You know how when you aren’t exactly in a good mood, but you’re not in a bad mood, and either the same person or multiple people ask you what’s wrong enough that you find yourself in a terrible mood all of the sudden? It’s like you don’t need a reason anymore to get pissed off. In fact, you find yourself getting homicidal at points throughout the day over things that wouldn’t even catch your eye any other time. Why is that? It’s the snowball effect. For me personally, I have mentally plotted, fabricated extremely vivid, disturbingly violent events that were to happen if only you did such and such one more time. You mother fucker, if you get that close to my bumper again, I’m jamming on my brakes, and not just to scare you (I buckled this seat belt for a reason.) And once you slide into my car, I’m hoppin out, grabbing this bat wedged in between my seat and the door, and braking your window, pulling you out, and splitting your mother fucking head open, getting back in my car and going home to cook dinner.
It was all about my comfort level. It was all about my fear. I resented you and myself so much, that I let THAT run my life for me. I was not about to let you disrespect me. Oh, and if you tried to in front of people, whether I knew them or not, some real bad shit would pop off. I’m no tough guy, but you’re gonna be sorry you disrespected me while you tend to your wounds. Please note, that I was this person when I was by myself, with friends, with enemies, drug dealers, drug users, strangers, coworkers and my son. He saw all of it. I hopped out of the car plenty at red lights with him in the back seat. “Let me get this straight, you’re putting my son’s life in danger, and think that’s gonna fly with me? Canaan, sit here, stay in the car…”
I would say this aloud while driving, right after I shot dope and coke, right after I snorted two 80’s of Oxy Contin, right after I polished off the last of the Southern Comfort. But I wasn’t putting my son’s safety at risk. No, I had everything under control. I always had it in control. Dope boys in the house, under control. Driving around with drugs and kids in the same car, under control. Blacking out drunk and waking up on the couch while the kids are sitting there watching cartoons hungry, under control. I cringe sometimes thinking about it. I am shocked that my child can even look at me in the eyes sometimes.
Today I woke up and made him some breakfast then we went to the arts and crafts store. I don’t remember having any problems at all on the road. I am certain I had no weapon on me. I wasn’t blasting vulgar rap music with my son in the back seat. We walked around the store, looking for something creative to do. We got some materials (and some candy) and returned home. (damn it feels right to say “returned home”) We started on our projects, while they were drying, we went to the pool. Now, you must know that I have dangerously red sunburn on my back, but we went to the pool.
We swam around, more like he jumped around in the water while I sat on the sidelines with a towel draped over my shoulders like I was James Brown. We ate some snacks, swam some more, and left. We went for a walk in the woods. We came to a place of shade, and took advantage of it, sitting in the grass talking and appreciating our surroundings. We pretended to be soldiers from another time. “Daddy, this is medieval times. Well, not really medieval times Daddy, but just the weapons from then daddy. Nobody has guns. Ok Daddy?” I agreed that this was not only an ingenious idea, but immediately went from being a 32 year old man, to an 8 year old sword (big branch we found on the path) toting side kick. My son, who was asked by me to lead the way, had a bow and arrow (again a stick with a natural bend to it, and a smaller straight stick). We went to the playground, where we found ourselves playing “eye spy” and my son found a wild blackberry tree where we snacked for 15 minutes, dying our finger tips purple.
My thoughts today couldn’t have been more pleasant. And no one felt a need to ask me what’s wrong. My son is sleeping right now, not me, and both our bellies are full. I’m going to go smoke, talk to G-d, and thank him for everything I can think of. Then tomorrow, I’m gonna do it all again. People, this way of life is not hard, at least it doesn’t have to be. It’s not a daily struggle. It’s much easier to see what I have rather than what I don’t. And damn if it isn’t more rewarding to give my time rather than take your peace of mind.