New Grounds

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So life as a single father and writer is challenging. Time seems to be one of those things that doesn’t happen for one who needs to write, raise children, work a full time job, and is going through a divorce as well as learning how to be single again. I am ill prepared. I sleep 4-5 hours a night. I take anti-depressants. I am lonely.

I wake in the mornings with immediate action happening in an otherwise zombie like body. I trudge around waking children if they hadn’t woke me already and wander about trying to feed them without waking my parents. Oh yes, did I mention I had to move back home with my already helicopter parents. It sucks big guerilla balls. Anyway, I manage to feed them and then I bypass food in order to shower. I come out and they are usually ready to get changed into clothes at that point. My older boy can pick his own clothes thank goodness. My youngest is like trying to put a tuxedo on a carp.

If my inner beast mode dad hasn’t kicked in yet and my patience has stayed intact, then we move onto grooming them and brushing their teeth. From their I take my goblins and say be free until we leave. They meander into their own little worlds and I attempt to shove food in my face like a death row inmate and pour nearly scolding coffee down my scarred throat in an attempt to jump start my body.

The time has come to load them up. If the youngest is staying with Grandma and Grandpa, I give him a hug and wish them luck. If he isn’t, I drag him out of the house like he is being taken to the gallows. My oldest usually looses his shoes, or looks for his backpack, or finds some other reason to drag his feet. We make it to the car by the grace of the Universe.

I drive around like Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver and deliver them with a quickness to their perspective destinations. I sigh a breath of relief. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys and would slaughter anyone who fucks with them, but I don’t know one parent whose shoulders don’t drop a little after they drop their kids off.

I then proceed to shove myself through eight house of work. Doing a soul crushing job weighs on you like adding a small pebble to a bag on your back everyday. Do that over nine years and you want to just let your legs go and collapse under the weight. But you can’t, you push through because kids have to eat, alimony has to be paid, creditors circle like vultures waiting to pick the meat from your proverbial monetary bones.

I stopped smoking 9 years ago when I found out I was having my first child. I was like fuck this noise, it’s expensive and my wife smoked and quit and I wasn’t going to be a dick about it. Plus, I had to not be dying of cancer on these kids from doing something stupid like smoking. So, I stopped. I may have one cigarette when I am really drunk, but I usually feel like crap the next day and hate the smell of it. So I am over it. So that little escape does not exist anymore.

I get off work and pick up my boys, I hug them and ask them about their days. Sometimes the stories vary in length or they are like the never ending story. I enjoy hearing about their days as a happy escape from my day. I listen to them talk to each other in the car. I occasionally chime in on their conversations of come in to regulate on an argument.

I come home with them to my Mom cooking dinner or us going out to dinner. I miss my own kitchen. I miss making food for my boys. But it is not my kitchen and I don’t want to overstep my bounds in a place that is not my own. I know they would say otherwise, but it doesn’t feel that way, period.

My youngest debates actually eating. My oldest picks through his food and eats what he wants. I eat the food because I am hungry and have to show my appreciation for the food. We talk, we eat, and we clean up. I wash the boys after dinner and they run around in PJ’s afterward. Washing these boys has honestly gotten a lot easier, so I am thankful for that. I usually just hand out in the bathroom to make sure no one dies and manage time because we are on a septic system. I hang out with them and we watch cartoons or play games.

From there it is usually bed time. I take them to bed. Some nights it is a scene from the WWE and some nights its cuddles and kisses. I have them FaceTime their mother and they talk to her for 5 minutes or so before bed. Then they say goodbye and we go from there. I pull my lil one’s toddler bed closer to his brother’s and turn on music for lullabies and sing them to sleep. they now fall asleep within minutes with me singing to them. It is something that has taken time to figure out. But with a combination of my touching their legs or patting them and singing soft songs to them, it comforts them and they fall asleep. I used to just want to be alone and get them to sleep. But feeling their small bodies finally relax under my touch and hearing their sleep sounds in an otherwise melodic room, it makes me happy.

So by 8-9pm I go by my parents and talk to them for a little before retiring to my room. I go on my writing social networks and talk to friends. My mind is muddled from the day and I try and see if I can find some strand of creativity in my body left from the day. I sometimes do and I start writing. But other days I just end up playing Skyrim or talking to friends. I feel like I am lost in a way but I also feel like I am so different. I am not who I was in either way. I am not who I was before I was married, nor am I the same guy I was when I was married. I am a new creature. I am something else. I am a single father.

I conclusion I feel I must say, my life is crazy, it’s packed, and it’s a regular cluster fuck. But all in all it isn’t half bad. I hope to use my tax return to finance my first and last months rent. I also hope to finally come to a new agreement for the money with my ex because the original six months is up on our agreement and something new must be discussed. I also hope to be filing soon. So this is how it is. This is my life. So if I ever sound a little crazy or a little nuts… Well now you know why.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wolf and Cubs

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His pack fell victim to a bull moose during a hunt. one member could not handle their position and all were lost. His mate, gutted by a powerful stomp of the bull moose, crushing her rips right through her fur. He suffered a wound across his flank but was the only one of four wolves to survive the hunt. All he was able to bring back was an unsuspecting rabbit. The cubs tore into it and he sat there listening to them eat. He licked his wound, mourning the loss of his mate. He stared at the moon that night in front of the den, howling a mournful song. Eventually falling to sleep at the entrance of the den.

In the morning he stretched, frost shook from his fur when he shook off the cold. The cubs were playing with each other in the den. He had three mouths to feed and no help. He was wounded but not badly and would have to be the alpha from this point on. He growled at them and they stumbled into their own brand of attention to him. They followed him to the nearby brook where they all drank. He kept a watch on the surrounding woods for any signs of danger. The cubs held no vigilance when they tumbled around the water’s edge. He sighed to himself and then growled to them and they once again followed him back to the den.

The cubs knew he was leaving them again. There was no guard, there was no protection, there was only him. He knew if he left them, a mountain lion could simply come in and take all three without even a fight. So he brought them with him, they would be old enough to learn to hunt in another cycle of the moon. He trotted along with the cubs in tow. They kept up with him through the woods until they made a clearing and he growled at them.

They laid down at the edge of the clearing and watched as he crept into the tall grass. It wasn’t long until they heard the sound of squeal fill the air. He came back with a small suckling in his mouth. He would hardly consider it a packs meal. But he found it fed the four of them well enough. The cubs watched him intently throughout the next couple of days. Watching how he would slowly stalk off and within an hour or less, he would be back with food for the four of them.

This went on for four cycles of the moon. The cubs had grown and were now taking his side on the hunt. They have learned how to flank prey and trap them for the kill. He was proud of his young cubs and how they had learned and grown. That night they fed on a fat turkey that their sister was able to track and the two of them helps frighten the turkey right into her waiting jaws. Their faces mawed in the fowl’s blood. They slept in their den peacefully that night.

He took them along a large game trail, thinking they were ready for the trial ahead. He stopped, the cubs had also sensed it. They had stumbled into an area that made them back towards each other. He was hoping for having them take down their first deer. But something much different was happening that day.

The snort shifted the dust around it’s nose as it rose from the bushes ahead. It’s long legs lumbered into the path like fur covered saplings. The scent was unmistakable, it was the same beast that cost him his pack, his love. His fur rose and a deep growl that the cubs had never heard him make before rumbled through him, but within seconds, instinct took over and pack mentality won over their minds. They had their prey. This great beast was what they would dine on tonight.

He snarled, keeping the bull moose’s focus on him, the alpha. Their sister was the beta and took lead on flanking the left with one of the brothers. The other slipped into the brush to the right. His teeth parted as his growl intensified. He walked slowly towards the bull moose. Still keeping it’s attention. The bull moose lowered it’s head, aiming itself in defense to the immediate danger.

She stalked with her brother around to the side of the largest creature they had ever seen, but fear wasn’t in them, only the thrill of it all. She saw he brother on the other side of the brush. The slowly crept up until they were right beside a leg.

He knew it was time and let out a fierce bark at the moose, who was ready to charge. It flinched and that’s when the cubs launched out of the brush, each of them sinking their teeth into the tendons of the bull moose’s legs. It let out a blood curdling noise as it felt it’s leg muscles being shredded by sharp teeth. It’s massive head swung around and he lunged at the beast and bit down as hard as he could on the bull moose’s neck tearing a large chunk of flesh from it. A spray of arterial blood filled the air as the beast wailed again.

The chunk fell away from his mouth as he tore into the beast’s last good leg. it’s other legs failing as the tendons had already been ripped apart. It fell to the ground with a thunderous crash. She barely dodged under the falling behemoth and joined her father and brother’s on the other side. The last gasps escaped the bull moose as the family already started to tear into his flesh.

“Wolf and Cubs” by Rio Martin

Single Android


Image taken from Pinterest

Another episode of Single Dad. When things that are unexpected happen and you are unsure how to deal with them. My reaction, once the intial emotion has burned very bright is to become extremely logical and surgical. Decisions are being made and I realize that being an emotional creature in this moment will serve no one any benefit. So I have gone total Skynet. 

Now I am just dealing with it in the best way I can. By making logical decision, cold and emotionless. Time has run out on agreements and I can no longer deal with my current living situation and how long it seems it will last. So here I sit, cold and dark inside, looking at everything in 1’s and 0’s instead of Fire and Brimstone. It is best for me, but I guess that’s the deal now. I have to look out for my boys and me and if that means going full android for a while during my weeks to myself in order to get my affairs in order… so be it. 

A New Partner

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Image from Sony

My old laptop Big Macintosh finally hit his point of being put out to pasture. So I found Wade. Wade is sleek, slick, and way bigger than Big Mac. So now I plan on being way more present since I can blog and everything from here. So I will be putting up way more swag for you peeps. Count on it.

Goodbye Dad Bod!

I am in the process of finally shedding my Dad Bod as modern times has deemed it. I forgot how my genetics favor the process of working out and that we are prone to gaining muscle just as quickly as we can gain fat. So hopefully I can tip the BMI into a positive direction. Here goes nothing!

Sigh

It’s her weekend. Tonight I go home to hug my boys goodbye for a week. It’s like a pit in my stomach. Thankfully they seem to be getting used to it.

Forgetting the Gate

You feel the imbalance creeping in from the edges as you have forgotten a few doses in the last couple of days. The darkness sits in the wings, a twisted smile crosses it’s familiar face. You try and make choices but they are blotted out by the sudden rush of anxiety as you break into a sweat. You know what is happening as your heart races. You shake inside and you brain sends panicked messages to your body. Knowing that it is slowly creeping back into view, taking over the stage of the mind inch by inch. Your alarm has gone off to tell you to take your pill again and you stare at the empty pill container. It taunts you with the fact that your ADHD has left the gate open for the black dog to escape. He chases you down the road. Your heart beats against your chest as you run as fast as you can but you realized you haven’t moved an inch, your arms and legs flailing, struggling to move forward as the black dog gains quicker and quicker. You can hear his panting, you can almost feel his teeth in your skin but you can’t move. Done in by your own mind, you finally feel it creep in. The stage goes dark except for a single fading beam of light on your beating heart but in moments… it’s gone.
“Forgetting the Gate” by Rio Martin

#depression #anxiety #darkness