2:57pm in my office. I am killing time. Shuffling papers. I am listening to the Look what The Cat Dragged In album by Poison. It came out 35 years ago. I used to listen to this cassette over and over when I was a freshman in high school. Look What The Cat Dragged In, Open Up and Say “Ahh”, Flesh and Blood. Those albums are the soundtrack of my high school years.

I used to be the king of time off. I could think of a million things to do beside go to school or work. At college in Nebraska I would skip afternoon class, go to the mall and buy a new Metal Edge magazine (pre-internet). Then I would drive to the next town over. Go to my favorite pizza place. I would sit and eat while I read my magazine. Then I would drive into Omaha. I would got to a movie at the mall. Eat even more. Then I would walk around the mall. Go to the music store (pre-internet). I would leave, grab an ice cream treat then go back to Fremont. I had to stop myself from doing this too often! (I didn’t have a lot of money and even with a teen metabolism it was a lot of food and I needed to pass classes. When I worked as a chaplain of a day was slow I would leave early and drive out to west wendover Nevada. Listen to music. Maybe make some bets on the weekend football games. The drive was four hours round trip. Now I can’t think of much to do. Today is slow. I have no meetings scheduled. A perfect day to have fun. I appreciate being more work focused but everyone in a while I miss remembering what fun was like

I am tired. Mentally. Someone came into the gym this morning. He didn’t work out. He put his coat on the dumbbell rack then sat on a recumbent bike. He fiddled with his phone. Smelled of cigarettes. There hasn’t been anyone in the gym with me for a while. I was shocked when I heard the door click. I didn’t have my mask so I kept my distance. Forced me to modify my workout. Change is good. Movers called yesterday. Now they are saying delivery will be tomorrow (Saturday)

2:02am laying in bed. I self edit. I contemplate if something is really worth sharing. I will stop. I share my feelings, my thoughts.

The WIL is my best friend. I tell her everything. When I see a text from her my body floods with happiness. No matter where she is I want to be with her. I love her. I love being intimate with her. I love talking to her. Hearing about her day. What adventures she had, people she met.

We haven’t communicated in 14 months. We haven’t seen each other in over a year and a half. Those numbers don’t mean anything. I am here. Waiting.

Having one of those days where I feel like my insides are running a million mph. Trying to stay calm. Focused. I want to get everything done 5 minutes ago.

“Each bears his own guilt, his own anxiety, his own dying.” Helmut Thielicke, Out of the depths

I was informed I have posted something on this site 100 days straight…

6:15am Having kids is the most difficult thing to experience.

The loss of freedom. Flexibility. Financial stability. So many things change when children enter the picture.

I was thinking on the walk how the first 13 years of being a parent feels surreal. I disassociated. There were two years I had a good job. I felt finically secure. there was balance at home and work. Otherwise I personally write off those years. I cherish the time with my daughter. But every other relationship was compromised. All other responsibilities were relegated. On many levels the individual me was in hibernation. Now as my daughter grows older I am re learning who I am. She is becoming a responsible young adult. The remainder of my life and the beginning of hers revolve around similar questions. “Who will I be?” “What will I accomplish?” “Where will I live?” “Who will I love?” As a parent it is scary beautiful to see her answering those questions for the first time. As a human being it is just as hopeful intimidating to be asking them for a second time.

I can’t love again. Like a broken wire the energy won’t flow. If I think about intimacy with anyone other than the WIL my heart recoils. In those moments all I see are memories of us together. I don’t have the circuitry to connect with another woman. Trying hurts me. And would disappoint the other person.

On good days I interpret that as a testament to the love we share. We are still simpatico. She loves me as much as I love her. She misses me. She thinks about me as often as I think about her. She holds a hope we will be together again. On those days I have high resolve. I will wait for eternity to be with her.

When it is a bad day I am in despair. I feel abandoned. She is happy without me. she doesn’t think about me. Those days are torture. I am clinging to the past. She breezed forward to a future without encumbrance.

Often I vacillate between the good and bad throughout the day. I am left to guess what she is feeling. Silence kills me.

8:24pm laying in bed. My biggest fear is the WIL reading this blog and rejecting me. But hasn’t she already? Perhaps it would be best. Face my fear. Suffer my fate. If she tells me to fuck off at least I would be free.

8:17pm I want to write a million words in one night. I am screaming to be known. To be heard.