Order Out Of Chaos, part deuce

 

cont’d from the previous post: ‘Order Out of Chaos’

July 13, 2011

(Time…’demanding’.)

Music of the moment is once again Boston College Radio WZBC 90.3

{They’re always good for a trip.}

Ok, continuing on this little quest of introspection and possible self deception. (Actually, I wanted to put “self-discovery",” but deception just sounded so fun.)

{But who knows the discovery may be self deception….or, perhaps the deception is in the discovery…}

So the fight continues on….

I still don’t completely understand how it got started in the first place. I understand the second, and worst, part came later when I jumped him about the bringing up the money thing. That much I get. For that much I will take responsibility. And, though approaching him on it is something I could never apologize for, I do find remorse in how I did it. I can not excuse it..but I can at least explain it.

I was livid.

I was livid because he threw the money thing out there the way he had – not only by doing it in front of other people, but with such an inaccurate phrasing of how things went down.

I was livid because here we were back on the Merry-Go-Round. Somehow, once again, the simplest of debates/discussions/disagreements had just mushroomed into the same old song and dance.

I was livid because my “friend” had just kicked me out, acting as though I were acting like an asshole and all I was trying to do was figure out how we came to that juncture in the first place. {I understand that by that point we were into the fight and I get that. It was time to go.}

Cause I was LIVID.

But I still don’t get where the challenge/question turned into the discussion/debate/disagreement. I don’t understand how I came out the bad guy, because I don’t know what I did. (That is my story and I am sticking to it.)

I challenged a thought pattern…a very strong statement of self. (Which most people generally appreciate from me.) I like to make people think (especially before they speak.)

“It is not what we put into our mouths that will defile us, but that which comes out of it.”

                                                                              --Jesus of Nazareth

So I am. I am completely over the top before he even gets home. I will admit that. I was waaaaaay beyond furious. I still am really. (it’s just pulled back a bit more.)

I wasn’t nice. I wasn’t nice. I wasn’t nice at all. I know that. I was in his face and my finger was in his chest. I was royally pissed.

{How dare he?}

And I let him have it. Oh boy, did I let him have it. How dare he bring up money that he just gave me – which I didn’t want. (That, I think, is the most important statement in all of this…and for more than the apparent reasons.)

{Siggy, you may be on to something.}

So, the man gives me money – in one instance literally forces it on me – then turns around (in front of other people) and throws it back in my face? See I really have a problem with this.

Perhaps he wasn’t being spiteful and mean. (I do try to give credit, folks.) Perhaps, just perhaps, he was trying to merely insinuate that I was ungrateful. And, due to my apparent ingratitude, he was no longer going to be generous.

Perhaps.

{Oh God.}

I do not often experience remorse. You will rarely hear me speak of regrets. This moment holds both for me. (Well…not so much on the regret. But way heavy on the remorse.)

I do. I genuinely feel bad. Family should not be this way with each other. And, though I can argue till the end of time that they are very difficult and frustrating and infuriating and hurtful…I must concede that ultimately, it is I that allows it to go that far. I am not saying that I will bear the responsibility of taking it that far. That is neither here nor there. The important realization is that I allow it by participating, by giving back, by getting involved. I condone this behavior and routine. Not only theirs, but my own.

{Please understand that at no time in this telling am I pleading pure innocence. I am not “playing the victim” by any stretch of the imagination. I have serious involvement in these.)

It is an interesting lil game we play (the more I look at it.)

For instance, if I am going to take credit and bear responsibility for fights being out of control. (And I do push it….anymore.) Then it must also be known and accepted that on more than one occasion I have also been the only one to try to bring the fight down to a dialogue. Unfortunately,  this does not work. We can not have dialogue together. They of course will blame me for this.

He just thinks he’s right….

He hears something he doesn’t like and he just goes off….

He gets loud and gets in our faces…

Tis true.

I do have a tendency to yell. I also am well known for getting right up in a person’s face. It’s true. I absolutely can not deny it.

However, with that truth must, once again, must come another. I can tell you from experience that it takes a whole lot to push me to that point. Many people would disagree with this. But they see the explosion. And it is true that when it comes it comes quickly and unexpectedly. What they don’t see is the build up.

It takes a lot of moments of just the right caliber to get me in your face. Truly it does. (People don’t realize just how often I steer clear of trouble.)

So there is no denying that, whatever this problem between us truly is, it has gone too far for way too long. I have several times opened up the option for a mediator, because I believe it truly is a language barrier. A communication, perhaps even a cultural, gap.

That’s it.

I think if we could have healthy, productive, honest dialogue without the attacking and the yelling and someone who can help translate or bridge misunderstandings we could solve this.

Or, at least, that has been my thought…until…just this moment.

Because the truth of the matter is I have also just recently had the realization that whatever it is (in them) that triggers these fights and the harshness and the contempt goes much deeper than the things they use or say.

{At this point I would have to associate and accept that more than likely they are still stuck at ‘14’. I would imagine that 14 came as a very big shock to their system. ‘14’ was (almost) a killer.}

(Sorry…that was a really bad joke.)

{Truly distasteful. I can only imagine the impact that ‘14’ had on them…and what could happen to that experience, those reactions, if the moment had never truly been dealt with…nurtured…healed….}

(Which it was not.)

The thing is…’14’ is the perfect example. I had been pushed. I had been pushed way beyond the limit. Not just that day. Oh…that day. That day was horrible. I still, to this day, hate that fuckin day. I do not know where exactly that day jumped the track, but there was one bad moment. One bizarre, angering moment. And, bar one, every moment after that was absolutely dreadful and horrific.

But it wasn’t just that day. {There are a lot of people that would disagree with what I am about to say. I will also be the first one to say that things could have been way, way worse.} But I remember ‘youth’ in this house…and it was no picnic. There has been a lot of craziness in Geistopia for a very long time. It wasn’t until ‘14’, that I became a part of it.

As usual…I digress…..

{deep sigh}

…So….this fight continues.

{And, I am truly convinced by now that there really is a deeper underlying source to their feelings towards me. Because they always, as I said yesterday, use the same rhetoric. it’s always the exact same pattern of arguments and things they throw up at me.}

I have for a long time been curious by it all because the one thing I have noticed is that no matter what the source of the moment is (say, for example….Smiles and Happiness…) they always find a way to make it about all these other things. Without fail.

Yesterday started with money given and “not gonna happen anymore,” and,”you’re gonna be in trouble.” (I think it’s important for you to know that the “stipulation” to getting this money that I did not ask for, nor did I really want, was that I keep it on the down low. Don’t tell the Big D.)

{Not asking too much…huh?}

And when he got home and I jumped his ass…{and I’m tellin’ ya I jumped his ass. I was have probably never been as close to hitting my father…really hitting him…as I was yesterday. It took much more restraint than anyone will ever know}…I jumped his ass about the money thing and before long we were ‘Ridin’ That Train'.’

“You need to get a job…”

Arguing this was in vain. Because no one can deny that I have a job…few would be able to deny that I actually have jobs(s.) And…for those of you in doubt, please allow me to show you my income statements.

Do I make a lot of money? No. Actually, it’s really hard to be certain yet. It’s been a growing and developing process and experience. I still have weeks when I am really strapped. But I also have been able to do more than I have been able to for a long time. I have done more stuff with my daughters. I have gotten some old debt straightened out (some.) I have made investments in my businesses. I have been able to eat every day and actually fill my gas tank if I so choose.

This is a much better place than I was in this day a year ago. MUCH better.

So ok…no denying that I have jobs.

“When’s the last time you had to bust your ass…besides [Siggy]’s”

{You gotta love that little ‘Catch and Qualify’ he pulled there.}

And…from there we moved into commenting that there’s nothing to doing my video work and commenting on how much I drive to make the money that I do…and finally, in the throes of anger, he throws out the ‘Minister’ card.

“You’re no minister look at the way you’re acting…”

And he’s right to a certain degree. But I have never denied my character flaws. I accept them and deal with them daily. Some days I win. Some days it is a difficult struggle. And some days I flat out lose.

“I struggle with the Humanity of me.”

                                              --previous blog entry

My behavior in these moments is absolutely appalling (albeit quite possibly understandable.) It is one of those things I find myself seeking forgiveness for. It is one of my trespasses. Undeniably.

So now the man has managed to take every single one of my jobs and tear them down, dismiss them, diminish them, and discount them.

I work.

But….I don’t because…..

The same old rhetoric. Even in the light of new life circumstances. Even with me working and making money somehow he manages to set out to prove that I don’t work.

From work we jump to….drum roll please….

Child Support.

Now.

Let me set this record straight right now. I am telling this story officially. I have mentioned this problem frequently of late. People seem to like to bring it up to me. People like to bring it up to me in a tone and manner that suggests I am a deadbeat dad. That, somehow, I have been living the high life, meanwhile neglecting the needs of my poor deprived and suffering children.

Forgive me. I would like a moment of consideration here. One that perhaps these folks haven’t taken the time to weigh.

Folks, Jessi left me in October and November of 2008. (Don’t ask….really…..don’t.)

At that time I was unemployed. Short of anything that may happen my way randomly here and there, I had no income. I was job hunting. I was doing applications and job fairs and interviews…the whole shebang. But, unsuccessfully. So, when Jessi left I had nothing.

I did not find an actual like job type thing (at Wendy’s) until the middle of June 2009. So, by the first time I get a paycheck it’s the beginning of July. One month later, in August, I went to prison and then to a very short, but oh so entertaining and enlightening, stay at rehab.

I was released back into the world mid-October 2009. I had no job officially lined up but there had been talk of going back to Wendy’s and Bam-Bam was going to try to get me in at the mountain. I had $400 to my name. $175 of which I was going to immediately turn over for my first week’s stay in a motel. Which, incidentally, I had to make sure was probation office approved.

I stop at Wendy’s to check in only to discover that there is a problem. Because I had been in prison the main office wanted to run a background check on me. It took a month for that to get done and for me to get back on the schedule at 25 hours a week…not the 40 I had been anticipating. And the mountain…well, the mountain didn’t start up until Dec. 12.

I swear to you. I promise you. It is by Divine Grace that I survived until Thanksgiving like I did. I had even made an upgrade in my accommodations.

And then another upgrade into an apartment. I still don’t know who actually thought getting me into an apartment before I was actually working was a good idea. I realize at the time it seemed the thing to do….well…that or let me go back to prison.

By May 2010 I am unemployed and homeless. (That’s a story for another time.)

I fight and struggle my way through the summer and manage fairly well until October. (At which point I find myself with no job and no income once more.)

It is no lie when I say that the past several months have been a very different experience for me. This is truly the first time in a long time that I have had, not only a steady flow of money, but also a healthy one.

So you see, up until recently, I haven’t had money. And I mention this because….

In Dec of 2008, Jessi took the girls to the doctor. The one in Topton. The one we paid for. (The one I got admonished for taking Nyssa to a few weeks ago. Lol.)

{I had no job. I was living off the Grace of God.}

When she arrived to drop off the girls that weekend I handed her the payment for the doctor visit (minus 15 she had owed me.) Not half the payment, mind you. I handed her the whole payment (minus 15 that she owed me.)

She looked down at her hand. She did not look at me. She did not thank me. She snarled up her lips and asked, in a very indignant tone, “Is this for this visit or the revisit.”

That was really the last time money was discussed between us. Until, that is, November 2009.

She and I had some sort of disagreement and her rebuttal involved telling me to take responsibility for my daughters.

“Pay support!”

{I am less than 30 days out of prison/rehab. I have no job. I am living in a motel. Once again, I truly am making it through each day by the grace of God. I would fuckin love to give you money.}

No. Really. I would.

BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY…….

And yet, when I offered her the bit of cash in my pocket, to satisfy whatever it was she had just paid for and she was pissed about, she said, “I don’t want your money.”

{Hmmm.}

So I go home that night and I look up child support in Pennsylvania. Granted, I wasn’t a scholar about it. I glazed over it, gathering the information I needed – calculations, considerations and such. I took a good hard look at it and I wrote her an email. I explained to her what I had read and learned. And, I surmised that under those current circumstances we were under she really would make out better to work with me than to take it through the court. (Which inevitably turned out to true.)

{She walked away with nothing granted when we went to domestic relations.}

I then suggested that she make a list and figure out what she spent on the girls each month and we would take it from there. (Which, incidentally, is exactly what she was asked to do by Domestic Relations.)

I never heard another word from her about it. Next thing I know it is March 2010. I receive a summons to a child support hearing. I notice it was filed near the end of February. {I note this as an important fact, because she just had her third child – not mine.}

We go to court. I have no job. She has no job. She’s not collecting unemployment. I have no place to live. (This is May, by the way.) The D.R. person presents our options, but strongly suggests walking away and coming up with a solution when I’m working. This is what we do.

I let her know when I get the job at Exxon. I tell her it is only 20 hours a week to start and I will keep her informed. Still I am asking her to figure out how much she spends.

Again, nothing is said much about it – unless of course she gets mad at me. And so it goes for many months. Finally it is early in 2011. I am starting jobs. I see income coming. There will be some steadiness. A bit of solidarity.

I approach her on the support thing. This time, however, I propose that, until things steady out for me and I see how this all goes, I will pay her half of any of the miscellaneous expenses that may arise – doctor’s visits, clothes, pictures, etc. And, while I get it all under control, she should get that list of what she spends on the girls each month and we would look at it and go from there. I told her that I would give her half, but may have to work towards it.

She did, on occasion, take me up on the first part of the proposal – a doctor’s visit here, pictures there, some tights. The second part though was still not being dealt with. It was not until this last fight that I was informed (by her) that my proposal is (essentially) unacceptable. Her reasoning is that the court wouldn’t care what it went towards. That they would just give me a number and make me pay it. This may be true. But I think, under present circumstances, it is a very fair offer. You decide for yourself. Perhaps it is not an ideal proposal. But, I offered to do what I could do, based on what I knew I could do.

So as far as I’m concerned…it’s her fault she’s not getting any kind of help from me right now. I mean, fine, she doesn’t like my idea. {Fine. Great. Perhaps you’d like to…I don’t know….suggest something yourself…perhaps….maybe…work with me a little….throw me a bone here…????}

You get where I’m going.

So yeah….back to the fight…..don’t fuckin throw support in my face. I mean really. No one knows about that proposal I suppose. I mean I didn’t discuss it with my family. We don’t communicate like that.

We don’t “share.”

And this is forever my biggest gripe and aggravation in these confrontations. They speak so strongly.So sharp and piercing. And yet, in most cases, there is so little fact behind what they are saying or suggesting. Like this for example. My father throws support at me because, to him, he is suggesting that I am trying to eschew my responsibility. Now, whether he is trying to attack and express his disgust with me or whether he is displaying his deep and heartfelt disappointment in me I can not tell you. But, I can say that, in either case, I feel it is uncalled for. I feel I have made an effort. At every point in the experience I have done my best to work with her. Give her what I can. Give her what I can when she actually tells me about something.

I think I’ve been fair. I feel I have been extremely fair. {And, I would hope that if he knew what I just told you folks that he would agree…or at the very least constructively help me to make necessary changes.}

It’s not just the missing facts. It’s the twisted facts. Stories change very drastically (and conveniently) here in Geistopia.

One good example was this fight that happened back in Dec 2005. It was a fight between the Trio and me & Jessi. It was heated. {And it was already going when I walked into it.} But everyone was in everyone’s face.

Now the story goes, or so we’re told today, that at some point in that fight I hit my mother.

I didn’t. I know I didn’t. I don’t recall hitting her. (You know why?) Because I didn’t. My father has confessed that he doesn’t recall me hitting my mother.

(You know why?)

(Exactly!)

I’ll tell you what I do recall. I did grab a hold of my mother. I most certainly did.

Jessi went to yell at Tara and got in her face. My mother grabbed hold of Jessi’s hair and yanked it.

I pounced man. If the Leo in me ever erupted that was the moment. I leapt. I moved and I moved quick and hard. I grabbed hold of that woman’s wrists and got in between them and very straightforwardly informed her that that would be enough of that.

I most certainly did.

But, I did not hit her.

In fact…I have never hit her. Not once. I have gotten in faces. I have bumped chests. I have poked chests. I have raised fists. I have grabbed wrists. {And lately a frenzy of pushing. Not with the hands. More of a body bump.} But, barring one moment, I have never actually struck a family member. {One moment. That is a story already told and perhaps again some other time.}

Yet, I hear all sorts of tales and tellings of how abusive I have been to my mother (and now my father…though that’s starting to harness some truth.)

Now, in as much as I have done things, I am not the only guilty party.

I have also had my chest bumped and poked. Many a fist have shook in my direction. I have been come at and gotten up on. However, I have also had my fingers grabbed with the threat of breaking them. I have had my throat grabbed and choked in front of my two young daughters. And I have even been threatened to be shot. (Also in front of my daughters.)

Little truths no one’s told.

And finally, the last stop on this latest Merry-Go-Round…

The inevitable, always adored, totally unwarranted and misconstrued example of yet another person Matthew has been a complete dick to…and don’t forget way out of line.

This week’s winner…..

DAVE!

Yup.

You know…”Daddy” ‘D.’

{If that’s not a pedophile waiting to happen I don’t know what is.}

(Now that was in poor taste.)

Anyway…yeah…that guy. Apparently, so I’ve been informed, I had no business going up there and “starting in with him.”

You all remember this, right? The big ass blow out he and I had before Father’s Day?

Well, let’s get something straight…I didn’t “start in with him.” he started in on me.

“yeah…but you went back at him.”

Yes. Yes I did. The man just got done yelling at me that my daughters’ safety and well being was none of my concern. Not only did I need to set him straight on that little matter, I also felt it was my duty to point out how pathetic I thought it was that he can’t muster up so much as a “hi” in 2 1/2 years and the first time he speaks to me he’s jumpin my ass.

Yeah. Right.

I’ve told that story before and will not go on about it again now. But I will reiterate that I in no way attacked, accused, yelled at, threatened or even “started in with” anyone. I approached that moment as delicately as I possibly could, because I knew what the reaction would be. (Only I expected it from her.)

I asked my question.

I got my answer.

I said what was on my mind.

Here’s what’s funny about that moment though – that mother fucker took me on the same damned Merry-Go-Round that my parents do. He took that and turned it into support. he turned it into me needing to work and scoffing at me telling him I do. He even turned it into how no one would ever do me any favors because I am just such a big asshole.

You know what’s even funnier about it all?

He’s about as well informed about and in tune with my life as my family is. Dude ain’t spoke to me but once in over two years and that was to yell at me about all the things he doesn’t know.

No wonder I called him illiterate.

It was a very accurate term at the moment. {Quite honestly I was a little surprised at how accurate. And that happens to me often…see “eschew”.}

So there you have it. That’s the latest installment. This is it. This is the meat and potatoes of it. this is the backbone. This post has it all – the ins and outs, up and downs, twists, turns and backstories. There is more to come. I do have a feeling part three is to come tomorrow.

As for now, personally, I am cooling down a bit. Livid is lowly tapering off to frustrated. The more I look at it and think about it the more I realize that whatever it is that cause this is deeper within all of us than any of us has dared explore.

It is incredible to think that any rational human beings would even consider continuing on with this sort of pattern. And I include myself in there. I am disappointed to realize just how deep into this insanity I have allowed myself to sink. And, it is insanity. It has been here for a very long time. Long before it ever set it’s sights on me.

The fights and the lies and the deceptions and false accusations and aggression and guilt and anger and blame and twisted tales – I have seen them all here in Geistopia. It had it’s particular favorites and occasional delicacies. I have watched the beast tear through many until there was not a soul left and it turned to feast on me. {And I’ve been a right hearty meal too.}

TO BE CONTINUED……