Wow. It has been 3 years since my last writing on this blog! Even that one was mediocre at best. Every year, when the annual web hosting bill from GoDaddy hits my bank account, it reminds me of a time when I use to make such a tremendous effort with writing down my thoughts on this damn digital diary. I’d come here to vent about my frustrations, my life updates, or perhaps to wax poetically about this, that and the other. I vented a-plenty about friends, loves lost, and general opinions on life in general. A whole lotta nothin’ important to say – yet I said it anyway; shouting into the echoey void where blogs have gone to die, as they consider what could have been if only they’d become Vlogs instead.
Nowadays, a cursory glance back through these pages peels apart the layers of many different versions of me. Versions long gone, evolved and transformed into a human almost unrecognizable in comparison to his past. I suppose that’s the common thread among most of us in our 50’s. We are all simply the sum of our experiences and memories. If you haven’t evolved by this point, then you better get on it! Times-a-tickin’, bitches!
The pages of yesteryear remind me of a time when I was actively a father in the lives of 4 confused and impressionable young children who simply wanted some stability. At the time, I thought I was doing the best I could do to provide this stability for them. I was constantly balancing a tightrope with trying to keep my own mental health in check and providing the kids with my best effort of being a dad they’d grow to love as they aged. Time and time again, I fucked this up, however. I allowed the stresses of life and my impulsive relationship decisions to be an excuse for poor behavior. I drank, I smoked, I partied, and I thought having a solid group of friends with similar interests was the cure for my depression. I instead became a caricature of everything that is wrong with patriarchy, unable to discern the difference between a healthy stern parenting style and over-the-top rage. I’d flip out over the smallest issues -generally stemming from too much noise in the house. I scared my kids to death and ended up traumatizing them into fearing me as adults.
And now, none of them want anything to do with me. Two of them consider another man their father. Every single day it haunts me, even though I’m now 6 years into the best relationship with a woman that I’d ever considered possible. It’s too late to fix what was broken. God knows I’ve tried. I’ve practically begged them to just sit down and have a conversation with me. They won’t. I’m an “abusive parent”, they say, as they attack me behind keyboards and overprotective mothers. It has been 7 years since my older children (30 and 27), have wanted to see me in person. It has been that long since I’ve seen a picture of my granddaughter. Some days I want to curl up in a ball and expire, to end the heart-wrenching guilt that relentlessly haunts my mind. I don’t say this to play the “victim” card. I realize I wasn’t always the most pleasant and trustworthy chap. I’ve done things and treated people in ways that were inexcusable, all for some sort of selfish and temporary gain. Indeed, if time could be reversed or things done over, I would have done them so much differently.
But, instead, I ended up in relationship after relationship, desperately seeking a worthy partner to help raise my kids with me. I wanted so badly to find the right match that would understand me and we’d grow together through all life’s ups and downs. I hated the idea of being a single dad, living in poverty and borrowing money from my parents. Living in shitty mouse-infected apartments. Having landlords who would up and sell your unit, giving you 30-days to find yet another place to reside. Living on couches of friends. Living in my van (not down by the river). Living with my parents.
Meanwhile, my older kids had their new stepdad (Papa) and grew to love him as the father I failed to be. I’d then get to see their family photos with everyone gathered around, smiling and happy, while I could barely get them to come visit anymore. And those relationships – so many shitty choices in partners, I can’t even keep track. Constantly searching for something/someone to make me feel whole. Well, I’m here as living proof that you can’t depend on someone else to give that to you, especially if they themselves are not whole. If they drink excessively, that makes it 100xs worse.
I’ve been sober over 1 year. The five years prior to my soberversary, I consumed very little alcohol: maybe 10-12 beers annually during special events. Since my current wife has been sober many years, I decided it no longer served any purpose in my life. In fact, alcohol has served only to wreck my perception of reality. It has been there each and every time I’ve made a seriously stupid mistake – including having affairs on women who trusted me with their hearts. It stripped away my moral compass and helped manufacture a monster inside of me. Bad decision after bad decision. Webs of lies strung across a multi-state parameter. I found no good in myself, which only added to low feelings of self-worth and continued sketchy decisions.
During this time, my kids paid the ultimate price. They would have step-siblings one day and then all of that gone the next. My youngest, now 22, bore the brunt of the effects. When I was married to Sarah, my daughter tells me that she was constantly abused by her. I’d leave for work and Sarah would pull out the wooden spoon, or belt, or keep her in her room, pull her hair, etc. etc. Had I known any of that at the time, Sarah would be in prison. ARE YOU READING THIS, SARAH?! In fact: the last time my youngest was in the mental hospital for her 3rd attempted suicide, they contacted me about you. They wanted me to tell them where you live so they could have a chat about your fucked-up bullshit on my kid. But no. I saved you from that by refusing to give them any idea where you live. Why? Mainly because I didn’t want to have to personally deal with you in any way ever again.
Now my youngest lives in New Jersey with some trans friends. She (or actually “they”) and I still have a decent relationship – but there are patches that aren’t so great. Out of all my children, the only one who gives me a chance is her. The rest…. nope. I’ve tried until I’m blue in the face to get them to talk things out. They won’t. They’ve made up their minds that I’m essentially dead to them; a sperm donor. It is what it is. And now I’m learning to live a life that only involves my wife and I (and our furry pets). While things are tremendously wonderful and our lives are very much blessed, there will always be this missing chunk of my soul that I’m not at all sure what to do about. Being sober, not taking any prescriptions, just hardcore old fashioned “leaning into it” for me. That’s what all of the various therapists I’ve had tell me to do. LEAN INTO THOSE RAW EMOTIONS AND DON’T HIDE FROM THEM!
While it sucks that my legacy in life appears to have this morbid dark stain over the course of 3 decades, all is not lost. I’m truly trying to make the most out of the cards I’ve been dealt and didn’t throw into the fire. I miss my kids so very much, but I also know that not enough time has passed for them to forgive me, or to see my in this newer light.
One of these days I’m going to write on this blog something more meaningful and important.
I’d love to dive into the current political climate and how bonkers divisive it has been between family and friends. Perhaps that’ll be my next rant.
But, until then, have a great 2026.
Except you, Sarah. Fuck you.
JadedFish; the blog 