Weary Traveler

Yesterday was the first day, I actually felt relaxed; and being a full on cheat day enhanced it. The night before, I hung out at Crystal’s place for the weekly british tv thursday. It’s a fun time for Carrie and myself because we enjoy hanging out with Crystal, Chris, and Jesse. Unfortunately, I ended up on the porch for most of the night talking with Crystal and Chris’ neighbor, who is also named Chris. I don’t mean to say that it was unfortunated that I spent most of the night talking with him, because he’s a really good guy who brings coffee, conversation, and his British wit(he’s a naturalized citizen). It’s just that I think that Crystal, Chris, and Jesse did not get a lot of my time; that is unfortunate, and it was also unintended.
For a couple hours, I vented to Chris about the stresses that are in my life. There are currently two. The first one is my pop and his cancer. Yeah, he’s getting worse, and it still hurts, but the only emotionally good thing is that I am past the mental breakdown of watching superman waste away. Chris can relate to that. His own father had stage 3 bladder cancer that he survived, but his grandmother died of cancer. His dad is also very much like mine in the sense that he won’t stop because of a disease, and that it takes swearing and yelling to get to the point; which is something my brother and I had to do many times, because pop doesn’t like sitting on the sidelines watching; he wants to get into the mix, or he’ll feel useless.
The second stress, I have is coming up with money by Nov. 2 so that Carrie and I can successfully move from our current apartment to another one close by that is $200 cheaper. It’s not one lump sum. It’s two lump sums in the form of this month’s rent, and the prorated rent at the new apartment. The other stuff is nickel and dime stuff like getting rabies shots, and records of merlyn and isis to the new landlord, healthy food that Carrie and I can eat, boxes, and moving trucks.
This doesn’t sound like a huge thing, but the corporate offices of my employer have caused this mess in their shady, and illegal treatment of Carrie. I am not one to sit on my ass, and piss and moan while playing the blame game. I went out scurrying, making phone calls, running all over Indianapolis finding places that might be able to help, and a place to move; all the while, I am saying with clenched teeth “Those motherfuckers!”
They go to Mexico monthly to build homes for homeless people, and their corporate American Jesus(yes, the leadership in the corporate offices are professing Christians) b.s. has caused an injustice in my own life, and with Carrie’s life. Sad thing is we’re not the only ones this happened to. Carrie had a supervisor there that went through the same thing, and he is currently suing them. Carrie has a case also, and we we’re told that it would take a year before it went to trial. We don’t care about monetary compensation(although that would be icing), we want justice. We want the people who are responsible for this to be held accountable.
Everyday, I am under intense pressure to keep this contained. Pressure that I put on myself. I fail. I have a friend here at work, who has noticed that I have been more hostile in the last few weeks along with my other coworkers. In order to solve this, I joined a gym to do intense cardio and lifting to work out the tension and stress. It helps, but I also I have pushed myself past the point of physical exhaustion; but I don’t stop, because I still get up and try again to bring in the money that we need.
I have also been talking to the chaplain that comes here regularly. I don’t hold back, or sugar coat my words with him. I have this thing about being real to pastors, and not holding back. It has nothing to do with punishment from God. My view of pastors/priests is that one of their job concerns is the spiritual welfare of people, and how am I letting them do their job if I put on a fake smile? He’s been a huge help in walking with me, letting me vent, giving me his input, and praying with me. However, there is still hostility coming out in my wake, and people around me are either engulfed by it, or cleaning up after it; and I don’t think that is right.
I thought that I had been doing the necessary things in rolling with what life is throwing at me. I also thought that I had been handling it in a proactive manner by going to the gym, asking God to help all in the process(I don’t pray and sit around. I pray and do…most times simultaneously),and talking with a pastor. Then I vented to Chris thursday night, and friday morning when I dropped off gRegor’s phone to him, I vented to him about all the things that are happening. I didn’t feel better, but I felt relaxed. It dawned on me that I have not been letting anybody in, nor have I let them be my friend. I have done the same to Carrie, but not at the same intensity. That it isn’t a pat on the back, she still had to endure it. The burdens I have, exceed my strength, and to ask for help is to admit that. I didn’t want to admit it to my friends because that would also admit that I am weak. I’m a tough guy, raised by tough people.
About three years ago, at a different job, my hours were cut. I could not afford to eat, and I went without eating for about four days. At the end of it, I called my mom, and asked if she had enough food for me to make a sandwich. I told her what was going on, and she told me to come over. She told pop, and as soon as I walked in the door, he roars at me from his chair. “Goddamnit, boy! Next time you’re hungry come over and get some food! There is no reason for you to go without!” I just looked at him and said. “Come on, pop that’s bullshit for me to come in complaining that I’m going without food while you’re dying of cancer. Going hungry for a few days is not worse than dying of cancer.” He yelled back “It doesn’t matter! We’re in this together! Next time something like this happens don’t you dare wait around. You come over.” I put hands up in surrender. “Ok, I get it.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, I get it! Jesus, pop”
“Good! Now go eat!”
I think that the toughest thing for me to do is admit that I am weak, and need help in certain areas of my life. Like Rudy, I keep pushing myself, and when I think that it’s hopeless, I’m asking myself “Have I done everything that I am supposed to do?” I ask it of my chaplain(in all actuality, though, he is my confessor), I ask it of God, I ask it of my family, and most of all I ask it of Carrie. I think that the answer to that question is “No, you have not.” The reason for that is because I have not let anybody in. Carrie, God, or my friends. They watch as I struggle, strain, and crack when all the while it would cease if I would simply open up and say with slumped shoulders, “I can’t do this on my own. I’m exhausted.” It’s not weakness to admit exhaustion to yourself, or those closest to you in your life. It’s the strongest thing anyone can do, and yesterday, I learned that the hard way, and it’s one more gray strand in my beard. :-)