Mike

Does your caretaker personality extend to your relationships only?

No. It would happen with my friends as well.

I rarely speak of it, but years ago a good friend of mine was going through hell. He had been through quite a lot in his life and his way of coping after a certain point was to turn to alcohol and a series of doomed relationships for comfort.

I had known the guy for years, practically considered him almost to be a fourth brother to me. He had been sexually abused as a kid by someone who had lived next door to him, which led to a ton of problems that he kept under lock and key. I didn't even know he had such deep rooted issues until he one day broke down one day and told me.

His other burden was that he was 'in the closet' and had known that he was gay for years but never had the courage to tell anybody about it. Until the day he broke the news to his parents. His mom, instead of accepting the truth, took it upon herself to treat him like a social leper. He "needed church" she said. The only cure for the sin of being homosexual was to return to Jesus.

His dad flatly cast him out of the family. Never again would he speak to his own son.

He turned to drinking and attempting to nail anything on two legs. His way of coping, I suppose.

Flunked out of college, ended up floating from job to job in search of something he needed.

He used to refer to me as one of a few guys in this world that "got him." He'd talk to me and I would listen. Any hour of the night or day.

I'd give advice from time to time but mostly I just listened. As the drinking grew worse, I tried to gently push him towards AA or some other professional help. He asked me to speak at his funeral after I brought up the subject when he called again in one of his most inebriated moments.

I told him that he had a lot to live for, he agreed and we talked for a little while longer before he went to bed. I offered to come see him, but he swore that he was exhausted from work and all he wanted to go to bed. He'd call me back later in the week.

That was the last time we spoke.

Three days later, he ate a shotgun shell. His folks refused to put a obituary in the paper or even to inform his friends about what happened. Damn sure didn't invite us to the funeral since his friends were all, and this is the exact quote, a bunch of "degenerate faggots."

I don't necessarily blame myself for what happened. I did for awhile because I kept thinking to myself that I should have called... Somebody, I guess. I never would have predicted this. Never in a million years.

Truth is, I did what I could at that time. I listened, I encouraged him to seek help and I cared. That was probably more than he was getting elsewhere.

Apart from a very small list of family and friends, I rarely let people get that close. I find myself to be more reserved these days. Friendly to people, yes, but I only confide in so very few these days.

Until you posted this in the blog, you mean.

Yeah.

Pushing the 'pause' button for a moment, why are you opening up now?

Because, as I've said, I'm tired of living the way that I have. I've let things like regret, pain and emotional scars rule my life for a decade. I realize full well the insanity of posting things like this on teh Internets since that lays the soul bare, but I wasn't exactly accomplishing much by holding this all in.

It's my way of throwing up my hands and saying, "oh, alright." I refuse to turn this into a pity emokiddie blog but I damn sure can't sit here and pretend that everything is peachy.

Everyone in the world has problems in some fashion. This is just me airing out some of mine so that I can move on with my life.

I'm tired of living in the shadows of a self-defeatist prophecy.
I'm tired of making pie crust promises to myself that I'll do better next year.
I'm tired of writing half-hearted pleas for attention instead of just writing with the intent of growing somehow.

If people read this and purely ignore the point of this series of random thoughts, I can accept that.

If I read this series and purely ignore the point of it, then I've already given up and should just marry the first nightmare I can find and dwell forever in misery.

I've learned that it's good to care for others and to help them where you can, but you also have to make sure that you're doing ok as well. What use is a tugboat filled with hundreds of cracks and holes in its hull?

Well, shall we continue?

Yeah, sure, fine. Lemme grab a sandwich first and I'll be back.