Healthy Living? How?

So that’s my question of the day. I find that I’ve been the stereotypical male in having ignored the fact that depression, anger and a host of strong negativity continues to reside within me and I have not dealt with it. The result? Negative health.

My own symptoms have manifested in all kinds of negative health attributes affecting mind, body and soul. I’ll forego the full list but the main culprits seem to be chronic pain, weight gain resulting from what’s easily considered a sedentary lifestyle and kyphosis ( my back and neck are curving forward so badly I think I’ve lost about 3 inches of overall height) which no doubt is a result from sit-on-your-ass-and -do nothing syndrome, way too much online gaming and a complete lack of desire to develop a new social network.

In the blips of inspiration when I walk my 10,000 steps or hit my elliptical for 30 mins or 3 miles ( whatever comes first) I feel great! Yeah man…I’m on track and gonna lose that 40 lbs of gut and man-boobs in 5 -6 months easy. Then in the quietest moments, I begin to think about what a shit pile my life has become. Divorced, in my early fifties, 2/3 kids want nothing more from me other than to come to piss on my early grave. I’m fat with EDS and have no interest in dating. Int he first few years of my post divorce life I dated actively but realized it was not for me. Other than to get laid, the prospect of giving, sharing and compromising was beyond me due to the trust issue laden scars my dearly beloved ex left after the daggers were pulled out of my heart, eyes and ass.

But I digress.

Maybe developing a rigorous schedule of must do daily activities will help. Keep the PS4 off, work out, name 5 things I am grateful for on a daily basis, eat right and lose the gluten, avoid genetically modified and tainted foods, sleep more..blah blah along with keeping an eye inspirational photos of older folks than I, buffed out and eyes gleaming with the promise of a fun and fulfilling life.

My rational mind says get off your ass and fix this before your ailments become permanent. My heart says fuck it. What’s the point? Get fit and eventually get into another relationship that will…. Will what exactly? I have no answer…just dread and fear which will not take a back seat. Unresolved trust issues.

Argh! I feel overwhelmed when I realize what a weak fool I have become. I was strong once…what happened to that guy? I miss him. He’d know what to do in the same way he knew what to do with every life crushing adversity the fates had brought him earlier in his life.

I think the strongest part of the negativity relates to my two oldest kids. One is now an adult and the other is close to it. We’ve been estranged for years. They will never realize the true nature of their mother and just how manipulated they have been all these years thru an excellent program of parental alienation. To complicate things, I have been less than patient and have stopped accepting the monkey shit they decide to throw at me now and then. It would not be acceptable in normal circumstances and it is not acceptable now.

Nevertheless, they are absent from my life and I from theirs…and I miss them so. That part of me that was always an involved dad is crushed. In these years where they become “adults” and need guidance or a shoulder more than ever, I’m not there for them. Is pride and principle worth a broken heart? Needless to say my answer till now has been “yes” but the price I pay for it seems to be building.

If I could just figure out how to make peace with my losses since none of this seems fixable. This ain’t the Cosby show… ow wait… he’s even more fucked up than me.


My Rut!

Having floundered for the last five years of my life, I’ve grown so very tired of the black cloud in residence of my gut. Every goddamned day her face is still there conjoined with her accusations and terrible action, the good times and those not so good. The sound of her voice ringing in my mind’s ear raining thunderous and bringing light all the same time. Such conflict.

Why can’t I get past this?

I am so radically changed by these events. Once and long ago I was happy, filled to the brim with excitement, confidence, purpose. Now I feel as lost as I was at age seventeen. What is wrong with me?

I recognize the signs of depression. They’ve been with me through thick and thin. When I felt trapped in my marriage to Sxxxxxxxe I actively dismissed those feelings as wrong and selfish and chose to think that I fell in love for a number of reasons and that those reasons must still exist…somewhere. I chose marriage after all, for better and for worse. I had to live my commitment, make it work. Life is work. Be happy dammit.

Now deep in the wellspring of the happiness illusion was the vision that I’d held of her all these years. Through all the times of isolation imposed as punishment or fun, I held on. She was in there…somewhere…wasn’t she? The one I married..the one I knew to be illusion.

My thinking brain now knows the true duality of a partner with narcissistic personality disorder. The self-serving methods by which friends were slowly alienated and purpose slowly morphed to serve only the needs of my one and only. The punishment of disobedience included not only direct alienation but also careful manipulation so that it was always her and the kids against me. I was so outclassed in not recognizing the chess game in play. My thinking brain has known it for so long but my emotional age about this seems to be that of a snail. Still caught up in the illusion. Still wanting. Still needing. Still waiting.

In plain English, why can’t I emotionally accept that the life I once had was false? That the aspects of happiness I felt were illusion crafted by her and gladly accepted by my blinded eye? That no longer being in that sphere is actually good for me?

What the fuck is wrong with me? Do I crave companionship and love in such a blinded way so as not to see it? I don’t feel lonely. I feel fine. And yet I’m not. Harvey Danger’s words “..I’m not sick but I’m not well “ come to mind although I probably am sick but don’t wish to kow it.

I feel that I am happy to wallow in my misery and yet day by day, my shoulders slump even more, the curvature of my back is that of man now beaten. Every logical fiber of my being says I’m a complete dumbass and yet here I sit. Lamenting and reminiscing of she, who I gave my heart to. Of she who chose to squeeze it such that there is ….less. Paralyzing.

Is it loneliness? I’ve tried dating. I’m not really open to let anyone in so it never gets past the trivial. I don’t really wish to repeat the cycle of reap and reward. I don’t have the patience to accept the traditional roles we’ve been programmed with. That we’re equal yet I open the door and pay the bill and her vag is a special pearl to be worked for even though she needs physical love as much as I do. Hah, to call it that is even amusing to me…physical love. It’s an animal need that goes away with hormonal changes. That perhaps she’s kind, is smarter, more accomplished and has tons to offer the world eludes me by my choice. That’s for the kids in their twenties happily buying the love and marriage propaganda until the dust settles, the bubble fades and the power dynamic takes over their lives until divorce court reveals to each, who the other truly is. To this day, I inwardly laugh when friends tell me their wife or husband “let’s” them do something. But they’re happy, at least within the space of their personal illusions. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

I suppose physically I am what some consider to be handsome. Nearly 52 I still have hair, am socially agile and have no problem holding a funny conversation. I’m not as buff as I used to be, actually far from it but getting physically fit is but a 4 month journey which I know I can manage. In my dating forays, the famous first date has always seemed like a job interview. In the first ten minutes, I’ve generally known whether I would be sleeping with her that night or if it was going to be a bust. Emotionally, I don’t have it in me to share in the way that couples share in healthy relationships. There’s no wanting to give in me right now. I recognize that. The most I get from dating is sex and even then it’s not emotionally fulfilling but rather merely a release and fix at the social contact aspect of the whole thing. I have nothing “real” to offer anyone since the real stuff is reserved for me and the non-intrusive.

Still. She’s there in that place I dare not look, smiling invitingly…knife and fork at the ready. Egads! What a rut.

Children – A sob story

My estranged son continues to blog his heart out.  Recently his cat had to be put down, broke his heart.  Broke his younger brother’s heart.  I’m sure his sister as well.

His blogs are a great vehicle for venting.  Often they’re off target in his recollections of things I’ve said to him or events of the past.  It’s his view, or at least one he chooses to present but it lets him vent and judging from his followups, he gets feedback which is a good thing.  Venting is good. Expression is good.  Bottling it all up…not so good.

I have a daughter as well.  Legally a young adult, she’s prone to suicide attempts, alcohol and light drug abuse while living in depression, although despite all the psychiatric and psychological help she’s gotten there seems to be little progress.  It’s almost as if she’s choosing to continue to live a life of misery and does not want to get better.  I know that sounds stupid of me, and that depression is a far deeper thing but I ‘m sure she bullshits her therapists and tells them not the whole truth of  her situation..just the aspects that serve her needs.  She’s playing them and her mom and her brothers.

Thing is, she considers herself an adult but is not self-reliant and leeches off her mom.  Does not have a job and goes to college on mom’s dime.  I have no idea if she’s actually passing or not.  Loaded with brains, talent and beauty this kid chooses to squander it all in the pursuit of suicide attempts, a destructive lifestyle …drugs..drinking, self-pity and no doubt self-loathing with hatred of both herself and those who actually give a shit.

Arrested last year for public lewdity she went through the legal process.  Mug shots, hand cuffs, finger prints and a night or two in a county lockup.  Having gone through a similar process due to her mom’s “abuse “ allegations against me, the experience of finger printing, a night in jail and the possibility of actually being found guilty was terrifying.  Jail to me was terrifying.  The feel of it.  All the cons wore crocks on their feet without socks.  Only the long terms guys had socks.  The stink foot was everywhere, I will never forget the stink foot.  Being surrounded by guys who will be there for years, talking ghetto, being tough, being scary.  A different world and thankfully not one that I need to deal with as all the charges were dismissed by the local prosecution.  They smelled bullshit as they dug into the allegation details and also are well acquainted with  how “abuse” allegations get used as part of a divorce strategy to get all the kids and all the money and to fuck the person the accuser is  divorcing.

Thing is, my dumbass daughter is 19. She didn’t learn a thing from her experience.  She still smokes pot which is illegal in in this state with pretty harsh penalties for possession of even the slightest amount and likely does other harder stuff.  She drinks underage and I wonder how she pays for it all.  She has no job.

The behavior is not only self-destructive, but she doesn’t seem to realize that if arrested again, not only will she face jail time and her life will take a definite turn down the toilet but after jail, she’ll be deported since she’s not a US citizen.  If she stashes pot in her mother’s house…I guess mom, who is also not a citizen, will also have a problem.  This will shatter my youngest son but frankly, in terms of mom having such problems it couldn’t happen to a nicer gal since she seems to be enabling much of this, and I am clearly not a fan.

My daughter has accused me of being the cause of it all.  Would refer to me as “Dear drama”.  Good god.  After years of being a cutter and at least 3 suicide attempts, this girl continues to seek attention, to seek help in the most dramatic of ways but does not seem to recognize rock bottom when it’s smacking her on the face.  My child is not stupid in terms of intelligence but she’s not well, is self-absorbed and has her head buried deeply up her own ass…… and my heart is broken.

My oldest son, the blogger, continues to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.  He’s piled on soooo much guilt and responsibility for events that are not his to own.  I doubt he discloses this to his therapist as he tends to embellish many things, over dramatize others ( he once chose to spend three days in his closet in protest over a demand I did not cave in to).  Dealing with OCD and depression as well, he’s also prone to suicide.  He wants to run away from it all, from his mom, his family , his life.  The thing he likely won’t be able to run away from is his OCD which is his most powerful demon.  It makes his life small on a daily basis.  He seems to be avidly against drugs of any kind but I suspect it’s just a matter of time before he hits the booze and smokes a joint.

Both kids have basically told me to fuck off and die.  Despite my efforts to reach them we are still estranged.  At some point I decided that if we ever are to develop some form of relationship, the first step needs to be theirs as I will not become a doormat just to live up to some ideal of “a good parent keeps trying”.  So I have stopped trying and am accepting that I might never see them again.  Judge me if you choose to but it’s not for me this  – doormat, pay for my shit and let me abuse you some more – kind of thing.

Still.  My heart breaks. I see them falling so often and making mistakes, some worse than mine at their age, others that are not even close. They need help and are not able to find it.  My heart breaks.


I know several men who have gone through divorce.  Some have since remarried and appear happy, some have divorced multiple times, some stay single.  Some choose to talk about it in a careful setting, some openly reveal their experiences and discuss the complexity of feelings, others paint the “it’s all good” picture.  It tends to vary but a common thread is that we’re all scarred and are quick to jump at describing the anti Christ we were married to.  It’s a matter of comfort level and security I suppose.

Myself?  I have residuals.  By that I mean there are aspects of my past married life that I cherish and others I despise and some such things, keep popping up in my mind.  The emotional charge and baggage generally come in waves, like a pendulum and are sometimes triggered by a sight, smell, a scene in a movie.  Even years after divorce, it’s still there.  Like a dose of heroin to a junkie gone clean…always there in the sidelines, ever present.  The quietest moments are usually the worst.

I often feel I’ve gotten a good handle on things and am well into the healing process.  Sure, there’s still a lot of anger towards my ex, a lot of unanswered questions. She filed and then closed off completely as if we hadn’t spent half our lives together.  Perhaps that’s a coping mechanism but to me it’s nuts and another manifestation of her sociopathic self.   There’s never been any closure in that regard and it’s something I’ve had to accept since it takes two people at a minimum, to have a conversation.  It’s one that has not occurred between the both of us following divorce and I accept that it never will.  I’ve stopped thinking that it’s essential to have that talk, I’ve stopped wanting it and now I think that even if the opportunity came up, I would walk away.  There’s no relevance anymore..  I’ve made peace with a few facts including that my anger only really hurts me.  Being angry at someone for prolonged periods tends to have the same effect as drinking poison and expecting someone else to feel the bad effects.  Nuts right?

My residuals, at least some, are ones that I can’t seem to shake however.  There’s not a day gone by that I haven’t thought of my ex in one way or another.  They are random thoughts really, but dammit, they’re still there.  Sometimes it’s memories of the bad times, which were the norms.  Sometimes it’s what she did with her hands when she was making a speech of some kind.  Sometimes is sexual memories if I’m feeling lonely or horny.  She was a beautiful woman and despite the pitiful sex life we had, I enjoyed her physically to say the least. Sometimes it’s how it felt to hold her…sometimes good and sometimes..not.

The worst, is when I have a dream that mingles past events of our family when we were happy with crazy shit that dreams tend to manifest.  That glow of happy stuff seems so fucking real in dreams and lingers when I wake up and then I realize it was a dream. I have missed being happy and feeling loved I suppose, I certainly don’t have that now in a man-woman kind of way.  I’m not a religious zealot but I do believe in God and wonder if such dreams are some kind of punishment.  Literally, when I have such a dream, I am fucked up for days.

To this day, we communicate about kids by email mostly and sometimes text.  It’s rare, such emails and even more so to speak on the phone…. thankfully. There has not been a face to face discussion at all..also thankfully.

The sound of her voice, her vocal inflections drive me fucking nuts.  Even when she called me in a panic over my daughter’s arrest in the wee hours of the morning, while I focused on the what and gave guidance as to what to do ( call a bonds man, etc.  experiences fresh to me since she made up abuse allegations and had me arrested in preparation for divorce… those charges have since been dismissed but the experience was unforgettable and one I will never forgive).  Part of me absolutely hated hearing her voice. Hated hearing her. I still feel that way.

I’m quickly able to dismiss such thoughts and get onto the aspects of my life as it is today but still….they come up and I wish they didn’t.  I don’t quite know yet, just how to get past this weird love/hate thing but I think that’s the cruxt of it.



Here’s the Lining. It has some Silver

So I’ve ranted and grieved and blamed and wallowed.  My divorce, my kids, my this, my that.

Like others, I do see benefit to divorce when the situation is horrible.  There’s no win really.  In my experience, my kids have suffered, I’ve suffered.  I assume my ex has her share to deal with but perhaps not so much.  She did check out of our marriage emotionally a few years prior to divorce and despite now having to work full time ( she did not work even when all the kids were at school) divorce is something she planned for all the while biding her time, having an affair with a man in our community no less but to me, being neutral and maintaining the façade that our family life was pretty steady.

On the bright side, there’s much more peace in my life.  I don’t get yelled at nor do I get hit and out of obligation to that old fashioned standard, I don’t have to stop myself from hitting back.  I now look forward to weekends and even to coming home from work…wasn’t the case in the sunset years of my marriage.  The only peace I had then was when weekends hit I could take the kids to an activity but the ex would not be with us.  It was calm then.  It was nice.

Despite paying child support, paying for my kids health coverage and providing for my kids in my household like buying a house to accommodate us all (since the ex got the first one) clothing, furniture…all the stuff that a family gets, I’ve managed to get a grip on my financial health and am actually seeing light at the end of the tunnel.  From that side of things, there’s a lot to be said for having control over your finances and no one is allowed, or feeling entitled, to stick their hand in your pocket.  You can plan then. You can take the steps to make those plans work.

Loneliness?  Strangely enough I find that the longer I live alone, the easier it has gotten and now I can’t really see myself bending and compromising my life to accommodate another person (beyond my kids) in the way that happily married couples have to in order to stay together.

The freedom, as odd as this will sound, is actually liberating.  If I wanna hop on my motorcycle and take off for the weekend, I do.  If I want to go hang out at a friend’s place and get tanked.  I do.  If I wanna vacuum my house at 3 am , naked..I do.  I don’t need to rearrange furniture to relieve some else’s boredom… and so on. I know it sounds self centered.  It is self centered.  I don’t care, I rather like it  and I’m honest about it.

Certainly compromise and a healthy give/take exchange is essential in the hard work that is called marriage.  When I was happily married at the beginning, was hard work but I gladly dove into it.  It was the life I chose and I was dedicated to it.  I felt with every fiber of my being that she was too.  Even when things were falling apart, or after being served at work, I still begged to see if we can stop the divorce, salvage and repair the marriage and keep our family intact.  I don’t beg anyone for anything but I did then.  I was dedicated even then.  Foolish but dedicated.

I currently do not see myself wanting to be in that spot, that place of needing to consider “her” and hoping that “she” considers me equally.  I doubt I would believe it anyhow since I’m still messed up with trust issues and the assortment of goodies you get after a nasty marriage and an even nastier divorce.  Dating someone on a serious path, is definitely out.  I’m pretty  honest about what I want and don’t want, when I date.  I don’t date frequently and often it’s a show stopper but I’d rather be honest than to play a mind game with any woman, especially since in all likelihood, she went through the divorce wringer as well.  Luckily, there are quite a few ladies who are divorced that are like minded and want to keep things light.  More so than one would think and these days, loneliness is less of an issue than it once was.

I’ve also learned to cherish those moments with my son whether good , neutral, bad or fantastic.  I’m not his best friend and try very hard to be a parent first and a buddy second.  We’ve adapted to the new normal that is post divorce family life.  I don’t slam his mom nor ask about the things they do.  When he’s lacking in something that she’s to provide then I do get involved much to her chagrin.  I struggle with the fact that I know he feels like luggage and always will feel terrible about my hand in the destruction of our traditional family unit.  It’s been so damned hard on the kids.

For those of you, living the divorce, picking up the pieces, you gotta realize there’s a lot of good stuff in your life.  Those are the things to focus on whether big or small.  The pain we’ve felt is so real. That comes from the sudden tearing apart of the life you knew.  It’s like a death of a beloved spouse except they are around to give you daily reminders of what once was.  The negative things are lined up to creep into your waking day without a doubt but it does get better, especially if you focus on the good stuff that is still present and in front of you.




Lately I’ve been quite frustrated.

I continue to be estranged with my two oldest kids.  Recently my mother. their grandmother,  was admitted to a hospital.  I sent them a text to let them know since they don’t answer my phone calls.  My daughter, the eldest, didn’t respond and my older son, responded with a “what.”  A week later he asked where she was since they wanted to send flowers.

Now I truly want my kids to continue to have relations with my side of the family.  the divorce was such where the polarization seems to have translated beyond me but to my brother, sister and mother as well.  My ex-wife, a narcissistic personality disorder enthusiast, has not only crafted parental alienation to isolate me from the kids and to be the only parent that counts but she’s pushed it out to the kids aunt, uncle and grandmother as well.  Bitch!

When my son texted me a week later to ask where she was since they wanted to send flowers..I was pissed and called him on it.  A week later you ask where she is?  Really?  To me it’s shameful.  He chose to swear at me in response  “Would you prefer I don’t fucking ask?  he texted.  Shit.  a kid who disrespects his dad so much that he feels free to swear at me.  Now he’s even blogging about it.  He suffers from OCD and has a blog on wordpress.  He’s migrated from discussing OCD to venting his frustrations about a host of subjects and feels the freedom to refer to me as a bitch. Nice.

I think I’m done with him.  I managed to keep trying even though it’s been a “fuck you” approach from him for over a year. Popular dogma seems to be that I should be a “good” dad and love him despite the alienation and hatred.  Keep reaching out. Use the right words to keep the fact that I’m his dad somewhere in the recesses of his warped mind so that even though it’s a bother for him to consider me as a human being and his dad, to simply remind him that we have a lifelong bond as father and son. In the process, I should keep getting kicked in the gut and stop hoping to God to I get hit by a bus.

Fuck.  Really?  Stand up , be abused and ask for more?  Maybe I am not the man I wanted to be.  In days gone by, I was on that path.  Hang in there.  Keep reaching out to let them know you are there for them.  One day they will come around.

Fuck it.  A neighbor of mine went through the same thing.  He didn’t have a success story.  His daughter had nothing to do with him for over 20 years after his divorce.  When she reached adulthood, she got married, had kids and then killed herself.  She never came around and this poor bastard was broken hearted for over 20 years, living a miserable life pining for a person who did not give a shit about him.  Toxic people man.  toxic people.  That’s the way it is between my oldest kids and myself.  So fuck it.  We’re done.

Perhaps I’m too weak to see the alleged bigger picture but these days, if people in my life are toxic, I remove myself from them.  In this case it’s my son and my daughter is not too far behind.  In her poetry on writerscafe she refers to me as her stupid fucking father and those kinds of niceties. I reach out to her but there’s no response.

I have no tolerance for that kind of thing. Being hated, sworn at and vastly disrespected by my own kids.  I can’t change it but I certainly do not have to take it.  I don’t see how anyone could. I certainly do not have the strength to look beyond it, at least not for now. I still cling to the hope that one day they will question their programming but for now, it seems that they cling to the ideas that were drummed into them by their mom…that I’m the only villain, I’m the one who broke the family and I’m the cause of their psychological issues and that I deserve to be hated. My son has OCD, depression and is medicated. My daughter is a three time suicide attempt master and is medicated.  I don’t endorse this guy’s site (  in terms of product sales and so on, but I do relate to what he says about Parental Alienation since he was an alienated child and recently reunited with his dad.

Certainly, my share of marital troubles is not something I hide from but fuck. Being singularly blamed and hated is a bit too much.  I don’t hate them and I still fear their issues will not be resolved resulting in broken kids growing to be broken adults who either kill themselves or eventually break their families just like my broken ex-wife broke ours ( she was an abuse victim..her dad beat her for years, exerted psychological shit as well and her mom ignored it all…even helped to hide things like when her younger sister was shaken so badly she had brain swelling.  Her mom was a nurse so she provided aid but it was hushed to prevent shame and the authorities from stepping in.  The abuse continued and blessed ole J sat there and drank her fucking tea.)  My ex and her sisters lived that nightmare.  I don’t know how the others dealt with it  but my ex-wife buried it all without getting the help she needed and eventually it came out in our marriage in all kinds of ways.  I reacted nastily.  Check my prior entries for the vile history.  I’m not a saint by any means but fuck…I lived with the fucking devil.

So.. for now, my will is being revised and they( my oldest kids) are cut out. I pay child support but that’s it except of course  for provisions for the  kids in my household. They want nothing to do with me so that’s the result. Nothing. No more contact and reaching out since it is rejected anyhow, no more birthday cards which I’m sure got tossed anyhow. No more Christmas cards and the perfunctory Merry Christmas texts will stop being sent by me. If I get another perfunctory Happy Thanksgiving Dad text and then sweet fuck-all for the rest of the year…well…I expect that to happen….such texts are as meaningful as a demanded apology.  They have been removed as beneficiaries from any financial vehicles and will get  nothing if I suddenly kick off .

I am a bitter man, this I see and perhaps one day I’ll regret this. For now, I can make peace with no other course of action. The only real blessing in my life is my youngest son. I can’t, at least for now tell him that he saved my life and sanity. Just by being my son. I don’t know how to tell him that I wish to God he grows up to be a different and better man than I.  Way to much pressure as he’s only 13. He is my gold.

My daughter is an adult at age 19, my older son 17. I hold them accountable for their actions just as any one else in the world will hold them accountable.


I’m Feeling Little

30 years or so ago, I was big and getting bigger.  Life was moving forward as I learned who I was.  My mistakes were plentiful but my eyes kept opening and I realized a great many things about myself as I worked towards the center of who I was at the time.  I didn’t have a life plan in terms of knowing what I wanted to achieve.  There was a general view but it gained tangibility as I discovered through the flow of my life, what I did not want to do, who I did not want to be and so on.  It was focus by exclusion.

I learned to not be afraid of hard work at a very young age.  Our family was poor and we were hard working immigrants.  At my parents command, I pitched into the family efforts to sustain us.  Dad worked two jobs all his life in trying to provide for us all and also to secure retirement plans for he and mom.  He was not educated but he was dedicated and hard working.  Not a pleasant man to me, a war vet with untreated PTSD, he was a hard man with a simple view of life which to him was crystal clear.  He didn’t tolerate bullshit or insolence.  He was proud, honest and stood up for his family no matter what. I grew up completely misunderstanding both my parents and it was not until I had adult enough eyes that I managed to think more clearly about who my parents were and what their lives were about.

Having had the gift of a strong ethic given me by my parents,  I knew at the time o fmy young adult years that I could achieve my goals if I worked hard and figured out what I needed to do in order to get there.  My goal was to get an education and to live the kind of life that I saw others live on television or in some unreachable reality that the parents of my friends were living. I knew I could reach it but it took a lot of time to keep the faith and to keep to the plan which was fueled by “hard work pays off, fucking the dog does not”.

I often worked several jobs at once, forsaking the party lifestyle that most young adults embrace.  Not to misstate anything as I’ve definitely had my share of sowing wild oats, fucking women randomly and quite frankly very often and of course, drinking to excess only to rinse and repeat.  Some lessons were hard earned since the appeal of drinking and fucking was so easily realized.  I was a great looking young man.  Fit, able, had money and charisma, I learned to listen since pick-up lines had never served me any useful purpose.  Women were attracted to me and within a few minutes of talking, I knew if I was going to have her that night or not.  Having grown up a shy, fat child, sexual attention from beautiful women was an attribute that I was not going to relinquish until I settled down.

Eventually I met the one.  With love so pure in our hearts or so I believed.  We lived together, loved , supported each other emotionally, married and eventually had children.  I didn’t give full attention to understanding my wife of those times as well as I should have.  Doing myself this disservice I gladly kept my eyes shut and did not pay attention to the warning signs that eventually would shatter our family and permanently damage all of us.

I now hate her and always will.

Now I’m 51.  Divorced.  Two of three kids are estranged each with deep psychological problems.  I myself have issues of my own.  I’m still dealing with the anger of divorce, the blame game is ever a shifting yoyo but I try to face up to my share of the wrong doings.  There was so much of it between the both of us.

I’m lost now.  Once an athlete I’m now fat.  I go to work, I go home and the only thing to look forward to are the weekends that I get to spend with my youngest son.  My life currently seems to have no meaning or focus beyond immediate needs.  I’m blessed to have the mental facility to keep a really decent job.  If I keep it up, my new home will be paid off in about six years and I will be ok for retirement.  I don’t have any joy in my life.  I’m still deflated and lost.  I’ve denied to myself, that deep depression has set in for so very long and I don’t know why I’ve done this.  I’m not suicidal but I’m basically coasting and biding my time to see what’s next while I wait to expire and die.

I gave up on dating except to go out on the occasional date so I can have sex.  Most women I meet are  even more messed up than I am and I have no tolerance for any woman who feels the need to establish the encircling web of servitude due to their privilege of having a vagina.  The “you gotta work for it” attitude that’s bred into women from childhood is simply not something I subscribe to.  To me, that is where relationships eventually lead to and I will have no further part in any such bullshit.  In fact, I dumped a gal about six months ago when she gave off the vibe that her cooter was intended for anything more than our mutual enjoyment.  She became demanding and started to withhold the sex we both enjoyed unless she got what she wanted.  That’s basically what my ex did for many years so I ended it.  I have no patience for manipulation and games.  When I was married, I was trapped with such a maniac due to kids and the deep entanglement of our married lives in a foreign country.  I foolishly thought we could fix our loveless and turbulent marriage so I hung in there.  Divorce was not in my DNA so I didn’t quit.  No such connection now so I move on freely without regret.  I’m still good looking and pleasant enough so getting laid is not so difficult.

I feel powerless to help my older two kids who are estranged to me, both by choice.  Both have basically told me to fuck off and die.  I do feel they have been expertly programmed from their very young ages, by their mother who is clearly enjoying her narcissistic personality disorder.  Abused for many years by her father with a mom who watched and covered it all up, she herself has walls which even I , after  22 years of marriage don’t understand.  I just know they are there.

As they reach adulthood, I hold my older kids accountable for not rethinking all of this in terms of thinking for themselves.  Mom makes sure her web is intact.  She had an expert teacher, her abusive father, who did the same even into her young adult life.  When he died, her only words were “finally I’m free”.  She didn’t shed any tears of loss.  I didn’t see that as being significant at the time, but I sure wish I had.

The youngest is to me, the strongest.  He has chosen not to take sides.  He loves both his parents.  I’m terrified that he’s also broken but it’s just not visible yet.  He’s a blessing to me and I’m both saddened and ashamed that I don’t currently feel that way about my other two kids.

What her( my ex)  impact on my kids will be is unknown but in truth, they are already fucked up and I’m too weak to help them.  Perhaps it’s pride or ego or self-preservation.  No matter how many times I reach out to them, it’s met with non-responsiveness.  So I have stopped reaching out at least for now.

My daughter is currently in college just a few months after her third attempt at suicide apparently.  I’m convinced that it’s just a matter of time before she succeeds.  Her head is still up her ass. She’s 18, and filled with the same stupidity I fostered at her age, making decisions and many of them so very poor.

My older son struggles with OCD, depression.  His plate is also so very full.  He’s brilliant t and sees that OCD is shrinking his life.  He’s still trying to find the strength to deal with it.  When he hopefully will see one day, that he can actually steer the course of his life, I’m praying he will be energized to actually make it happen.

I despair at watching their lives unfold in untold ways, perhaps spiraling downwards but feeling so helpless in my inability to help them.  Or is it my unwillingness?  I just don’t know any more but it’s killing me.  I guess if I was a sociopath I could just say fuck it and move.  Kind of like my ex did with our family and marriage.  So odd that after 22 years, she decided to file instead of working to fix our troubles together.  We both needed to change but truthfully she didn’t see it since none of our troubles were even in part contributed to by her in her eyes.  And once the divorce was completed, to pretend like there was no married life all.  No dialogue, no venting. Nothing except the rudimentary communications regarding children, as required by the divorce decree.  And her venting in want of more of my money.

They reject me so I cannot be a part of their lives in the way that a father, in a healthy family is able to do, a seeded effect from my ex-wife’s expert parental alienation techniques.  I want to be a part of their lives.  I currently am not despite having let them know on numerous occasions that I’m here and will talk when when they wish to.  I’m broken and little.

My life fucking sucks.