Today, I signed the documents that will finalize my divorce and custody agreement for my son. It’s been a rough few months, and I realize now what’s been bothering me all this time. Why I’ve retreated a little from life…why I haven’t blogged in so long…or written anything…at all. It’s been tough to get out of bed, pay my bills, keep in touch with friends, maintain a healthy eating schedule. Pretty much anything that I “should” be doing. And then it all comes crashing down at once what is bothering me.
I’m a processor. It’s how I deal with life. Sometimes it’s fairly slow, as it was this time, and sometimes it’s, well, less slow. Oh, well. It’s who I’m am. I usually figure out what’s bothering me within two days. I’m ok with that. Or at least I’ve come to accept that is how I work.
So I signed the paperwork and talked with my lawyer for a bit. He kept assuring me about what I was signing and said things like, “this is really the best deal you could have hoped for,” and “this agreement will protect your rights as a father.” It all sounds good, even though I have some misgivings, but I’m really just glad to have everything over. As I walk out of his office, I really want to have a beer. I don’t want to get drunk, I generally don’t feel that urge anymore, but just one beer to take the edge off. The problem is that it’s 10 AM and any place I’d want to go is closed. I’m also not going to go home and drink, and I’m too impatient to sit around and wait for some place to open up. See, I’ve become very aware of when, and why, I drink. Sometime I get these urges to go against what I think is right, but I also think the universe conspires to help us, if we pay attention. I did. Instead of going and having a beer I decided to go home and meditate, to simply feel what I’m feeling. Feelings aren’t good or bad, they just are, and I want to be in touch with mine as much as possible. I think that’s one way to truly enjoy life and not hide from it.
I start driving home and get about a mile into the 40 minute drive when I have a moment of catharsis. Ok, I started sobbing uncontrollably. And it’s possible it lasted for more than a moment. My lawyer’s words repeat in my head again and again, “best deal” in particular. Best deal? Are you fucking kidding me? On the one hand, I do believe him. I heard the same thing from him, another source, and a mediator. And it tells me how fucked up Illinois is for father’s rights. Best deal? What the fuck? Fuck you! Right now, I have my son every other weekend and then from 6-8 PM one night a week. My lawyer and the mediator both assure me that’s how Illinois does it. But “best deal.” Fuck.
I do the math. I don’t know why, but I do. If I have my son every other weekend that means I see him for 26 of the 52 weeks, or for a total of 52 days a year. Out of 365. Best deal. Fuck you. Oh wait, I forgot about the mid-week times I have him. Add two hours times 52 weeks, the that’s 104 additional hours, or another 4.33 days…
I fucking hate this state, I hate it’s law makers, I hate that I’m here, I hate the fucking winter cold. I hate that I’ve spent 8 months here, sent out hundreds of resumes, and only had one interview. Now, I want to go get drunk. I want to go fuck my brains out, I want to beat the shit out of someone. Something, anything, not to have to feel this fucking crap. I fucking hate everyone and I fucking hate everything. And right now I especially, especially, hate the fact that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a small, rational part that sees the lesson in all of this. I don’t want to be rational. I want to rage. I want to fuck shit up.
But my drive home isn’t over yet. That small part of me gets louder. The fact that music is playing on the radio starts to register. A Touch of Grey by the Grateful Dead comes on. Music has often soothed my soul, and it does so now. I know that life isn’t bad or good. How much time I have with my son isn’t bad or good. I can be a good father to him with what little time I have. It’s the quality moments that really matter. And right now I see him more than when I lived in California and he was in Illinois. I need to keep things in perspective, because, really, there are a couple ways this can go.
I can keep this anger and resentment, I can hold it tight. In the end, though, who really gets hurt? I’ve heard it said that holding resentment is like taking poison yourself, hoping someone else dies. So, in this scenario, the only people I’m hurting is myself, and then my son. That’s not ok with me. Another option is to accept that this is how it is, for now. It won’t always be like this. My son will grow up, situations will change. He’ll be able to make his own choices. And from what I hear, it will happen fast. Crap, it feels like he was born just the other day. Right now my job is to be the best father to him I can be, to keep myself sane and healthy, to keep him safe, and to be there for him when he needs me. And he will need me.
The song ends. My tears have, mostly, stopped. I don’t like the situation, but I can accept it…and look for ways that I can change it in the future. The key is acceptance. By accepting it, I don’t rage against it. I don’t hold on to it and get depressed, or want to drink or engage in any other myriad of distractions that humans can use to “help” us get through. To me, it’s just one more step to being fully present. And that’s how I choose to live my life.