I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I started doing it for you, Mary, if you are even bothering to read this, which I suspect that you won’t. After all, it is abundantly clear to me that you have already decided that you are going to divorce me. You hardy even talk to my when I come over. And to top it all off, I got that text in the middle of the Notre Dame football game that I have to e-sign some bullshit document for our divorce. Made my day.
I look at the pictures I put in the banner - I have to say, each one breaks my heart in it’s own way. Seriously, as I write this, I am literally having a physiological response to just thinking about it. My heart feels heavy. My eyes are tearing up. I’m on the verge of crying. Our relationship was so fucking beautiful. And so were you. That first one was what, last year? I drank and it got back to Riley. I broke my promise in front of my kids. Literally, tears are streaming down my face. The next picture is one that I have always been so proud of. Beautiful wife. Beautiful daughters. You know what I see now? A fucking loser. I would love to drag that guy down that hallway and beat the living shit out of him. Next picture, oh my god we were impossibly young. Holy shit I was so in love with you. So many memories from that time, I don’t even know where to begin. Seriously, my mind is racing. I’ll say this. I actually do remember walking through that plaza, you wearing the little red shorts you used to wear with that top, holding Daniel’s hand and I felt like a million fucking bucks. How could I take it all for granted?! Ugh! Next picture, I mean, you’re heartbreakingly cute in this picture. So gorgeous. You once told me you look at this picture and it makes your skin crawl because I’m so fat and disgusting. (sigh) Moving on, this last picture kills me more than anything. We were so young. I’d proven myself to you and you really loved me. It was a long way down.
Okay. So why this blog? I think I need to go on a journey. I really need some self-improvement. I figure, If I’m sitting here writing to myself, I will either hate myself or I will see progress. I’m tired of hating myself.
So how did it go today? Well, my mom ended up having to be driven to the hospital again last night. I was thinking about maybe getting an apartment with her so she wouldn’t have to live with Rick but I now realize that I would be signing up for taking her to the hospital from time to time. I know it sounds selfish, but I’d really like to avoid that. Anyway, when Mickey showed up for the game, I told him that Mom was in the hospital. His face scrunched up like he was all pissed and he said, “Why didn’t you call me?” I kind of shrunk and first. “I don’t know,” I said. Honestly it didn’t even occur to me to call anyone. I mean, they hardly come around anyway. Then I said, “I ain’t nobody’s fucking secretary.” He didn’t say anything but my other brothers laughed their asses off.
Why did I tell that story? I don’t know. I thought it was funny. It was kind of the most eventful thing that happened. Notre Dame won the game. My brothers were tossing back beers. I do love the smell of beer. If this is a diary about my temptations, it would be the smell of beer that gets me. But my appetite has been strangely low lately and the thought of drinking a beer - beer just seems so thick and heavy. That’s probably because I’ve been living on grapefruit spindrifts. I drink so much of that stuff, I worry that they’re going to come out with some study saying the stuff has arsenic in it or something. Plus, my brothers are such idiots after a few, drinking doesn’t really appeal to me. That was today. I guarantee I will have days when I totally want to drink. But I didn’t feel like that today.
So what do I want to do. I want to come home. Clearly that’s not going to happen. I mean, it was so humiliating for me that you would barely acknowledge me the last time I was there. I got offended and said to myself, I’m not going to call her, thinking you would call to ask what was the problem. Hilariously, you don’t even give an hint that you give a shit. Pretty embarrassing.
Anyway, this is a blog to myself to track my journey of self improvement. If you decide to read this, that’s great. Kind of don’t expect you to. It’s fine. I gotta come to grips with reality some time.