spent the night with him (yeah, I’m that kind of girl, apparently), and
he, being the kind soul he is, decided that I couldn’t stay where I was any
longer. He ok’d it with his landlord, and we went to get my stuff and I moved
in with him. It was a tiny studio apartment. We soon looked for a larger place.
We’ve been together ever since, and if Kansas ever gets its head out of its ass
and deports certain politicians to Siberia or somewhere, we plan to be married.
So, this is just
one tiny, little portion of my back story. There’s more, believe me, but my
fingers are tired and my eyes are bugging out from this screen. So, another
day, another post. Hope you have enjoyed it! More to come…
