Several years ago, around the early 2000's, was my first bout of actual, real, tangible depression. I was living with my then girlfriend (lets call her Macy to protect the "innocent") and our fairly new child. We had met at the end of my Senior year of high school and quickly fell in love or in hindsight, lust. Macy was 3 years younger than me, she was a terrible student, and I was drawn to the fact that she was pretty open about how much she enjoyed sex, which to any 18 year old guy trumps any and all other flaws that a woman may have. I'll skip all of the rest of this horrid backstory just to get to the important part. When I was 20, we were surprised by the fact of her pregnancy although we shouldn't have been with the lack of condoms and the fact that I saw her pack of birth-control scarcely used. I knew that when I found out that I wasn't going to be one of those guys who couldn't runaway fast enough to abandon his kid and may or may not pay child support. No, I thought since I hadn't gotten myself into this that I had to do it right. As Hunter S. Thompson so famously said, "Anything worth doing is worth doing right" sure he was talking about covering a desert race gacked up on cocaine and methamphetamines while hallucinating on LSD and absorbing any and all intoxicants that a human body can handle but still it seems applicable to other facets of life too. So Macy and I decided that my college days would be put on hold and that we would move in together. We moved to Atlanta where my parents were and found our first apartment. Immediately I had delusions of us getting married and raising our child together and ultimately growing old and dying. I guess I owe that to my parents who are to this day still married. I was wholly uninitiated with the idea of parents raising a child separately. Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad.
So after living together for the better part of 6 months, my life crashed around me for the first time. Macy had been making frequent trips to TN to "see her family" and finally one night after returning from one of those trips her friend and my eventual wife, Katie, convinced Macy to come clean. There are no scarier words for a man to hear than "We need to talk" because nothing good has ever come after those words. Nothing. She told me that there was someone else, at least I think that's what she said. In my momentarily crazed mind it sounded like "Waualaea megeghta wawa hohoho buahh". I asked her to repeat it and it came out clearly this time and for good measure she also advised me that she would be packing her things that night and would be leaving with her stuff and our child the next morning. My mind snapped, I could make zero coherent speech with the exception of loud screams of "FUCK" and other assorted profanities. Profanities always have your back, they will always find a way to come flying out of your mouth whether you want them to or not. I made a lot of noise and a pathetic attempt at suicide. I cut my left arm like right in the freaking middle of it, like 4 inches away from the wrist, I guess I didn't have any real interest in dying but rather I just wanted some attention. I spent the next 4 weeks wallowing in what I consider my first real bout of depression. As I stated earlier I had the perfect cocktail except I added some extra elements to it.
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| Subtract the cocaine and that summed things up for me back then |
I spent those 4 weeks doing nothing but dragging myself out of bed to go to work, sitting at my desk like some emotional teenage girl, getting off of work, going to the liquor store, go home, put on some music, and drink until I passed out only to wake up to do it again the next day. None of that is an exaggeration. On my days off it was especially fun because I could be all alone with my depression instead of being around a few people to buffer it. Those days read like the famous (here I am mentioning him again) Hunter S. Thompson daily regimen without all the cocaine. Just tons of cigarettes and booze with a sprinkling of marijuana. I did do a lot of writing at that time but none of it will ever see the light of day because it doesn't deserve to. It's a rambling mess of incoherent, self-pity and longing for my lost Macy.
So I've said all of this to get to a point. My life has recently (see above date and time) gone down the proverbial shitter once again. After 10 years of being with my wife, nearly 8 of them actually married, we are separated. Now out of respect for her (whom I still love dearly so if you comment, keep that in mind) I'm not going into the gory details of the separation. I can say that collectively it's been a long line of heartache on both of our parts. We have cut a swath and had one cut with our families that looks more like a tornado running through a trailer park than a clean smooth cut. We stuck through it every time. We headed off any challenge that came our way hand in hand. We were partners in the truest since of the word. We've seen each other through so many things these past several years. The first time I had cancer, I couldn't have asked for anyone better to be by my side. Katie was there to administer medicine, clean and bandage my wound, and more importantly than anything she was there. When she has went through her 3 back surgeries, it was the same. I helped her in every way that was physically possible. We've both spent so many nights there for each other during a hospital stay or after a surgery. When she was pregnant with Asher, she had a lot of complications that brought her into multiple hospital stays. It got to the point that I would actually get dressed for work before taking her, sleep in the recliner by her side, and the nurses would wake me up in the morning for work.
I know all that sounds like we've had nothing but hardships that we've simply seen each other through but I can also reflect on all the good times (excuse me while I perhaps get a little emotional). When we married each other in December 30, 2006, I remember in our typical fashion, we were both running behind. She was having "hair problems" and I had a missing best man that showed up slightly inebriated but still showed
up. But the part that I'll never forget for the rest of my life was when her father let go of her and she came to stand with me at the alter. She looked amazingly beautiful and when the preacher asked if I took this woman to be my wife instead of the standard requisite "I do" I confidently said, "ABSOLUTELY". I'll never forget our trip to Los Angeles a couple of years ago when we went to the Comedy Store. She wasn't all that keen on going and at one point after being there for an hour she wanted to leave but as we were walking out I ran into a guy at the time I had only heard on podcasts and was a big fan of, Sam Tripoli. The rest of the night is legendary from that point. Sam introduced Katie to his girlfriend and we all spent the rest of the night watching comedy and laughing. At one point in that night, Katie had went to the restroom and as she was coming out she ran into a nice, handsome guy who seemed to be waiting on something. She asked "So are you a comedian or something?" and he looked at her, probably dumbfounded, and sarcastically said, "No, I'm just the help" and walked off. Katie came back to the table and said she ran into some rude asshole and the next thing I know the comedian on stage says, "Oh shit everybody, we have an unexpected guest tonight. Everyone put your hands together for DANIEL TOSH!!!!" Yep, Katie talked to Tosh and had zero idea who he was. And of course not all great times were on a grand scale, many of the best times are of us watching movies together or getting into a show and binge watching it (we never did finish "Mad Men" dammit).
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| There it is, the big moment |
I look back at all of these things and more and I wouldn't trade a single moment with her for anything in the world. I would improve things though. I would make them better and I would erase all mistakes that I made. I love this woman more than I've loved anyone or anything in my life (before anyone says "What about your children?" well of course I love them, you dummy. It's just a different love). Which finally brings me to my entire point that I promised I would get to a couple of paragraphs ago. This separation and depression can not be like my time with Macy. I learned too much from that. I probably could've feasibly died. No, this time I plan on trying to fight through the depression with self improvement rather than booze and drugs. I want to be the best man that I can be. As Mike from Breaking Bad said, "No more half-measures". Except I'm not talking about killing people, instead I'm talking about living. I'm not going to lie and say that I haven't been a wreck and that suicide did not seem appealing at one
point or another. It has. The thoughts of no more pain and for these feelings to stop seemed awesome but then I thought about all the things I would miss out on. I can't do that. Instead I want to once and for all get everything right and together. I'm vowing here and now to any and all who bother reading through this long blog, that I'm going to start writing again and I promise to try not to write about this again. Notice the word "try" if I do end up writing about it, you can always skip over it. Writing is my one true passion (except Katie and the kids) and I want to make this my full time job perhaps I'll even write the Great American Novel that I've dreamed about for so long. This entry, for me though, is more about healing and making a promise to myself. It has been cathartic to sit down and do this. I feel marginally better and that's all I can hope for. As for the rest of my self improvement, well let's just say that I'll be doing better. I'm going to start seeing a shrink, get this cancer nonsense taken care of, get in shape, and just try to be a better human being. If things do work out for Katie and I, I want to be the best man that she could ever hope for plus the best man that I can be for me.
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| Look it's proof of me today trying to do better |
