An Angry Dream

The dream came out of nowhere. Not that any dream is ever planned or expected, but just the same there I was early Saturday morning in those last few moments between awake and asleep when the realness of it caught me off guard. It's nothing new for me to be dreaming of the angry man (stepfather). I suppose he's there several times a week lurking in the background; huffing and puffing about something insignificant like old times. What made this one so shocking...so nerve shattering is that it felt so real. The angry man was moving out and leaving us all behind. 

In reality it was us that finally escaped...is escaped the right word or did we finally just grow up? Either way we moved on and left him behind. It was his fault. After years of fighting about nothing and everything, the constant verbal and physical abuse, faces slapped, punches thrown, we all got older and moved on. Except for the angry man. He got cancer and died. The disease made him soft and in his weakness I believe a sense of guilt came over him in those final months when the end was in sight. For the rest of us that chapter of our lives was finally over and as he passed we too moved on. Yet there he is every other night an image of anger and strength, a giant that would die for his family even though he treated them with such disgust all too often. It's such an odd feeling to love, fear, respect, and hate somebody all at the same time. 

I dreamed he was leaving us. He'd had enough of the anger. He'd grown tired of feeling so miserable all the time and had found somebody that made him happy. I,  his favorite combatant, was begging him not to go. I told him I loved him and as crazy as it sounded I enjoyed the constant fighting. I know that seems stupid but I guess in some demented way I loved arguing with him...no that's not it. I miss arguing with him. Maybe the real truth is that I'd gladly go another ten rounds with him if it meant he'd also be around to see my life now. 

Twenty years later and I've got such a wonderful family. He would love my boys so much. How smart they are. How they can't stand to take crap from anybody. How much like their father and their grandfather they have become. We weren't blood related, but we were family and in spite of the lack of any genetic connection the angry man is inside my DNA as much as my mother and biological father. I look at my kids and I see him in them too...that strength, the anger when they feel they have been wronged. 

I have no idea if I talked him out of leaving us, but I do know the angry man will always be inside me challenging me to a fight...demanding I be the best version of myself. Though I will always hate him for the hell he raised, I love him for the times in between when he taught me how to be a man and never back down from a fight. 

Staying Grounded

Adam is grounded for two weeks due to failing his open book test. Alex should be grounded too but for the life of me I can't figure out what the punishment for throwing lunchmeat should be. There are some things in which passing out punishment is easy; talking back = smack to back of head, bad grade = no TV or video games, hitting = sent to your room....throwing a slice of Carl Budding smoked turkey and a couple pieces of bread at your brother? It's been 2 days and I'm still struggling with that one. 

Grounding is a little like selling stuff at a yard sale in that you always set the price high enough so that you have room to negotiate down and still get a good deal. For Adam that meant he was told 2 weeks, but as the days go by and if he's lucky he will get days off for good behavior. Already Mandy and I are thinking school days only so 14 days has dropped to 10. He about had a heart attack when he realized that Saturday was included in the original two week period. I wonder if he knows the days of the week sometimes simply because he's always surprised when the next one comes and can never figure out when we go to church. "Do we have church today? Are we going twice or once (Wed nights)? Do have to get up and go to school tomorrow?" I literally saw him touch a red hot stove eye once after being told it was hot. In 6 years this person will be operating a motor vehicle. 

Grounding is almost as much a punishment for his parents as it is him...almost but not entirely. Truth be told I've been saving Night at the Museum 3 to watch with him, but if the mood hits me right he might just miss it. Plus I'm not cleaning the liter box at the moment which he can't stand to do. On the other hand, video games and TV do provide a distraction so his mom and I can get other things done without being constantly interrupted with "He won't stop touching me! Get out of my bedroom Alex! Mom Alex threw turkey at me!" I hate turning them into video game zombies, but those moments of piece and quiet are priceless someday. 

I don't know (the title of this post)

How do you accidentally throw a turkey sandwich at your older brother? That's just one of the many questions I never thought I would have to ask my children one day. The answer of course is " I don't know". Which seems to be the go to response to several questions around the house lately. How can you fail an open book test? Did you use soap when you took a shower? Who left these bread crumbs in my bed? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. 

Each night I pray for wisdom, but I also pray that my boys will someday decide to use the brain God put between their ears. This morning during the ride into school I laid out the importance of good grades to Adam yet once again. Beyond the usual talk about how school is his job and good grades are how he gets paid; I got real with him and told him that someday it was going to be up to him to support the family. 

The truth is his mom and I are going to be really old one day and we will have spent all our money bailing Alex out of jail. I then begged Adam to consider a path in law so that Alex would never have to face the legal system with only a court appointed public defendant by his side. Of course I was half kidding, but anyone that throws a turkey sandwich at another person without any idea as to why, is bound to be in trouble with the law much sooner rather than later. I then realized mid-thought that I was talking to a 10 year old boy that routinely failed open book tests with no other answer as to why other then I don't know. 

I may start answering their questions with the same three word response just to see how frustrated they become when faced with such insanity. What's for dinner? Where is my tablet? Do I have lunch money? Where did the TV in my bedroom go? Who took the front wheel off my bicycle? Who keeps making Alex turkey sandwiches and telling him to throw them at me?

Therapy

I'm a bit broken as of late. Don't get me wrong, Mandy & the boys are doing fine. Work is good. In this day and age a good job is hard to come by and I'm so thankful for the one I have. That all being said I'm different inside. My Grandfather Beck passed away this summer and while I'm sure the cracks started to form long before his passing, it was those final days when I appeared so strong to my Grandmother and other family members that left me feeling broken deep inside. It was as if an earthquake had hit my soul overnight and the effects couldn't be truly  seen until daylight finally arrived sometime later. 

Scenes keep running through my mind. The doctor telling me that as Power of Attorney I needed to understand my Grandfather was waiting on something before he would truly let go. I remember holding the phone up to his ear as I gave each child and grandchild one last moment to tell him how much they loved him. I remember the silence in the room moments after he passed away. Standing there wondering what to do next and who should I get to lead the family through the next few hours. In those quiet moments in the middle of the night some other part of me took charge and did what needed to be done. Call the nurse, check on Granny, call the funeral home, wait for the body to be released...I shut my own grief out and fulfilled the responsibilities the family entrusted me with over a year before.

Sometimes I understand that there's a good chance I have never truly allowed myself a chance to grieve fully for my own loss. Then again maybe I have and this brokenness inside of me will just remain like a cut in the bend of the arm that opens up every time I extend the muscle; never getting a chance to fully heal. 

These days I'm dealing with some fairly strong anxiety issues. I've accepted that I'm somewhat fractured (maybe I always have been in some way) and the best way to survive the day is by avoiding the triggers that bring about the inability to breath or think clearly. I no longer check the mail, I avoid strangers, and I'm learning there are better ways to deal with confrontation rather than screaming and rushing head long into a dispute. Most arguments are not worth having so I refuse to participate.

For the most part the results are good. Mandy is as supportive as she has ever been. There are days when my fears and emotions get the best of me, but I'm learning how to deal with them and get past them as quickly as I can. I fear my anxiety issues make me appear weak though. The dr says I have a chemical imbalance that doesn't allow my body to deal with stress well. I completely agree...so as a means of therapy...as a way to get things off my chest, I'm going to try this blogging thing again. Writing makes me feel better about things. Plus I want my boys to remember what their dad was like in his own words long after I'm gone, which is why i started blogging to begin with.