Reprieve

Below is a letter I wrote to a long-time friend of mine; he moved upstate a couple of decades ago and we lost touch for a while.

I wanted to share it with you all as well. I guess I feel the need to reach out right now; to not feel so alone. And if someone else out there feels anything like I do, then I hope they can get something out of this too.

I don’t know. But it doesn’t hurt to try. 🤷‍♂️

~Trying is about the only thing right now that doesn’t hurt.~

I appreciate you man.

Some days/weeks are harder than others. Last night, and earlier today, has definitely been difficult. It shouldn’t have been, but it’s been two years this month since [my ex] and I decided to split; well, she decided, and I went along with it without much of a fight. 10 years ago, give or take, my dad died. My brother was being his usual ass self, and just couldn’t leave me alone, and we got into a fight. That was the last time I saw or spoke with my family. My kids, [my ex], and her family were the only family I had left. They were a great family too. They were the family I had always dreamed of having.

Every year at summer time they get together at [local beach] for a beach trip. They rent a big house, and [my ex]’s parents, brother and his wife, sister and her husband, and their children, all get together and just hang out for the week. Shit, now that I think of it, the last time I went with them to the beach was on the 4th of July in 2023. It was a thinly veiled “last chance” for me and [my ex], but we had one argument and by the time we got home she set it in stone that we were done. So I started looking for an apartment and I moved out by August. Now, I get to sit here all by myself while they go off and have their fun adventures.

I not only lost my adopted family, but our mutual friends eventually decided I wasn’t worth a damn anymore. Of course she’s still friends with them. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on my part, but they just couldn’t be bothered with me. So I gave up on them too. Not only was my family not mine, but neither were my friends.

I love my boys so fucking much. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting them. No matter how bad things get, I don’t think I could ever do it. I tell myself they are too young to deal with that sort of thing. Maybe in 8-10 years when they go off to college; maybe when they settle down with a family of their own. I don’t know. I think I’m just making excuses because I’m just a fucking coward.

I cry myself to sleep more often than not. In between the sobs I pray and wish that by the time morning comes, I won’t wake up. Hey, I’m getting old; I have a family history of heart disease and cancer. It’s not too far fetched, and my kids won’t be as fucked up as they would if I did it to myself. Coward.

So many times I’ve wished that the pain in my chest was on the left side, and not the right, where my anxiety lives. Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone or something will do the thing I cannot bring myself to do for myself. Maybe: That’s my mantra. Maybe things will change. Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life. Maybe, if I just hold on a little bit longer, I’ll finally be happy with what I already have and stop pining away for things I think I should have.

I’m all alone in this world. You’re up there with your family, what’s left of my family is down at the beach. I am here in the middle, all by myself.

I hope they think about me a little while they have the time of their lives. Don’t get me wrong. I know my boys love me. I can see it in how they look at me. [my oldest] loves laying with me on the couch. [my youngest] is always telling me about the games he plays. Both kids love having me lay with them at bedtime. [my youngest] did ask for me to come to the beach with them; if I could’ve, I would’ve gone with them. I have no doubt in my heart that they love me. But there will come a day when they no longer come to stay with me. They will leave here for the last time, and go on to live their own lives. Maybe they’ll stay in touch. Maybe they’ll visit from time to time. It’s that damn “maybe” again. Always giving me false hope. And I know from experience that false hope always ends up hurting the most.

Yesterday was a good day. I spent all afternoon playing with my boys at my old neighbor’s annual pool party. [my youngest] was glued to my side almost the whole time. We ate dinner at [my ex]’s. It was a hold over from [my oldest]’s birthday earlier this month. We always give the kids a birthday dinner together. Her sister and husband were there too, so I got to hang out with my nieces a little too. We watched Grizzy and Lemmings on Netflix (the youngest niece is 6), and we had a good time laughing at the goofiness of the show. But then I had to leave and come home. My fairytale had come to an end. My world, once again, came crashing down around me. The tide had ebbed.

I spent most of today sleeping. I woke up long enough to feed and water my dog and watch a movie. Then I went back to sleep for a few more hours. I woke up because the weight of my blanket made it feel like I couldn’t move at all. It’s a weighted blanket, but I felt panicked because I was being pinned down and it hurt and for a good while, I literally couldn’t move. I wasn’t paralyzed. I just didn’t have the strength to move. I did have a paralysis dream once. It was much different; much more frightening. At the time I dreamed I was in my bed, and a monster/demon was coming through my door. I tried to get up to move, but I just couldn’t. It was like when your arm falls asleep and no matter how hard you try, it just won’t move. Now that I think about it, I’ve had that dream twice now since my divorce. This time was different. There was no demon coming for me. I just couldn’t overcome gravity like I usually do.

I’ll probably go back to sleep in a little bit after sending this email. I have no good reason to stay awake right now. I’m always biding my time between sleep. I have no motivation to do any of the million-and-one things I need and want to do. I have fungus (not the good kind) growing under my house, which I still need to vapor barrier and insulate after my hot water heater sprung a leak earlier this year. I have spiders throwing raves and orgies in my garage because there are absolutely no walls and a shit ton of holes and cracks that need to be filled. I still have over half a yard full of leaves from last year that need to be raked (that’s even after bagging 30+ bags this year). I’m in the middle of building a computer desk. I want to build a patio/firepit out back so I can enjoy the outside. The list goes on and on. I have all this free time, and no passion for anything anymore. I’m drowning. I am in a constant state of drowning. I’m just flailing away, gagging, and gasping for little bits of air here and there, but I never fully succumb.

PS. To my boys, if you ever come across this post, and I didn’t make it, please know that I tried really, really hard. I’m so sorry to have ever let you down.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.ca/post/47404500

I did not even expect to hit 10 subscribers total to be honest. I hope this community can be a helpful and positive experience for everyone. I know I have felt alone at so many times in my life and felt I had no one to turn to. I have been SO lucky to have a wonderful brother without who I probably wouldn't be alive today. But I know some people aren't lucky enough to have that support. And it's clear so many men feel this way too in this world, and they end up finding role models wherever they can.

Unfortunately they have been in some horrible people lately. I started this with the idea of people just coming together for a common cause - to have a space to talk about the sensitive topics that many may not want to or cannot talk about with their real life people, to get perspectives and support from other people who have been in similar situations, and to hopefully make life a little less shitty for everyone in the process. Thank you everyone for being willing to take part in this with me, and to hopefully create our own little family with better advice and role models than the Internet currently offers.

If anyone has any questions for me or just want someone to talk to one on one, please please feel free to reach out!

I'll vent a bit here to get started. When I was 15 I was sexually assaulted by a woman and no one would believe me. Or if they did believe me, it was the "well what's the problem, was she ugly or something?" Usual spiel. I still have PTSD over this but I cannot speak of it to anyone because it's the same shit over and over again. When I was 16 my girlfriend put out her cigarette on me for the first time. This would continue for the next year and a half before I managed to leave her. I still have over a dozen scars inflicted by her.

I have an EXTREMELY hard time trusting anyone or forming attachments in general because of what's been done to me and I really don't have anyone to talk to about it other than my brother, who went through his own physical. When I was 21 I got into a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship and I let that go on for three years because I had been conditioned into thinking that it was normal, and I had to just "man up" and take it in my previous relationship so I considered the step down from physical abuse to be a bit of a blessing. It wasn't.

I wish I had had someone to tell me that none of this was okay, that I did not have to let myself suffer through these things, that just because I was a man did not mean that I was a free ride to whoever wanted me and I shouldn't compain because I "got some", that I am a human being who has feelings and emotions and should be allowed to express them without being threatened with physical harm.

I want everyone in this place to be that kind of person for everyone else in this place. I want this to be a place free of judgement to share the things that you can't share with others. And I want us to come together as a community to support everyone who comes here seeking help. Life fucking sucks but together we can make it a little less sucky.

This video brought up for me the absolute sameness of what is marketed as men's clothing and acceptable forms of self-expression