So I have had a bad couple of weeks or so. Angry and sad, probably more sad - and tired - lets not forget tired. So after another round of arguing with my wife I was feeling pretty depleted. While preparing to go to my second job Caleb comes to find me. And all he wants is to tell me he loves me and get a hug. I think he must have said it 3 or 4 times. Both of our two boys are autistic and sometimes its hard to tell how much they really understand things. Other times they clearly do know more than its seems. Sometimes it doesn’t matter - just simple acceptance and love without question. A hug could melt the worst things away………………………A band-aid for the soul.

The One Alone

Within my heart there are a thousand mansions,
With room enough for all cares and concerns,
A place to give with room to enter,
But no one knows, Who is the renter?
But still in my heart there is an emptier,
A place much darker and harder to find,
Barley a shack does stand here,
Amidst the darkness and the fear,
Where skeletons live and trash is thrown,
The one inside lives all alone,
Lives alone and works the same,
Cares after the mansions and has no name,
But should the mansions ever fall,
The one alone will have nothing at all.

That was written by me back in like 1994 or 5. It was written during a very rough patch for myself and my wife (then girlfriend). It was in a time when she was depressed and ended up in the hospital for a while because of it. After her stay I also had a brief visit. I think I just absorbed too much sadness. It became a part of me and affected me as well. As a Pisces I know that I can sometimes become absorbed in other people and mostly loose myself. I suspect that this is what has happened again with my search for my father. I have done a lot of looking within lately, more than usual for me - now that’s really a lot. Having finally realized my loss of self I will reposition myself and find new balance, hopefully a better, more resolved person.

So I should explain the poem for those who may not get it. Its about the giving of yourself to cover the needs or hurts of another. The drowning in empathy for someone. The mansion is like a relationship. In the poem I think the one alone probably owns the mansion but works only as the caretaker for whoever his love is. Doing the odd jobs that no one else wants - that need doing - to keep the mansion running. A servant living in self neglect.

Alternatively, I have recently realized a new meaning for my old poem. The one alone in the shack is God. Who built the mansions (Earth) for all of us to live in and enjoy. Like the caretaker of the mansion he only wants to be included into your life. To be your friend and be invited to your good time at the mansion. Not just called upon when something needs fixed.

I won’t assign blame for my isolated feelings to anyone. Although there are plenty that I could blame - some of those deserve it, some do not. I think rather maybe it’s just my way of viewing the world. To become too close would be to feel its pain.

Someday I hope to paint the picture of the shack and the mansion that I have in my head. Maybe put the text over it. Maybe even hang it on the wall. Until then I guess I will keep that part with me.

I have had this thought my head for a long time. I equate my feeling about my father and my search for answers to a giant cartoon-like meaty bone. I gnaw at it, gnaw at it, and gnaw at it some more. I can’t seem to be finished with it until all of the meat is ripped away and all that remains is the un-lying truth, stripped to the bone. Some days my need for answers seems to be more ravenous and other days it almost seems forgotten. Maybe only pushed to the back of my mental fridge only to be puled back out at a later less hectic date and re-heated again.

I never wanted or intended to become my like father but I do fear that in some ways I have. I recall a time that my wife yelled at me for being too quick to get upset at the children. It wasn’t immediate but within a couple of weeks I realized that this was probably pretty much how he must be or have been. I can really only imagine.

Yet I can’t seem to discard my meaty bone. I think it maybe a morbid thrill of the chase in a small part. A puzzle I can’t put down. Maybe this is highly un-normal but it seems that to be rid of the whole thing I must consume it in it’s entirety, digested it, and then it can pass. So I will eat, and eat, and eat. Until I grow sick of the taste and hit a point of PURGE. I’m not sure but I think I may be close to there. The only thing to do is play the end card and knock on his door and what happens, happens. I think maybe it is just fate that it plays out that way.

Suggested listening for this thought: Three Days Grace-Animal I Have Become; Linkin Park-Figure.09; Slipknot-Sulfer

Grab your steak-ems and your meaty-bone and run to your corner and growl.

So I read my wife’s blog after after a small nudge to do so. She is currently dieting and writing a weight loss blog with her sister. For the most part I just tend to leave her weight alone. I know that can be a very touchy subject for her. So I stay out of it. And prior to I stayed out of her blogs as well. Just out of respect for her privacy and space. Sometimes I can be kinda clueless and was not aware that I should be more well read.

According to the blog I made some horrendous face when she was discussing the weight she needed to loose. I don’t recall the specific time or event she is referring to………….? Must not have made that much of an impression. Now my wife always tells me that my face gives me away. This is probably true to an extent. If and only if you can be sure that the face is connected to whats going on here and now. What she doesn’t realize is she should be very careful about reading too much into a look. It may well be that I was thinking of something else. My head is off topic often - SORRY! “What’s that look for? I know that look means something.” I get that a lot from her. A lot of the time it is just some stupid thought that has fluttered into my head. Or some daydream that was especially vivid. And there is always the ever distracting TV over her shoulder - Sorry again.

I love my wife even when she yells at me go go to bed it’s one in the morning - big butt and all. But all said I do worry about her health with regard to her weight and I am glad she is making this attempt at a better life. I hope she can follow through this time. I know I am probably not very helpful, but really don’t know how to be.

Lastly I think she should also remember to consider the emotional issues that no doubt played a part in her weight gain in the first place. I tend to think she often times limits herself with her poor self esteem in many areas of her life. I care more for the person on the inside than anything else.

Ok, so I should try to write something here. Where to begin. I have been on this journey of sorts for the last few years. I never knew my father and started doing research to figure it all out. Well I believe I found the guy and I’m totally his illegitimate bastard so he is not at all interested in seeing me. He has two sons that basically don’t believe we are related. And also a daughter somewhere that he won’t even speak off to his sons. My mother is mostly crazy and chooses to live like a pig with her girlfriend (very butch). I hear from her most generally when she wants something. I have two sons that are both autistic and they are ten and eight. I love them but most days they drive me crazy with some of the squeaking and farting noises and things they do. My wife most of the time does not understand me. Sometimes I don’t either.

My “journey” started out as looking for my father but I think it has more or less turned into looking for me. I used to think I knew who I was but lately I don’t know anymore. It’s like finding out about my father changed me somehow. From what I know of him I basically believe him to be a manipulative jerk who tells his kids how to run their lives. I really need to write all of the back story here, this is so condensed. I realize he’s a jerk and dose not want anything to do with me. But somehow still I need to know who he is and kinda more about what he really is like. Not just assumptions of who I think he is. I look a lot like his youngest son and him too I’m told. So if he’s a jerk and not a very nice person am I predisposed to this also? I can clearly see myself in what I do know of him. So I suppose this apple didn’t fall very far from the tree.

My father is married now for like 37 years. The daughter he had was with a previous woman. She was born in I believe 1969 or 1970. He tells his sons she was put up for adoption but I kinda don’t think so. Beyond that he won’t say anything about her. His first son with his wife was born in Oct of 1971. I was born in Mar 1973. And his youngest son was born in Mar 1974. So you see the obvious problem here. It’s like I hold here Pandora’s Box and can’t decide if I want to rip off the lid or not. Part of me wants him to PAY for what he has done and suffer the consequences of his infidelity. Part of me says there are other innocent people involved to consider and maybe he could be a better person. But then I think they all have the right to the truth. At the very least he could tell me what he knows of his daughter. If he doesn’t want to know me maybe she would.

So for about the last seven years I have been mulling over what to do and I think it is going to drive me crazy. I think it has changed from a curiosity to more of a cancer that is going to eat me from the inside. This is also causing me to totally reevaluate pretty much every aspect of my life. I have completely ripped up the old me into a million shreds. From realizing that I’m not a very good father myself to the thought of would I cheat on my wife, his shadow seems to haunt me. I suppose it will continue to until the day I confront it for answers.

My wife can’t seem to understand what is wrong with me. Why I can’t and normally don’t share my feelings. Well lets see my father never wanted me. My mother was never mothering to me she much more prefers to be with her abusive girlfriend. The only one who ever cared was my grandmother and she passed away when I was 16. Leaving me to fend for myself. Such loving relationships to bring up a person right. It just seems that every time I share my overly sensitive feelings with anyone they get smashed and stepped on. No thank you.

Added some songs I’ve been pretty into lately. Will get more into that later I’m sure. Also found a couple links that really describe me well. Just kinda happened upon them.
Are you highly sensitive? Highly Sensitive People