Scared Bunny

Why is it that people feel the need to build up the self-esteem of every guy that goes through a divorce? I am not happy that I got a divorce, but I also know I was headed for a serious meltdown if I hadn't gotten one. Hell, maybe I am still headed for one. I don't know. But trying to convince me that every waitress at dinner is flirting with me is a stretch. Especially when they are paid to look like younger, hotter Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. They get paid to flirt. That's what those skimpy outfits are for. If flirting weren't part of the game they'd dress them in sweats.

And not every girl that does flirt with you is going to raise your self-esteem. Right now I am no prize, but there are still some women I am superficial enough to know it's not really a compliment when they think you will go out with them. Just like some women would laugh at me if I asked them out, I cringe when some women are trying to get my attention.

Maybe I am throwing out some sign that I am just available, which is weird just to see on the screen. I don't feel available. I also don't feel unavailable. What I feel is like I am in a holding pattern waiting to see what can happen and what is supposed to happen. Part of me feels like a hook-up would be a mid-air collision, and not too many people survive those.

I'm not dead. I still have feelings and urges. But what I don't feel like I have is the courage to follow up on those feelings. My strength isn't back for anything meaningful. And it's hard for me anymore to do things that have no meaning. Plus I am 8 months from the split still comparing every woman to my ex. I can't get involved to any degree and be doing that. It's just not right or fair.

I had a stretch between marriages, and before Heather, where I just didn't give a fuck. I had some good times. I had some bad times. I had some weird times. But they were times and none of them did anything like what my last 3 relationships have done. At no point during those relationships was I scared. And, truly, at no point since the start with Heather have I felt safe.

Is it all just unresolved from Heather? Is it separate issues from all 3? Is it something that traces back before Heather that she brought out that has just stayed on the surface? Whatever it is, I have to get past it and soon. It is impacting all aspects of my life and I can't have that. I'll do whatever it takes to get it right if I can just get some guidance.

I need peace and I need it now.

Labels: dating, divorce, pain, relationships, self-esteem

These ideas are nightmares to white parents
Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings
Like whatever they say has no bearing, it's so scary in a house that allows
no swearing
To see him walking around with his headphones blaring
Alone in his own zone, cold and he don't care
He's a problem child
And what bothers him all comes out, when he talks about
His fuckin' dad walkin' out
Cause he just hates him so bad that he blocks him out
If he ever saw him again he'd probably knock him out
His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back
Talkin' black, brainwashed from rock and rap
He sags his pants, do-rags and a stocking cap
His step-father hit him, so he socked him back, and broke his nose
His house is a broken home, there's no control, he just let's his emotions
go...

[Chorus]
{C'mon}, sing with me, {sing}, sing for the years
{Sing it}, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears, {c'mon)
Sing it with me, just for today, maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you
away...

Entertainment is changin', intertwinin' with gangsta's
In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum
Holy or unholy, only have one homie
Only this gun, lonely cause don't anyone know me
Yet everybody just feels like they can relate, I guess words are a
mothafucka they can be great
Or they can degrade, or even worse they can teach hate
It's like these kids hang on every single statement we make
Like they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinum
Now how the fuck did this metamorphosis happen
From standin' on corners and porches just rappin'
To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' ass
But then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you
Fans turn on you, attorneys all want a turn at you
To get they hands on every dime you have, they want you to lose your mind
every time you mad
So they can try to make you out to look like a loose cannon
Any dispute won't hesitate to produce handguns
That's why these prosecutors wanna convict me, strictly just to get me off
of these streets quickly
But all they kids be listenin' to me religiously, so I'm signin' cd's while
police fingerprint me
They're for the judge's daughter but his grudge is against me
If I'm such a fuckin' menace, this shit doesn't make sense Pete
It's all political, if my music is literal, and I'm a criminal how the fuck
can I raise a little girl
I couldn't, I wouldn't be fit to, you're full of shit too, Guerrera, that
was a fist that hit you...

[CHORUS]

They say music can alter moods and talk to you
Well can it load a gun up for you , and cock it too
Well if it can, then the next time you assault a dude
Just tell the judge it was my fault and I'll get sued
See what these kids do is hear about us totin' pistols
And they want to get one cause they think the shit's cool
Not knowin' we really just protectin' ourselves, we entertainers
Of course the shit's affectin' our sales, you ignoramus
But music is reflection of self, we just explain it, and then we get our
checks in the mail
It's fucked up ain't it
How we can come from practically nothing to being able to have any fuckin'
thing that we wanted
That's why we sing for these kids, who don't have a thing
Except for a dream, and a fuckin' rap magazine
Who post pin-up pictures on their walls all day long
Idolize they favorite rappers and know all they songs
Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in their lives
Till they sit and they cry at night wishin' they'd die
Till they throw on a rap record and they sit, and they vibe
We're nothin' to you but we're the fuckin' shit in they eyes
That's why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and
hold it
Cause we consider these minutes golden
And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone
Just let our spirits live on, through our lyrics that you hear in our
songs and we can...


This is a song that got to me from the first time I ever heard it. I have a little bit of a prejudice because the chorus comes from my high school class song, so the song stuck out to me from the start. But the ideas behind it really fit my childhood. Hell, in a lot of ways I still relate.

I live kind of a double life. On one hand I have the kind of job that people think of as a suit and tie existence. People would expect me to live in a gated community and be a member of a country club. I should feel more comfortable in khakis and a polo than board shorts and a t-shirt. But the real me is more of a punk than a banker. If I wouldn't get blasted for it I'd have even more ink than I have now. Given the choice the only long pants I'd own would be jeans.

It's not a house that allows no swearing, but a life. People around me don't know how to take me because I'm not like them. I'm edgier, darker and more blunt. I'm honest to a fault. I have even had trouble at work because people expect me to be someone I'm not just because of my position. At the same time, I don't fit in with people who wouldn't be shocked by my attitudes either. I see nihilism for the sake of nihilism as idiotic. I don't want to be satisfied with just doing OK and just getting by.

The history of my musical taste tells my story. I was one of the few white kids listening to rap where I went to school, and as it went from more fun and games to darker and more violent my interest increased. Hell, I hated the fucking Beastie Boys when they came out, and when they outsold Run DMC I just about puked.

Where I'm from there were a few groups when it came to music. The main group was dirtbags listening to their Ozzy, AC/DC and Iron Maiden. I didn't have anything against the music, but the fans at the time seemed pretty brain-dead. Then there were the alternative kids, which just didn't have an edge at the time. It wasn't exactly pop, but it wasn't very dark at the time. We did have some country fans, but I just avoided them.

Anyway, I liked rap at first because it was different. It didn't fit in to any of the groups that were on campus, and I didn't feel like I fit in with any of them either. The fact is, I felt like a total outsider, and there was little more outside the mainstream at a school with almost no black students than rap.

But I had one problem with the music at first. All you ever heard was the typical bragging, just short of pop, rap. The more raw inner city stuff took a while to make it to a town like mine. I'm sure it was in the record stores before I knew about it, but it sure wasn't on the radio and even in the stores they never played it, so I didn't know about it. That was until I went to a Run DMC show.

Now, imagine this bill: Run DMC, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, JJ Fad and Public Enemy. Kinda reminds me of one of those old Sesame Street “One of these things is not like the others” songs. I can't say I immediately got in to PE. The sound was awful in that arena and all we could really hear was Professor Grif apparently calling for all white people to be lynched. But the friend I went with was able to sift through that and he started listening to their music. And before long we were both hooked.

It wasn't long before we added in NWA, Too $hort and the like. Now my friend just really liked the fact it was, to him, black music. He was one of those guys. But for me what I loved was the raw emotion and often anger. I was a very angry kid even if nobody seemed to realize it. I'd had a pretty rough childhood including whole years that are blocked from my memory. I'd been basically disowned by my father at the age of 10. I'd lived in a household where my parents spent so much time worried about my siblings they had no idea that I was an emotional powder keg. Music with so much raw emotion really fit my mood. I can't say I know what it's like to be black because I don't. But I do know how it feels to be angry at how I was treated by life and authority. And the fact it was outside the mainstream for that town didn't hurt.

Now I still listen to the old stuff, with some of the newer, edgier music thrown in. I am not in to the bragging music so much because, seriously, who gives a shit. I've even made room for a lot of the metal that has an edge and intelligent lyrics. It's the guys that really dig down deep in to what they see and feel make it to my Ipod. It's all because I still feel like an outsider. I may have a total white collar job earning a good living, but I don't feel like I fit in any more than I did in high school. I usually do a decent job of faking it, but the people that really know me know that I am usually uncomfortable because I feel like the people around me don't really want me there. And in some cases that discomfort is a reason why some of them really don't.

The people that see where I am in life don't see the real me. Those who don't appreciate how I can be like I am and still be where I am don't like the real me. Sometimes I feel like I scare them because they feel like I shouldn't be able to be here and still feel the way I feel. But here I am and if I can get past all my bullshit here I will stay. And if they don't like that they can kiss my ass.

Labels: eminem, emotions, life, music, pain, rap

One thing people ask me a lot is how I am doing. I know why they ask though. People that know me I have been kind of walking in the razors edge for years. I never really got healthy when I went through therapy, and I had decided that I could get by with just medication and self-learning. Of course that really wasn’t the case, and isn’t for lots of people.

They have seen how things like what has happened can affect me. Well, not like what’s happened because most of them weren’t around for my first divorce and that was a very different situation. But they know how susceptible I am to depression and anxiety and they get worried. I appreciate their concern more than they will ever know, but, to be honest, thinking about how I am is a problem for me.

Right now I go in and out of anxious states every day. Sometimes they get real bad and other times I am just fine. Lots of times there is a trigger for the anxiety, and the things that trigger me that can be avoided I just avoid. That would be like songs that remind me what I gave up, or even certain TV shows. Hell, I can’t even think of listening to country music without a problem.

But the biggest trigger of anxiety is thinking about what has happened and thinking about anxiety. If you take a body that is accustomed to running on the adrenaline and tension of anxiety, it’s pretty easy to get it back to that state. If my doctor hadn’t got me started on distraction techniques I swear I’d be dead by now because the building of the anxiety would never stop.

It’s kind of like the song by Blue October, “Hate Me”:

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home

In the opening to the song they play audio of an answering machine message from the lead singer’s mother. She is concerned about him because she knows he’s been upset and she wants to make sure he’s taking his medication. I have gotten those calls before, and sometimes the people checking on me now remind me of them. They really do serve not as a comfort, but as a trigger. They really do remind you how alone you are and how bad things really are.

But to those who wonder, no, I’m not suicidal. I am dealing with a huge loss and it hurts like hell most of the time, but I also am always focused on the fact that I can be happy and healthy if I just learn how to do it. I am working with someone who does a great job at helping me cut through the static a person with a mind like mine has, and who teaches me how the same mind can use that power to get better if you let it.

I think there is only one person I am close to who has been there for all of my bullshit over the years, and while he and I talk, and I go to him sometimes when I need to get something out, he also has not once probed as to how I am. He has been through a loss I can’t even imagine, and is just now coming out of the darkness. And he and I are so similar sometimes it’s scary. He knows that sometimes words meant to help cut deeper than things said out of cruelty. When someone insults me usually I can look at that person and realize there is no validity in their opinion. But when a person who is worthwhile says something that reminds you where you are, it really can hurt more than it can help.

So the answer to anyone who wonders is: “I’m alive.” How am I? Depends on the day, the hour or even the second. I’m not happy. I’m not satisfied with where I am in life or what all has happened. I don’t suddenly think I am OK and all is well. And at no point do I look at anything that has happened and say I am right where I want to be. But I am dealing with a situation where the best I can hope for is to be numb, and sometimes that is the best I can do. It’s something I will get through, and maybe I really will emerge on the other side a different person.

Labels: anger, anxiety, depression, hurt, life, pain, well wishers