So some other random thoughts for a weekday. This is being written on Pioneer Day here in Utah or as we call it Cinco de Momo. It’s apparently the day that the settlers arrived and looked down into the Salt Lake Valley for the first time.
The fireworks are raining down because why not shoot fireworks in the middle of a drought. The dogs and Nursie Poo hate it.
I’ve significantly slowed the blog down for the past couple of days with relatively good reason at least from my standpoint. The reasons are fairly simple and unfortunately these things happen. In no particular order.
I’ve been in a funk the last two or three days. And when I say funk I don’t mean that I’ve been particularly depressed or anxiety-ridden or anything really bad, just in that odd philosophical state of questioning one’s life. As I roll back through the years I continually question some of the decisions and directions that I’ve taken in my life. I know on many occasions that when I’ve discussed this with my shrink he reminds me that no matter what I really can’t go back and change that. As I’ve said many times before I can completely accept the actions in a “sterile environment,” however real life proves to be much different. I would say right now there are several things that I have found myself constantly mulling through what I have done in the past about 10-18 years.
I think the first thing—and one that I haven’t told anyone about, ever—is this. Have you ever met the right person at the wrong time? I did and have lived, honestly, in regret for not choosing a different path at that point. I am not sure what direction my life would have truly taken at that point but that particular point in my life is one that I wished I had listened to the internal voice. I know that’s not healthy—again I know everything that should happen in the “sterile situation”—but I can’t stop thinking about it sometimes. Oh well, situation lost I guess.
The big one, the famous garage incident of 2012. Most of the domestic abuse had been subtle up until this point—this was the first time I was hit with a closed fist. I had a right orbit fracture and like a good little fucking battered wife I lied. The incident was witnessed, there was a big old honking investigation, and eventually everything quieted down. Honestly, to this day I will never understand why I even tried to cover for it. It was completely his fault and I had absolutely no support because I was already being isolated by behaviors. This happened a year before we were married and for the life of me I wonder why I even went through with it.
Speaking of the marriage—let’s talk about that. It was supposed to be a really cool thing and a lot of people put a lot of effort into it. When we got to Seattle that year, yours truly had to do all the legwork to pick up the license and everything else. The entire weekend he seemed to want to have little or nothing to do with getting married. That should have been indication number 1 million that maybe I should have just followed my gut and got on a plane and left the afternoon before.
We all know about the DV 2017. That was a giant shit show and all the crap that he spewed to anyone who would listen to him was just that—crap. If you heard anything about me throughout the years there’s probably about a 99% chance that it was all fabricated by him. The whole process was nothing but a giant narcissist game for him.
Again, I wish I had better focus a lot earlier than I did. I just still cannot believe how many times I said, “It’ll get better.” I guess I have a new empathy for battered spouses now—but who cares? The state of Utah painted me to be a scumbag so I have no reason to be discussing or advising people on anything these days because I’m a fucking horrible person. I do have to say one thing though: I have seen so many practitioners do so much fucked up, under-arrest even, stuff, and have walked away from a situation with only probation. You’d have thought I was fucking Whitey Bulger the way they treated me. I guess it stands to reason—I fell out of the perfect cloud and anyone in the profession can’t accept the fact that I’m not perfect. Hell, even the service that did the repair on my left wrist flat out told me that they were not going to do anything more because I, “did it to myself with my bad behavior.”
It must be a bitch for some of these people in this world to be so perfect all the time. Lord knows I’m not.
In the end, as always, I’ll move forward. I have been putting my shit together in one pile again and stop trying to throw it into a fan or something and just quietly enjoy my garden, my home, and my side trips to Appalachia. It’s funny to think that the game with so many weird bugs in it (although Microsoft, who is now the parent company of Bethesda, calls them “features” not bugs) would be—as I’ve said many times—the one thing that’s kept me going the past eight years now.
Oh well, at least I know that my dogs love me and my mom loved me and my dad loves me as well. Thanks Dad—I think you’re a lot of the reason that I’m still here these days.