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.
The Buddhist concept of compassion includes compassion for yourself.
How can someone have compassion for others if they don’t have compassion for themselves?
You’re on a plane. The oxygen masks drop.
Put yours on first.
This is vital.
Even if you have your children with you. Your beloved. Your sick grandmother.
If you pass out while trying to put their oxygen mask on them, who have you helped?
Make sure your needs are being met. Don’t feel guilty about caring for yourself. How can you help others if you have no energy?
How can you give something you don’t have?
Last week my older son had a bad day at school.
He got into a fight at recess.
Then he kicked a soccer ball. It hit a teacher in the back. The teacher yelled at him.
He started crying.
The teacher apologized.
My son said he hated himself.
It spiraled down from there.
He’s such a sweet boy.
If anyone should have self-compassion, it’s him.
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?
At first she was going to start living with her parents. She’d just come back to pack up.
Then she decided to just stay there on weekends. The boys didn’t want to change schools.
She ended up not going at all this last weekend.
I took my older son to see The Last Jedi. My younger son was afraid it would be scary.
I don’t know the future.
I’m glad I spent time with my boys.
I know they’ll to be okay.
So will I.
And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.