Archive for the ‘Karma is a Female Dog’ Category

“Karma is a Female Dog”

-The art of redefining one’s self (Chapter 2)-

Karma (and all of its bastard offspring) didn’t feel like releasing its lockjaw grip on my life.

By the time my son’s fourteenth year came around, the guilt for essentially abandoning him was constantly heavy on my mind.  Obviously the bad Karma had been created by the poor choices I’d made in the past.  But, lots of things had changed throughout the course of those seven years.  I was married yet again.  We had a son.  I was in a much different place mentally.  I’d been diving into the scientific side of Karma:  Quantum Physics.  It’s a rabbit hole into an entirely new perspective on how everything operates and these principles have been working for me ever since.  Stop being reactive and become proactive.  Once I took into practice the laws of Expectancy, Belief, and Attraction, as if they were laws of Gravity, the world seemed much easier to manage.  Whenever any issues came up, I was able to decode their meanings by working backwards to see where I fit in to the equation; like Karma on steroids.

My new so-called religion was definitely being put to the test.

In 2004 I began to formulate another lavish idea by reaching out to my ex-wife through email after so many years of radio silence.  Not knowing what to expect, I worded things delicately.   The last thing I wanted to be was the bull in the China shop.  This wasn’t meant to be about barging back in through doors of my son’s life and making things difficult for them.  This was meant to be a mild reminder that I have had much time to understand the how’s and why’s of my past.  I had a debt to Karma and it was going to be paid with reverence and respect.  It didn’t even matter anymore, to me at least, what the original issues were.  All I wanted them to know was that not a day had past that I haven’t regretted signing those adoption papers.

The crow I ate was stomach-bursting.  I embraced the toilet of humility and puked every bit of pride-like bile into it.  Still, I was met with much opposition and mistrust… which, I fully expected.  This wasn’t going to be easy, nor would it thwart my attempt to get the message across.  I persisted until my ex finally agreed to let my son know I was trying to reach him… and, we reunited in Elko for a weekend a short time later.  Everything seemed great.  My parents came in from California and my wife’s parents flew in from North Carolina to reunite together in a hotel suite courtesy of my father.

My son mentioned many times how bad he wanted to continue seeing us beyond the weekend.  It was miserable where he was living, he said, and he could no longer take not being able to talk about me to anyone.  My name was forbidden so he knew little about me.  He wanted to come to Boise and get to know his real dad without any negative influence.

Well, the influence was in full force.  Not long after I got back to Idaho that Sunday, basking in the happy feelings of accomplishment, I received an email from my son telling me that actually I wasn’t wanted his life… It was all a joke.  He went on to state how I’m a worthless father and don’t deserve any kid to call me dad.  Don’t call again.  Don’t try to reach me.  In other words… fuck off.

Devastated, I called my ex for an ex-planation.  I received a run-around story about how he came home from our weekend visit hours ago, but they haven’t been able to stop him from crying because of the trauma from seeing me after all of that time.  Apparently I caused more bad Karma than I’d realized.  Of course, I now understand how much bull crap was for sale in that pasture… and I bought it all up.

Another five years went by without a word from my son.  Although difficult, I continued with the new system of Karma, convincing myself like some twisted religion that there was still more I could’ve done to prevent this much animosity, and even more I could do to make it better.  But, I also had four other children between my 2nd and 3rd marriages to care for. Children who actually appreciate, love, and enjoy seeing me.  There was no time to get wrapped up in a bunch of, “Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda’s”.  The past couldn’t be undone.

After my 3rd marriage inevitably fizzled out, my approach to most things took another major U-turn.  Life was miserable for about a year as I bounced around from friend to friend, burning some bridges, building others, sleeping on floors, couches, and the falling apart ‘94 Dodge Caravan I got from my 3rd divorce.  Things were moving too awkwardly to care about the Karma mixed so deeply into the confusion.  It wasn’t until after many more months, when I was thirty-four, that I ended up on my own completely for the first time since initially moving from my childhood home.

I secured an apartment to raise the four kids who didn’t have an issue with calling me, “Daddy”, while making sure there was balance with the two exes I didn’t actually have deplorable relationships with.  For the most part, as long as I ‘went with the tide’, things were copasetic. Important discoveries were made as I realized what defines a ‘Doug’.  There wasn’t much I’d kept around from my teenager idiosyncrasies in this new paradigm.  Through many trials and errors, I’d developed into something I was more-or-less proud to be.  I wasn’t about to allow anything to sway me from that.  Confidence: secured.  I didn’t need anything else but my kids.  To hell with relationships!

…and then came Sarah.

…to be continued tomorrow’s eve…


“Karma is a Female Dog”

-Or a bull named Taurus (Chapter One)-

So, it would make sense to question why it is I’m being punished by the Karma Gods for something that happened almost two decades ago; when I was nineteen and stupid.  I was fresh out of high school, discovering my sexuality in cascading droves. I had no clue how life actually functions.  I was a late bloomer when it came to common sense, I had raging hormones to spare, weird anger problems, and didn’t smoke, drink anything beyond a wine cooler, experiment with mind-altering drugs, or any other vice which might have made adolescence easier to cope with.

Nope, because of my amazing choices back then and subsequent string of misdirected ‘ideas’, the early twenties were indeed a bumpy ride.  Had I listened to the wiser people in my circle, things would’ve turned out better.  Or would they have?  The theory of Karma is, at its easiest-to-digest level: cause and effect.   Although, it’s never quite clear which is the ‘causer’, and which is the ‘effectee’.  This is because everyone who engages in Karma has to write their own rules, remember that no two rule books will be the same, and the rules can all switch in favor of the other party at any time.

So, let’s see if I’m getting this right: BeCAUSE I impregnated the village bicycle, and then decided it’d be a superb idea to take that a step further and marry her, cut the umbilical cord to mommy, and move my new family to the middle of nowhere thirty miles away, work three jobs at once, still be poor as hell, and other general ‘baptisms by fire’, this somehow still constitutes, nineteen years later, a reason to be passionately hated by everyone in my son’s family; including my own son?

It’s silly, really.  The forties are on the horizon for me.  The teenage years were a few wedding rings ago.   Drama shouldn’t be this unnecessarily rampant.  Get over it.  Hath Karma no half life?  No shelf life?  No expiration date?  No currency of brownie points?

Apparently this isn’t the case with Karma.  So, without further ado, I’m converting to a Karma-atheist.  No lie. Why?  Because the concept is cutting room floor junk used by people who overuse the phrase, “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?!” or, “Karma’s going to bite you in the ass someday for that!”  I’ve tried faithfully preaching the pseudo-religion of Karma for many years, but now I have reason to comfortably say that ninety percent of it is moldy tuna used for sandwiches whenever people are out of freshly canned God.

Karma shouldn’t be plaguing me today for the lousy temper I had when I was technically still a kid.  It shouldn’t be the only factor when making decisions on trust.  There shouldn’t be hatred and perpetually fueled animosity when the original issue isn’t one anymore.  It has only been within the past seven years that I actually feel like a man (told ya, late bloomer) and have trusted myself well enough to have faith in my decisions… not just for me, but for the families I help support each day.  Sure, my temper used to suck (and occasionally still does).  I was a bit of an eccentric, know-it-all, clueless jerk, (and sometimes still am) who (like, really, any 19 year old) didn’t appreciate the scope, power, and limitless beauty of Karma.

But, that’s the funny thing about it.  It’s too ambiguous to use in any one situation.  There are simply more variables to Karma than the situations you can use Karma as an excuse in.

For example:  In the beginning, I was low on options.  I had to return to mom’s womb (aka: the basement of my parent’s house), to sort out my finances and life.  I had a rough time grappling with closure.  My 1st wife had taken my son, moved to Washington to figure herself out and become a part-time lesbian, and then moved back to Elko County, Nevada with a trophy of a 2nd husband who instantly despised my every breath, and refuses to this day to be anything other than a walking douche bag with a beard to me.

Ah, Hell! I certainly had all of that comin’, though.  A saint I’m not.  Admittedly, in both the spouse & father departments: I sucked.  I said mean, hurtful things, and had a tendency to talk with my hands in not-so-nice ways.  I was too selfish to listen to anything, and was too much of a coward to do the right things.  I knew the differences between wrong and right, but I was a kid scrambling to find good vines to swing on in a chaotic adult jungle.  It was too much, too soon, too fast, and a jerk deserves to be treated as such.

Karma seemed to shadow my every move.

A few years after the 1st marriage broke into pieces upon entry, I remarried.  It went against everything I said I’d never do, and was again forewarned by many, but found myself in another situation where I thought I knew it all.  A year later, my new bride and I had a little girl together, and ended up moving around from Elko, to Winnemucca, to Boise where we settled in to an apartment by the mall.

In the meantime, I continued shelling out child support money to support a son whom I was only able to see a few times a year.  And, even those rare visits, were anything but celebratory.  My son was obviously being brainwashed to continue to see me as the enemy regardless of anything I did to convince him otherwise.  He was taught to refer to me by first name to, “avoid confusion in the house with his half-siblings”.  I was no longer, ‘Dad.  Soon it became crystal clear that I’d either need to fight this, or let this ship sail out to sea with hopes of it someday coming back without too many barnacles to scrape off.  The day would someday arrive when my son would be older and able to break free of the hatred surrounding my name and prior reputation.

After a year’s worth of convincing from my 1st wife, I agreed to surrender my parental rights in exchange for a [begin fingerquotes] “more emotionally stable environment” [end fingerquotes] with my son living with them full time.  Hell, he always seemed reluctantly anxious to be around his new 2nd family, and I was obviously making things harder on everyone by trying to force it.  Besides, I was assured that I wouldn’t stop being able to see him, just because his last name would soon be changing to his ‘new’ father’s name.  The ink wasn’t even dry before the rules changed.

Dad.  Daddy.  Father.  Nope, I’m now Doug… with no ties to my own blood.  No contact, no letters, no word.  I wasn’t needed anymore and my name was forbidden to speak.  It was like I’d never existed.

My only option was to press forward, learn from the many effects I’d caused, and hope that somehow I could change myself enough to ward off attacks from the Karma Gods who seemed to lurk around every corner.  I had a new marriage (although far from the greatest) and little girl to care for.  If things were truly meant to be, then as sure as shit, someday my son would show up at my door trying to get to know me again.  However, I waited seven more years before anything else happened.

…to be continued.