Another Father’s Day

My birthday falls at the end of December. Every year I find it a convenient time for quiet reflection. An evaluation of my life, if you will.

I’ve found Father’s Day similarly convenient in recent years.

My father and I are estranged. 

We don’t talk & haven’t for years.

To be perfectly honest it’s pretty much all to do with things I did (some rather terrible) and things I should’ve done. 

I accept the brunt of the blame for the failings of the relationship.

As the years have passed, I’ve moved beyond anger, swallowed regret and live in an acceptance that this is the way my father and I will be. 

But.

But, I see on social media all the postings of kids (adult and not) with their dads. 

The happy memories, the life lessons, the cliche photos of days gone by.

Then I remember some of the cool things I learned from and did with my dad

Learning to solder electrical connections in a tv, when you actually fixed your tv. 
Putting snow tires on in the lane way. Tuning up a a 73 Chrysler (in the lane way). 

An aside, I’m pretty certain I was the only kid in grade 5 who knew how to adjust a 2 barrel carburetor.

Learning to drive the convertible on the highway between Varna and Bayfield when my parents separated. Perhaps that’s when I learned driving could be an outlet. 

And why that car is so important to me.

And then.

And then I let anger, bitterness, alcohol and addiction engulf me.

And then.

And then it became today..

For all the great memories and lessons, I’m truly grateful.

For the turmoil and conflict, I’m equally remorseful.

Happy Father’s Day, Father…

Puzzles

Well, let’s start from the fact I’m a dumbass mechanic…

I can likely fix anything you’ve got broken.

I have a great analytical mind.

I find problems others can only dream of.

I really am a good mechanic.

I’m a drunk..

I look for a solution every day.

I look for help & guidance every day.

I do not want to drink any more.

Tomorrow I want to be better than I am .

Tomorrow I want to believe I’m worthy

Tomorrow I want to be the man Kim needs
Today.

Today I reflect

 Today, I get to hate myself  a little more

Today I can wish it was tomorrow 

It starts….

Again.

I feel it.

An ache.

No. Not an ache. Not even physical pain.

Just.

Just the inside shit again.

Why? 

You take your meds. You go to your appointments. You stay sober.

You stay sober.

But. 

When will it end? When will the inside hurt stop? When will I want to enjoy life?

It. 

Hurts.

And I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to ask for help.

Good thing I smile..

Time

Time passes so quickly it’s tough to keep track.

Years come and go before you know it.

This is the oldest I’ve ever been.

As I age, time becomes more important to me. Time with family, time spent at work, commuting, at the gym…..wherever. Time is becoming tangible, almost a commodity.

In fact, isn’t that how work……works? An employee offers hours of their life performing a task for a monetary sum? If the employee and employer reach an agreement a transaction is completed . 

Pretty basic.

Until the employer changes the deal without notice. Until hours are expected to be sacrificed, or ‘donated’. The employee is expected to donate their skills and tools to benefit a business that is failing, but with no responsibility of the employee.

A call to the labour board would be the end of the employment .

Time.

When will it become apparent to employers time is the greatest thing they could respect for their employees? A fair and planned scheduled work week. A fair weekend or rest period in between scheduled days. 

France has made it illegal for employers to contact workers after hours.

A small step, when will it occur here?

Don’t get me wrong, I am a ‘company’ man.

As long as the company respects my time.

Happiness part deux

This morning, on the bus, I wrote a post about happiness and promptly deleted it by accident..

With the week I’ve had, I’d call it poetic justice.

Since 6:57 this morning I’ve had more time to contemplate. To reflect. 

To apologize.

Turns out apologizing to my lady for bickering made me feel better than anything. 

See, Kim’s an incredible person who deserves the best in life. I do my best to provide for her and the kids. 

But.

But, it’s the selfishness of my alcohol addiction that hurts her. Hurts us.

What is happy? 

Happy is the moments we laugh together. Shop together. Hell, go to Walmart together.

Happy is real life.

Happy is sobriety.

Unhappy is the chaos. The chaos I create. The chaos, for whatever reason, I create every time.

Every time I open a bottle.

I’ve said it before, but feel it stronger than ever before.

I’m done with booze. Done with chaos.

Done with hurting.

Hurting others, hurting me.

I’d like to be happy.

I choose to be happy.

I’ll make Kim happy, all I need to do is figure out how to make me happy.

I will.

My word.

Dec 29……….. Again

So, I’m just on starting my 49th lap around the sun.

Every year at this time I torture myself by evaluating the previous year. How far I’ve come, what I’ve succeeded at, who I’ve not pissed off etc.

Most often the question I ask is “am I where I thought I’d be?”.

The answer is always a resounding “NO!!”.

This year is no different except there is nothing negative in the admission.

If you’d ask 24 year old Brad if he thought he’d be a mechanic working for someone else at this time of life, his answer would have been “Oh HELL no!”. 

But today, I am a licensed, respected (again) mechanic working for a new franchisee, building a garage business. This is what I do, I make garages profitable.

Am I married with a big house?

Nope, I’m in the very first loving relationship of my life. I told my lady yesterday I’ve never been given the level of affection she & her kids provide in my life. I never realized I was starved until I was given true love.

We live in a home we can easily afford and will quite likely have paid off 20 years ahead of time.

How about the cars, surely you miss the cars?

Nope. I’ve had a good run. If the 74 ends up mine, so be it. If not, again she & I had a great few decades together.

The material stuff I used to regret is being replaced, my life is getting much better.

My friendship with Bill W. is thriving. I’m doing my part to the best of my ability and his promises are showing up. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but they show up.

As I get ready to drop the green flag on this 49th lap I look for forward to being a better friend, nephew, cousin, brother, spouse and step dad. I’m so very fortunate to have the opportunities I’ve been presented . 

I’ll not squander them.
Happy New Year…..

Anger and ???

I’m an angry man. 

I’m beginning to realize that. Or accept what I hear people say.

I’m not certain I have a reason to be as angry as I used to.

I’ve a brother second to none, a lady I could have only dreamt of, step kids who…who are kids as best as kids can be.

I’m employed by a good firm who challenges my skills and who pays me well.

I have a circle of friends all of whom I cherish… Yes, you too.

But.

I scowl. 

My “go to” is anger, mistrust and, ultimately, fear.

Mostly anger.

See, anger has been my friend for decades. It’s protected me, kept strangers away, assured my safety when I was homeless. Anger became natural.

Anger became comfortable.

I don’t need that protection today, my life is good.

I am safe.

I am rebuilding the wreckage of the past. ….. To the best of my ability.

Anger no longer needs to be my refuge.

Maybe just an old friend you call up when you really need him.

The Champ

I was born in the sixties, raised it the seventies.

Then the eighties happened.

We’re sorry about the eighties, really we are.

The seventies, though, what a great time. The life, the joy, the excess.. An era to never be repeated.

We had ‘events’. 

Evel Knievel jumped  Wembly Stadium, plans were made, groups gathered. His crash broadcasted in horror worldwide.

Elvis Presley had the world’s first satellite broadcast concert in 1973. We were stuck to the tube.

But, Ali. 

The Champ.

Oh, how we would wait.

Anticipate and activate.

 In the yard, a left, a right.

A shot that jarred.

What did you muffle??

Not me, I did the Ali shuffle.

The Champ was an occurrence. An event.

A spectacle.

Muhammad Ali represented the best in man. A person who was willing to sacrifice everything important in his life to hold onto his ideals.

A man willing to be oppressed to fight oppression.

Willing to walk through Hell for his heavenly cause.

Champ, you inspired a generation of excess, you met with great leaders.

You became a beacon of peace.

Muhammad Ali, you are still a hero.

Bless your journey.

Get real

I have an awful sense of humour.

Ask those who know me and even love me, they’ll tell you I laugh at pretty much anything inappropriate.

Hell, I tell some jokes I probably shouldn’t.

But.

There are new jokes & ‘memes’ coming up that offend even me. 

Some people seem to think it’s funny to shame transgendered people based on the US’ new ‘bathroom legislation’. 

Let’s get things straight.

It’s not about perverts watching your son or daughter pee. Those perverts are a damn sight closer to them than the public bathroom .

It’s about a group of people who have been shamed into hiding who they truly are. Afraid to step from the shadows to be seen as they truly are.

Transgender people have no interest in assaulting our kids, they’d like to get through a week without being assaulted themselves .

If I know you and you think I find your poison funny.

You. Are. Wrong.

Inclusion, not insults please.

Failing

I’m failing. Badly.

Failing.

As a spouse I’m crap. My lady deserves someone attentive, courteous and kind. I am a shadow of these.

As a step dad, I have expectations the Lord Jesus couldn’t possibly live up to. I give orders without direction. I ask without giving. I expect the kids to live up to things I barely could.

I have two jobs.

One I excell at and could never let the employer down. 

One I struggle with daily. I vomit every single day before attend this job. 

Every. Single. Day.

As a family member I’m trash.

I have an aunt I cherish, a cousin who I would aspire to emulate.

Do I call?

Do I make an effort?

No.

No I do not.

I’m a selfish hunk of unloveable trash. I know, I tell myself every day.

Failing.

Who knows? By admitting it, maybe I’m starting to succeed.

Maybe.