Unclogging the Waterworks

There was a very long period of my life where I thought I was completely incapable.  I mean, when you go much more than half of your life without ever having done something, you start to think it just won’t ever happen again, right?  I know that’s where I was.  I’ve been in that place for a long time now.  It’s one of those things I used to wonder about.  The "why" of it, I mean.  I was always kind of torn on the matter.  On the one hand, I threw up my arms and went with the easy answer, "Oh, well there’s just some kind of block there.  That’s why I can’t."  But on the other hand, there was always the deep wonder of how this was even possible.  I’ve been in plenty of spots where it flat out should have happened, no doubt about it.  But for sixteen years, it just didn’t happen.  Until this past Monday.

I cried.

I had completely forgotten what it was like.  It sounds so incredibly stupid to say that, but it’s true.  Sure, there were times in the past where I just knew I should be crying, but couldn’t, that I would just sit there and honestly try to make myself cry.  The most I ever forced out was a single tear.  Monday morning, on my way to work (yeah, I know….crying while driving isn’t exactly safe, or smart for that matter), though, there were plenty of tears to be shed.  It all goes back to the preceeding weekend…

After I wrote on Sunday, I talked to Shera that night.  Long conversation and all that.  She was angry with me (with good reason) for all the shitstorm that came out of Augie’s party Friday night.  What actually happened that night, was that Augie got the better of me.  He was bleeding information out of me, then turning around and using it against Shera.  Just throwing it all back in her face (at least I wasn’t stupid enough to tell him the true depths of our relationship).  The reasons I even went along with answering his questions was two-fold.  First, it was me being selfish.  Obviously.  I mean, I took him for his word and believed when he said he wanted to move aside and just let Shera and I be.  Trusting him was my first mistake.  Secondly, though, I did see it as a chance to get her out from under his iron fist.  That fucker does nothing but make her feel like shit.  That’s it.  He tells her he loves her and that he wants nothing more than to marry her, but then, in the same fucking breath, he yells at her for shit that usually isn’t even her fault.  But anyway…  By Sunday night, I realized just how big of a role I played in Shera’s suicidal tendencies Saturday night.  Once again, I was the source of it.  Sure, I wasn’t the one yelling at her or anything, but if I had just kept my mouth shut……..Augie never would’ve had so much shit to yell at her about.  So I felt terrible.  Just flat out fucking terrible.  I spent pretty much the entire night telling Shera that I didn’t deserve any other chance to even talk to her anymore.  And I meant every fucking word of it.

So, Monday morning as I was driving to work in silence, I was still mulling these things over, and thinking about how I just didn’t stand a chance to really be with her, and I began to feel my eyes welling up.  Then my bottom lip began to quiver.  Then…..I just lost it.  There’s no other way to say it.  I just lost it.  For a good ten minutes, I sobbed as I drove.  The overwhelming feeling was the fear that she would just tell me to get lost and be done with me.  The idea of that just killed me inside.  Once I stopped crying in the car, I figured that would be it.  That I would be done with it.  How wrong I was…

I spent the entire workday fighting it off.  At one point, I had to literally run back into my office because I was about to break down again (the trigger?  "Dancin’ on the Ceiling" by Lionel Ritchie…..somehow this song came to hold a certain significance between Shera and I….to the point that it’s my ringtone on her phone…..fucking Sears radio….).  I shut the doors to my office, and cried again for a minute or two before pulling myself together by promising myself out loud that I could cry as much as I wanted when I got home.  That was the end of it, though.  Until another short bout yesterday, but that’s neither here nor there.

Really, I’m just amazed that I’m capable of crying.  Is it some major emotional breakthrough?  Or is it just that I love her that much?  I don’t really know.  I’m just glad to know that it’s possible for me to do it.

Now Playing in Dave’s Mental Jukebox:  "Here We Are" by Breaking Benjamin, "Tell Me" by Dropping Daylight, and "Fallen Angels" by Ra

Sometimes, I swear to you, I choose my battles over some of the most retarded fucking things.  At work today, the decree came down that we are all to start tucking our shirts in every single day.  I was singled out specifically by this edict.  Of course, no one in charge came to me to tell me of it, but when I heard about that, I came up with my strategy.  And a ballsy one it was.  Simply, I was going to ask whoever told me about it, "Is anyone willing to fire me over it?"  And decided that, if they said no, then I wasn’t going to do it….but if they said yes, then I was going to tell them they better find my replacement pretty fucking quick, because I’m officially giving my two weeks notice.  I’m really starting to envision the day I quite Sears…..and that’s usually the first step to actually doing it.  And I’m thinking the reality may be following sooner rather than later (yes, I am career hunting again, in case you were wondering).

I had a cleaning binge tonight after I got home from work that included doing all my dirty dishes (lots), cleaning off the kitchen counters completely (filthy), and even vacuuming the floor for the second time this week (shocking).  It may not happen often, but when I do actually get on a cleaning binge…..I’m fucking unstoppable.  Which is kind of odd for someone who’s such a god damned slob.  But oh, well, whatever.  As I so often say……I give up trying to figure this place out.

And I guess that’s good enough for this evening.  There’s always more to say, but never quite the words or patience to say it.  Or, as is more often the case with me, the laziness just kills it.  Yeah, that’s sounds much more like me.  Why do I enjoy self-deprication so much?  Oh well…..whatever.  I’m just gonna blast the fuck on outta here.

Sayonara.