Yuck Space - Population: Me

I live in black and white for the most part; at least where my own life is concerned. It’s all or nothing. I’m either unequivocally right or wrong and so are you. There was either never a contest to begin with - I won before we began, or you smoked me before the gun fired. I live in a little town called Contradiction. Population: me and whatever unwitting hostages I’ve drug with me. I’m a roller coaster ride sans seat belts. Perhaps that’s why I tend to keep company with myself for the most part; seems unfair to inflict this sort of pants wetting excitement on the general populous. On a good day, I’m a Lifetime (for women) special. On a bad day, I’m Unsolved Mysteries laced with Cops and sprinkled with Star Trek; because resistance is futile. I had a point…I’m certain of it. Ah…yes…contradiction. It seems that it follows me even if not of my own creation.

Yesterday I attended a festivity and celebrated some huge milestones with some acquaintances and friends. Normally when I attend these functions I say my hellos, shake hands and smile at people from across the room; when I can earnestly say that I have “put in” my solid 30-40 mins, I bail. It’s at this point that one of two things will usually happen: 1) you’ll have spent enough time getting to know me that you’ll grasp the full scope of my crazy and vow to never to speak to me again in one-on-one setting [fear is a great motivator] or 2) I’ll figure out that I don’t belong with regular people and try to squirm away awkwardly. It rarely has anything to do with you. My head is a yuck space [that’s the technical term according the PDR] and I’m still not certain it’s not contagious. I’d feel terrible if you caught what I’ve got. I’ve written my local representatives about finding a cure, but apparently AIDS, Cancer, and terminal illness take precedence; I understand. The longstanding fear of dying alone watching re-runs of Newhart and Wings I had, has become a comfort – my death Snuggie. Damn that got bleak – back to this party shall we?

I’m well past my expiration date at this party yesterday and still hanging on by my fingernails. Someone give this woman a prize! Bob, show her what she’s won – A BRAND NEW CAR!!!! We take a break from our horseplay and shenanigans to recognize the milestones being celebrated. A friend of mine gets up and receives recognition from his son for his accomplishments. He had originally had two other people in mind for the occasion but at the last moment they couldn’t attend. My friend doesn’t believe in accidents and after yesterday; neither do I. I feel privileged to have been witness to the exchange that took place. Watching his son acknowledge his father’s accomplishments and growth was both quietly beautiful and terribly loud and voluminous. The innocence of a 14 yr old brought me to my knees yesterday. Checkmate.

I returned home later that evening exhausted from the sun, the socialization, the emotional exchanges – I need to recharge the battery after shit like this. I did some social media grazing. That’ll help matters, right? LMAO!! Here’s the thing; many of you don’t react the way that I do to social excursions. After a day of socializing, not only do I need alone time to “recharge” but I also sometimes find myself immediately battling depression. The crash after all the time spent “up” can be brutal for me. The very last thing I should probably be doing is spoon feeding myself social media diarrhea and yet there I am scrolling. I happened across another friends post. Correction: his daughter posted it. She tagged him in it and called him out on what a shitty father he is. This man is a man that I considered family – an older brother - for most of my high school days. He is lost in a bottle somewhere and has been for at least the last 8 years. I’ve followed him still; but from afar. I will always love him, but some people you have to love from a distance. The dichotomy of what transpired at the party yesterday and what I was reading in that post was not lost on me. There you have it, black and white and polar opposites at work in my life. He had forgotten his daughter’s birthday. I know there are always two sides to every story and that it’s impossible for me to know it all, but my heart breaks for the boy I used to know and the man I know is still in there. He knows I’m here and waiting when he’s ready.

I lost my own son for 3 years. I didn’t lose him, I let him go. I let him go so that I could hold on to what I had with two hands. Yesterday I watched people celebrate having the whole world in their hands and their feet on solid ground. Maybe I ought to stick around for a while and stop eating shit when I get home. I don’t ever think I will be normal, but then again, neither are you or you wouldn’t still be reading.