Chrysalis

“I don’t want to do this” she repeats to me; “I don’t want to do this.”

We’re about to take a left off the main road. Minutes from being home. Home. What a concept. I live either here nor there. My things are in my house, my heart in another. Not complaining though. Housing issues is the last thing on my mind.

I decide to go again. Use all my arguments. Common sense. Feelings. Social and political. Religion even. Funny how the atheist (me) is more pro-life than the proclaimed Christian (her) is. But yet I can slightly understand the fear in her. Her fear is without doubt real. Her face is often in deep thought.

I rattle through some arguments based on our common economy and the state of the world. I speak with my brain. Then I switch to speaking with my heart.

“I’ve been through too much already. I can’t go another round. Seven years of heartbreak – I can’t do it again. If you do this you will have my support and love. If you don’t do it, I can’t promise you anything. I might need your help.”

She doesn’t really answer, although she says she understand. Seconds later, we’re home. Before we exit the car, I give up and say;”

“Fine, whatever. Do it. Just do it. I will pick up the pieces of my life and put them back together once more. Turmoil is nothing new to me when it comes to this.”

She doesn’t really say anything.

“I’m not going with you if you will do it, I can’t. I can’t see my only chance  of fatherhood end like this”.

“I know,” she replies.

I walk around the house like a zombie. I sit down. I get up. I sing a few Aerosmith songs in my head and laugh when I for some reason do the live version of Mama Kin off this live album from 1998. I am slightly scared I am going nuts. This is all too surreal. Just surreal. Being at that private clinic together with her. The doctor greeting us. How those pictures just popped up on the big screen. Two arms, two legs. Heartbeat. So easy. So accidental almost. So easy. So this is all it took? Surreal! No one can make a movie about this. It’s not realistic!

How many times did I sit beside my ex wife almost like this? Too many. I’ve seen too many ultrasounds. Too many times a doctor studying a big fucking needle before she inserts it into my ex wives vagina and suck out eggs like a machine. Two eggs, three eggs, four eggs. She’s screaming out in pain and agony. Then she is ushered out again in a wheelchair, and we head back home. Come back in a few days to insert one or two of them (if lucky), alright? The nurses always talking about “the golden egg”. I still get pissed when I think of those cliches. It’s just more pain. More ultrasound images of needles and small embryos on a screen. Even a print-out of it. A souvenir. And then we head back home with our heads full of stars and hope. And so we wait for a few days or so, and then comes the never ending disappointment. Nothing. Just nothing.

We did this for so long. So much disappointment. It was all there was. Disappointment.

And now this.

“It looks like a normal pregnancy” concludes the doctor. He refers us to Oslo for another check. She’s after all not 25 any more. Norway takes care of its pregnant citizens. And now I have to go to Oslo again. Not with eggs in a machine and a tiny hope in my heart but with a real chance. The tables have completely turned, and I have a serious issue actually trying to hold on to all the twists and turns I’m being served. It’s like I’m in this reality show where someone is just twisting nobs and pressing buttons to see how yet another curveball will be handled by yours truly.

A day later she calms down a bit. Tells her father about it. Her mother too. They do not react with shock or disappointment. Just hopes. Hopes of her doing the right thing. We all agree. The shock was too much for her to handle. I understand. There’s still time to do the right thing, and if she doesn’t decide – time will decide for her. There’s comfort in that.

It’s surreal. On Facebook I read about a friend facing an ultrasound a few years ago. They were told there was no heartbeat. And I just gaze at a screen and the doctor says “look, that’s the heartbeat”. So easy, but yet so fucking difficoult. I know how it can be. I’ve seen how hard it is. Seven years of it.

I go again.

For the last time I go again.

It will be alright this time. I can’t imagine anything else.

 

Advertisements

Shadow Dancing

I’m about to go down that certain road again, and to no choice of my own.

Just like last time I was clear, confident and made sure I got the right answer. The “yes” answer. The “yes I would like a family and I would like children” answer.

This time around I was even more on edge than before. I desperately wanted to do it right. If there was a certain insecurity about the issue I would pick it up like a boat searching for the coastal lighthouse.

And I did. I stored every hint and talk about it in my mind. There was no insecurities. And months later, I came out and asked. I told her the whole story (although we had touched upon it) and I asked her. “Children is important to me”.

Just like last time, the relief I felt when I asked and got the right reply was heartfelt and sincere. I had done it right, I had played my cards right. My gut feeling had been right.

“Yes I would like to” was the answer, with a follow up “what if it won’t work?”

I replied that it didn’t matter, because I had taken my decision. I only wanted to be in control of my own destiny. If it didn’t work out, by biological reasons, that was fine. It was thing and I would deal with it accordingly.

I was happy. Truly happy. I got involved with her daughter. Her family too. Never before have I felt such happiness and confidence in my own ability to make the right decisions. Never before have I been so sure I had done the right decisions in the past. I did everything by the book, and was proud of it. And here she was, a girl I could trust. A girl that wouldn’t let me down. A girl that I asked one of the most important questions you can ask, and she agreed to it.

A few months later and she became pregnant. I knew it before she even knew it herself. My understanding of human biology is perhaps further advanced that most people bother to think about. My happiness reached a whole new level. My love for her daughter grew day by day. I felt like a father. I felt like I had a family. And my struggles would now be crowned by the ultimate victory and joy. Pregnancy. I was to become a father.

Things started to unravel quickly after the two lines on the stick appeared. She backtracked. Unsure. Scared. Confused. She’s suddenly telling me she wakes up every morning in panic. She feels like she doesn’t want a child after all. Too much worries. Too much struggle. Too much of everything.

And this is where I am today. Stuck in a state of confusion. A limbo state where I do not know if I should laugh out of happiness or cry out of desperation and despair. A state where the unthinkable is being discussed; abortion. I am not against abortions. I believe in a womans right to choose, but not like this. Not like this.

Because I asked. I asked.

 

I pull out all the arguments I can possibly do. I act all professional, trying to speak sense into her. But nothing works. I go to the verge of threatening her. I am in tears every time I think about it. I try everything that I can to explain. This is the most important and biggest thing a human being can experience, but I am not even allowed to be happy. I can’t be happy. I can’t tell anyone. I can’ tell my mother.

I asked. I can’t believe you are doing this to me. Because I asked you. I asked you, and you said yes.  I did everything right. I do not deserve this. I did not deserve it last year, and I do not deserve it now. What wrong have I done? And now I’m involved. Strong feelings for both of you. I love you both dearly, and now you are doing this to me. I can’t believe you are hurting me like this. Not you of all people. Not you. Please no, not you.

Secrets of the Soul

For children, Christmas is a time filled with anticipation, magic and wonders. The 24th is day full of excitement waiting for presents to be opened in the evening. Many children recieve outdoor equipment, whether its skis or snowracers. Others get toys, clothes, candy or even a new iPad. The holiday always feels longer than it really is for kids. The fridge is packed with good food, and the parents are often more leanient on sweets during this wonderfull week.

I remember Christmas as a child with the outmost joy and wonder. Those magical hours on the 24th of December before opening my presents in the evening. The distinctive smell of traditional food in the house all day. My mother singing Christmas carols to herself in the kitchen. Maybe an hour outside on my slalom skis during the daytime. Opening presents in the evening and being in utter shock when I actually get that Super Nintendo game I wished for. Looking at my younger brother being in awe over having Santa visiting and giving him presents. Eating leftovers on the first day of Christmas watching the Narnia series on TV. The countryside is always covered in deep, white snow with little to no traffic on the nearby road. Christmas seemed to go on forever, and then came New Years. It never stopped.

It is perhaps an undeniable truth that the distinctive  feel of the holidays disappear once you get older. The years go by quicker, and those specific emotions you  have as a child never really catch you the same way when you’re grown up. You may, if you are lucky, get sense of the old times when you’ve all grown up, but it’s never really like it used to be. Maybe you’re trying your best as a parent to bring that certain excitement to your own children but not feeling you are suceeding. If you haven’t started your own family, perhaps those feelings and doings of Christmas simply fade away.

I used to be married to a foreigner with no emotional or tradiational connection to Christmas. She didn’t know of, and did not have any fond memories of the holiday and what it could bring. She had no connection to the classic movies on TV. No understanding of the Christmas calendar TV series prior to the 24th. She had no interest in the traditional Norwegian meals. As there were no children involed, there was no real sense of good old Christmas except for those short visits to my parents. Perhaps it would have been different if I had a children. I would have made sure that they too experienced those wonders and excitements like I did when I was young. I would have caught on again as well, and it would have felt more like Christmas – this time seeing it through the eyes of my own child.

The Christmas holidays, for me, have been fading away for over a decade. Last year I didn’t even bother putting up a Christmas tree. There was no point in doing any of it – alone. I had time of work, but I don’t remember what I was doing except walking the dogs and feeling depressed. I didn’t do any of the things I did when I was young any longer. Heck, I didn’t even own a pair of skis any more, and I used to love being out on skis. It was all gone. Everything I loved about the holidays had gone, piece by piece. I never watched the movies or the classic TV series any more. There were no calendars to be opened before Christmas, and snowfall just meant damn trouble.

This year I got it all back.

My girlfriend decorated her house with Christmas bits and bobs in December. Her 7-year old daughter watched the Christmas TV series each evening, and I joined in. I watched the child open her small calendar presents in the mornings and looking at her being excited about what she got. I made homemade beer like my mother used to do, and her mother before her. On the 21st I got out and bought a great but (rather expensive!) Christmas tree. The first time I have ever done so. I brought it back to my girlfriends house just like in the America movies. On the 22nd we decorated it, together. On the 24th we watched the classic TV series and movies together and laughed and smiled at the same cherished parts. I joined her her family for Christmas dinner, and I watched how Santa emerged from the forest with a small lamp to guide his way towards the house. I  saw suspense in the childrens faces when Santa came inside the hallway with all the presents at hand. I watched the children opening their presents in excitement and wonder. We finished the celebrations at four am in the morning.

Between Christmas and New Years, I got out and did the unthinkable. I bought a pair of cross country skis. The first skis I have bought since I was 15 years old. On New Years eve, in the daylight and between thick, snow covered trees, we went out on skis. My first time since I can’t even remember. We visited my parents for coffee and Christmas cookies, and watched the fireworks together on New Years eve. Not blotto with a half full champagne bottle in hand and a drunk mate puking in the bathrom. No, just us together and quite sober alongside one of her best friend and her family of two children and a her husband.

Christmas 2017 was the first time since I was a teenager that I’ve felt that special Christmas feeling.

Thank you for giving it back to me. I love you.

A Voice in the Wilderness

Dear Adria

You never existed. Well, that’s not true either. You existed as a zygote, splitting into four, five or six parts. And then you were no more. This happened about five or six times. Only in my mind you were more than this.

I often found myself picturing what you would look like, what we would be doing together when you were growing up, how happy my mom would be when I told her about you, and what you would be doing with your life. I imagined our relationship. Me as a father and you as my daughter.

In the end it turned out that you would be just one of the endless mix of cells that never ended up as anything more in this world. Life is a lottery, and you lost. Most do. Most of us will never be born at all. I could say you are just another star in the endless , vast universe that we will never discover as a human race, but I feel even that is a poor comparison to the chances of you being born and being a person. Such are the odds you had against you, and I will be stuck here trying to come to terms with how truly precious life is, even if that’s a cliché thing to say. Because it is. But it doesn’t make it less true. Life is a mystery to me. The odds so low I don’t think most people ever realize.

You know what’s also funny? For each time I went through this – I imagined you a bit different than the last failed attempt. But you were always a girl. It’s like I have imagined six slightly different versions of you. Hows that for parallell dimensions uh. Like I could take a sneak peak into the millions and millions of different ways my life would turn out – and how your life would turn out if you ended up being so lucky.

I used to miss you a lot. I used to imagine you being there with me. At times it was so real I could almost feel you brushing my shoulder. I once sat down watching TV when the sensation of you standing beside me was so real it was one of the heaviest and most heartfelt things I’ve ever experienced. I cried that time. Because I missed you. But I know I imagined it. It wasn’t real. I was in a depression.

I’m out of the depression, but I sometimes get the same sensation. However, it is never as strong. If I feel lonely in a crowd of parents and their children, I can still imagine you standing beside me. I can simply start to miss you or the feel of you, and you show up. You and me together. Like the characters of my books, it’s all a figment of my imagination. I know it’s not real, but you are much more real than my characters ever was even if I know them better than you.

I guess I have come to understand and respect why some can go mentally insane and start visualizing invisible children, animals or even dead parents. When I grew up, a man was walking around the area with a long leash with an invisible cow at the end of it. It was real to him. The desire and wish for it to be real is so strong that it actually becomes real in ones mind.

And that is you, and this is me. I am alive. You never were. You never got the chance. And you will never again get the chance, not with this specific mix of cells between two people that used to love each other. That doesn’t mean you don’t mean anything to me, because you do. You were the closest I came to be a father, and even if I do become one at some point, I will still miss you.

You.

Someone that never was, and never will be.

It doesn’t make it less real.

Not to me.

Merry Christmas.

By Any Means Necessary

No one is really following this saga but me, but I’ll write it.

My wish and desire to become a father at some point is very real, and I damn well know all the pain I’ve been through the past years for dealing with it and the loss of it. The failed marriage impacted me greatly, but I knew what I was doing all along in terms of children. I stuck with my ex wife for as long as she wanted me there. When she didn’t want me there any longer, I left. And I did so with no hesitation. She could not have children. If she loved me, I would have stayed regardless. She didn’t, so I left. I wanted children, and I could not have them with her. I do not regret that decision.

I met someone new, and thought I did all the right things, asking at the right time, trying to pan it all out by the book. She knew my desire and wish to create a family on my own, and she agreed to it. Then she retracted it and didn’t want any more children. That’s fine. I don’t blame her one bit for it considering her story. But I do blame her for not being able to stand firm on a very important decision. That impacted me greatly, and yet again I took some very hard decisions and broke it off. I don’t regret that either, but it was an extremely tough decision when it was going on.

Then I met someone else. I decided to follow my gut feeling. She asked me i f I wanted children early on (which is normally the way you do these things) and I confirmed I did. I did not ask her back. I followed my instincts, and waited. I read between the lines instead. Kept my head cool. Did not speak much about children either. Did not pour my heart out. Maybe I was afraid of the answer if I asked.

I was more up front with her last night. I told her just that – that I had refrained from asking her so bluntly. She asked if I had been scared of her answer. I sort of replied with a “no”, but I guess it wasn’t really the correct reply, because I had been afraid of her reaction. I don’t blame myself for holding back. Not with my past experience this year, but I asked her last night. If children was a possibility in all this. She confirmed that it was. I replied saying that it was all that I needed. She asked me what if it wouldn’t work out – if she would not get pregnant. What then? I said that in that case it was a whole other ballgame. That is something completely different. It can happen. We’re not 25 any longer. Not 30 either. But it is a “risk” I am willing to take. Because I love her. I see what kind of girl she is, and her type does not grow on trees. She asked me what I would have done if she said that she would not under any circumstance have any more children. I replied that it would not normally go as far as this if that was the case (I would have known by my gut feeling) – but if that had happened (like last time) I would have left. The grief of not having children on my own, if it will come to that, will be something I have to deal with on my own, but at least I am in control of my own destiny. I decided last summer, when I met her, that if I would go along with this it would be a risk I was willing to take. I am more in control of my own destiny now. It simply feels better. It is my decision. Not someones elses.

Walking to work this morning felt easy. It was a relief. I did the talk I knew I had to do at some point, and now I have done it. I am in control of my future. If it doesn’t work out, at least I know it was my decision to go down this path.

I don’t think the grief will ever really go away if I am to be without a child. But I can learn to live with it. Deal with the cards I was given. I will have to deal with many horrible thoughts and reflection on my destiny, and how all this ended this way due to circumstances I could not control or know. I could not know that my ex wife could not have children. I will somewhat always blame myself for choosing the wrong person so many years ago, but I can’t change this. The shocking realization that life is by chance and luck is tough to swallow. You can be the man you want to be, you can believe in karma and always try to do the right things – but it might not be enough, and it’s not your fault. It’s not MY fault it ended like this.

But, it’s not over yet. There’s still a few years to go.

If it doesn’t work out, I might end up with a depression again. I might have to go to counselling again. But at least I can say I tried and took the decisions I thought was right.

Maybe none of this will happen, and in five years time I have settled into the life I made for myself feeling alright with everything that have happened. Coming to grips with it, and accepting my faith.

 

A Distant Star

Dear P

You know I saw you twice last week? You walked past me while I was in the school yard with my new girlfriend and her daughter. You looked at me didn’t you? I looked at you, but I wasn’t sure it really was you. I realised it really was you when someone called out Your name. Then I knew. Then once again last Saturday. I’ll tell you more about last Saturday later.

I haven’t seen you since I acted like nothing, said something non-important and closed the door behind me for the last time. You stood there non the wiser with your mothers arms on your shoulders. Your mom knew I wouldn’t see you again, you didn’t know and wasn’t told. Not until I was gone and your mom could tell you anything she wanted. In private. Without me to tell my side of things. Maybe your mom was nice about it and said we broke up because she didn’t want any more children, and explained how I wanted children – which obviously does not add up that well together. Perhaps that was it? I asked her how you took it. She just said you nodded and told her it was alright. Like it was no big deal. Maybe that’s the truth you know. But what if it’s not? Maybe you feel like I do, because I really miss you sometimes. Is there a chance that since I miss you, you also miss me? Do you know that last time I was with you for breakfast? How I knew it was the last time we had breakfast together and my eyes were all swelled up and I struggled so badly not to cry? I knew it was the last time we spent time together. Your mom didn’t even get it.

I am terribly sorry for coming into your life and then disappearing without a trace or a word. I gave you good night hugs, played video games with you, watched TV with you. And then it was no more. You will come to realize this later on, when boyfriends pop into your life, that they will mostly disappear again. Just as you will do with your boyfriends when they disappear, I don’t really think much about your mom any longer. But it’s different with you. I often think about you. I walk past your dads house with my dog, and I always hope to catch a glimpse of you. To wave or say hello.

Do you remember that time when I basically begged your mom to look after you while she was at work? When we went to the movies, ate candy and sent your mom funny Snapchat photos? Do you know that taking you the movies opened up a world to me that I had never been in before? I could finally get a sense of how its like to be a father and take a 10 year old to the movies. We met an old acquaintance of mine, do you remember? He looked at you. He was probably wondering if you were my daughter or not. I didn’t correct or inform him about you. I liked how his mind most likely wandered to “wow, I didn’t know he had a daughter”. For him, perhaps he concluded that you were my daughter. I was so proud. I felt proud. I was proud that you wanted to go to the movies with me. Trusted me in your company. Proud that I was an adult taking a little girl to the movies. It was as exciting for me as my first movie date with a girl back when I was 11 years old. That is how much it meant to me. Maybe above all things, I felt normal.

You know, I’ll tell you in my words why I’m not around any longer. Your mother changed her mind. She didn’t tell you that didn’t she? How she with such emotion and care told me she wanted another child, and that it would be with me. How we both cried out of happiness that we had decided on an important issue. It wasn’t about trying for a baby at once. It was just a general agreement that this would be part of the deal if we stayed together. Maybe in a year, maybe in two, or maybe in three. Its something you will discover when you get older. Its an issue all adults discuss at some point sooner or later. But two months later she changed her mind. She changed her mind about a very, very important issue. Online, if you read American articles about it, they call it a “dealbreaker”. She changed her mind. It put me in a horrible decision where I had to choose between her and you, or a potential future with my own children. It’s such a huge gamble to take, but I had to follow what I thought was right. I was right to leave your mother, but I feel very bad for her still. I am so sorry she went through so much in the past. Your mother is very strong. Hopefully you will understand what she’s been through once you get older. When thats said, I can’t forgive her easily for how she messed up my world just when I was coming to grips with it. I have been so mad at her for it. So frustrated. So pissed off. So angry at how she accused me of things, calling me things. It was such shocking behavior. I wasn’t used to it. I am still frustrated about it. What she might tell her friends, her family or new boyfriends about me. I wish I could tell you my side of things. You would understand.

And then came last Saturday. I was not far from you. You didn’t see me inside the building. I saw you leave though. My girlfriend was talking to her ex. Isn’t that funny? I didn’t like it that much. I often feel a bit left out in these situations. Her ex got two children. Even adults compare themselves to others you see. I do too. And so I feel left out and bummed out because I compare myself to him, that damn ex. I feel lonely even. Imagine that, lonely even with so many friends, family and even a girlfriend that cares so much for me. I was standing there, feeling exactly those things when you walked past heading for the exit. You, the first girl I ever had any parental feelings for so close to where I was standing. With my new family all occupied talking with this ex-boyfriend, I decided to walk after you and say hello to you. Reach out to you. If you were far away, I would shot out your name and make you stop. Ask how you’d been. How school is. How your mother is (thats just for politness you know). Tell you how I often stay just two houses away from your dad or ask if you remember when we went to the movies.

I hurried out the door and turned right – around the corner. I saw you walking down the street. Just 40 meters away.

I chickened out. I didn’t shout your name or do any of those Things I wanted. I just saw you leave.

I wonder how long it will take until I will see you again somewhere and maybe muster enough confidence to say hello.

Afterwards, my girlfriends seven year old daughter said she liked my girlfriends ex better than me. I know she’s just trying to annoy me and seek attention, but my legs were all shaky and I felt really bad. Mostly because I so badly wanted to say hello to you.

Maybe next time?

I miss you.

The Long, Twilight Struggle

You accused me of being grumpy when I came into work.

I replied I wasn’t grumpy or annoyed or even mad.

Sometimes I have a lot to think about; I am disappointed with the choice I made of who to love and be with, and I am frightened about doing them again. I am worried that I will not feel or be fulfilled, and that I will constantly, for the rest of my life, walk around with a feeling that I can only describe as a heartache that will never end for as long as I live. You know I read that one time? That having no children and wishing you had children feels like a never-ending heartbreak? Like when your 17 and your boyfriend dumps you and you think you will never get over it? Only that for me, due to what happened, it will never go away? It scares me. And I often wonder where all this came from? It wasn’t something of an issue that occupied me at all when I was younger. It was only when it was taken away from it dawned on me. When did I become like this?

But hey, I have control now. I am not pouring my heart out to my girlfriend about it. I shy away from it. I do not feel like escaping life by looking up B&Bs somewhere along  the British southern coastline, go down there alone and lock myself in that room and hide from society. But even if I keep myself in order, I have periods of feeling worried and sad. That’s what you see when I come into work with a strict face, few words and a couple of deep sighs. I am not grumpy. I am just worried about life. Disappointed with the past, and scared about the future. Maybe this is how it is when you grow old and more than before look back at your life and judge your actions? Suddenly I have a whole decade to look back upon as an adult. No wonder I am worried.

I am not grumpy. I am frightened, disappointed and worried.

Objects in Motion

This will be “problems of the western world” type of post. I ask for forgiveness for it before I have even written more than a couple of words.

I often feel like life is like a train journey. Some people get on one train and stay onboard the train for the duration of their journey – until the end. Other may change carriages on the same train a few times. Other may get off the train, board another and then stay onboard. Others may change trains numerous of times. Maybe even going different directions. Getting off one train going north, and boarding another going east. You get the picture.

I feel now that I have changed trains and carriages so many times it wears me out. My traveling is getting harder and more difficult. I am not as young any more, and all the changes have taken its toll. My legs are sore, my clothes are dirty and the smell of Diesel oil have filled my nostrils. I am travel-worn. Tired of changing directions in my travel, and constantly trying to adapt to trains that goes quicker and quicker towards the end station where it all terminates. I have lost a few of my bags along the way, left on several stations. I have no more drinks with me, and a bottle of beer is left at the station two stops ago.

Yet again I am now on a journey on a train going somewhere. Maybe I just changed carriages this year, but is a new carriage with new people, new faces and new customs and culture. And I am trying to adapt, not loosing myself in the process. I have left parts of me behind, and I can’t go back to pick them up again. I am constantly moving forward. And like many people on the train, I feel like a lonely traveler. I am with many people in my carriage, even someone new I care deeply for, but it is me – and me alone. No one will ever stay with me for the duration of my journey. It is a lonely feeling, and I have not felt it before. It is even scary, and I wish I could do like children do when they are going somewhere without their parents – put a sign on myself that says “I am traveling alone”.

In the end I guess I am just hoping that I will keep most of my belongings and personality once I depart the train at its final destination. And perhaps to trust someone enough to take the rest of the journey with me – or perhaps understand and accept that I have to do it myself.

Infection

Well, I’m stuck with a severe inflammation in my groin due to way too much football and way too much sporting activity in general. My right knee is also screwed due to a lot of biking.

I can’t remember last time I sat in front my computer for a relatively long period of time to write, talk with friends online or read articles about my hobbies and interest. I have barely had any time to sit down at all this summer. I really haven’t. I’ve been occupying myself with anything I have been able to. I have never been so active. And while I do enjoy a more active lifestyle now, and feeling more pleased with my shape and form – I know theres a more sinister explenation for it.

I do not like to be alone with my thoughts.

They say millionaires don’t feel particularly more happy even if they are loaded, which may be true. While I do feel more happy and more at peace now that I met someone special I can’t be around her 24/7. I am more content than I was seven months ago, but troubling thoughts are lurking in the background. I have to fight every day to keep them at bay. I have severe wounds I am still trying to heal – perhaps they will never really heal and I will just have to live with them. So why I feel rich and happy, I live a very two-sided life where everythings good on one side, and I have deep rooted fears on the other.

I often volunteer to sit by my girlfriends seven year old daughter while she is falling asleep at night. I know that when I do that – when it’s all dark in the room and I hear the little girl twisting and turning, trying to fall asleep – my dark thoughts come creeping. Sometimes I even welcome them. I don’t know why.

I am scared the relationship won’t end up a happy one, and I will loose them both at some point.

I am scared I will be older and less attractive by then – which will decrease my chances of creating my own family. 

My mind wanders back to those days of trying for a baby, and failing. The constant feel of emptiness and loneliness. I get upset from just thinking about how sad I was. I am often scared I will fall back into that place.

I am constantly feeling ashamed and disappoionted in myself by not providing my mother grandchildren and more happiness in her life. I can’t look into her eyes. I have failed her.

Time is running away from me. Years go quicker, I grow older.

I feel like I have halfways lost a dear hobby and an interest of mine, and I don’t know why this is.

And so I have kept myself at an insane level of activity for months now. I don’t like to be alone, I do not like to be at home. I don’t like myself when I’m alone. I am scared of not handling it.

I used to love my own company. Perhaps especially during the weekends. The feeling of the quiet atmosphere in the mornings. A walk with the dogs around nine. A few pages written in a book by eleven. A bottle of Coke in front my PC before noon. Just enjoying my hobbies. And now I am constantly running away from it. On the move. Going somewhere. Biking somewhere. Running somewhere. Being social. I hardly recognize myself.

I made myself some new art the other day. It will stay on my wall for a long time. Anyone who have read my blog will know what its about.

What have I got to lose
When I’ve already lost it all
Maybe this time he’ll say a prayer for…
Say a prayer for the damned
For the damned

sixxam

 

 

 

The Exercise of Vital Powers

When you get yourself involved with someone like I have now done, there might be more to the deal than one person. The fantastic, wonderful girl I am dating have a seven year old daughter. Last night, as she (the daughter) poured her heart out to me about her worries about starting school again, I once again realised there is much at stake here than simple romance. For both the daughter and myself really, but let’s stick to me. I always look at the future in all ways. From the absolute best outcome to the worst. In this case the worst would be a break-up and a seturn to a state of a lonely bachelor with no children. I wouldn’t be losing just my girlfriend, I would be loosing the daughter as well – which would mean a double blow. Because I do get emotionally involved. She will always have her, but I will loose both.

I had a nightmare a few days ago. I have spent a few days trying to figure out why I woke up with a high pulse and had a trouble going back to sleep. Not like me at all to wake up like that. All I did was dream about the daughter of my previous girlfriend. It was her birthday. I realised that I miss her. Not my ex-girlfriend, but the daughter. While my ex-girlfriend did a good job at severing ties and making bloody well sure I made the right call, her daughter had nothing but trust in me. And when my ex disappeared out of my life, so did she. And I do miss her daughter. I like children. I like to take the role as parent. It fullfills me. I know all this. I know myself enough to know why I would like children on my own. And I often wonder what I mean to her and if she misses me too. Maybe she doesn’t. I also feel somewhat guilty for entering her life like that and then disappearing without explaining why. I guess my ex did explain, but I sometimes wish it could have been done differently.

I understand that as a male I am playing a very risky game with high stakes when I meet single moms. I often get anxious just thinking about it. But I can’t do anything but do my best and hope for the best and step up to the task. And I do. But I am scared of bad outcomes. I will loose a lot if that happens. And then it will be just me again. Alone. My responsibility and trust given to me by her as a father figure will be gone.

These are vital powers at play and I feel I am simply along for the ride. It scares me. It scares me just how much is at stake here. For her sake and mine.

And for you P, I am sorry I disappeared so suddenly. It wasn’t all my fault. Maybe I will see you again. I miss you, and hope you are ok.