Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
According to Webster dictionary online, home, is "one's place of residence". For the most part I can agree with this, although at this current time I don't really have the ability to abide to this definition either. When I think of "home" it holds a greater meaning that just a physical roof over my head. I have an ex friend, whom would go to his parents house, random days, watch tv, eat some dinner and maybe stay the night. That to me, is home. When I am depressed or trapped in one of my obsessive-compulsive downward spirals I would write. Two things, for as long as I can remember, go one the paper more than any. Sometimes written neatly line per line or thrown about the paper in scribble, "Pack everything up" and "I want to go home". "Pack everything up" never verbally came out of my mouth, but "I want to go home" does. When things got bad, I would say "I want to go home" over and over, I guess part of my compulsive behavior.
The definition "an environment offering affection and security" , is more of what I am looking for. I know I do not have this and honestly I can not remember when I did. I do remember back to when I was in college, I did have some kind of "home" to come back to. I had a break down around then, events so far from each other all came together. Things that shouldn't align, polar opposites, all bombarded me simultaneously. I had in a sense lost it and I went home, no one was there. I ended up at a friends house, on the couch, stoned, not home. I think I spent a couple of days there, afraid to go back to my dwelling. When I did go back, a female friend accompanied me and stayed with me a couple of days.
Friends have been the strongest part of my life. Almost like a child raised by a pack of wolves, I learned and gained some form of knowledge from each of them. The ones I made 20 years ago are the ones I still have now. We have experiences together that can never be lost, stories to tell 100 times, arguments that will never be settled. These extensions of my family, and some of them closer to me than family, have even given me refuge in their homes. It never satisfied my need for comfort, but the idea was there. I think losing that feeling of home so long ago is what makes me what I am today, almost lost. I can't settle on anything, I have proven that with woman. I guess in the least disrespectful way possible, I don't trust them. With the lack of trust, comes the lack of respect. I don't hurt them, physically or mentally, I just don't care for them. Have you ever looked at something and had no feeling what so ever. You just did what was needed with it and went on, no remorse or regret? Twice in my life I put myself out there, the first time took me almost 12 years to overcome. I wasn't sitting around bitter and mad, I just did not care about them. Of course, I cared about some things they had, one in particular, but that was it. I would say what was needed, act how I was expected and do what they wanted, until I achieved my goal. Then, no more, I walked away. I have been called every name in the book, watched them cry and beg, but it doesn't bother me. Their emotion, feelings, needs, have nothing over me. Now, I did try it again, for some dumb fucking reason I let it all down, every defense I since I was a kid. Looking back now I hate myself for it, I hate how I changed myself and how let her in. The real me would have walked all over it and never once let any of that happen. My brother Marty saw that, he saw me changing. He tells me he doesn't like how I feel about woman, doesn't understand how I can be so cold. But, he respects it and he cares about me. He warned me that I wouldn't like this and that it was against everything I am. I would just shrug it off, tell him it's time for me to change, I can be this person. Deep down I knew it was bad and I had to step up and be the person I really was. Marty didn't like that part of me, but he knew I was happy that way and he tried. Then one night he was gone and I think at that point I felt alone. On the outside I strutted and talked shit, but inside I was scared. I maintained my route and went forth, only to realize I am not that person. The real me saw through shit, didn't fall for lies and never ever would have gotten attached.
I finished that phase of my life, I can't say it went the way I wanted it too. I am me again and with some vengeance. Someone got the best of me and I want them to suffer now, I will figure it out. I have my brother back, even though he is far away. I have been to PA more since he got there, than I think in my life. He is currently staying with our father, well mine. Somehow Marty has managed to not have to call him that. When I go there, I stay in Marty's room, on the couch. Funny how the couch has become such an anchor in my life, I think I have slept on one more in my life than a bed. There, in that room, I feel a piece of home. Same as I did when I would go to his house here in Michigan, that extreme sense of comfort. This is when I learned my definition of "home" and how it fits into my life. Oddly enough it may have something to do with my father, i still cant verify that. I do know, for a fact, that Marty is a big piece of that. Why, I don't know, he wasn't around when I was a kid. I have no connection to him and the home I used to have. I think it's just him, maybe he truly cares, maybe he's some form of father figure. I may never know what it is, I do know its a huge part of my life. The closest thing I have to "home" right now, unfortunately, is the couch at my kids mother's house.
Remembering "home" doesn't happen a lot. I once had a dream that my mother bought the house in North Branch and everyone was there. I remember walking through, every sensation I had as a child was there, I imagine that this it what it will feel like when you die. The dream ends and you realize once again it is all taken away from you, each time as painful as the first. Sometimes I sit and try and blame someone, there are two major holes inside me, I dont think its all my fault. I don't think I will ever respect a woman as a significant other. I know deep down that can never happen and it does not bother me. I am not worried about loving someone, could care less. I am worried about work, living, health and the biggest one, making sure my kids never lose what I did. Their lives start with me, it goes no higher than that. It branches out, far out, friends and siblings are segments of their road map. I think we [siblings] have learned the same lessons and each taken our own path to overcome it. Some I don't agree with, even my own. I never want my son to think of woman as I do and I would kill someone if they treated my daughter that way. I do know I will never choose another object over them, I will never go a course that separates them from their "home". I have learned all to well the pain that comes from that and the loss inside of me. Apartment, trailer or mansion, my kids will always be welcome and never will feel different. I will be 32 this year and I know it is a lost cause. Funny, how I get the feeling of "home" from watching "Christmas Vacation". It's amazing how far my mind will go to bring that comfort, it's almost like my deepest darkest places have also given up.
I want to be a kid again. I want to tell certain people I love them and others I don't. I want to make different decision but still have some of the same outcomes.
There are people out there who are big parts of my life. They know who they are and I don't think I need to name them all. I hide emotion with every ounce of energy, but if I have ever cried to you, then you know your a part. I will go on, live my life best I can. No matter what I do or how things go, I will always be lost. Even with my own place, my own couch to go home to, it's not home. When my kids are there, they are home and when they are home, I am happy. I wish I had that place to go,hide, be comfortable, because I know if it made me happy, it would make them happy.