My entire life, I've underestimated the power of emotions and how they affect my decisions. I used to believe that I was bigger than feelings, I hated the way my body reacted to them and I thought I could beat them. Suppressing to a point where I didn't feel anything, and when I did, I put a lot of effort into making sure I didn't. More than anything, I despised the fact they were uncontrollable so I rather shut them off.
In reality, they were never gone only ignored. To the point where they caused confusion instead of clarity. A combustion of tuggings depending on the day, or time of year, or after an intruding thought.
Like today, for example, I've been having a good weekend with genuine upbeat spirit and suddenly I fall into a funk. Maybe it's cause I thought about Amelia and the uphill battle mentally envisioning me at the bottom of a steep incline, or at the edge of a precipice. Some days I'm ready to climb the mountain and others I rather jump off the cliff. Sometimes I flirt with the idea of completely walking away, hoping that my creativity makes up for the lost time.
That my personal letters, words from the blog, my voice on the podcast will suffice in terms of proving my love. The one thing that can never be reconciled is time, and that's one of a couple things that keeps me fighting.
While in the battle the unknown creates a vacuum that sucks the positivity, the will, the motivation leaving anxiety fear and depression in its wake. Which obscures reality ultimately leading to decisions based off an altered view. This curates enemies even when I may believe I'm acting in good conscience.
Turning good relationships sour, bad relationships even worse, stuck in a conundrum of disbelief and retched habits. Staring at the stars knowing I can only blame myself, wondering how I got here hoping I'm not too much of a stain on the family name.
If I had just listened... If I caught that red flag... If I would have settled down... If I... If I just... If I can just close my eyes and go back in time.
Back to a time when the heaviest my heart felt was when the fat lady sang and my team didn't have the most points. To a time when the simplicities of life had my undivided attention, locked in my room reading all day or the rhythm and feeling of Spalding in my hands. The way it forced my body to move, the sprints, the spins, the jumps, the squeaks of the shoes.
The energy.
The energy that vibrated through every extremity knowing that the ball was about to be tipped. The anticipation in cracking open a new Vince Flynn or Brad Thor book, excited for the ruthlessness Mitch Rapp and Scot Harvath possess. The energy that sets goals and works the process tirelessly until achieved.
This is the energy that protected me against adverse auras, those that wanted to selfishly steer me away from my passions. Others that spoke doubt into my life and trash talked my game. It protected me because I was so in tuned to the task at hand that my focus wouldn't allow those types of distractions.
This worked for me, until it didn't. In hindsight, I realized at that point, is when I started to slowly unravel. By the end of my college career I had spiralled out into a person unrecognizable not only to me, but those closest.
To this day, I find myself battling cycles set during this time period. Cycles of relationships and revolving around parenthood, deeply engraved cycles. This cyclical nature participates in the altered reality that puts unnecessary fear in my heart. I feel as if I perceive everyone through the eyes of a person with a personality disorder going through an episode.
Sometimes they genuinely feel as if the entire world is out to get them, ducking and dodging not letting anyone close enough to touch. Except, me, it's feelings. Matrixing shots of love not wanting to put myself in a position for it all to be ripped from under me. Like a cartoon character, it sends me flipping back into cycles contrary to the direction I'm determined to travel.
I know, that's where God comes in casting all my cares and seeking his face. I've opened my Bible again to read Joseph's story, he endured so much but continued to rejoice in Christ and his goodness. He was sold into slavery by his own brothers, and at the end of the day became their barrier between famine or fortune.
Listening to Michael Todd's message concerning this topic he asked a question that still sits with me, "Can God trust you with the life of the people who betrayed you?" Paraphrasing, but can he? At this moment in time, most definitely not, I applied his question to my human adversaries.
The message was on forgiveness and I know I haven't gotten to the point where I would make a wise decision holding all that power. I am a hundred times better than I was this time last year but i still have some growing to do. The fact that I realize this and am actively working towards being a better person and better with God makes me feel like it accounts for something.
I really wish a lawyer would call me back, or at least act like they are showing interest in my case. Sometimes I wonder if I made a bad decision not following through with that lawyer that at least reached back out to me. Seems like when I feel like I'm making the right decision it ends up being detrimental, but who says that the right one isn't just a call away.
That's what the devil wants us to think, that all hope is lost and for us to walk in defeat. Although I do feel defeated, I know that all hope isn't lost. I know that because I just came from a place of hopelessness, and I'm never going back. So there's always hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, hope for change, hope for peace, hope for success, hope for existing.
I really am going to do everything in my power to be the best person I can be and to be with the person most suitable in accepting the challenge together on this path of life. My goal is to not hurt anybody along the way, but the more I realize it, even when you're honest and vulnerable people still tend to get hurt. It's kind of inevitable in relationships, especially when one person isn't as involved as the other.
It's important to me to have a stable home and foundation for my kids when they grow up. I know that I will have two not living day to day under my roof, but when they do come, I will have a proper place for them to lay their head. In turn, they will love me the same maybe more for creating an environment with them at the forefront of my mind.
I want nothing more then for my kids to love and adore me as much as I do them. I will continuously create and improve ways to express my love for my two daughters, and the kids to come. I'm not going to leave a shadow of doubt as to how I feel about each and everyone of them individually. It means a lot to me to be a good father and a role model to my kids, if I'm not, what have I truly done with my life.
Amelia and Amara, daddy loves you.