BLOG:REKNOWING
On Therapy… Part Quattro
The Days Are Long, the Years Are Short
In the last episode, we had just given birth to our second (of two) daughters, Adeline. To be perfectly honest, this time period is one of the fuzziest parts of my memory. Things with my parents were fairly tense, although we remained in contact. I was on at least 150mg of Zoloft for some period of time. My emotions were dull, I was putting on weight….
On Therapy… Part Tres
Wherein the inevitable move to the suburbs ensues and Baby Number Dos Arrives
When we last left the riveting life story of my intrepid self, we had just given birth to our first baby, the lovely Marguerite Mae, I had started taking Zoloft and I gave up alcohol after 18 years (I was 32; do the math – it ain’t pretty). We were living and working in the up-and-coming West Loop area of Chicago. We had it all – a baby, a rapidly growing business in an amazing rehabbed 1800’s timber loft, another gorgeous 1,700 square foot loft with a panoramic view of the city of Chicago and two BMWs (man I loved that car). And yet I felt… numb? disconnected? overwhelmed? All of the above. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was doing all the things!
The Other “D” Word
I’ve had this one in the can for awhile. This seemed like an appropriate time for it to drop, as you’ve been quickly brought up to speed on the first 30 years or so of my evolution here and here.
Debt, Divorce and Drinking. The Triple Crown! I had my first alcoholic drink in New Jersey at around age 13. It was from a bottle of Southern Comfort my friend swiped from his folks. We drank from it in a tiny little fort we built from materials scavenged from construction sites into the side of a hill on the edge of a woods in an empty lot across the street from my house. You might wonder how or why I had any interest in continuing to drink after tasting that godawful swill. Good question. I guess I was committed to escaping. Or looking cool. Or something! Blech.
On Therapy… Part Deux
This is the second in what is a series of posts on this topic. The first post is here. Hang with me as I get through all this background info. It gets more interesting, I promise!
My first less-than-productive therapy session left a really bad taste in my mouth. It was a shame because, man, I could have used some assistance. The next several years were an absolute whirlwind (as if the first 25 hadn’t been). Less than six months after being named one of the youngest Product Managers ever in the Digital & Applied Imaging division of Kodak, I accepted an offer to move to New York City to work for a gray market film & paper dealer in Brooklyn who (unlike Kodak) saw the writing on the wall and wanted to move into digital. He put his money where his mouth was, pushing my salary (just) into six figures….
On Therapy… Part 1
This is the first in what will be a series of posts on this exciting topic. Buckle up.
I was born in Madison, Wisconsin in 1969. I lived in 11 cities before I turned 16, which may actually be more than the typical Army brat. This translates to three elementary schools, two middle schools and three high schools. My parents were barely 22 years old when I was born after having been conceived out of wedlock while they were in college. Their fathers were both WWII veterans who spent their entire careers as carpenters. My maternal grandfather was a Marine who saw hand-to-hand combat with the Japanese in the South Pacific. He was home in Wisconsin on leave after jumping off the boat in an overcrowded San Francisco harbor when the United States dropped the atomic bombs and the war ended. He proposed to his girlfriend, they got married and he rarely spoke of the war for the next fifty plus years.
The “D” Word
Divorce. This is a topic I’ve been kicking around for several years, trying to figure out how to tackle it. I’m writing it now (on what is the ten year anniversary of our split) because it seems the divorce rate is creeping up among those in my circles and there are a couple that are getting pretty ugly. As I mentioned in a previous post, I separated from my wife of 15 years in the fall of 2009 and we divorced in late 2010. Our daughters were six and nine at the time and it was, as you might expect, fairly distressing all around. And yet… we all survived and, it could even be said, thrived.
End of the World Delayed… Indefinitely.
First of all, a deep and sincere thank you to all of you who read and commented on my introductory post. I am moved by your kind words and empathy. In addition to those who publicly commented, several people sent me private notes with their own stories. I’m not typically one to do the whole “public confessional” thing. I’ve had this demon on my back for so long and tried so many things that I figured it certainly couldn’t hurt….
Bringing Light to the Darkness…
Rather than start at the beginning, I’m going to start with right now (because, after all, that is all there is). Eventually, I will reveal the impetus of the idea to tackle this first BIG issue. For now, suffice it to say it is past time to bring this issue into the light. It is not as if I haven’t told people about it. I don’t freely share it with every new person I meet, yet many of my friends know about it. It is an ugly issue. Women on dating sites will openly say they don’t want to date men with this problem. While, I’m sure I’m not the only one who struggles with it, sometimes it feels that way. I’ll give you a hint – it has to do with money.
Greetings, Fellow Seeker! What’s in Store for You?
Welcome to my small patch of grass on the internet. I’ve been kicking around the idea of putting all the things I’ve learned on my journey of (currently) 51 years and counting out into the world. A book seems awfully ambitious and so I settled on a blog. The actual impetus for doing it at this moment will be revealed in time.
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