Shattered Glass

What is real? I don't recall asking myself this question before Damian died, but now that he's gone, I'm giving it a lot of thought. It usually comes on the heels of me thinking about Damian and then wondering if he was real. As in: Did he really exist? Of course, I know that Damian was real.  The pain that I experienced is evidence enough of this. I do believe, however, that my mind struggles with this because it can't process his sudden and irrevocable absence. It's hard to accept consciously. I can't begin to pretend to understand what it's doing to my subconscious. All I can see is the byproduct – my monkey brain asking weird questions and struggling to find the right answers... Yesterday I accepted an invitation to go sailing / racing at the end of October. I had the opportunity to crew in a race this coming weekend, but I couldn't bring myself to say yes. Saying ok to the end of October feels safe. Probably because with so many weeks between now an...

I'm having (or did have) a bit of rough afternoon. Dawn and I are in Wilmington (NC) visiting my aunt. Damian loved it here. My aunt Emily is a lot of fun to be around and there is a lot to do here, much of it revolving around the water.  Today, the 3 of us headed south to Fort Fisher and caught the ferry to Southport. On the ferry ride back (to Fort Fisher) I became keenly aware of the hole in my soul. Damian should be here with us. It's wrong that he's not. For the last few hours, I haven't said much. I just withdrew myself from the conversation. If I had my druthers, I'd probably take it one step further and hide in the bedroom, or, better yet, snap my fingers and teleport back to our house. It's my safe zone, which is ironic since this is where Damian chose (?) to take his own life.  Dawn and I were talking a few days ago about the stigma of suicide. I asked her if she thought people would treat us differently if Damian had been killed in an accident or died...

Shame. Last week I was consumed by white hot fury. Unbridled rage. Now, 7 days later, what I feel most is shame, mixed with a little undercurrent of sadness. I have worked really hard the last few years to gain agency over my temper. Therapy, self-help books, no alcohol – I've done them all. I thought I had been successful. Well, to a degree I have been successful, but if last Monday showed me anything it's that my work in this area isn't done. Far from it. I still have the capacity to go nuclear and to burn bridges with the blast heat of my rage. Another thing that I don't like this about myself. Making it even harder to accept is knowing how I feel when I'm on the receiving end of such an outburst. I worked with a guy for many years who ran hot, always just a few degrees below a full boil, simmering. A little push in the wrong direction and it was the full-on theatrics and tantrums of a recalcitrant teen. And that's where I was a week ago. Replaying the highli...

I hit my breaking point today. An hour ago I just snapped. Went ape shit kicking the door to the basement, hellbent on destroying it before Dawn pulled me away and got me to calm down. Looks like I've got a lot of anger to deal with, still. (And now a door to replace.) A few months ago, I was done with ETI. I was over working there and ready for something else.  And then I got pulled back in with the promise of a lucrative payout if I stayed until the company was sold. Turns out that was bullshit.  I was hoping for enough money where I could not work for a couple of years and not have to worry about finances. With that now out the window, I feel like I'm having to hit a hard reset in terms of where I go next as I doubt that I can afford to chase my life's dreams. Instead, I'll have to find another job at another company. Not an exciting prospect at 54. But right now, I'm so fucking angry that I can't think clearly. I feel like I've been conned. Hornswoggled....

Balance. It's something that I've been thinking about the last few days, trying to determine how to divvy up my time thinking about the Before vs. living in the After. Too much of one and not enough of the other is no bueno, so it comes down to one thing: balance.  As far as I know, there are no instructions on how to find a healthy mix. I do, however, think it's easy to spot when the mix disproportionately favors one or the other. I've met people in both camps: those who can't leave the past and those who run from it. What's ironic is that both do it for the same reason – to not do what they are doing would be too painful. If I had to assign myself to one group or the other, I probably lean more toward looking forward. I can and do look back, but most of the time I don't do so actively. Usually, it's a sense that triggers a memory from the Before. This may lead to other memories but eventually the trip down memory lane comes to end and I'm back in t...

Last week was good for me. I worked out every day and was productive at work. So win - win.  A couple of weeks ago, I decided to give Crossfit another try. I had done it for about 3 years back in the mid teens (circa 2015 – 2018). I don't remember exactly why I quit going but suspect it was a combination of being burned out and irritated with some of the coaches and other members. Since leaving Crossfit, I worked out, off and on, at home doing a lot of the same exercises that I did while still a member. I now have a small Crossfit gym at home with much of the same equipment...that I have rarely used since Damian died. I was mostly content to see it gathering dust until I got back the results of my last physical three weeks ago.  I go in for a physical every 2 years, always on my even birthdays. Turning 54 (back in June) it was time for another one. The exam itself is kind of a joke – a few general questions ("Does anything hurt?", "How are you sleeping?"), a ste...

I continue to be surprised (?) by how "little things" have the ability squeeze my heart, to make me feel the loss of Damian more acutely, without warning.  On Friday, I had to drop my truck off at the service station for an oil change. Dawn followed behind to take me back to the house. On the way home we passed Roberts Elementary. Although Damian went to Roberts for kindergarten, I don't usually give it much thought as I pass by it regularly since it's so close to the house. On Friday, the electronic marquee in front of the school had a banner celebrating the incoming 5th grade class announcing them as "The Class of 2031". I don't know what it was exactly about this that caught my attention, but I could feel the sadness welling up inside me almost instantly. Damian was supposed to graduate high school in 2024, but yeah, not going to happen. By the time these kids that are about to start 5th grade are gearing up for their second semester of 10th grade, th...