A blog about nothing

It's been two weeks since I updated, and things are more or less static. Still out of work, but I've got more applications in. Still sleeping on my parents couch. Still don't have a license. Still don't have my girls. Still don't have a relationship... Haven't talked to my friends, other than random messages on FB, in a while... Brad's party I think was the last time, and that was Labor Day. Still not sure why I'm still here.

I hate this. I hate having lost every single thing in my life that made it worthwhile.

Years ago, a friend asked me what I would grab if a fire was destroying my house. My answer was my children, and he asked about necessities, important documents, clothing, food supplies. And I replied that all of that could be replaced, or were simply material possessions, and not that important. Some would have varying degrees of difficulty to replace, but it could be done. Family was the important and irreplaceable piece of the puzzle. He looked at me oddly and said I was a very eclectic person. It's true. But that's not really relevant.

The thing that hurts me the most, is not all that I've lost, but that I've lost all. The irreplaceable part of my life was wrenched from me 2 1/2 months ago. I wasn't there for Erilyn's 8th birthday, or her appendix having to be removed 2 days later. I'm not there for them at all.

When my ex-wife and I separated, there were 3-4 weeks when I didn't see my girls, till now, that had been the worst time of my life. At great personal expense, that made sure I couldn't pay other bills and expenses, I got them enrolled in daycare, so that I could see them for a few minutes every single weekday. Later, when the temporary custody order got hammered out I kept them in daycare because seeing them every Wednesday and every other weekend was not and could never be enough for me. I love my little ladies, and there is no pain greater than being apart from them.

A friend observing them over several months, and years was amazed at how I took 3 ill-mannered, brutish, undisciplined monsters and turned them into functioning, thriving, young ladies. A change he had thought impossible. And now they're back with the woman who had made them what they were, and who will destroy their lives and futures.

And I don't care enough to care. Everything that was ripped away from me beat me down and made me miserable, but I could smile, and work towards a light in the tunnel, for my girls. I had a reason, and a purpose to exist. July 12th, one week after I turned 30, when everything good in my life disappeared, I was arrested and sent to jail for 4 days in lieu of $1500+ of traffic fines (my vehicle was still impounded, and I still lost my Drivers License for close to a year and a half), I also lost my slot in a shelter, which would have kept us off the street and provided some stability, but the worst, was that children and youth took my children from me, with me in tears, them confused, and scared, and I knew that everything worthwhile in my life was leaving in the car with them. If I think about it, I hurt and ache in ways that are unimaginable if you haven't been in the same situation. I can't explain it better than I have above, I need my kids. Mrs. Doubtfire seems like a totally reasonable and rational solution, because I need my kids, and I can understand how Robin Williams' character felt. Never being absent from their lives for a single day, to never, or rarely seeing them is a pain unfathomable to others outside the situation.

I try my best to ignore it. I shut myself off. I disappear into my computer, or a book, or a movie, or whatever other distraction I can muster, because I can't deal with my life. It's too much, and it hurts too damn much. I talked to the girls on Erilyn's birthday, and to Erilyn the day her appendix was removed, and one other day. That's it. 3 times in 2 1/2 months. And I walk around stores finding myself looking at/for things they would enjoy, because I'm totally wrapped around their fingers and spoil them ridiculously. And every time I do, I catch myself and have to remind myself that, no, you can't. They aren't yours anymore. The 3 people I built my life around are gone, and I don't think I'll ever see them again.

I may meet Erilyn, Carol, and Brenna again, but not until after my ex has warped them from who and what they are/were. They won't be "my girls" anymore.

I try to ignore the pain. But it's there, waiting and lurking, and I wonder, why in the fucking hell did I have to puke up the sleeping pills and tylenol. Why couldn't I have just drifted off blissfully instead of having to bear the twisting of the knife. The pain doesn't get easier to bear, I don't get comfort from anything. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm empty inside. And I don't want to feel anything. Ever again.

9 years.

It's been 9 years since September 11th. I was at work, at the Army War College art department working on a project, when one of the artists in the next room came in and said one of the world trade center towers had just been hit by a jet, there was still a lot of confusion, and I came out and watched on CNN as the second plane hit, and knew that it couldn't possibly have been an accident for both planes to hit in quick succession. I watched for about ten more minutes before going back to my desk and pulling up the live video feed online.

A short time later (though time was crawling that day) the Pentagon was hit, and shortly after THAT, the towers fell. We were called by our NCO's and told to contact any family we might need to in order to reassure them of our safety (we were several hours drive from NYC and 2 1/2 from DC, but it's always nice to know that family is safe during that kind of chaos). I called my parents and actually woke them up, letting them know that I was safe, and told them to check the news. A few hours later, we had a meeting at the company HQ, where the events were discussed as well as the events that would soon occur. The post was closed for the rest of the week, nobody on or off, all services were closed, all nonessential personnel were sent home, and we were issued our M16's (but no ammo) and guards were placed around the base, the power plant, the water treatment plant, certain buildings with strategic importance, we even had a few snipers set up.

And the rest of us were put on rotating patrol duty, patrolling the post, and keeping people out. I understand a reporter from the local paper tried to sneak on, and was apprehended and ejected with police help. The next few days were a blur of guard duty, and rest, and for 5 months after that, after the post was reopened and things returned to a semblance of order, 12 hour guard shifts were a regular part of duty, checking vehicles for explosives, all visitors for ID, etc.

Many people have said "if you do this" or "if you don't do that" the terrorists have won. Well, I hate to say it, but in the 4 planes and 3 successful attacks, they did win. Life hasn't ever been the same, if only in that we're far more conscious of security, and we accept many more steps in community safety (metal detectors at all courthouses for instances), greatly changed aircraft security measures, etc. They briefly awoke the sleeping bear of the American people, and I'm proud to say that the soldiers and sailors defending us are still wide awake. And we didn't submit to their will, but so much of our lives have been changed in so many big and little ways that you can't with a straight face say they didn't have a major victory on 9/11/2001

It's been a crazy year

I haven't written in a long time... It's been a rough couple of months, and I was under the radar for a long time, not wanting to see or talk to anyone for much of that time. I'm looking for work, hating my life, and wishing I had answers, any answers to make things better.