It was the worst of times
but some times were still worse
Warning:
This is not a feel-good story. There are subtle mentions of suicide, domestic violence, and emotional abuse. Consider this before deciding to read. Thank you.
ᖇᕼYTᕼᗰ & ᕼᑌEᔕ
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There are two periods of time that I associate as the most difficult in my life. The first was when my dad died right before my 26th birthday. This was back in 2017 which seems so long ago.
I had just released Cookies for Breakfast and decided to spend the weekend at a pagan festival. It’s crazy, I had almost made it through the whole trip before the news was even broken to me. And then there was little follow up activity other than having to sort through his things with some family. And even that ended up driving a wedge between me and my younger siblings where future communication became doubtful. Still to this day.
A couple weeks had passed and it felt like no one really cared. Like there was empathy from people but there were no news reports, vigils, or anything like that. This prompted me to write the first song for my next project called Everyone.
"Tired of feeling like there’s a perfect time and place or the right frame of mind or mental space. All I know is that the stars and the sun in space still spin the same, never even lost their pace"
See, my dad has about ten siblings and none of them had said or planned much to my knowledge. I felt some type of way. I mean, I honestly felt a roller coaster of things as one could imagine but I tried to just focus on how to move forward while grieving in a healthy way.
The perfect opportunity came when my boy, DomTheDestroyer, announced that he was going on tour and asked me to be his hypeman. The final stop was to be Atlanta. That became the first thing for me to look forward to after every day that month had begun to feel like three.
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However, just before it was time to leave; I was alerted that there would actually be a funeral and it conflicted with the tour dates. It was bittersweet, but of course I opted to attend the service which turned out to be the worst funeral I had ever been to. I had to go up and speak just to try and restore the balance. Also, I almost got into an accident on the way there and on the way back.
On top of that, in that same week, me and a bunch of others in my building had to rescue a screaming neighbor being abused by her boyfriend. A few days later, our couch surfer that had been eating our food and leaving the trash everywhere accused us of trying to unalive him. Which led him to drink mystery spray from under the sink and attempt some other threatening behaviors.
And just when I thought it couldn't get worst, the shaky relationship I had been struggling through reached rock bottom and I sequentially chose to move from our shared apartment.
But all of this actually ended up bringing me relief as I was able to start a new journey and my friends were there to support me along the way. After that, time returned to normal and I slowly learned what peace felt like again.
Now let's fast forward to this past February. I was entering my sixth year at a job that I despised because I had found it to be the best way to take care of my wife and kids. Expressing my dislike for the job did not yield any help with other options nor better budgeting options to make room for an entry level career change that I would actually be interested in. I felt stuck, like life was happening to me and I was just waking up to whatever it threw at me. Control was not an option.
Because of how the schedule rotation works at the post office, every six weeks we are required to work six days straight. I refer to these as 'hell weeks'. I was to walk 10+ miles Monday through Saturday while being belittled by management for taking too long because they wanted to pay me as little as possible and wouldn’t accept being tired as a plausible deterrent.
February 2nd was a Thursday during one of these hell weeks so I still had two more days to go before I could try to relax. My oldest son was in a bad mood after having to take some broken furniture to the curb. He was 13 at the time and our youngest was two. The youngest either didn't want him to take it out or was attempting to help him; either way, he made the task more difficult. I could see him getting upset so I reminded him not to take his anger out on a toddler. This escalated quickly into a shouting match where I was being cussed at by a teenager that I provided for. His excuse was that his mom does it all the time.
When it came time for discipline, I was not included in the discussion at any point. I was told by my spouse that the situation was my fault because I let him get to me. I explained that I was protecting the toddler just like I protected her when he attacked her in the previous year and the reason why I was so upset because I felt disrespected.
There were never any apologies issued from either. She told me that she "can't make him apologize" and dismissed my disagreement.
The next day was payday. I had already been able to see the upcoming paystub earlier in the week and had sent a screenshot to my wife so we could know exactly how much we had for bills. I was proud that I had made so much and thought it would give us some wiggle room for saving or luxury.
When the paycheck did come, I was reminded that we were going to start daycare the next week and needed an extra $200. She had just started her new job and had not been paid yet. I sent her the money and was immediately notified by my finance app that my account was running low.
In the midst of the busyness and stress, I foolishly forgot to count my own personal bills. By Sunday, my account had been overdrafted by an $8 charge from Crunchyroll.
A crushing blow to the struggle I was already experiencing. I did not have a car at this time. I did not feel like I had the respect I deserved at work or at home (even though I was the breadwinner that had been keeping us all afloat even during COVID.) And now I was broke after being exhausted from working my ass off. It just felt like everything was for naught and I was being expected to work myself into an early grave.
The following day I declared that I was going to take my power back and it has been downhill with those relationships ever since. Setting proper boundaries and fighting for freedom has shifted me into a new era of my life and though I am grateful for all the good that came of it, I think of the latter timeframe as the worst period of my life because at least when my dad died, I felt like I had a strong support system. And that is something I never want to abandon ever again. Another reason why I’m so grateful for family, friends, and my weekly readers; with everyone, I will always keep fighting the good fight. Thank you.
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Look how far you came. It's inspiring to see you get up again after going through so much and still come through as the best person you can be. Keep going strong comrade and reach out if you need anything. We gotta get through this together.