I don’t know how I keep writing. I mean I know where it’s leading, but inspiration is waning. Maybe it’s only because I know where it’s heading is how I keep writing. This is the third post I started tonight. This is the first time typing behind the screen in weeks.
Well since Beyoncé dropped “Lemonade” anyway. Had to write about that. Beyoncé out here pushing the culture in a whole direction by showing how you can deliver a message. So yeah…inspiration.
Perhaps because this space is simply to journal the life of a regular married man just trying to make it. Keep money flowing, make great memories, keep everyone safe and fed. Hopefully with some luck, planning and execution, we can continue to eat well – for multiple lifetimes.
I’m pretty sure that’s why I still find the time to write. It’s about a legacy. It’s so my son can get to know where his father came from. We’re all smack in the middle of our journey. And we all meet different stages of ourselves along the way. Something has to ground us.
But on some weird tangent shit, I’ve been elated and pissed at the same damn time. Work’s been great. We’re about to some damage in the Mid-West for new revenue, and my whole team is dope.
Home is a different story. It’s probably my fault. I’m going through that phase when everything your spouse does upsets you to the point of not giving a fuck. And the not-give-a-fuck-zone is a comfortable but dangerous place. It’s past upset. It’s past emotion and reaction. It’s emotional purgatory.
And I hate being in that space when it comes to my marriage. I rarely get here – perhaps only a handful of times over the past 10+ years of matrimony. But I get that in order to get to 15 or 20 years, you have to move outta the no-fucks-given-zone. Nothing survives the no-fucks-given-zone. Marriages, furniture, jobs, Jermaine Jackson’s hareline, nothing.
I attended Dad 2.0 in Washington D.C. this past February. About 500 dads who write from time to time about their experience as fathers – mostly to better make sense of this journey – coming together to make better sense of this journey, together. I’m damn glad I went. I’m not entirely sure I’d be writing this today had I not gone.
It’s so easy to quit anything perceived as difficult. The other fathers I met out there brave enough to share both their ‘AHA!’ and ‘uh oh’ moments gives me strength to keep documenting. All the stories do teach the same lessons.
You’re not alone.
I’m trying to be better tomorrow than I was today.
This too shall pass.
Those other fathers give me perspective. Probably the thing many of us could use more of in our own lives. A perspective you can trust. So even through my own no-fuck-given-zone, I know this too shall pass – as long as I do something about it. Maybe it’s the simple lessons we need to be reminded of most often.
And in order to want to do something about, you have to find a fuck to give. Somewhere outside of Nofuckistan. Legacies don’t grow well there.