I spent a great deal of my life atop a mountain I made. A mountain of stones I built to protect myself. An enormous mound of invulnerability that I added to throughout my life.
My children and both of my wives have suffered from my bullshit invulnerability. Some of my friends have too. “I can do it all myself, thanks very much.” I wouldn’t let people help me.
There are lots of stones in the mountain of self-reliance I built for myself. I stood there, protected from the assholes that picked on me in school, protected from the lingering effects of childhood arthritis, saying “Fuck Cancer”, saying “fuck you” to Guillaine-Barre Syndrome and how it trashed my legs, and denying that any of this hurt me – because “I’m at the top of the fucking mountain – none of you, none of that – can hurt me.”
I stood on the top of that mountain, congratulating myself on building a company, on how great it was (at least in the old days) to be able to brilliantly produce things and do good for people. That that I wasn’t an asshole; that most of my best friends were women; that I was a truly nice guy. Some kind of great dad.
What a fucking charade.
With every one of my moves, some of the those stones would shift a little, a few rolling down the hill. If we were lucky, the hill was just shifted a little. “I’m still balanced.” But the rosy view from the top didn’t let me see what was happening. The stones barreled down the hill, hitting the people I love.
Friends who just wanted to help — because that’s what friends do — couldn’t. I wouldn’t let them.
My wives – my ex, and my current wife, “C”, couldn’t help me. To “CV”, my first wife, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for closing myself off, shutting down, all those times when all you wanted to do was help me.
To “C”, I’m sorry I repeated that again with you. We may be lucky enough to weather this storm; I know we’re better equipped than in the past and we both have better tools to work through it. And I know I have a fuck of a lot of work to do on myself.
The worst of it all is the effect I had on my children. My relationship with my oldest, Emma, is broken. I have hope that maybe one day we can repair it, but the truth is that I need to repair it. And I’m scared that I won’t be able to.
Emma, I’m sorry. I’m broken – and I broke us. All those times you just wanted to spend time with me, but I was “too busy working.” Too stressed out to be a kind, loving father. I’m sorry I lost my temper so much. I’m sorry I didn’t understand all the things you were going through, and that I didn’t learn to be able communicate with you. We had it, but I fucked it up. I know you needed to get out of an environment that was toxic to you, and I promised you that we’d see other still and I’d make time to hang out and be your Dad. But where the hell has your Dad been? Not with you. The truth? I don’t know how to connect with you. I want to call, I want to see you, but I’m afraid. And it’s a stupid version of being afraid. You’re my daughter and I’m your dad and nothing will change that. But I don’t know how to call. I’m so heartbroken with how I wrecked our relationship that I can’t find the path back to you. I know it’s there and it hurts to just acknowledge that. But I can tell you that I’m trying to find that path, through all the broken rubble.
Ashley and Olivia – we have a bond that we all like to think is unbreakable. You two really are the guardian angels that the psychic told me sat on my shoulders when I was 20. I’m sorry as well, for all those things that stretched that bond to the limit. My temper again; my “work work work.” The who-knows-how-many times I lost my mind trying to help you with homework. All the times I was too overwhelmed to be present for you. Thank you for being there with me, through thick and thin.
Chloe and Chelbie – I know this has been a weird, stressful, strange trip moving in here when your mom and I got together. I’m sorry that I’m not the man right now that you met 5 years ago. You two are my daughters in my heart as much as Olivia, Ashley and Emma are. I worry just as much; I love you just as much.
I love all of you.