Bad day

Today, I had a bad day at work. Nothing catastrophic, but a bad day. I got jumped by my boss, who I think is feeling heat from her boss. You know how this goes, shit always rolls downhill. 

I have had quite a few bad days recently. Actually, quite a few bad months. Maybe it’s time for me to look elsewhere?

For a brief moment, I considered checking out. And then I immediately thought of how that would impact my family.  One of the great gifts of my attempt a few years ago was Theresa asking me who would walk my girls down the aisle.  Go back to one of the other posts where I share that one.  That has stuck with me.   Make no mistake, suicide is selfish and only thinking of yourself.  So you need to occasionally remind yourself of that.  

Depression sucks. It just plain sucks. It’s not like breaking your arm and everyone wants to sign the cast. (Do they still do that?)  I had Covid last year and was getting calls and texts from friends and family.  No one ever knows what the hell to say when it comes to depression. 

Hope you're feeling better soon?  

Soap box moment; please stop with the cut and paste posting in Facebook about how you will put on a pot of coffee and sit with anyone that is struggling with depression. Its a nice sentiment but its such bullshit. You wanna help someone?  Reach out to someone you haven’t heard from in awhile and ask how they are doing. Don't just wait for someone to ask for help.  Its like watching someone down and waiting for them to ask for help.  It’s not someone else’s job, it’s yours. Be proactive.  Ok, I am done.

I guess my point today is to be mindful of how your actions will impact others.  Suicide is permanent.  You take the easy way out and let everyone else pick up the pieces.  Thats pretty crappy.  I know life is tough, believe me.  But will this matter in a year?  Will the shit you are dealing with today still be a problem?  Yeah, sometimes it will still be.  But don't make a permanent decision for a temporary problem.

And for the rest of you, stop with the cute little bullshit about how you will always be there for your friends in need.  If you really mean that, pick up the phone and reach out to someone that you haven't herd from in awhile.  Say right now what you wish you had said if you were standing around someone's casket. 

My greatest fear...

So let's talk about something other than me trying to blow my head off for a bit, shall we?  

I am about to turn 51.  Typically, at this point in life, one begins to look in the mirror and assess what has transpired the past 50 years.  I have a beautiful wife and wonderful kids.  I have done well for myself and have many nice toys.  But its fair to say that no one will be erecting libraries in my honor after I am gone.  

I often  think about my grandfather that I barely knew.  He fought in WWI and lost half of his face in Belgium. He laid on the battlefield for three days before he crawled off, over the bodies of his buddies.  He then walked a few dozen miles to find help.  He was then flown back to the states where he spent a year at a hospital in Baltimore before being sent back home in the midwest. To say he was a badass would be an understatement.  

I have very hazy memories of him.  I think I was 4 years old when he died.  As I got older, I learned more about the hard life he experienced when he got home. What we now know as PTSD that many soldiers deal with, he was branded as "shellshocked".  And back then, it was not well understood or accepted. I had such admiration for this man that I barely knew.  And while I share his story with my children, they do not have the same connection to him.  I suspect that when I am gone, he will be nothing more than a few faded photos hidden in albums.  But almost 50 years later, I still think of him.  

I have a morbid fascination with cemeteries.  Always have.  Let's be clear, I did not spend my teenage years dressed as a goth, spending my free time in them.  No, I just enjoyed the quiet,  Anyway, whenever I pass by one, I cannot help but consider all of the lives that each stone represents.  That stone represents someone's father, mother, son, daughter, uncle, aunt, etc. Some stones are massive and others are more modest.  There are untold stories beneath each one, that will never be told.  It's kind of like when you look at a photo filled with people who were living full and possibly exciting lives.  And now, they are nothing more than a small card with their image.  

I am beginning to realize that my greatest fear is for my life to pass unnoticed.  I did not fight in the Great War.  I did not invent anything. My name will never appear on the big screen.  And for the most part, I am ok with that.  Raising three girls to be strong, independent women who value themselves is quite an accomplishment.  The fact that none of them are swinging from a pole is a win for me.  Sure, there will be plenty of therapy sessions that will focus on the impact of my poor decisions but who doesn't have those sessions with their therapists?

I am not sure how to reconcile this one, other than to acknowledge that someday I will be just an image in a year book and a name inscribed on a stone.  Yeah, I know; I am caring too much about something that is completely out of my control and giving this way too much thought.  But this is my show, I write it.    

Anyway, not sure what my point is for this post.  Perhaps its to document what I have been thinking lately.  I hope that in a year or two I will re-read this and say how fucking dumb this is because none of it matters.  But today, it matters.