*Disclaimer. This is only my perception of actual events.
Recent events in my life have brought me to what I am now calling my reset point. Where I evaluated who I was and what I was doing and how I was treating others, and how that effected others. I also looked at all my activities and how much time I spent on them. I compared these activities against my family, and chose what was more important. It’s something that requires or involves little or no mental effort, to figure out. Family, my family of Heather and Serenity are more important than anything else I do.
I have a very creative side to me, which I thought I needed to express. Very often the ways I expressed my creativeness didn’t include Heather or Serenity.
My main project that I thought included Heather, The Quantum Leap Podcast, even with this activity Heather felt like she was not part of the process. She was the host of the show, along with me, but in me trying to be all inclusive of the Quantum Leap fan community, I offered people a chance to contribute to the show via feedback, and even having segments on the show. This more and more made here feel less a part of the project, and another thing I was doing without her. Why was I even doing the show? I enjoyed it, I enjoyed doing something creative with Heather, and it was fun to host a show thousands of people listed to. One of which betrayed me. At my reset point, I retired from hosing podcasts.
I also once a year for about 4 days would be a professional wrestling referee. Even though she enjoyed our friends we’d see each time we went, it was always a source of friction for us, because it was yet another thing I did without her. Especially when I did the odd booking with other organizations and she couldn’t come with me. The start of the end of my career in pro wrestling was when I took Heather with me on a trip to the east coast, when me as The Weather Man was scheduled to manage the tag team of Thender Storm, Gary Thunder and Eric Storm.
The show went off without a hitch, other than I should have bumped from a punch from a giant, but there was no pad on the concrete floor.
The problem was at the end of the night, after I reconnected with Heather, we went to pick up my bag, and what I can only describe as a fake Russian, yelled at Heather and made her cry because she was in the “locker room” kitchen of a VFW with me. This guy was jacked on steroids and drunk, there was no way for me to defend her honor without ending up with a broken jaw. So we left. Heather was crying and I was emasculated. Not a fun hobby. And it progressively got worse, at a NEW show I was rag doll slammed and my sternum was fractured. I took many weeks before I was able to breathe without pain. This injury made me realize I had a child, and what if I had an injury that prevented me from working. Not fun. All that combined with the friction wrestling caused in my relationship, I didn’t want to do it any longer, but the idea of it and the friends I made performing, that, I didn’t want to give up… Yet. At my reset point, I retired from professional wrestling.
Social media has become a virtual reality more important than actual reality. Time moves faster there, and seems more important than real life. I broke the addiction, yesterday was my first day sober, away from social media. A normal day that goes by in a perceived 4 hours, now seems like 30, and I was able to get so much more done, like cleaning, and spending time with Ren. Now that I’m out I see everyone else living in their lives in a 5.50-inch touchscreen display, and I want to tell them, but it won’t help, I was told, I never listened. I’m out, I took the blue pill, or was it the red?
In many ways by having my own friends, doing my own projects, ignoring my family for these I was acting “like a bachelor”. It was never my intention of ignoring my wife and child, and I didn’t realize it was perceived as such, I thought people had friends and hobbies outside of their families. Mine were all consuming, that was the problem. Instead of me showing up two hours before showtime at wrestling, I’d show up eight hours before and help put he ring together. I made the QLP the best show I could, with the best content, and production value I could. This took a month for each episode and countless nights editing. Also being the producer and having a vision and being the only one responsible for the overall content of the show, caused me to be too much of a director, and less of a husband. I conceived of a new show with hosts other than me about the new Hulu series 11.22.63. Again it was all consuming for me, and I became really good friends with the the other three people involved, again unintentionally excluding my wife, and family as a whole.
Now a lot of these things I did obsessively, and all consuming, caused nagging, understandably so. The nagging caused me to be a jerk. Both the nagging and me being a jerk became over a year, an all out war. I became an asshole and pushed the one person in the world that was on my side away from me. It reached a breaking point a few weeks ago, that I didn’t know about, and I was fighting a war that the other side had given up on. Then about a week ago, both sides lost. We took a wrong turn, not the first by any recount of the story, all the previous wrong turns being mine. To continue this contrived metaphor, at the final destination of this last wrong turn we arrived at my reset point. I could have handled this many ways, most of them wrong. Luckily I immediately concluded this situation was a result of my actions, and my culpability in this matters as absolut. The war ended.
And like when most wars end, all that’s left is rubble and a lot of people asking, “How did we get here?” “How could we let this happen?” “What was it all for?” We are now left with rubble and a lot of hurt.
This was my reset point. I decided to start by picking up the first piece of brick from what used to be a lovely pre-war era home, and start rebuilding.
The epiphany I had, that I was the bad guy, the monster that tried to take over the world, will make the process of rebuilding even more difficult. Will the allied forces ever forgive and learn to trust the mad man again? Only time will tell. Everyone thinks they are the good guys, until they have that moment, when they know they were on the wrong side of history. I didn’t move to South America, I’m staying and trying to fix what I destroyed.
This bad drive, yes I’m back to that, will never be forgotten by the driver or the passenger, however it taught me an important lessen. When you make a turn, or decision, know where that route may take you. Do you want to go there? Is the war woth fighting? And what’s the result if you win? Trick question, in war there are no winners, just too much loss.