What’s a “Brain Cloud”?
It’s a bubble which appears above someone’s head, letting you know their thoughts.
Like in a comic.
It’s also a movie reference.
In Joe Versus the Volcano, the titular character is told by a doctor that he has a “brain cloud”. The doctor explains that a brain cloud is a fatal disease with no symptoms. He tells Joe that he has six months to live.
Joe goes back to work. He tells off his boss and quits. On the way out he asks out the co-worker he’s had a crush on for years. He goes on to have an amazing adventure.
Joe has to believe he’s dying before he gets the courage to live.
In a way, my divorce has done the same thing for me.
I know that my life needs to change. Drastically.
And now’s the time.
What does that mean? I don’t really know.
But I’m going to find out.
I always wanted to be married.
I never questioned whether I was ready.
When it finally happened, I wasn’t.
I wasn’t open enough.
That doesn’t mean I’m a failure. I can always try again.
I’m not sure when (or if) I want to, though.
It’s been a while since I posted.
I spent as much time as I could with my boys over the summer.
Now they’re in school.
I still spend as much time with them as I can. I see them every day. It’s not as much as before, though. Obviously.
It’s a lot more than most guys in my position, though.
A couple of weeks ago we moved out of our apartment.
I’m staying at my mom’s house. Living in the basement.
My wife and kids are living with her parents.
I’ve been spending most of my waking hours with my boys. I miss living with them, but I’m glad I get to be with them so much.
It’s more than most separated/divorced dads get.
Sometimes when I can’t be with my boys it hurts. It feels like there’s a huge hole in my heart.
Other times I’m fine.
I don’t know what makes the difference.
When I was younger I would dream about marriage. I wanted to get married as far back as I can remember.
Fatherhood was something I rarely gave any thought.
I figured I would have kids at some point. I didn’t think about it beyond that.
Sometimes it’s all I can think about now.
I want to spend as much time with my boys as I can.
I want them to have the best future they can.
I want to do whatever I can to make that happen.
I want to have the best relationships with them I can.
I want them to be the best men they can be.
I want them to learn from my bad choices.
To not go through what I’ve been through.
It’s been a while since my last post.
I’ve moved out of our apartment. Into my mom’s basement.
I’ve only spent one night there. A long night.
I’m still staying at the apartment most nights.
I got a new laptop. The old one kept overheating.
The wi-fi connection on the new one is flaky. I’m not sure why.
No job yet. I’m not sure what to do about that.
I ought to start a business. I’m not sure I’m up to it.
I need to do something, though.
I hate moving.
I started moving stuff as soon as I could. I didn’t want to be scrambling at the last minute.
Moving my things hasn’t affected my emotions.
A few days ago my wife had my kids start packing, though.
That got to me.
My boys they were oblivious. “Dad, can you tape this box for me?”
It made it real for me.
I think of myself as a humble person.
I don’t go around talking about how great I am.
I don’t even think it.
There is one area I need help with:
I don’t ask for help.
I’ll do anything I can think of to avoid it.
When I move I do as much on my own as I can.
I’ll visit forums looking for answers to questions. If no one has asked the question, I’ll move on. I don’t want to ask it myself.
Look at all kinds of do-it-yourself books, websites etc. If a task requires a second person, I’ll lose interest.
I wonder what refusing to ask has cost me.
Separation from my babies?
Moving into a dungeon?
How much worse will things have to get?
Sometimes I’m thick-headed.
Sometimes I have to be taught a lesson multiple times.
Those lessons can be painful.
Lessons like, “Get to know someone really well before deciding to marry them.”
Or, “Don’t have sex with someone you’re not married to.”
I think I’ve finally learned those lessons now.
I hope so. They’ve come at a high price.
Then I broke down the door.
She hadn’t show up to the party. We were all waiting for her.
She’d had a terrible week. The last few months weren’t the best, either.
No one else seemed concerned.
I asked one of her roommates for her key. I drove to the house they were renting.
The door to her room was locked.
I tried to talk her into opening the door. She refused. She sounded distraught.
I thought I smelled blood.
I did what I had to.
Once I was in I saw them. Ibuprofen tablets scattered around the room.
I tried carrying her up the stairs. I made it almost all the way up. I wasn’t quite strong enough.
She got away from me.
I called my friends for help.
After what felt like an eternity they arrived.
So did the paramedics.
So did the Bishop.
The paramedics took her.
We went through her room. We made sure there were no more pills stashed away.
We went to the Emergency Room to check on her. She seemed much calmer and happier.
Eventually all the roommates moved out.
She moved away.
I heard she got married. Then divorced. Then married.
I hope she’s doing okay.