Floating in the Void

Aside from dealing depression and anxiety I find myself often thinking about where I am. not in the physical sense, but more where I am in life. If you've been following along, you know that I Thirty Seven year old. Major transitions over the last three years, working as a trainer at a financial company and divorced just over a year. I always thought there would be more to life than where I am at. I have worked hard for the things that I have, and I put effort into my marriage, ultimately to have it fail. People drift apart, I get it.  I always thought that I would be further a long than where I am at my age. When you're a kid you look at grown-ups and the responsibilities that they have, and all the things that they maintain. House, Car, Job, outing with your friends, significant other etc. Yet, I find myself at a point in life where I have been stripped, and living in an area extremely hard to make ends meet, and what I saw as obtainable, at least from a child or teenagers perspective is quickly slipping out of my grasp.

Was my initial perspective incorrect? Am I going through what other millennials are going through right now? The housing market in the area is awful, and I find myself not being able to compete against the retirees that are writing checks for their homes. I feel like even though I have found a decent place job and working full time that no matter what I do, I cannot get back on my feet. I feel as though I am doing the right thing, trying to make ends meet for my kid. However I cannot even provide a space of his own when it comes to my housing. I can afford a  1 bedroom apartment., but for now nothing more. I'm in that spot of too broke to live, not broke enough for anyone to give a shit.

I suppose I could take the easy route and cohabitate with someone to make ends meet under the guise of a relationship. However, that's not the right thing to do, nor does it show the right message to my son. It's going to come down to a side hustle that I can do to bring in some extra cash. My worry is that a second job will cut into my 50/50 split that I have with my son, and that ultimately my second jobs paycheck would just be spent on child support, ultimately becoming a moot point in the end. It's kind of funny looking back on everything, as far as being a teenager goes. I guess you think things will turn out a certain way, and yet, you find yourself in a place you never thought you'd live , in a situation you never thought you would be in. Make the best of it and move on is all you can do. Try to figure out your place in life outside of being there for your son. floating, meandering around. I've come out of the mental fog at least, and my brain feels less scrambled that it has the last year and a half. I still feel disassociated and detached from the world at times. However, I believe that is my depression, which, hopefully is getting squared away next month at my appointment.

I thought you're supposed to have this shit figured out at 37....

It was nice to feel alive

Reality came crashing hard yesterday, Monday. Back to the grind at work. I woke up with a full heart, having spent time with my son and my girlfriend and her two kids on a wonderful camping trip. Four days on Sennebec Lake, tenting, swimming, cooking over an open fire and just getting back to the roots of a simple life. Even if it was for a short amount of time. Spending time with someone that puts effort into the relationship, brings out the best in you and enjoys the time spent with you is truly a wonderful feeling. Having that person with you while you watch your children enjoy being free, and making friends and memories is truly a wonderful thing.

Its funny, the things that you learn about yourself during a time like divorce. You are shaken because you feel like your life is coming to an end. You worry about the outcome of things. Is your child going to get taken from you, are your friends no longer going to be your friend, how far in debt are you going to be etc. However, you do find out who you are, and what you are made of. You find out what is important to you and what isn't (even if you thought at one point it was.) Over the last year I have had time to reflect on the things that were wrong with my marriage, that at the time should have been red flags, or warning signs. You know the saying though , hind sight is always twenty-twenty. What I have come to realize is that, weather it be fate, or good luck. I have crossed paths with someone that treats me well, that doesn't make me feel like trash when they talk to me, doesn't tell me that I am broken,  that is an over all beautiful and amazing person, who is excellent and nurturing to my son  and her children.

What I have found so far is that we seem to make a good team. We know what needs to get done, and we make sure that the other person isn't getting stuck doing everything. I know it's only little things, but simple things such as cooking dinner. it's truly nice to have at least the offer of assistance, instead of me doing everything. I'm not used to that, as I did most of the cooking, the cleaning, the yardwork, the shrub beds, the laundry, etc. So, to have something like that is a treat, and I welcome it. Someone values my time, because they want to spend time with me.  All weekend we were working like a team, cooking, prepping for lunches, watching the kids, and helping when it came to minor injuries or my son getting sick Saturday night. A great change of pace from what I was used to.

Being, what I felt, especially towards the end of my marriage was a one sided situation. I grew accustom to that, and I just, I suppose; shrugged it off after so long. I now see, what a real relationship was and is supposed to be like. A true team in the sense of the word. It was truly a beautiful weekend. The weather was gorgeous, the kids had a blast, and once again, tested our friendship and relationship a little more as far as being able to exist with each other for a number of days without arguments, without any ill or negative vibes or feelings or getting aggravated with one another. We had a solid connection the whole time, and no distance between us. This is a the woman that took me into her home last year to make sure I was okay, a co-worker, and what initially started out as a safe space to go to turned into friendship, and that has blossomed into something more. She has accepted my son, and doesn't see him as baggage, and I have grown to adore her children as well. The kids play along great, and look forward to seeing each other when they are in their absence.  I missed that sense of compassion, that sense of caring, and that sense of being a team. Getting a glimpse of your partner from across the campsite when you are both tending to different things, but then smiling at each other.

For the first time since my marriage dissolved and even before, this weekend; I felt like a true family unit. I felt like I was alive, I forgot what it feels like to be alive. That feeling has been absent for so long that I truly forgot whojat it was like to have that feeling. I have come to grip with the terms that things fell apart with my marriagef, and for the better part of last year I tried to figure out what happened. I will never fully know what made us drift apart, aside from people change. what I do know is that positive and beautiful things can come out of bad situations, and I think that this is one of them. It's refreshing, and a good feeling to know that there is  light at the end of the tunnel that I have been traveling through. I want to continue to learn about myself, and make progress, and fully heal. I know I will still continue to have bad days, but I do know that I have a wonderful support system up here even if it is small.

The hair of the dog the bites you

It's funny how events in life can reunite people, bring them back together, people on separate paths in life coming back intertwined for a common event or common purpose. When I started going through my divorce, I thought life was at it's end. I was plummeting towards the pits of hell. it was hard to get out of bed everyday, I would hold it together enough to make it through work, and coming home at night a losing my mind. I'm living in an area that, on the outside, is aesthetically pleasing. Right on the coast, typical quaint little fishing community. This in turn brings a flock of tourists every summer eager to fill their Instagram feed with pictures of overpriced lobster rolls, quaint weathered cottages, weathered lighthouses, and of course the breakwater.

This influx of tourism, although good for a select few people in this area, aids in the downfall and demise of the common folk in this town. This area doesn't have a lot of opportunity in this town to begin with. We are a good hour off the Highway. The biggest employers in the area is the company I work for SS&C, the Maine state prison ( where I used to be a correctional officer), Dupont, and Fischer Engineering. Aside from that it's all mom and pop shops, heating technicians, and the handy man type. You know the kind, the jack of all trades - master of non type of guys. The winters are hard, the poverty level is through the roof, and we are in the heart of Maine's Opiate crisis.

Once you lived here long enough you start to peel back the layers to really see the kind of cesspool that Rockland Maine actually is. Maine is in the middle of a housing crisis, the beginnings of an elder boom, young folks leaving the state,  and because we are in a high tourist area, housing here is almost unaffordable. Even if you have a professional Job and work forty plus hours a week. It's easy to see why people get into things that they do around here. You see it everywhere. the grocery store, downtown, at work. That look of bitterness, loss of hope, the struggle of how am I going to make it from one paycheck to another. Not a lot of prosperity for the middle and lower class workers. People having to cohabitate because no one can afford to live on their own, and every single person seems to be on state assistance. It's a love hate relationship with the tourists because they bring money into the town, but because of them the locals have a hard time. Especially seeing the tourists come in and throw their money around, treating the locals like shit while they suck up resources and then leave.  It's haunting at times, and because of how my time is arranged with my divorce between me and the ex I'm landlocked in this area, at least for now. It's a hard realization of where I am.

Today, I had news of an old high school friend who had passed. Not much younger than myself.  He had been caught in the middle of the battle of addiction. Of course this prompted the circle of friends that we had years ago to come together to start chatting about what had happened. Although it was sad that he lost his battle with addiction, it was a catalyst for positive conversation about the rampant addiction that was running through my town when I was in high school. Through conversation I found out that where one mans overdose took a life, another mans struggle turned into survival and ultimately a positive story of recovery and progressing with his life. This man was like a kid brother to me growing up, and issues with his Scoliosis, degenerative discs, and ultimately a bad car accident started his road down the path of addiction. A long 10 years for him, but he was able to pull himself out of where he was. He is now married, living down in south Carolina, and has a wonderful little girl.

We all wonder where it all went wrong. What started out as a group of us hanging out at the town park for a number of years; almost over night, turned into a nightmare for a lot of people. Seclusion, people nodding off if they actually came out of the house, dirty needles laying in the parking lot. Yet, the parents would deny that there was a drug problem. My own parents in fact didn't believe that there was a drug problem in our town.  Over the last decade I have seen multiple old friends in that circle pass due to not being able to overcome  their demons that were looking at them. What went wrong? How did this all happen. Seeing this time again with friends, and my teenage idols (Layne Staley, Kurt Cobain, Pete Steele) really hits home. How did this all happen. How did we go from a bunch of kids in the park smoking a joint in the sun to a handful sticking spikes in their arms.

How did over 8% of 18-24 year old's in the Midcoast area end up on the same path as kids I grew up with in southern Maine? Are these behaviors learned from their parents, is it living in poverty? How many times do I have to take my kid with me grocery shopping and see people nodding off in the store, or passed out in bathrooms. A hard thing for me to have gone through last summer was seeing my landlords son get dropped off by a car full of his friends. They dumped him on the porch, his lips were blue, he was foaming at the mouth, his eyes were pinned and glazed over and bloodshot. They were going to leave this kid there, on the porch, while he was dying. My son was across the street playing with his friends and watching his dad have to repeatedly slap a 16 year old kid in the face while calling his name to wake him up. We ended up having to call rescue, and were able to get info from the kids before they took off that he had ingested a handful of pills and washed it down with a lot of alcohol.  We found out later we saved his life.

I think as I get older, I think about these things more. I seem to think about my mortality more. Having a son has put a lot of things in perspective for me, seeing friends pass always puts things into perspective for me. We are not going to be here forever, and where at one time I may have thought I was invincible, I realize we are but fragile creatures. I will always remember the times that we spent together, and it is a shame that his demons were never conquered. It was, however, a positive thing that it opened up dialogue between old friends, and hearing some of those survival stories. My heart goes out to the people that are struggling with addiction, and I believe we, as a society need to get over the stigma that is attached to it. Do people make bad choices, yes, but those bad choice may be a result of underlying issues even before that choice was made.  Rest in peace old friend.

Little Eyes

Have you ever felt the pain
The type that drives you insane
Feels like black clouds and rain
Makes you suffocate for days
But you don't crack, you don't break
Because little eyes are watching

But inside you are dying
Though it's not for lack of trying
You keep the line a towing
But deep down you feel broken
And the sadness, it keeps growing
So you keep people from knowing
Because little eyes are watching

You put that smile on so well
But from your eyes they can tell
You're in your own personal hell
In black tar you dwell
But you want to stay well
A piece of your soul you'd sell
Because little eyes are watching

Then they give you that smile
The kind you can see for a mile
Which warms up your heart
And brings you back to the start
Makes the clouds go away
And you survive one more day
For those little eyes that are watching

The world came crashing down

What can I really say? I'm 37 years old. I have boxes of old paper journals. however to make this easier between working full time and parenting I wanted to try blogspot as a form of release and healing through writing.  I had the making of a promising future. I was working at a decent job, I was married, I had the house and the dog, with the 8ft privacy fence and I have a beautiful 7yr old baby boy. Long story short we decided that because we missed home and our son getting ready to head to school that we would sell the house and head back home.

Now lets fast forward a few months. The house sells, and we move back up the east coast, to lovely, wonderful coastal Maine. You know, the shit you see on postcards. Old weathered Cape Cods, bright colored buoys hanging in the yard, granite rock beaches, light houses, blah blah blah.  We make it home, and are staying at my in-laws house. now this is coastal Maine, we're are not talking about the epitome of prosperous living and opportunity unless you sold your house in upstate New York and decided to retire in Maine. We have a soon to be elder boom, lack of work, and a over inflated cost of living thanks in part to greedy landlords, supply and demand, and a influx of Air BnB ruining the housing market. Oh, did I mention we are in the literal middle of the Heroin epidemic in the state?

So, we set up shop. I landed myself a job at a warehouse packing protein powder, and she landed a job working at a financial company, and then the local cellphone stand in town. nothing glamourous but its a paycheck, and a paycheck is better than no paycheck. life continues on for a few months until she decides that she wants a divorce. we took a drive, talked about it, talked about getting couples help which she said she would think about. ultimately nothing materialized. she said money was a problem and needed me to pick up the reigns financially. So, I did what anyone else would do and applied to work at the Maine State Prison as a correctional officer. The summer continues, while I am going through the hiring process at the state. taking physical tests, taking entrance exams at the criminal justice academy, taking my oral boards at the prison.  I make it through, I just need to wait until the class starts. so I continue to my work at the warehouse.

mean while the tension in the house is crazy. she's spending time with her coworker, and giving him rides too and from work. spending time on road trips, just ultimately being checked out and not really wanting to put any apparent effort into the marriage.  So, on one of her road trips to visit a mutual friend she ends up getting into a car accident. she calls, car is totaled. I ask her if she is okay, she says yes. I tell her I'm coming down, and she refuses and is adamant I don't come down. huh, seems like quite the red flag. She ends up coming home a few days later. Clears her 401k out to get a car. This should be red flag #2.  Now I should probably mention that we were also looking for a house at the same time. we had seen a couple of  different places, and I applied for loans. we were told that we needed to pay some bills off. So, we decided that we would pay off a substantial amount of debt, namely her debt. Red Flag #3!

Meanwhile classes at the criminal justice academy have started. think of it as like bootcamp lite, classes, line up, lots of PT, working in the pods, getting maced both in the face and respritory. it was an awful couple of months. I deal with this all day, and then have to come home to a house that is shared by herself, and 3 other people. Tension so thick in the house you could cut it with a knife. I was going to bed at like 8:30 at night at this point partly because I was exhausted from getting the shit kicked out of me at work, and partially because I couldn't deal with the tension. Anxiety was high. So this is right about the time that I find out she decides that the marriage is done, she conveniently decides that it is not worth it, she's not into it, it's my fault for lack of communication, etc.  It was also around this time that there was some mental illness issues going on in the house, which I am not going to get into details as its not fair to her. Her personal business is none of yours. Although it should be mentioned for point of this story that I ended up writing down stuff in my journal, my promises to her, and also compiling a shitload of cards from her friends and family as to why she is important.

 Sometime in the near future I decided to go to the lake, rainy day, grab coffee and just pour my heart out into letter that I penned to someone in college. Now, I will not deny the fact that I in college had a crush on this person, while I was dating my then future wife, however everything was squashed and I never cheated. However, I decided to pen a open letter and because I had to vent. I poured everything from the last 10 years of my life into that letter. I must have been gone for around 3 hours writing.

Looking back on it she must have found it fishy that I was out writing for that long, because I remember her calling asking where I was, and I told her that I was writing.  Now keep in mind that she decided our marriage was done at this point. So, I get home and tuck everything into my backpack and move on with the rest of the week. At some point, she had gone through my stuff and found my letter that I wrote and wasn't too happy about it. soon after I was kicked out of the house and into my current apartment that I am in.  I was in the new apartment 2 weeks before Christmas, and her new boy friend was moved into where she was living 45 days after I was out of the house. I struggled horribly with how that looked to my son, dad leaving the house and a new guy moving in without him even comprehending fully what had happened. What actually happened, or how new boyfriend moving into the house happened is all he said she said, which I am not going to get into. however, in the best interest of the kid, she could have said no.

Fast forward to today, and I am in my apartment, divorce is over. I find myself lucky to have 50/50 split with my son. He is my light in life, and my passion to succeed.  My son has transitioned well thus far. Doing well in school, and I am coming to grips with the fact that I am broken person, and have some issues that need to be worked through, although not perfect I feel like I put effort into my marriage up until it started to turn, which if I have to guestimate was about two years before we moved back. that's when I noticed a solid shift in the marriage, no intimacy, not wanting to hang out as a family unit. sudden projects that were taking up all the free time. I assumed this was stressful work. I have accepted some responsibility for this, and no one is perfect. I have days where I am okay with the fact that two adults changed as people and started to drift away. I have days where I feel like everything transitioned to easily into her favor, and feel like this was planned well before we moved back home. it's a moot point at this time. I no longer want to be angry about it, and I strive to take the high road and not bad mouth or talk trash  because little eyes are watching.  I have caught wind that she is writing a blog as well, I haven't looked at it, but apparently she has posted said letter on there, I'm sure dissected it and has her army of internet friends  going "ohhh-ahhhhhh." whatever she needs to do to heal.

I guess the moral to the story here is that at 37 years old I never really thought that I would be in the spot that I am currently. Living and working in Rockland, Maine. with no family around,  in that spot where I cannot afford to live, but I'm too poor for anyone to give a shit. Yet trying to convey to my son that everything is okay, and that I'm not in constant state of worrying about how things will be taken care of, or how I am going to survive, while she is nice and cozy in her apartment with boyfriend. I guess here is to moving forward, and trying to figure out how to make a quality life happen for my son, and restarting, rebuilding and striving to correct issues with healing from divorce, depression and anxiety.

The lighthouse & the storm

When does the pain stop? When does that black hole start to close? All the time, tears, and torture seem to be all for nothing some days. I have the mental clarity to be able to look at everything in hindsight and realize that I am not having bad days every day. I'm not breaking down, rocking back and forth on the floor of my bedroom when my son isn't here. I'm not crying every time I drop him off at his mothers, or when he tells me he loves me, or asks me what is wrong.  I'm tired of feeling like I'm broken though. Even though I can recognize I have many better days, there are still storms that rage. Black, bleak, windy, crashing seas where I am lost in my own head and a heaviness that lingers on my chest that can drive men to a watery grave. 

I find that the gray days of New England, especially on the coast tend to match how my soul is feeling. Great fog banks on the ocean that roll into town covering everything in a thick, damp blanket. Porch lights can cut through just enough to know they are there, and the sounds of life muffled. Stillness and quiet. You are enveloped and surrounded. No escape. As drab as it can be, those fog banks can be powerful, beautiful, carving the landscape and formulating what coastal life can be. They can also be devastating, cold, salty, abrasive, and leach your body of resources that you need to drive yourself to progress. I find that fog bank in me some days.

I have had a beacon of hope however over the last almost two years. A pillar of support for me, that Lighthouse that shines through the dark and fog to guide the ships home. She is an amazing lighthouse. a strong lighthouse, a beautiful lighthouse, and has been weathered by her own storms in life, though you cannot see those cracks, and chips. Her storm was raging when I met her, yet despite long days and nights she has shown. She was a pillar of support in her daily job, and outside of her daily job to friends, family, and me. She saw me in that same storm getting tossed around, battered by the wind and seas. Masts broken,and sails in the water as I was ready to capsize. My crew all but abandoned ship, and I was headed for the jagged rocks.  She saved me in that storm, and  brought me in to the safety of her harbor, behind the breakwater, and lead me to where I can start repairs. This lighthouse, though it had weathering, and repairs of it's own  shown beautiful amongst the landscape, stood taller than the fog and mist,and equipped with many mirrors to reflect her light towards myself and others. It was beautiful, and provided hope which cut through the bleakness, and wind; thus providing calm and peace, if not for but a brief minute at times. Those minutes sometimes felt like welcomed sunny days, a brief timeout of comfort and hope, while being battered by the nor'easter. 

In harbor, we tended to each others repairs. mended sails, repaired planks, found things that needed to be sewn. We supported each other, and made sure that each made it through their storm, together, a team, mighty lighthouse & ship. She helped me release the fallen that were still on my ship that needed to move on to other places, to go home and be with other family. A major repair from a battle many years ago. Without the lighthouse the ship cannot survive, and without the ships the lighthouses wouldn't exist.  We survived our storms. We can focus on continuing to heal, repairing, mending; for future storms will come that need to be weathered. Such is the fate of the sea. 

How can we continue to mend, if someone is cutting sails, or dismantling repairs. the Lighthouse cannot continue to stand if not being maintained, and the grounds manicured.  I damaged and hurt that light house last night, and for the first time, saw that lighthouse shine a little less bright. A little dimmer because of the actions and words of the ship and crew during another storm that was raging, and a captain, lost, due to rogue waves, and heavy fog. That lighthouse, the lighthouse that stands so straight and tall on the edge of those rocks, a beacon of hope to others, needs to be bright so that other ships can see her leading them. This cannot be done if we are dismantling it. The lighthouse is not a secondary thought to those ships captains. Captains, responsible for their crew, and cargo do not take those light houses for granted. they see them for what they are, tall, strong, beacons of hope and light leading them to safe passages. safe passages that lead the crew home, back to their loved ones, back to their purpose of life.  I look at this light house on my phone at the moment, a constant reminder of the beauty and strength of it. I need to remember that even though a storm may be raging, and the fog may be settling that words can still hurt, and create another repair that needs to be mended and tended to. 

My ship could have run aground that night two years ago, but it didn't because of that lighthouse. That lighthouse will forever be in the forefront of my mind because of how bright it shown. If you have a lighthouse, be a good care taker. Make sure that those mirrors shine, and the windows are clean. Do not dirty the windows, or blow the candles out, for if you do, that lighthouse will not be there for you, during the calm or when the gales start to blow.