Month: June 2010

So, my son is 8 years old as I have disclosed before. But, I have not been his “Daddy” for 8 years. True, he has always called me daddy since he could say it, but I was not always around for him to be called daddy. It’s not like I have been away for his whole life, but for around 2 years I was. And even when I was around him physically, I wasn’t there emotionally and mentally and you can most certainly rule out being there as a role model. I was very sick. When I was “there”, meaning living under the same roof, I was usually intoxicated, high, or struggling with sobriety. Oh, and just so you know, sobriety is no struggle, I just made it that way. Anyway, I played with my son when I could, I took him places when I could, I bought him things when I could, I laid on the floor and drew pictures with him when I could, I coached his tee ball team when I could, etc…. The problem with that is, I was only doing it when I “could”. This does not mean, when I wasn’t at work, making dinner, running errands and so forth. “When I could” means, when I wasn’t going to the store (which meant hitting up Coldspring and Park Heights), or sleeping it off, or vomiting, or stealing shit, or sneaking in the bathroom to take one more shot because the one I took a half hour ago didn’t hold me.

But, when I was there, he called me daddy. And if anyone ever asked about being a father, or commented about how much it seems that my son loves me, I played the role of father of the millennium. I told them all the good things I have done and omitted all the things I hadn’t. I told them about all the things I bought, acting like it was a worthwhile struggle to budget the money so that I could provide more for the family, when the reality was I was selling our food stamps for dope and coke. The reality was I was pawning the game systems we bought for them. The reality was I was using the eight dollars I scraped up for gas money so that I could get in town and hack (drive people around for money). So that I could quench my thirst. I was using the money I could’ve been, I should’ve been spending on food to buy what I needed so I could struggle for 15 minutes searching for a vein in my neck.

I was an aggressive father. I snapped when I got angry, then tried to be the kids best friend when I felt sorry for them and myself, and couldn’t understand why they were scared of me. My step son caught the worst of this behavior. He was older, and never deserved to witness a third of what he witnessed. What am I saying? That poor child didn’t deserve to see anything he saw. He was, still is a good, very thoughtful child.   I walked around with a warped view of fatherhood. I had a delusional chip on my shoulder about the way my father parented me because I got hit with a belt a handful of times growing up. The truth as I know it today, is that I deserved that and much more , even though I believe there is never a reason to hit a child…..ever. I vowed never to hit my kids when I had them, and that didn’t hold true. I live a different way today, and because of that I never have a reason to hit my son.

A lot is different today. My son’s sentences include the word “daddy” about every 3 words. And I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it’s cute. “Hey daddy, look at this daddy. I made this thing, and daddy, isn’t it cool?” I had given up on the idea that I would ever be in a position to be privileged enough to be a daddy again, to hear those words escape my son’s lips again. I didn’t want to live anymore because of this. G-d wasn’t ready for me to die though. I see today why I didn’t. I am my son’s daddy. I love hearing that word when he says it. Sometimes, shit right now as I’m typing this, my eyes are tearing up a bit just thinking about it.

I have zero desire to put anything in my body except love. He needs me, and I need him. And we both need G-d. And right now, at this moment, we all have each other. And I am happy. And he, well, he has a loving present daddy.

This morning I woke up, my son quickly followed suit. I did what I always do when I wake up before him. I quietly watched  him sleep. I do this for several reasons. The first of which is that I rarely get to see a more perfect example of what G-d has done for me than giving me one of His kids to look after. Yes, I truly believe I am my brother’s keeper. And yes, it is my pleasure to “look after” all His kids. However, the idea that He blessed me with the job of a trustee for this little boy overwhelmingly fills my heart with love.  So I watch, I breathe and I fuel up for the day with love in my heart. I have enormously joyful moments in watching this sleeping angel that I have never managed to find from the needle or in the bottom of a bottle.  In fact, the only thing that I have felt that has ever been close to this inner peace that I feel when watching my son sleep, is in helping a broken man find his path to G-d. Followed by the moments that I had with my ex wife when we were “in tune” with each other, which were few and far between as a direct result of my selfishness and self seeking motives.

The second reason that I thoroughly enjoy the moments I get when the sun is peeking through the blinds onto my child and no artificial light is in the room, is that I see how natural it is to love and be there for my child. This may seem odd to most. Shit, it feels odd to say.  The status quo for parenting is that this starts at the child’s birth. Well, not for me. Like I said before, I was (still am sometimes) extremely selfish in my ways. And of course I always loved my baby, but I had the most powerful distraction any man like me could have. I was so distracted with “self” as they say, that I lost the power of choice to do the right thing. Now mind you, this has nothing to do with drugs and alcohol, but everything to do with a lack of G-d. So, even when the drugs and alcohol were removed from the equation, the lack of G-d was still there creating more and more problems, and more and more reasons (excuses) for me to justify being a complete douchebag.  I had another family in the needle, in the bottom of glass vials and tiny ziplock baggies and I had a very seductive mistress residing in a  Southern Comfort bottle.

Today, because I have found a spiritual solution to my spiritual problem, I can appreciate moments like the 4 to 5 minutes I spent just admiring G-d’s handiwork. Just living in the moment. It seemed as though there was no outside world this morning, just me, my son and G-d. Then it happened. He started squirming around, shifting his weight from one side to the other. He stretched his arms and legs, eyes still shut. He reached up and wiped his mouth, covertly gazing through squinted eyes, and BAM!!!!! Shot up like a rocket, stating “Daddy!!!!!! I was drooling in my sleep!!!!”

I admitted I did the same, went downstairs to use  the bathroom, and without premeditation started tearing up and laughing at the same time. I am able to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and furthermore, I am able to have a genuine smile on my face for him to see. These are the moments, the undeniable reasons that I believe in G-d. And not just believe, but chase. I do everything I can to be as close to G-d as I possibly can, because I know through my own personal experience that without Him, I am unable to see things like I saw at 7:46am today.

Hello whomever you are.  My name is Timothy, I am 32 years old.  As far as worldly things to brag about, I have none.  This is not because I lack the ability or intelligence to earn the money necessary to purchase such things, it is because I spent it on more important things. Things like heroin and cocaine. Things like crack and booze, like countless amounts of pills and weed,  like Newports and fresh sneakers.  To you, the prior statement couldn’t sound anymore ridiculous, especially coming from someone who has an 8 year old son. However, I can assure you, that if I didn’t do what I did I would probably be dead or in a mental health facility (both of which I have experience with.)

I don’t know why I’m doing this. I have always searched for creative outlets , and writing has always been present in my life. It’s just I feel the visual art I produce is easier to share. So all of the half filled (if that) books I scribbled my thoughts in, are probably buried in a landfill right now.  At least if I ever want to go back and read what I wrote, or allow someone else to do so, I can by doing this.

So, let the mother fucking games begin…..