FREEDOM

Today at the end of my therapy session, my therapist reached into a box and pulled out a random word. The word I received was “FREEDOM”. No more was said, other than she asked me to think about what it meant to me. During this quarantine, time is one thing I do have on my side. Instead of viewing it as a negative like I always tend to do, I want to find the positive in something for once. I haven’t truly sat down to write since my college days so please ignore any discrepancies you may find in my current outdated writing style. I do however, want to use this time to express everything that has been racing through my mind for the past few days, weeks, months, hell let’s be honest, years.

Disclaimer: I will use no names, but even with that being said, if you think it’s about you, it more than likely is. However, by no means is this an attack on anybody. This is only an exercise for me to “let go.” My therapist asked me to take that wall I have built up around me for so long and make it a fence. This is my attempt at that. If you ever stepped foot into my life, you were there for a reason and I lost all resentment towards anybody because I finally learned it has always been me that I was truly the unhappiest with.

BACKGROUND:

For years now, I haven’t felt normal. Something always “felt off.” I played sports all my life so I have always had a competitive edge. I strived to be the best, and the more I realized that wasn’t always realistic, I began to lose “it.” “It” being that undefinable factor that one has or one does not. I felt as if I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough for my parents, my friends, my job, any potential relationship, but mostly I wasn’t good enough for myself. These are all topics I hope to touch base on throughout the duration of this exercise.

MENTAL HEALTH:

I felt as if I wasn’t normal, because the truth is, I was not. Who can actually explain what that word even means? Normal for you will be different than normal for me. Nobody is truly normal, we all have our quirks, nuances, and a million other layers that make each and every one of us unique. These are all the building blocks that make up our personality. Maybe, the LEGO set I got handed was intended to make a toy car but this whole time I’ve been trying to build a house out of the same blocks. Life doesn’t have an instruction manual so it’s no wonder why I always felt lost. However, after dismissing years of being told to do something about it, I finally began to see a therapist and let out the thoughts I have kept trapped in my mind for so long. Therapy was the one thing that I thought would make me even further from this feeling of normalcy I’ve searched for for so long, yet it might be the one thing that can actually give me that feeling. In therapy, I am learning that it’s perfectly normal to not be normal. I have welcomed therapy in my life and will defend it against anybody who questions it. The negative stigma that I associated with therapy, and so many others, could not be more wrong. I do not go to my sessions and lay on the couch. She does not blame my upbringing for every mistake I’ve made. She does not have me point to a stuffed animal asking “where did he touch you?” She gives me a place to escape the pressures of every day life, an hour that I can talk about myself, my problems, albeit big or small, in a judgment free safe space that I have been missing for so long.

As I have touched base upon earlier, I have had struggles feeling with me not being enough. I have contemplated suicide. In fact, I have contemplated it many, many times, even became obsessed with the idea of how I would do it, when I would do it, and every detail associated with the act. It kept me up hours of the night until it became not a question of if I was going to kill myself but when. I used to keep my suicidal thoughts a secret because I was afraid if people knew, they would view me differently. They would only reach out to me just to make sure I was still alive. During this time, I was not living, I was only surviving, day by day, until I’d finally fulfill the ultimate deed. I quickly learned by reaching out and letting this fact be known, it removed some of the stress of keeping it bottled up inside. It also was a nice reminder that I have more to live for than I thought I did during my darkest hours. I actually want to talk about it now because I realized I’m not the only one suffering, so if I could help one person from feeling like I did, that could be a small contribution to the greater good. I know sometimes people have the tendency to “cry suicide” as a call for help, but in my mind, these thoughts were real. Years ago, I was walking out of the house with a fully loaded .50 caliber Desert Eagle with no hesitation until my mom awoke for some reason and stopped me. I have written multiple notes so in no way which so ever was any of this an attempt for attention. I was done with the world, attention was the last thing I wanted, I didn’t care if one person came to my funeral or they just cremated my body with a group of others like they do with stray dogs.

I got help. I have gotten better. My anxiety can be crippling at times until the point I don’t know what to do, where to go, or who to turn to. I’ve learned anxiety and depression go together like Jim and Pam. It’s a popular belief, but there are those out there who are Team Karen. Nothing in this life is black and white, nothing is certain. My mental health doesn’t always comprehend that. My mind understands that, but I do not fully grasp it. I spent most “good times” wondering why somebody wasn’t there as opposed to celebrating those who were. Even more of these times, waiting for something to go wrong. Again, I haven’t ever really lived. Something has always got in the way of true happiness, and that only thing was cornered in the depths of my brain. I’m trying to let that thing out. Since therapy, I’ve wanted to become more open, more appreciative of any good that comes my way. I also want to be able to not dwell on the negative and do my best Elsa impression with my past and finally “let it go.”

The past is exactly that and if I focus only on that, I will never get better and be able to move on. There is a reason why most people find History class boring. Granted, I can learn from my prior mistakes but I can’t let it overtake my current.

I played football my entire life. During that time I have had many concussions. Some diagnosed, others were not. It was a different time when I grew up and it wasn’t until recently that concussions became mainstream conversation. In the NFL today, if a player even gets touched on the helmet he has to go to the sideline for an evaluation. When I played, that was not an option. I could be seeing stars but I would still put my mouthpiece back in and get ready for the next play. I only asked a trainer about it during practice so I could maybe get a day off, but only if i could still play in the next game. If I had to estimate in my years of playing football, I’d be willing to guess I have had well over 20 concussions. I mean I have had at least 5 that were actually diagnosed. I’ve probably come back from the confirmed ones sooner than I should, and the unconfirmed ones, I was back out there banging heads before the stars even disappeared. Again this is all relatively new, but I do believe I am suffering from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, better referred to as CTE. To my understanding, CTE cannot be diagnosed until after death. Unfortunately the mainstream media’s talks of CTE has only been in the cases of Aaron Hernandez, Junior Seau, and the most tragic Chris Benoit. However, not all cases are on that same level, and studies have showed most ex-NFL players brains do test positive for the neurodegenerative disease upon autopsy. Therefore this is just a possibility for me that I may never know, but one possible cause for some of my symptoms. It is a struggle however not knowing if this is the case or not with me, but finally I’m at a point in my life where I’m afraid of the diagnosis. Only because the diagnosis would mean that I was dead laying on a table in some lab with my head cut open to expose my brain, and finally I can say and honestly mean, I do not want to die.

In conclusion, I do have anxiety. I do have depression. I do take everything personal. I might have CTE. I do go to therapy to try and better myself. This is who I am and I am slowly embracing it. I know with the proper help, I will be ok, shit I’ll be better than ok, I will LIVE.

FAMILY:

Before I type this, I want to reiterate that this is a reflection on MY FEELINGS, and in no way any sort of attack of my parents.

My family life, like everybody else in the history of the whole entire world, has always been some what complicated. Sometimes I felt like I never really had one. I am the only child of a father who was also an only child and a mother who’s only sibling with children was much older and lived well over an hour away. Therefore, I did not have the opportunity to have a brother or a sister growing up, I didn’t even really ever have cousins that I knew. I didn’t have anybody my age I could confide in, I didn’t have anybody slightly older that I could look up to. I was alone. I always searched for a friend that could be like my brother but I digress as I’ll talk about friends later. I understand that all of this is nobody’s fault, but I couldn’t comprehend why was I forced to be alone. It was another sense of not feeling normal. I used to joke that I was such a great child, my parents stopped with me, but realistically, seeing how much I put them through, I don’t think they could have handled a second child if him or her was even remotely close to being who I was and still am. Again, I understand the cards I was dealt but even to this day it feels like I’m playing go fish while everybody else is playing pinochle. I would have loved to have a sibling, just someone I could feel a connection with, someone I could be close with, but there’s no changing any of that now so I can’t exactly do anything about it. I only speak of this to show how something I had absolutely zero control over still took its toll on me.

My mother is awesome. I do love her. I really do. She saved me once from killing my self, and the thought of seeing her cry like she did, has also stopped me time and time again. She’s not without her faults, I’m sure. I have just never saw them. There have been times where I wanted to talk to her and she was wrapped up in her own life to take time for me. Or more than likely, if I explained that I needed to talk, she would have found time but I blew up with her for being short and kept my thoughts to myself and added this rare occurrence to the misfortunes I felt life kept dealing me.

My father is a good dad as well. He actually is, I can’t blame him for everything. I have however, had many more issues with him than my mom. In a sense, I actually am a lot like him, we both speak without thinking sometimes and I’d say it’s safe to say we both have short fuses but we do go off differently once that fuse is lit. As petty as it sounds, the first issue I remember ever having with him was in 1996. He stuck a holographic sticker on a light switch and when my mom blamed me, he allowed me to take the fall for it. I know it’s small but as I mentioned I struggle letting go of the past and it still haunts me to this day. All of our fights have been the pettiest you could imagine, but when it happens time and time again, I just question if it is worth trying to save this father/ son dynamic. Our most recent quarrel has been over him accusing me of sneezing on him on purpose, MONTHS AGO. Yet, he just brought this up recently. He knows it’s the small things that set me off and begin my path of self destruction, but he continues to do so. On the ride home from a baseball game, we didn’t talk about my 2 doubles or my nice play in the field, we talked about why I struck out once. When report cards came out, again we didn’t talk about my mostly straight A’s, we talked about that one B. I’m not without my faults, I know this, but he is part of the reason why I’ve always felt like no matter what I did, it just still wasn’t good enough. I do love my father and I know he loves me. He raised me the best he could and I have no doubt about that. I know life can’t be all participation trophies and ice cream cones, tough love is still needed, but when is it too tough?

Part of the reason I believe we don’t get along is that we never found “our thing” that so many other fathers and sons have. I get jealous when I tag along golfing with a friend and his dad, when I have a beer with a friend and his dad. My dad doesn’t golf and that should be ok. Fuck, I golf and I hate it. It’s quite literally the most frustrating way to spend an afternoon. My dad doesn’t drink and hats off to him, plus my drinking more than makes up for the lack of his, my mother’s, and a hundred siblings. We go shopping as a family, he sits in the car and complains about how long we took. Anything I think we would both enjoy, ends up in failure and makes me feel worse about myself. However, I am realizing he’s probably in the same boat as I am, we just have different interests. I do desperately want to find that common bond though so that every little comment doesn’t potentially set off another World War in my own house.

Speaking of which, I am a 32 year old man who still lives at home with mommy and daddy. This is part of my problem. The problem though is not necessarily that I live at home, I actually don’t mind it. Loneliness has been a well visited issue that I deal with on a daily basis and have vastly mentioned throughout this essay. When the relationships between my parents and I are going good, there’s no where else I’d rather be. I feel safe. If my mom didn’t wake up to stop me with a gun, I wouldn’t still be here typing this. It’s when the relationship sours that has me feeling like a complete piece of shit. It’s I reminder that I fucked up when I was younger. I went to a D3 college that we couldn’t afford because I still wanted to play football and that was my only option to do so. Then that’s a reminder that I played football and potentially fucked up my brain more than it already was. It’s a reminder I racked up enormous credit card debt supporting life shortening addictions. It’s a reminder that my job doesn’t pay me enough. It’s a reminder that I’m not where I want to be in my life. Life always comes full circle so it ends up just being a reminder that I am a 32 year old man living at home with mommy and daddy.

Changes are needed and they will occur in due time. However, my current focus is getting to a place mentally where I can move out. I can use finances as a crutch but people who work for minimum wage can find their own place so I know I can too. I just need to not be afraid to be alone. I’m working on learning to love me. Until I can do that, every relationship I have will continue to falter, even those whose sole purpose as parents is to do nothing but love me unconditionally.

FRIENDS (OLD, NEW, & THE SOON TO BE):

Not having a brother, I always searched for a friend who I could see as one. I don’t think I ever quite found that and understandably that’s a lot of pressure to put on anybody. It was quite a lofty goal and one that may have never been achievable. With that being said, I did always feel most comfortable with a smaller circle of friends. I knew I would never win Homecoming King so I felt safe with a tighter knit group as opposed to a wide array of acquaintances who only knew my name and shared some cool individualized Andrew McCutchen-esque special handshake with.

I played football in high school. I'm not sure if I had mentioned this fact yet or not. (“Alexa, play Bruce Springsteen ‘Glory Days.’”) I started since my sophomore year so I spent most hours of the summer surrounded by 50-plus like minded individuals so I had friends and many of them. There was only 3 that I actually viewed as true friends. Well one was younger and kind of just got stuck with me, so essentially I had 2 best friends. Ones that after practice, we spent hours playing Madden, talking about which girls we liked, which movie is the funniest, which rapper is best, and why my favorite team is better than yours. All the typical guy stuff as we made plans to go to the mall to buy a new outfit so we looked our best for the upcoming party, under 21 club, etc. We were young, life’s problems haven’t really hit us yet. Life was good. It wasn’t until we all got older that this bond strained. We all went to different colleges and eventually grew apart. Even after school, it felt like we only hung out because we were supposed too. Like if only 2 of us were out and bumped into somebody we knew after the obligatory catch up, it was “what’s up with so-n-so?” Further more, we all went to different schools and although we still remained friends, we found new friends and life caught up. Whether it was working different shifts, girlfriends or any other reason, we grew apart. There’s been many fights amongst us, some even physical altercations, because we weren’t the same people anymore as we once were. It took me a long time to realize, but we all had to eventually let go. These were friends of my past and maybe we just didn’t sync any more. For the longest time I held a grudge, but now I do not. I love both of them to this day and if they ever needed anything and reached out I would be there in a second to help because of the bond we once had. However, the majority of that friendship has vanquished and the more time we held on, the more irreparable it has become.

I did make friends at college. And I’ve made friends with the friends of those friends I made. Wow, I said friends a lot. I almost feel like a normal fuckin’ human being! I still believe these people to be my friends to this day. Again, life comes at you fast, and these friends eventually left the party scene we became accustomed to. I was the life of the party. The guy who you could grab a beer with on a Tuesday night even if I had work early on Wednesday. Everybody in Pittsburgh knows grab a beer means at least 10 beers plus SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! and a trip to Eat ‘n Park for breakfast. I was living life in the fast lane until one day I looked up and I was the only car left on the road.

My friends settled down, many of whom got married, had kids, and lived the life you are supposed to as an adult. I used to view a wedding invitation as nothing more than a funeral. It was just a reminder that our time together was over. One big last party where we can all hang out, get absolutely demolished, and not see each other again until some other big monumentous occasion. (I know that’s not a real word but fuck it, I can do what I want!). It hurt me only because I was not ready to move on with my life. Truth be told, all of my friends wives are absolutely awesome people. They’ve all welcomed me into their home when the occasion was proper. Again, not on a Tuesday night at 3 AM. Even then, many still gave me a spot on their couch to sleep it off. I understand why my friends are the way they are now. I understand why birthdays have become more family oriented affairs as opposed to the shit shows they used to be. I understand why not every event needs to be the rager it used to be. (I’m looking at you St. Patrick’s Day!). I don’t comprehend any of it though.

I do have to admit one more fact about these group of friends. I keep a wall up so a lot of my actions are geared towards the fact that I think they just do not care about me anymore and have moved on away from me, the human. In fact, I am jealous because they have indeed moved on from me, but not me, the human, me, the lifestyle. There’s also no denying the fact that I am jealous of their found happiness. They have a girlfriend, they have a wife, they have a child, they have a reason to live that is bigger than themselves. This is a hard fact to grasp and properly explain to my busy friends that I am indeed jealous of everything they have, everything they took their time and effort to create, and everything they deserve. I wish this group of friends nothing but the best moving forward with their lives. My writing is all about freedom, myself moving forward. It’s time I let go of this group as well and move on from thinking about what used to be. I love every single one of them, but again our relationships cannot move forward if I have the expectations that things will ever go back to the way it used to be. It shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to them, their wives, and most importantly their children. They moved on and so should I. I need to learn to look forward to the next celebratory occasion that the old gang gets back together for a night of fun. Maybe, one of the next times, we all get dressed up to go to a wedding, it will be my own.

With that being said, I’m not entirely alone. I do have other friends who aren’t married yet, and don’t have children. This group of people are some of the most awesome kick-ass people I have ever met so it’s only a matter of time before they move up into the latter group and honestly I can’t wait til they do. They all deserve it. I used to be so afraid of people succeeding in life because I thought it meant they would leave me in their dust. Well maybe it’s time, I start doing some succeeding of myself that all these people are so obsessed with doing. I deserve it too.

In the moment though, this recent group of friends still have time for my shenanigans and I do appreciate it. During one of my tougher times recently, one particular person reached out and came to pick me up just so I didn’t have to feel such alone when I couldn’t handle it more than usual. She came and picked me up and took me back to her house at close to midnight just to watch TV with her and her boyfriend (who I’ve also grown to consider a friend). She offered me an escape from myself when I needed it the most. She didn’t have to, and at the time, I didn’t even know why she did. I didn’t know why another friend would get lunch with me once a week, why these friends would give me a ride home from the bar, why they would bake me cookies, attend sporting events, walk around the mall, tag me in funny social media posts, why were these people being so damn nice to me? It wasn’t until today I found that answer and it was the simplest one of them all. It was because they are my friend.

For so long, I was focused on the friends I thought I had lost, I didn’t see life moving forward and the new friends that were being put right in front of my face. To be honest, I’ve never really had a lot of friends that were female. This was all new to me. I had no clue how I suddenly found myself surrounded around all these beautiful women (both inside and out) who wanted to be my friend. People who actually cared about me. And to top it off, I felt comfortable to talk with about more than just last night’s game. Originally it was too much for me and I’ve always questioned it, confused how all of this is happening. I finally realized the answer though, I’m funny as hell, kind of smart, thoughtful, respectful, I mean truth be told overall I’m a good dude. Everybody should WANT to be around me. The people who don’t, honestly it’s their loss.

Timing is not always perfect. For so long, I hated myself and I couldn’t understand why anybody else would ever feel any other way. I hated being around myself so why should anybody else be forced to suffer what I go through on a daily basis. I thought I had no friends because I deserved to have no friends. They were there all along but once again timing is not always perfect. There is one particular friend I fear I may have lost forever recently. We’ve not spoken for weeks before but this time it feels different. This time I believe what I did has no coming back from. Something a funny joke can’t fix, and even something a bouquet of McNuggets can’t fix. She was honestly the first female friend I ever had in my life. She opened me up and allowed me to make more. She was one of the first people I ever felt I could truly be myself around. Any mistake I made or dumb thing I did was always forgiven. I felt no pressure around her. When I had a bad day, she was there for me. She made me feel better. Whenever something good happened, she was the first one I wanted to tell. Partly, because I wanted her to hear the good news first, but also because I felt I’ve bombarded her with so much negative that she deserved at least one text about something good for a change. She did so much for me that I always felt like I owed her something. Whether it was a ride home that was way out of her way or picking up the bill every time we got a coffee, I always felt indebted to her. We were two completely different people but for some reason, I felt like she picked me. I never really got the chance to learn too much about her, but I don’t know if it’s because she was private, our relationship was lopsided, or because I never shut up and stopped bitching about my own problems, that there was no time for her to chime in. There’s so many questions that I may never get the answer to now. I’ve spent years so afraid of losing her in my life that I never got to fully appreciate the time she was there. I always pushed for more; the car rides home, the times we got coffee, the all day, every day, never ending text conversation we found ourselves in, for some reason wasn’t enough for me. I pushed. And I pushed. When plans fell through because she was stuck at work, she got to open her phone after a long day and see 17 unopened text messages and 8 missed calls. This was not the first time, and definitely not the last. She deserved better. Moments like this had to make agreeing to any other potential hangs hard to agree on, knowing that if the slightest hiccup occurred that’s what she was going to have to deal with. I still pushed. Until I pushed her completely away. Despite my reckless behavior, she apparently saw the good in me or something and eventually she’d forgive me. I’d tell myself I wouldn’t do it again but sure enough I did. For some reason, when we’d speak, or I got to see her, all my problems just magically went away. All the anxiety and stress I carried just vanished when she texted me a picture of a new flavor of Pop Tarts. Even when her message was to complain about me, it still made my day. The line of conversation was still open. This past time though, I really did it for good. My mind clouded with alcohol after drinking all day, well actually all week, I misread her and asked her out. She joked it off. Tequila didn’t like that answer so I did what I always do best and I pushed until she left my life for good. Like I said timing isn’t always perfect so if I could have been in the place I am now, that conversation may have never occurred and I would be texting her something dumb and she’d reply that she hates me. Back then I believed it to be tongue in cheek, this time it would be for real.

This is all about me growing and moving on with my life. I finally feel safe to say that during all this uncertainty surrounding the world today, I’m in the best place I have ever been. Some mistakes and wounds are still fresh but all I can do is hope for the best. I can’t live worried about the “what if” but need to just be free and live. I do want to continue making new friends. I spent so much time thinking about the friends I thought I lost, I brushed multiple off to the side. There’s many people in my life now that I only hang out with as a last resort. When i do go out with these potential friends, I spend so much time thinking about those who aren’t with me, that I do not have fun with those who are. This is not only unfair to them, but most importantly me. I deserve to have fun by whatever my definition of that is. One person even referred to me as a sour patch kid, because I have a tendency to be sweet then sour, all within minutes of each other. I’d ask this friend to breakfast after a work meeting then 5 minutes later I’m making fun of her. I already admitted I do have a wall, but my therapist asked me to build a fence instead. I may not be ready to let everybody in but I’m ready to let some in. This spring season is the perfect time to let any potential budding friendship blossom.

LOVE LIFE (OR THEREFORE THE LACK OF):

I never had the birds and the bees talk with my parents. I never had a big brother to help prepare me for my first date. I never had a Toby in my life to ask where the clitoris is. I learned about the opposite sex all by myself. I eventually graduated from an all women’s college and unfortunately I did not pay the best attention in women’s studies. And no matter how many movies I see telling me otherwise, girls aren’t that receptive of me just showing up at their house begging for another chance.

Growing up, I was that kid that went to the snack bar during every couples skate song because I had nobody to skate with. I didn’t have my first girlfriend until high school, probably didn’t even date a girl before 8th grade. I never thought I was particularly attractive, always been a bit on the hefty side as well, but goddamnit, I got charisma. I eventually did ok for myself. At times maybe too good.

I blew off girls all throughout elementary school. I was too dumb to realize that when a girl stole your hat, that was her way of flirting, I just wanted my damn hat back. By the time I finally started to notice girls, I was behind on the curve. I had some catching up to do. I eventually got my feet wet, amongst other things, but dating eventually became semi normal for me like any other teenage boy. I had a girlfriend all throughout high school and a few dates during one of the 67 breakups every high school relationship goes through. Most of these girls were actually attractive and people were always kind of impressed by the type of woman I could attract with my subpar looks. Honestly, every girl I ever dated was well above average looking and had more than their fair share of suitors. It was because of this anxiety and this never ending feeling of not being good enough, that I didn’t even realize I had yet, I put out every flame I ever had. I did what I did best. I pushed. I was so afraid of losing this one that I didn’t even give her space to breathe. I did this, time and time again. There had to have been about a dozen different girls that I figured to be “the one” and I pushed them all away. Looking back with the healthier mindset that I have now I realize most of them did not have that potential. In fact, a few of them were toxic and just plain downright not good for me. I just wanted to be loved. Any potential boo that checked off my boxes, I fell for and I fell for hard. Needless to say this is not a healthy relationship, some fizzled after a few weeks some maybe lasted a few months, if I was lucky. I won’t go into detail on any of them because at the time what I had to offer them, wasn’t anything worth fighting for. Again, I hated myself and at the time I couldn’t understand why none of them stayed. I not only understand it, but this is one of the few things I actually have been now able to comprehend. Each and every one of them was right to get out when they did, and every break up, ghosting, or threats from friends or threats of calling the police, I absolutely deserved then. No questions about it.

When every relationship you attempt fails, you turn to meaningless sex. One night stands are a scientifically proven way to get over a breakup. As I stated before, not all women find me attractive, but for some reason the ones that do, really do. I mean I’m extremely hard on myself but I know my eyes are fucking gorgeous. Well when they’re not half closed because I’m in some drunken stupor. Anyways, I do have a little charm, I can make a girl laugh, and at last call on a weeknight, I’m not the worst you could do. I might actually make this my new tinder headline. In the bar scene, I did pretty well for myself. I would either go to a bar because I had found luck there and wanted to strike while the iron was hot, or a different bar because that was a place I haven’t had a conquering from yet. The clubs in station square were definitely the hot bed of activity. I probably had a better approval rate leaving Matrix then Donald Trump will ever have. I’ve went home with married women, girls with a boyfriend in jail, absolute smoke shows, 300 pounders, even my own friends exes. One particular time I remember driving a girl home to Ohio just to see if her claim of having no gag reflex was actually true. I was not only drunk, but also high on Percocets, so this is definitely not a story I am bragging about. I was young and stupid and doing everything else everybody was doing in the clubs at that time. It was definitely not my brightest idea but I lived it. My only game was that whatever woman I could catch making eye contact with me, I was going to sleep with that night. My friend used to call me “the shark” because he would see me circling the dance floor from the VIP section until I found my prey.

The lifestyle I was living isn’t necessarily a cheap one. I was going out and spending money to get in the club, look like a big deal, and of course buying drinks for whichever girl I chose to pursue. It didn’t always work out so when I did spend money on a girl and didn’t leave with her, I felt cheated. It felt like I wasted money. I didn’t appreciate the conversation we had all night, the dancing, or even the phone number she programmed into my phone before saying goodbye. Let alone when courting a woman, when as the man I’m expected to pay for dinner, a movie, and everything else. This is when I took one of the most wrong turns I ever took, I moved into the world of pay to play.

Unfortunately, I am talking about the world’s oldest profession, prostitution. I won’t go in to too much detail as I’m sure if anybody does read this, they could be spared the details. I have however paid women to have sex with me. Multiple times and many different ones. In my mind, it was like why spend money on her if she won’t put out, when I can just drink by myself (and spend my money on me) and still end up in a woman’s bed by the end of the night. I thought I found a loophole in the whole dating game.

Meaningless sex eventually left me feeling even more empty. Lately, I am discovering I do have morals and I actually am a good person. Maybe I did die and I’m in The Good Place with Eleanor screaming out “Holy Mother Forking Shirt Balls!” It was because of the emptiness with girls from the bar, let alone hookers, that when the slightest hint of a relationship came along, I became an insufferable clingy disaster. I was afraid to go back to the life that I was living and felt like I needed somebody to save myself from me, not ever realizing the only person that could save me from me was me.

I am learning to love myself. I can’t ever love another when so much of my heart has been preoccupied with hating me. In no way did I write any of this to celebrate my conquests I’ve had all over the city. I wouldn’t say I regret it, because today is all about letting go. This whole chapter is about my past and as I write this, that is not who I am anymore, nor do I ever want to become that person again. One day I will love myself and that will open up the door that will eventually allow me to love somebody else. I will let my ego get out of the way and maybe take time to get to know a person and not just throw them out because they don’t check all my boxes. I’ve had women I recently struck a conversation with but found an excuse not to pursue it further. One girl lived too far away (a whole 45 mins away), one didn’t laugh at my jokes enough, one texted me a nude before we ever met, one girl did one thing and that was enough. I gave up before I ever tried. I think it might have been because I figured they would leave me eventually like all the others. I was stuck in the past like I always been. My good friend that I asked out, I did it because I thought it was the big break I was looking for, and already knowing her, I figured all the scary get to know you, small kind of stuff could be avoided and we could jump ahead in the next phase of a relationship. I have been so scared of letting people get to know me only because I was afraid they would not end up liking me. I can honestly say I want to get back out there, I want to get to know somebody, I want to go on a date and see how it goes, worst case scenario it gives me a night out and if it doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll even find another friend. I want to brush my ego aside and give a girl a chance for whatever unbeknownst reason I would find that I usually wouldn’t. I used to worry about a girls looks only because I wanted to impress my friends, well it’s time I start living for me and stop giving a fuck about everybody else’s opinion. Most of my complaints are about being alone and I can never change that unless I make an effort. I’m ready to make that effort, I’m ready to try, shit, I’m even ready to get hurt. Today is the day I fell in love with the most important person in my life, me.

WORK:

As much as I wish I could just retire, I’m probably about 40 years away from that. Work has always been a subject of much stress, as I’m sure it is for everybody else. The simple fact of the matter is, I do need to learn to separate work from life. I do live to work. I hate my current job but at times I actually love my job. It’s been that way at any of my jobs I have had in the past 16 years.

Lately, work has got to me more than it ever has. There were times earlier in the year where I just gave up on everything. I didn’t want to live, as I talked about many times, obviously my work suffered. At the time I didn’t know if work dragged me down or life did and it spilled into my work. Currently though, this is supposed to be my busy time. I started in a new territory, and it’s a territory I always wanted since I first started. I was excited to hit the pavement and hit it hard. St. Patrick’s Day was coming up, followed by March Madness, better weather, Pirates baseball, new products were being prepared to launch and then one day, the city just closed. All non essential business were forced to shut down, employees forced to work from home, and there was no definite date on the time frame. The only routine I really had to keep me sane, was now taken away from me. I was stuck in the house with a parent that I’m fighting with and any wishes of big commissions were gone as well. Life as I knew it was halted. There is a pandemic going on and I understand the closures, but of course, I do not comprehend it. Why now of all times? My work life was about to be everything I ever wanted and now there’s rumors of layoffs and every day at 5 pm I need to send a detailed email to the big boss explaining exactly what I did today. When places are closed, it’s tough to really sell, so I view this email as a one last chance to justify my job during this time. It feels as if it’s the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, 2 outs, and I just scraped by with a foul tip, and have to repeat the whole process.

If you would have asked me to elaborate on my job a few days ago, I could have typed for hours. However, I discovered something today with the help of my therapist. Its been something I was told by multiple people but it was only because I thought they had to in an effort to support me. It was something she said, that she didn’t have to say. She could have moved on but she said it and that’s when I realized it has to be true. I am a hard worker. I pride myself in being the hardest worker at any job I ever had. And truth be told, I’m fucking good at my job. I’ve been good at any job I ever had. All the bullshit I have been through has allowed my mind to work in ways that others can’t. I never said this before but goddamnit I’m special. I’ve succeeded at selling anything put in front of me, I’ve succeeded at not just being a manager, but a leader as well. I let life beat me up so much that I didn’t always see it. I don’t exactly want to lose my job, but if I do, maybe it’s a blessing. Any job I lost, I bounced back with an even better one, whether it was pay, responsibility, or just overall enjoyment. I’ve made sacrifices one way or the other but maybe my next job I actually deserve the best of everything. I know for certain, one day I would like to be my own boss, own my own place, and I know somewhere in the cluttered brain I have a million dollar idea and one day it’s going to come to fruition.

In case you don’t know what I currently do, I’m actually a beer rep, and I’m damn good at it. Speaking of beer...

ADDICTION:

Hi. My name is James, and I’m an alcoholic.

For years now, I’ve struggled with alcoholism. I enjoy beer pretty much more than anything in my life. I’ve used alcohol to celebrate happy times, to get me through tough times, to self medicate, or sometimes to just put me to sleep for a few hours without my brain racing, keeping me up at night. I also enjoy liquor, sometimes straight out of the bottle. Some nights I drink a whole fifth out on the porch by myself.

I’ve attended AA meetings, but I felt I wasn’t on the same level as the rest of the people in the meeting. I also might have been trying to sleep with the girl I was going to meetings with. Anyways, one night at a bar with friends, I wasn’t drinking but not exactly the best place to be when you’re on the road to recovery, and only because I didn’t want to spend another night alone, but my friend eventually turned to me and said I wasn’t any fun when I didn’t drink. I ordered a beer and a shot and never looked back. Some times my drinking has been worse than other times. I do believe I am not actually an alcoholic, as I can confidently say that I can control my drinking when I want to. The problem lies that there are too many times I do not want to. There are times when I just want to be by myself and drown my sorrows in a handle of Jim Beam. There are other times when I drink just because I want something to do. I’ve felt like since I turned 21, I haven’t done too many activities that did not involve alcohol. I sell beer, so half the time my job actually involves drinking. Drinking at times has consumed me but it’s only because I wanted it to. I turned to it when I felt there was no other escape. At times, I didn’t want to live so I figured if I was half buzzed through life, how bad could it be?

When I started therapy, I didn’t want to stop drinking. I wanted to stop drinking by myself, and for weeks I was able to do that. During the quarantine and amongst a plethora of other traumas I believed to be suffering from, I went back to drinking by myself and went on a bender until I finally felt like the piece of shit I thought everybody thought I was. I worked a few hours a day and went back to the booze the minute I got home. I couldn’t drink myself to death but I did drink enough to the point where I spent 45 minutes on the phone with the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. I haven’t had a drink since that day. I’m not saying I won’t drink again, but I will only drink to be social with friends and when the occasion calls for it. A child’s second birthday party isn’t the best place to be ripping shots by yourself in the basement alone.

It is without saying that drinking has reared its ugly head in my life many times. Drinking has cost me a job, thousands upon thousands of dollars, many relationships both platonic and romantic, and most importantly time in my life that I will never get back. I’ve gotten into fist fights with friends and guess what? I was drunk. I’ve contemplated suicide many times and guess what? I was drunk each one of those times when I believed I was finally ready to do it. Every down moment in my life happened when I was drunk. When I might have had the last conversation I’ll ever have with that friend I mentioned earlier. Yup, you guessed it. I was drunk. I sell beer for living so there is absolutely no way I am preaching sobriety. I need to make money so please drink up, but just like the bottom of the can says, do it responsibly.

I do have an addictive personality. It’s why when I watched Breaking Bad, I wanted to learn how to cook meth, why I watched Tiger King and I am currently trying to figure out how to have my own backyard zoo. I tend to get obsessed with anything or anyone I find remotely interesting. I’d believe it to be my never ending pursuit of happiness. “I’m feeling like Will (Hey!)” I always thought if I could just find that one thing to focus my attention on, everything else would either go away or fall into place. This addiction isn’t necessarily the greatest, but again I’m learning to love myself and accept who I am. I want to use this potentially negative and turn it into a positive. Maybe I’ve been going about it all wrong and using it towards all the wrong thing. It’s time that I become addicted to being better, controlling my drinking, quitting smoking, the list can go on and on so to paraphrase; it’s time I become addicted to me and being who and what I know I’m destined to be.

CONCLUSION:

No good story is good without a super epic plot twist that completely takes you off guard...

This IS my suicide letter but only of who I was and from all the bullshit I let overwhelm my brain for so long.

My word of the day was freedom. My friend asked me how I felt about that word? Well here’s my answer, we text all the time so you should already know I am a long winded typer.

I needed to break free from everything that I had let consume my very existence. I had to let free every thought I ever had stuck in my mind. I needed to break the shackles from my previous unhappy life, so I could finally start anew. Tonight, I am happy. I don’t know what the word exactly means, but for the first time in as long as I can remember, I want to. I feel free. I’m ready for whatever life brings me next because I actually want to LIVE. I can no longer dwell on the people who’ve wronged me and those of who I wronged. Every thing in life does happen for a reason. I’m not one to believe in any higher power of sort, but I do believe in PURPOSE. I don’t know what mine is just yet, but I am excited to find out. I’m ready to wake up tomorrow and see what the day brings me. I want to learn new things, see new places, and even meet new people. It might take me some warming up, but I actually do want to do it. I want to be able get off my barstool that’s right next to Norm Peterson’s and go live life. I don’t want to just be normal, because normal is not me. I want to thrive. I want to be the best me that is possible. I want to actually expect good things and not just prepare for the worst. I want to deal with adversity as it comes along, as I know life will never be perfect. I want to actually feel pain as opposed to being numb to it. I want to have my heartbroken as I will know I lived in the moment and actually cherished moments instead of always just waiting for the inevitable end. I want to find my passion, my calling, my mark on the world. I’ve never ever felt this way before, and it feels amazing. I want this feeling to never end.

I am overtaken with hope and not despair. I do apologize to everybody who was forced to be around the outdated version of me. I’ve upgraded and will continue to do so. I’m not going to let life get me down and especially anything from my past. I’ve made mistakes and unfortunately my DeLorean is in the shop. I cannot go back in time and correct my actions. All I can do is move forward, let go, and be free. I am optimistic that some bridges that I burned can be mended, but I’ve already took the long way to find me, so if need be I’m prepared to swim across the stream. It doesn’t have to be the way I want to take, but it’s the way I have to take to keep moving forward. 

Last but not least, I mean no disrespect to anybody that I may have referred to while writing this. I have no idea if I will even let anybody ever read this, let alone that you made it this far. This was just a mere exercise for me to find out what the word freedom actually meant to me. I had to get everything out so I could begin to fill my hungry, hungry hippocampus with new, better, happy memories. I’m starting over, letting go of who I once was so I can become who I want to be.

The next time we meet, it will be like we just met for the first time, because I have only now been able to meet myself..

“Hi! I’m James. It’s nice to finally meet you!"