I say it, but it’s been tough nights lately. I don’t have any company. I’ve found company in long lost friends and in new friends, but nothing compares to what I had before. What I lost. Nothing. It was difficult. I sat on the couch most nights while the rest of my family enjoyed the bed room. I drank a lot while sitting on the couch alone. I always felt weird going out to the garage after 8pm to get another beer. I’d walk past the bedroom door and feel her hate. The beer helped not to care. She wasn’t nice. She pretended to be nice. But she wasn’t. She never offered to come sit with me. She never encouraged anything other than hoarding all the love to herself. Then blamed me with “I’m the only parent” This is her speaking to me. It hurt. I didn’t know what to do. I asked. I asked permission. Like I was the kid. I’ve been gone all day. I was away from the house. She was there. She should be able to be an adult and communicate what’s going on. Tell me how I can help. But she expected me to read her mind. “I shouldn’t have to ask!” is the most common thing I heard. What the hell did she expect me to do? Run around and just start doing whatever came to mind?? Oh look, there’s dust on the blinds. I’ll do that even though I’ve been away all day. Will that make you happy dear?? Fuck off. If you want something done, just ask. I’m happy to help. I would have lifted the house if that would have made her resent me less. Anyway. I felt it was immature. Like I’m suppose to know. Her family backed her up. That was the shitty part. Everyone was telling her that I’m a shitty husband. Or at least not defending me. I was less of a husband because I couldn’t read her mind. I didn’t have the routine. I had my routine. She had hers. She didn’t really love me. I loved her. I thought. I never felt comfortable bringing up anything or telling her she hurt me. When I did, I got “whataboutisms” never self reflection. She would tell me all the time how I hurt her. I would try. Really I did. I tried to not hurt her, but it’s impossible when they get hurt by just anything that day. The way the wind blew on her and I caused it. She never could be told how I hurt her and if I did tell her, there was no self reflection or civil conversation how to make it better. There was only gears turning on I must be wrong and she’s going to make it all about her.
Someone told me tonight I need to let her go. The children can feel your hate. DAMMIT! I can’t. I have nothing to replace my hate with. Maybe I’ll go to the gym. Fucking throw some weight around. I need to do this. I can’t stand that she made me less than. She devalued and disrespected me. This is probably the worst thing a woman can do to a man besides shoot him in the face. I didn’t deserve most of it. She screamed at me and then when I screamed back it was “Oh look at you and your anger” How is that not manipulation? Clear and present danger. She was a clear and present danger in my life and she’s not going away.
I have to not point this out anymore. She’ll be my partner to help the children. I need to let it go.
What do I replace it with? Love? I don’t love her anymore. I love the girls. They need me to not dislike their mother.
sublimation, in physics, conversion of a substance from the solid to the gaseous state without its becoming liquid. An example is the vaporization of frozen carbon dioxide (dry ice) at ordinary atmospheric pressure and temperature. The phenomenon is the result of vapor pressure and temperature relationships.
Also, it means…
Examples of sublimation as a defense mechanism include: channeling anger into physical activity like sports, transforming grief into creative writing after a loss, using anxiety about an exam into focused studying, redirecting frustration at work into a new job search, or someone with aggressive tendencies becoming a competitive athlete to express their aggression in a socially acceptable way
Those are two completely different things. But are they?
I think I’m turning my anger and grief at the end of my marriage into something positive. At least that’s what I feel I’m heading in the direction of.
I’m turning the solid freaking awful stuff inside of me into a gas. Something lighter and more positive and without the messy in between form of a liquid.
I have known people that just couldn’t care less. They say “I don’t know or care about those things” or “That’s sad to not believe in anything.”
We all have a limited give a crap meter. No one can care about too much.
When I told a friend that another friend stopped believing in Christianity. They said, “That’s sad for them” not “that’s sad for the cause of that” They cared about the wrong thing. They were apathetic about the wrong thing. That hurt. That was painful for me.
I told another friend they weren’t being a friend. Their apathy was hurting me. They told me to move on. I said Ok. I didn’t say “if only you’d modify a little something about how you act” cause I don’t control that.
Both of these friends have chosen to care about things that didn’t include the right thing. They chose apathy over the wrong thing. And I’m hurt by it.
Late night / early morning musings. These never turn out well.
I’ve been seeing a lot of couple videos showing a woman vacuuming or folding a pile of laundry or whatever. The man sitting on the couch. The woman thinking and building resentment. Why doesn’t he see me? Why won’t he help me? Do I have to do everything around here? I hate him. He’s lazy.
Ok. I get it. If that were true. What you might not see is all the times before he did what she wanted and she responded with this…
What can I help with?
Nothing
Is there anything I can do for you right now
no
Do you want me to sit with the girls at bedtime?
They don’t want you to do that
Is there homework that I can help with?
We’ve already done it and they don’t want your help
Why did you load the dishwasher like that?
Why did you put the clothes away like that?
Why did you put the toys away like that? They are all in the wrong spots!
Why did you drive my car without asking!
Why couldn’t you water my plants while I was away! That’s the one thing I asked you to do! I do it all! Why can’t you?!
Daddy always leaves messes next to the coffee pot. He’s such a mess. Let’s make fun of him when he gets home from work.
All the while, the father / husband just takes it. He takes it all and expects more. He takes his little beatings and moves to the next day and does it again and again. He sits in the garage and drinks to avoid the death by a thousand paper cuts.
Don’t come at me saying she’s carrying a mental load for doling out chores. Screw that. Get real. An adult can see the difference between asking someone to fold the laundry and folding the laundry. She just wants it done her way and she can’t handle it not being her way to the T. And let’s not forget how much being the martyr gives her a rush. She’s addicted to the drama and the high of feeling like the bigger person. She actually doesn’t want help. She just wants to feel superior.
Let’s all take a moment and stop bashing men. We are doing our best. I did my best. I tried. But it wasn’t all me. I had a part. It wasn’t the whole part.
I have been told that a man can’t be the victim. I bought it. Like yeah, I can never act like a victim and I don’t want to be the victim. My manhood depends on not being the victim.
I said in a forum that was asking a question, “without blaming your ex, why did the relationship end”
I said, “because I couldn’t stand up to her”
One comment was funny “Dude how tall was she?” I said “So tall, like 5’3″!”
Another dude basically said I had no balls.
I don’t know what I expected. Was just answering a question as a internet person. Didn’t think I’d get blasted. It wasn’t a support group. I should have known. Toxicity was in there. I deleted the comment because it does no good leaving it.
I would also like to say to the man that said I had no balls. Have you ever loved a woman that constantly bashes you? Never says a positive and all you want is for her to see you and see what you do. You don’t want adoration. Just respect and acknowledgement and equality. I had balls. More than you. You’d probably yell and scream. That’s small balls. Big balls is to love a woman enough to take her seriously enough to not yell and get your way. Try your best. When it fails. As my married life did because I sat on the couch or in the garage one too many times having a few too many coping mechanisms. Take your lumps and move into an apartment and see your daughters less. Be a man.
Lastly, this is a blog post. I put it on Facebook and my blog. It’s really not your concern where I put it. I write for me. I tell my story for me and hopefully share something for you. It’s all good. This isn’t personal enough to not share.
I’m a girl dad. Us girl dads are a special lot. I like to think we are a special club. We are raising the most powerful humans on the planet.
I ran into a lady yesterday while getting a haircut. She had two twin boys, the cutest little guys, in the chairs getting simultaneous haircuts. They even had matching Carhartt sweatshirts. They were twins. Did I say that already??
She was waiting in the front chairs. I talked to her some. Told her a few thanksgiving jokes. I told her that the boys were handsome and getting awesome haircuts. I mentioned I’m a girl dad. She says she has 3 other children. 2 girls and another boy. She says boys are easier than girls. I’m happy about this because I’ve never heard a woman with actual, real world, first person comparable data to say this was definitely true. She even had more boys than girls. Meaning, three boys not a problem. two girls. A problem. LoL.
I wonder why boys are easier. I think it’s because boys and men are pretty simple. Fix things. Tinker with things. Use our brains to focus on one thing so intently the thing finally breaks or is fixed. Men are pretty simple. One step. One focus. We’re good.
Women / girls are not the opposite of this, but they have more horsepower in a lot of ways. They are able to do so many things at once. They do them well too. Women are more complicated. More wiring. A few more triggers and switches and caution signs. They are a more powerful computer.
As a girl dad, I find that raising amazing women will be the greatest single accomplishment of my lifetime. They are the emotion of the world. They are the leaders and the followers. They carry the burden of a higher frequency than I do and they will be greater than me for a lot of reasons. They will affect a larger circle of influence than I can imagine. I love to think that I’m influencing something greater than myself when I influence them.
My girls and all girls who have dads like me / like us. I’m not alone in my teachings to them, but I believe a father is the most important man for any woman. He’s always going to be her dad, no matter what lesser man comes along to woo her.
If he’s good. If he’s humble. If his values align and there are no conflicting beliefs and he can be admired as an example of a life lived well no matter what.
Someone said to me “You really don’t understand how much I DO NOT like you! I wish you would never come here again!”
I wish I would have said the following:
Hi, my name is Chad. I’m the president of the not liking Chad club. We have meetings every morning at 3am. If you’d like to go through the gauntlet of pain, you can be initiated.
Not really. I just walked away. She was on something I think.
I also think she was my guardian angel.
I was where I really shouldn’t go. Not because of anything more than it is preventing me from growing. I’m hiding from the pain of being alone in my apartment by going to gentlemen’s clubs. I’m used to the sounds of a family. I don’t have that anymore. I used to be able to walk into another room to find attention. I don’t have that anymore.
The thing about grief or any kind of pain really is you have to feel it to make it go away. Emotional pain. Not physical.
You have to walk through the fire of grief. I think. This is just my opinion. I read it somewhere of course. Not my idea.
If you don’t then you’re going to continue to be in fire.
My guardian angel woke me up with hate. Clever move. I’m not going back to those places. I hope. I hope I’ll remember that shit that angel told me. Fuck them! Just kidding. They probably saved me. Can they come back and scare me every … nope. Nevermind.
I can’t sleep past 3am. It’s always 3am. What is the deal with 3???
I do three all the time. I tell jokes in threes. I send memes in threes. I send gifs in 3s.
I want this to be resolved. I don’t want it to be over. I need it to be resolved. Why am I so anxious?
The girls are here. I have to take them home in an hour. It’s 4:19am. I’ve been up since 3:01am. I just woke up. No reason. Nothing is bothering me. I have no quarrel with anyone.
I did some research. Not much you can research with no money anymore. Oh yeah, I need to stop running. I’ve run myself dry. It will come back.
I’ve been thinking too much. Sometimes not enough. I need to consider the future. Don’t post things to public that you don’t want the public to see. I think that’s what this is for. This is so public. Not cool, but this is so cool. I feel like this is a secret public journal. Only those that pay attention to the details will find it and care. If you’re here. Thank you. You’re special. You’ve paid attention to a detail most don’t.
Do you want to know me? I’m an open book.
It’s scary for some to do this. I’m not sure I’m completely at peace with it. I can’t believe what can be done in the world today. You can think you’re being wise and get fxcked pretty quickly.
Hey, I have something. Remember that woman that I thought was pretty cool. Well, turned out, she’s not. She went to the dark place. Don’t blame her. Darkness was all around her. She was feeling the world with her filter that was holding on to some dark stuff. I don’t wish her bad. I wish I could have helped, but she went to the dark place of bad intention. Because I didn’t change immediately or at least in her time, I was bad intentioned. Because I didn’t “sound the same” one time. Because I didn’t “care” one time. I was bad intentioned. I deserved what I got from her. I let my guard down way too fast. She scared the shit out of me pretty quickly the first time we met and I let her continue. I gave her one chance. Then she scared the shit out of me again. She continued. I didn’t block her, mainly because I’m not the kind to block someone who I’ve been super intimate with. I can’t let her trash me behind my back. But anyway. I pissed her off (in her own mind) and now she’s blocked me. That’s a great feeling. I laughed. All I said was the truth. She went to the dark place. I didn’t take her there. All I did was fall asleep at an inopportune time and not respond to her. That’s all I did. Seriously. That’s what started it. I did other things after that. I wasn’t mean or rude, but I told her what’s what. Pissed her off. I was called a narcissist. Funny how that word makes it back to me. Hey! Everyone! You can’t be empathetic and a narcissist at the same time. You can’t be coachable and a narcissist at the same time. You can’t be self reflective and a narcissist at the same time! FUCK! If you want to coach me. Please. I’m here for the long time. I love you long time. I will let you coach me. If I disagree, I’ll let you know.
One final thought
My biggest mentor called me. Told me something that pissed me off to no end. I believe it, but I’m going to get a second opinion.
As a man, you don’t get to be the victim.
Expand on that?
No. I don’t wanna. It’s just truth. The cold hard truth. Never the victim. If you become the victim, you did it to yourself. You let that happen. You take your beating. You take it with the good. You die on your white horse. You never fall off of it. Never the victim. Fuck this. I want to do that!
This is why we can’t have nice things. We don’t live like this. Do you know your neighbors? Can you say hi? What would happen if you had to live with your family? Would fights erupt? Yes. I’m the worst to live with.
I’ve been saying something stupid. The native Americans were treated so badly, yet they wouldn’t have built this great nation. (I actually cringed at the adjective. Almost left it out)
We’re a great nation, but we have problems. We’ve elected a demagogue. We make people choose between life and death over money. We fight wars in far off lands and say it’s for OUR freedom. We think we are the best. No wise person ever thinks they are the best. Just the same for a nation.
This is written by Chief Dan George,
In the course of my lifetime I have lived in two distinct cultures. I was born into a culture that lived in communal houses. My grandfather’s house was eighty feet long. It was called a smoke house, and it stood down by the beach along the inlet. All my grandfather’s sons and their families lived in this dwelling. Their sleeping apartments were separated by blankets made of bull rush weeds, but one open fire in the middle served the cooking needs of all. In houses like these, throughout the tribe, people learned to live with one another; learned to respect the rights of one another. And children shared the thoughts of the adult world and found themselves surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins who loved them and did not threaten them. My father was born in such a house and learned from infancy how to love people and be at home with them.
And beyond this acceptance of one another there was a deep respect for everything in nature that surrounded them. My father loved the earth and all its creatures. The earth was his second mother. The earth and everything it contained was a gift from See-see-am…and the way to thank this great spirit was to use his gifts with respect.
I remember, as a little boy, fishing with him up Indian River and I can still see him as the sun rose above the mountain top in the early morning…I can see him standing by the water’s edge with his arms raised above his head while he softly moaned…”Thank you, thank you.” It left a deep impression on my young mind.
And I shall never forget his disappointment when once he caught me gaffing for fish “just for the fun of it.” “My son” he said, “The Great Spirit gave you those fish to be your brothers, to feed you when you are hungry. You must respect them. You must not kill them just for the fun of it.”
This then was the culture I was born into and for some years the only one I really knew or tasted. This is why I find it hard to accept many of the things I see around me.
I see people living in smoke houses hundreds of times bigger than the one I knew. But the people in one apartment do not even know the people in the next and care less about them.
It is also difficult for me to understand the deep hate that exists among people. It is hard to understand a culture that justifies the killing of millions in past wars, and it at this very moment preparing bombs to kill even greater numbers. It is hard for me to understand a culture that spends more on wars and weapons to kill, than it does on education and welfare to help and develop.
It is hard for me to understand a culture that not only hates and fights his brothers but even attacks nature and abuses her.
I see my white brothers going about blotting out nature from his cities. I see him strip the hills bare, leaving ugly wounds on the face of mountains. I see him tearing things from the bosom of mother earth as though she were a monster, who refused to share her treasures with him. I see him throw poison in the waters, indifferent to the life he kills there; and he chokes the air with deadly fumes.
My white brother does many things well for he is more clever than my people but I wonder if he has ever really learned to love at all. Perhaps he only loves the things that are outside and beyond him. And this is, of course, not love at all, for man must love all creation or he will love none of it. Man must love fully or he will become the lowest of the animals. It is the power to love that makes him the greatest of them all…for he alone of all animals is capable of love.
Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. We must have it because without it we become weak and faint. Without love our self esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world. Instead we turn inwardly and begin to feed upon our own personalities and little by little we destroy ourselves.
You and I need the strength and joy that comes from knowing that we are loved. With it we are creative. With it we march tirelessly. With it, and with it alone, we are able to sacrifice for others.
There have been times when we all wanted so desperately to feel a reassuring hand upon us…there have been lonely times when we so wanted a strong arm around us…I cannot tell you how deeply I miss my wife’s presence when I return from a trip. Her love was my greatest joy, my strength, my greatest blessing.
I am afraid my culture has little to offer yours. But my culture did prize friendship and companionship. It did not look on privacy as a thing to be clung to, for privacy builds walls and walls promote distrust. My culture lived in a big family community, and from infancy people learned to live with others.
My culture did not prize the hoarding of private possessions, in fact, to hoard was a shameful thing to do among my people. The Indian looked on all things in nature as belonging to him and he expected to share them with others and to take only what he needed.
Everyone likes to give as well as receive. No one wishes only to receive all the time. We have taken something from your culture…I wish you had taken something from our culture…for there were some beautiful and good things in it.
Soon it will be too late to know my culture, for integration is upon us and soon we will have no values but yours. Already many of our young people have forgotten the old ways. And many have been shamed of their Indian ways by scorn and ridicule. My culture is like a wounded deer that has crawled away into the forest to bleed and die alone.
The only thing that can truly help us is genuine love. You must truly love, be patient with us and share with us. And we must love you—with a genuine love that forgives and forgets…a love that gives the terrible sufferings your culture brought ours when it swept over us like a wave crashing along a beach…with a love that forgets and lifts up its head and sees in your eyes an answering love of trust and acceptance.
This is brotherhood…anything less is not worthy of the name.
