- Jesus Christ
- My kids’ faces as they open their gifts
- My boys getting along
- Being done with wrapping presents
- Central heating
- Not having to work today
I have a love/hate relationship with my antidepressant.
I forgot to take it yesterday.
Today I feel really dizzy. Confused. Irritable.
When I take them I don’t feel suicidal. At all. Ever.
I can’t put a price on that.
Before I’d have a fight with my wife. I’d leave. I’d think about ways to kill myself. I’d cry a lot.
I don’t have to deal with that anymore.
I hate that it takes a drug not to feel that way.
I hate that my doctor will only give me a three-month supply.
I hate that he demands that I make another office visit before he’ll give me more.
That doesn’t feel like freedom.
It feels like slavery.
I’ve thought about just quitting.
I tried it once. I went three days without it.
I was okay for a while. The last day I had a meltdown.
I was on a lower dose at the time.
I’ve thought about gradually reducing my dose. That’s what I’ll do when I decide to stop.
I think I need to wait until after my wife moves out with the boys.
I might even need a higher dose to get through that.
I hate this.
My five-year-old sleeps in my wife’s bed. He has for a few months now.
He goes to sleep a lot earlier than she does.
He always wants someone to be with him.
My wife is usually busy with homework.
I don’t mind laying down with him. Most nights that’s what I do.
The other night I was laying down with him. I was rubbing his hair.
My mind kept wandering. I reminded myself that my time with my boys is short. I tried to stay focused on being with him.
I realized there wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be right then.
What better place could there be?
It’s a weird situation.
My wife told me almost six months ago she wants a divorce.
She was thinking about it a long time before that.
We still live together. We sleep in different rooms.
She hasn’t filed for divorce yet. She talks about it occasionally, though.
I’m not really in a hurry. I just wish I knew for sure what was going on.
I still think the world of her.
She has plenty of flaws. I’m sure she knows that better than I do.
She wanted to be with me when I could barely support myself.
She was supportive of me when I was laid off and couldn’t find another job.
She worked to support our family so I could go to college.
She forgave me the first time I told her I’d been lying to her and that I was addicted to porn.
She stayed with me when I told her I wasn’t going to finish my degree.
Best of all, she’s given me two sweet, wonderful little boys.
I hate that I hurt her. Again.
It hurts me to lose her.
Whatever happens though, I want her to be happy.
I wasn’t ready to be a dad.
When she showed me the pregnancy test I knew it didn’t matter. I was going to be a dad, ready or not.
I’d wanted to be married my whole life. I’d rush into relationships because I wanted to be married so bad. I’d fantasize about what marriage would be like.
I didn’t fantasize about being a father, though. I imagined it would happen at some point. I didn’t really think about it beyond that.
My dad died when I was three. I only have a handful of memories about him, all distorted by time.
I didn’t know how to be a dad. And at first I definitely didn’t enjoy it.
I’m still not sure I know how to be a dad. I’m easily irritated. I get impatient. Sometimes I make my kids cry.
I’m learning, though. I spend time with my kids without being asked. I spend time with them when they ask, even if I had other plans. I even enjoy it most of the time.
There are still things I don’t like. Telling them no. Disciplining them. Making them do things they don’t want to. But I want to do what’s best for them, even if it’s not enjoyable.
Am I the best dad in the world. Of course not.
But I’m getting there.