Month: January 2018

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personal

Something for her

The Gymgirl turns 20-something

Her: We should do something for her.

The Gymgirl turned 20-something the other day.

Brought her out to eat sushi downtown and we were going to spend a weekend at my place when my cousin decided we should throw her a surprise party at a beer joint around the way.

My cousin introduced us, you see. Well, after a fashion, but that’s another story for another time.

The thing is that I threw a surprise birthday party for Alison when she turned 30. That was the first and last surprise party I ever threw anyone. Felt guilty for Alison for throwing one for The Gymgirl. Then I felt guilty for the Gymgirl about feeling guilty about it.

Wrote once about the difference between guilt and shame: Shame’s hating what you are. Guilt’s hating what you’ve done.

When I tell people that I have little to no shame, that’s true. It’s why I was pretty good out there. I know what I am and I’m ok with what I am.

But, the truth is, that I struggle with guilt far more than most people, I think.

Logically, dispassionately, I know it makes no sense.

That Alison’s gone now and the Gymgirl’s here. And yet I wonder if I’m doing something I shouldn’t be doing. Having any joy at all. Moving on with my life. Not only going to a party but planning it.

Was going to tell my cousin that I couldn’t do it. But I refuse to be controlled by that which makes no sense.

The fact is that the main things that Alison would have wanted for me are: (a) to be right in the head to take care of the kid and (b) to meet someone good and decent that would help me take care of the kid.

Obviously, it’s way too early to figure out if the Gymgirl’s that person. If there’s even is the possibility of another person out there for me. Or if I could be someone for someone else.

But I’ve always been stupidly optimistic like that. Even when all evidence tells me otherwise.

Me: Ok.

After dinner, we went to my regular hangout downtown, Solas. A friend that’s part of the establishment lost his significant other as well. That’s his story so that’s all I’ll say on it.

We talked a few moments outside. He showed me pictures and it was too much for me to take.

So I went upstairs to a seat I used to sit at for years doing pickup, hoping it was empty. It was. So, I sat and cried.

But then my friend Drew came upstairs and sat down next to me. He’s the handsome weirdo next to The Gymgirl in that picture up there.

Me: (after a bit) I never wanted anything else but her.
Him: I know.
Me: Sorry, man.
Him: For what?
Me: For being such a whirlpool of sadness and depression alla time.
Him: You’re not. Not all the time.
Me: (laughing) Good. (wiping eyes) Well, we’re pretty sober. Let’s fix that. Lemme buy you a drink?

The Gymgirl and I ended up stumbling out of the bar after 1AM. She didn’t have a drop of alcohol because of her meds. I couldn’t say the same.

Me: Sorry I’m such a mess. I hope you still had a good birthday.
Her: It was great. Thank you.
Me: Sure. Everyone deserves a nice birthday. (thinking) You may have to carry me home.
Her: I’d do that.
Me: I know.

Location: My son’s room
Mood: conflicted
Music: I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe that I’m in too deep

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Closets full of her

Good save, Logan

After all these months, finally decided to clean out Alison’s closet.

Her clothing management was a lesson in urban organization.

She managed to put her entire life into an dresser and a closet measuring 6′(w) x 2′(d) x 8′(h). All her clothes were perfectly pressed and hung. Several had tags on them.

I remember she told me that she was excited to work out and get back to her “normal weight.”

I find people use too many superlatives to describe things. Let me just say these simple true things:

  • The sun is hot.
  • Space is cold.
  • I loved her more than anything.
  • I was in agony as I cleared out her things.

Spent a few days on it. Was pretty mechanical about the whole thing towards the end. With the random tourette’s sprinkled here and there for effect.

Managed to clean up a little more than half of it all before I had to stop. Gave away as much as I could to friends and family. Donated or tossed other things.

Kept far more than I intended. Had the most peculiar thought while I was cleaning it all up:

She’s gonna kill me if she comes back.

Ah, if only.

I’d kill myself a thousand times over if only. But you knew that.

The Gymgirl helped one day. I asked her if her helping me bothered her. She asked me if it bothered me. We both said no.

Caught her crying on the sofa over something of Alison and mine, but she wiped her eyes, cleared her throat, and continued to help. Almost wept myself because of it.

Gymgirl: (later) I wish I met her. I feel we would have been friends.
Me: Sure. You’re nice. She liked to clean stuff up.
Her: Wait, what?
Me: Well, you’re a mess…y person…?
Her: (shaking head, laughing) Good save, Logan.

The Gymgirl ended up cleaning up and tossing out a lotta my junk while I was focused on her stuff. She found my 1999 law school yearbook.

Her: (reading it) I’m surprised at how modern everyone looks.
Me: What do you mean?
Her: I thought the pictures would all be black and white, people would be wearing funny clothes, and the guys would all have waxed mustaches.
Me: (laughing) How old do you think I am?!
Her: (thinking) I was nine when you graduated law school.
Me: (shaking head) Not what I asked.

Location: A clean(er) apartment. For now.
Mood: sigh
Music: A brown headed stranger, with a five-letter name

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Everything turns

Should be a good thing

Before everything went to hell this past weekend, a good friend of mine just had a promotion at work so a whole slew of former co-workers and such got together to wish him well in his new position. It was nice seeing everyone out and about.

As for me, I feel as if I’m running in place. It seems everything I touch turns to s__t in one form or another. This past weekend being a case-in-point.

Everything that should be a good thing – like the birth of a child or his first steps – is followed by some horror or, at the very least, some downer.

Clients are calling me again but it’s always for the most complex of work.

Used to relish the challenge. Now I just wonder if I should get a job doing something mindless and insignificant just to not think about anything at all.

Man, for five days in 2015, I had everything I’d ever hoped and wished for. It’s 2018 and I only have one thing that really matters to me.

Although, to be honest, it is such a wonderful thing:

Me: Who am I?
Him: (pointing to me) Pa, pa!
Me: (nodding) And who is that? (pointing at picture of Alison)
Him: Mu, ma!
Me: (smiling) Oh, that’s my smart boy.

 

Location: still in the basement of my brain
Mood: troubled
Music: And I’m on my knees, looking for the answer

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Cannot believe I’m back here

First ER trip of 2018

Took that pic yesterday.

Gymgirl was battling something and inadvertently mixed some medication and alcohol that resulted in a really rough night for the two of us plus a mutual friend. It was something I experienced with Alison after she had gotten sick because her body was so weak.

Luckily for the Gymgirl, hers was not because of cancer.

Because of that, she bounced back pretty quickly but just a day later, we ended up at same medemerge that I went to when I got that cut above my eye.

The same one I’d brought Alison to so many times before.

Doctor: [The Gymgirl] needs to go to the hospital. The ER. If she doesn’t go by ambulance, you’ll have to bring her. It may be nothing but if it’s an appendicitis, she could die.
Me: (deep breath) OK. I’ll get her there.
Her: (outside) You don’t have to bring me.
Me: Of course I do.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re in the same goddamn ER that I brought Alison to twice: Once for the baby – the height of our joy – and then countless times later for the fucking cancer.

My life is on some horrific type of repeat Groundhog Day.

Gymgirl: Are you ok?
Me: Nope.

Had to go outside repeatedly to catch my breath. And weep. One guy handed me a buncha paper towels. Another girl gave me a box of tissues.

Me: These used to be red. I had so many of them.

Gymgirl insisted on having her brother come but I wouldn’t leave until he came. It was agony.

Went to the bathroom and dry retched.

Her brother came and I shook his hand and apologized to her for leaving.

Her: Don’t. Thanks for staying.
Me: Of course. That’s the deal.

Walked home through the women’s march in a daze.

And when I got home, I poured myself a stiff drink. The Gymgirl wrote me and told me she was gonna be ok, which was a huge relief.

Alison’s BFF messaged me too and I told her what happened.

ABFF: Oh, man…You’re not the right wing man for any hospital trips in 2018 I don’t think – it’s too soon
Me: Sheyeah…

After we finished chatting, poured myself another drink and, spent the rest of the evening unlocking the bootloader on a phone, flashing a new recovery, reformatting the encrypted drive, and installing a debloated distro copy of the stock ROM.

Oh, and drinking and cursing the whole time.

So that was my Saturday. You?

Location: In front of a soft-bricked LG V20
Mood: @#$@#$@#
Music: Caught my reflection, drop the call, I’ve been medicated with cigarettes and alcohol

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No Happiness Scar to Show

Starting off 2018 with Dom


When Alison and I got married, her sister bought us a bottle of 1989 Dom Perignon. We decided to keep it for a special occasion in the future.

Her: Let’s have it when the baby’s born.
Me: Perfect.

Of course, we didn’t count on the heartbreaking amount of losses. And absolutely never thought our life together would start ending just five days after the kid was born.

So it stayed in my fridge all these years.

The messed up part of it is that, I grew to hate this thing born of family, kindness, and love. On a practical matter, it just took up space in my fridge. On a deeper level, it was a constant reminder of all the b______t things that were supposed to be sweet for us but were bitter instead.

Can’t tell you how many times I thought of just opening it and chugging the whole damn thing.

Was planning on staying in for New Year’s Eve. My mom had the kid. My mother-in-law just bought me a new bottle of rum so: Plans.

But then I got a text from an old and dear friend around the way.

Him: Yo. Are you around tomorrow or going out? RE Mike is coming by for drinks around 8 if you want to come by.
Me: Cool. Was just planning on staying in but that sounds like my speed.

Decided to bring the bottle for three reasons:

  1. The couple that invited me did more for Alison than most people, by a large margin.
  2. Alison always liked all of them. RE Mike’s girl was even from her hometown. She was excited to get to know her.
  3. I actually had a bottle of it with them in past, so I thought it’d be a nice continuation.

We cracked it open a few minutes after I arrived. We toasted my family and said the goodbye to the old year. And, like always, I hoped that this year would be better.

Should note that I spilled two glasses of champagne there – not the super good stuff – so the clumsy is still working.

Stumbled home just before 1AM. Gave the Gymgirl and my family a quick ring.

Afterward, I lay down in my suit on my white couch for while and opened up my jacket. For some weird reason, I like to have quotes sewn on the inside of my suits. On this one it said:

It’s a piece of a quote I told you about once before: It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness.

It’s funny. People notice the scar above my eye now. And the one on my lip from time-to-time. And the one on my leg and arms. The biggest scar I got is the one in the shape of Alison on my soul. But no one sees it.

Although, you know about it, I guess.

Wish I had a scar for all the amazing times I had with Alison. The amazing life I had with her. For that, I have no scar. Yet another b______t thing in my life.

Anywho, I laid on the couch, thought of that for a bit.

Then, I got up, poured myself a glass of rum, and sat down again.

Started 2018 the same way I started a lotta my days in my life: In an empty house feeling empty.

Me: Hey. I miss you like crazy. Happy New Year, hon.

Location: Seven days into 2018
Mood: thoughtful
Music: It’s gotta get easier and easier somehow. But not today

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