"God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength but with your testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it" - The Bible (1 Corinthians 10:13)
"What if God doesn't care?" - Slipknot - "Gematria (The Killing Name)
I have been thinking a lot about perception in the last twenty-four hours, or so. The tenor and feel of the entire world can turn on a dime, just by arriving at a new conclusion. You may live in the same place, be surrounded by the same challenges and struggles, and even be standing in exactly the same spot. It's suddenly everything around you that's different. Case in point . . .
The last two weeks have been hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. There are ups and downs to the situation I find myself in, and I was prepared for that . . . but this was like Jon "Bones" Jones hitting me with a flying knee to the groin. I literally felt like I was underwater and couldn't push my way to the surface. Everything seemed pointless - why try when failure is not only imminent, but the only possibility? This viewpoint infected every single fiber and particle of my life.
I have chosen not to go into the details about some of the issues that I had been dealing with in this time, because while I choose to blog and expound on my personal trials and travails, the other people involved in this situation have made no such promises. I don't want to implicate or excoriate anyone personally on this blog. It's not a revenge depot - it's a place for me to express myself and hopefully find some solace, advice, and laughter from whoever chooses to read it.
In addition to the challenges I've recently endured, my Dad came home from Afghanistan . . . which is unbelievably awesome. However, this left me without a car, which was pretty much the one good thing I had left. The two things that gave me strength and hope - my job and my band rehearsals, suddenly have now become obstacles to overcome. If I can't get there, they can't help me, right?
I hit rock bottom. Nadir. All-time low. The clouds were dark, they were close, and they were never going away.
And then . . . a friend on Facebook sent me a link. It may have saved me.
If you're interested, it was a special by a standup comedian named Christoper Titus. I was familiar with him through his failed Fox sitcom years ago, but I'd never seen his work. This particular special was almost entirely dedicated to his messy and still-progressing divorce. And it was HILARIOUS.
He covered every terrible and fucked up base - the fighting, the effect on the kids, the wrangling in court over money, all the jealousy and resentment and lack of sex and accusations and violence that led up to the divorce. I laughed like I hadn't in weeks, and as the show progressed, it occurred to me that I was laughing about the very same things that had made me feel like I was suffocating.
This was like a revelation shotgun shell to the brain.
All of a sudden, this shitstorm doesn't seem quite so bleak. It seems manageable. For the first time ever, though I have heard it a million times, I actually believe that some day this will get better. Maybe some day I can laugh about it all. I may not live with my kids anymore, but I will still be important to them, I will do the best job I can, and they will be better for having known me.
I am aware that I am going through a period of despair and affirmation, but I think there's a narrative here. I think it's not just a vicious circle. I actually think I'm starting to heal. I'm getting an immersive crash course in the idea that schisms exist so they may be bridged. We bleed and cry so we can mend and laugh and do the whole crazy fucking thing all over again. It's life, baby.
Thank you Lauren, and thank you Christopher Titus. I owe at least one of you a beer.