I just had one of the greatest weekends of my life. For 3 days I was free. I returned to a state of being that I thought was lost. As I swallowed up fresh air, I forgot the pain. I sat there and let every second count. Living in the moment, never thinking it would end. The joy I felt spending time with my Godsons transported me into a different reality. As I think back about the weekend, I realize I didn't think of myself at all. I was so engulfed in sharing the carefree life of a child. For 3 days I was the old me.
I didn't feel the insecurity or anxieties that had held me captive. I only felt love and pride. I have been blessed to watch my Goddaughter blossom into a young lady full of confidence and bravery as she pursues her ambitions. I have watched my Godsons grow from little boys to amazing young men. I thought about my 4 beautiful nephews who are still young and can't wait to witness their journey into adulthood as well. There is something individually special about each of these innocent children that I feel deep within my heart.
Over the weekend I was released from a self-imposed solitary and was able to simply live life. We went to the pool and the water was freezing, but it didn't matter because I was experiencing the kind of happiness you lose as you get older. The naivety that being young allows. As they played and laughed, I selfishly absorbed every last fragment of positive energy. While I watch them, I remembered that childhood belief that anything is possible. The hope that comes with youth telling you the future is yours for the taking. That you can be anything and anyone you want. It's a knowledge that slowly grows weaker if not properly nourished. If neglected it can wander off into so many different and sad destinations. But the love and support of family can keep their dreams alive and hope becomes a guiding light into greatness. I have to ignore my current path and make sure I do everything I can to help guide them down the correct path. Those long, wonderful 3 days forced me to let go of my pain, letting me focus on that moment in time. I want to remember it long after it inevitably came to an end.
When Monday began I was still in a state of elation. As I cleaned up the house constant vignettes of the weekend repeated over and over in my mind. I felt brand new. As if my love of life had finally returned for good. (If I could continue to block the pain, as I had done, and try to retain the positive energy.) I suddenly realized what had made the weekend so care free. I was at home. We went shopping and out for food, but I never left the safety net of being close to home. The last time I went to their house was for this year's Superbowl. I had only been there for 10 minutes and suddenly felt the pressing need to be at my home. As the anxieties grew I could no longer deny the necessity to be home. I had gone into an extreme panic in a place I considered a 2nd home. A home I used to stay for days, never wanting to leave.
With my tail between my legs, I began the long drive home. Every mile closer to home I felt more and more anxious, but at the same time relieved knowing I would soon be back in the safety of my home. Mile by mile I also felt my heart tearing because I couldn't comprehend why I was such a panic in such a loving environment. My love for them had not changed. If anything, it grew stronger as I feared what this meant.
This wasn't an overnight change. I had been progressing more and more into a fear of being away from home. I noticed visits to my nephews decrease from entire weekends into quick visits with early exits. I didn't understand this fear and sat by as it began to increase and take over my life.
I'm not sure what it is about being away from home that creates such anxieties. It certainly wasn't what I had dreamt for myself as a kid. I'm isolated from society, socially terrified, and mentally falling apart. This fear has taken complete control of my life. I soon was unable to work and began to accept what I had become. A terrified, insecure, heart-broken, untrusting waste of a man. And I use the word man lightly. The further into this darkness I fell, the less of a man I became. I've been knocked down in the past, but was always able to pull myself back up. This time was different. I had lost the motivation to live life. I didn't know how this story would end, but any hope of a happy ending had vanished. Life no longer held meaning. I sit on my couch, only leaving for doctor appointments and the occasional therapy session. Or a quick trip to the grocery store within my safety zone. Even going to therapy and my psychiatrist are scary tasks. But I have to force myself into going so I can get better. I'm afraid if I don't go I'll lose what little support I have that was keeping me alive. And I'm ashamed to say I gave up hope completely more than once, thinking I could take the easy way out. Allowing fear to control me and cloud whatever reasons I have to stay.
This past weekend forced that point home. I understood I want to be here. I'm so proud of the paths each of my nephews and Godchildren are on. While I want them to stay young forever, I can't wait to see the amazing people that are destined to become. I want to be there as they start their own families. Most importantly I understood how taking the quitter's way out would effect the lives of those I love so dearly. While I may not be the most important person in their lives, the unconditional love they have always given me quickly and loudly asserted the responsibility I have as part of their lives. What type of role-model would I be if I let them think it's okay to give up? How would that change their view of life - allowing them to see how hard life can sometimes be? What if my selfishness allowed even the smallest hint of despair into their lives? How could I leave them with the lasting impression that I gave up on life, and them, so easily.
My support system would be much larger if it wasn't for pride. I don't want my friends and family to see the empty shell that I have become. The unrealistic idea that they would look down on me and abandon me as a lost cause. A sad, lonely presence that nobody wants to be around. Someone who has lost all hope. Or my worst fear. That exposing my failure would keep me from my nephews and Godkids. I'm the uncle and Godfather. I am supposed to be the strong one that can easily fix any problem they have. I was someone they looked up to who had let them down. I try to hide as much of my pain as possible. And I purposely do not share what I am going through because I feel I have so little to offer and could quickly be replaced.
The joy I felt this weekend was a much needed escape from the pain. But it had to come to an end. Playtime has stopped and reality has set back in. As i'm hiding in my home, sitting on my couch, unable to leave, I find myself anticipating the next break from the pain. Not a break from life, but a return to living. A temporary escape from my reality. A chance to remember hope and dreams. I go through my days lost and wondering what will become of me. And I'm grateful to have the moments between the pain when I feel alive. Even though I know reality will always return and I'll fall deeper into my world.
But I still anticipate the break from the pain.
