Feeling Fucked Up.

It's Been 38 Days Since the Mountain Fell On Me.

And I am starting to have panic attacks. Panic, anxiety, I don't know which, but it's occurring about 2-3 times a week. The first time I noticed it, was when I was started to do some school work. I need to get this figured out before the school year starts. I am taking a class now, I was thinking about dropping it, but I think it will be a safe space for me to get my SCHOOL MIND back together.

I found my dad's hard drive he left here. I've been avoiding opening it. I don't know why. I want to know what he saved, what he found important. But I wonder if there needs to be something sacred?? Something that he kept secret to himself. I will probably open it... later.

I keep finding pieces of Pop everywhere. Stuff he left, oils, papers, pictures, cups, drinks among other things.   I'm going back to therapy this week. He put me on a stringer sleep aid, so I could finally get some sleep, it seems to be working. Well, working better than nothing, I now fall asleep around 1-2am instead of 4-6am, so I guess it's a start. Ok, rambling, just wanted to write so I kept in the idea, and space and habit of writing, so nothing gets too bottled up.

DAY 7 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN

and I've decided to try to climb again

First Father's Day since....

It's been 29 days since the mountain fell on me.


I've been trying to write this blog entry for a week. But I've been failing. I haven't wanted to think about it. Father's day sucked, badly. That's actually an inadequate description for what Sunday was for me... It was the worst feeling I've ever had, in my entire life..no metaphor, no simile, no exaggeration. I felt physically ill from grief. I was sadder than I have ever been in my life, and I was present in the room when my father died...held his hand, and had to make the calls to my brothers and sister to let them know he was gone, but I've never been as sad, and utterly despondent as I had been last Sunday, on Father's Day.

All I wanted was to talk to my dad....and I couldn't. And it was a horrible combination of feeling powerless and empty, and having hope and strength ripped from your ribs. I laid in the bed and cried violently for the better part of 20 minutes. I was so sad, and cried so hard that I woke up the next day with what I can only describe as a grief hangover. I was hurting the next day..my head hurt and my stomach hurt and I was exhausted like I had run a marathon while smoking a pack of Newports.

It took me awhile to even write this, because I didn't want to go back and think about how hard that day was. Any and everything was setting me off. For God's sake, a conversation about potatoes triggered a memory, which triggered tears, which triggered me having to go compose myself.  The whole day was one big clusterfuck of sadness.

All that being said, my friend Dee Smalls said "it was the worse day ever, and you made it through". And even though thats not something I'm fully prepared to digest and think about right now, there is a part of that statement that resonates with me like an echo of a rung bell. I guess I'm back to taking this thing one day at a time...

DAY 6 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN.

and I'm just looking around gathering supplies, thinking about trying, to restart the climb. 

Facebook Fuckery and Stupid Marketing....

It's been 17 days since the mountain fell on me.

Today was actually looking like a good day. I started off, cleaning, washing clothes answering emails...getting shit done. I went up to the school, signed a couple papers, got a grade change, talked to a few folk without tearing up.. I mean, I was on a roll. We went to the food bank and got about $80 worth of groceries... I visited my aunt, talked about the funeral and all the craziness that came with it. I told her about the probate, and the cremation, and having to sign papers and whatnot. And amazingly all of the potential trigger inducing things that we talked about.... pulled no triggers. I was, of course, sad in the background but it wasn't an active sadness. I wasn't perpetually melancholy today, I was even at times happy. My wife came home, fixed fish tacos and grape/lemonade kool-aid. I talked to my cousin about Game of Thrones and fed my son chopped up bits of grilled cheese. Today was smiles and laughter, and poopy diapers and HALO 3, and surfing the net, and avoiding traffic on the way to get the kids from daycare. It felt as normal a day as I've had in awhile.

But then ... around 10PM-ish, I'm surfing facebook, playing bejeweled and checking out random statuses when facebooks mystery marketing department decides to pop this on my fucking screen. Yeah, GIVE DAD A STEAK DINNER, courtesy of fucking Outback. Well fuck you I can't go give my dad a facebook father's day steak dinner at Outback because I'll NEVER FUCKING BE ABLE TO DO THAT AGAIN, BECAUSE HE'S DEAD. And in an effort to make a quick buck, you profile pick jacked my dead fathers facebook page. Stay classy marketing department, stay classy.

Thank you very fucking much Facebook and Outback and whoever else great as marketing idea it was to not only suggest this randomly, but then to top it off use my Father's profile picture in the advertisement. Needless to say that put a damper on the rest of my night, and here I am again looking at a sleepless night. As if Sunday wasn't gonna be hard enough... So to Facebook, Outback Steakhouse, and Facebook's mystery marketing department...

DAY 5 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN.

and I feel like it fell on me again

Bus Stops and Time's Machines

It's been 16 days since the mountain fell on me.

Today was another day that followed yesterday and will be preceded by tomorrow. Time, as it is wont to do is marching on. Regardless of how I personally feel, it is continuing its march forward. I am not quite sure that I am ready for this constant, inevitable movement, but I am equally as sure that time... in it's infinite stoicism gives not one fuck about how I feel about its linear movement. It has been moving forward for the past millennium, and will continue to do so long past my echos echos are forgotten.

I just wish that for a few moments, I could pull a cord like on a bus, and there would be an audible *DING* and I could yell THIS IS MY STOP... and I could take a break. But time has a resolve that would make a mountain meek. It has a will that cause oceans to blush. Long after the last light on this planet is seen in some far off galaxy, time will keep going and going... and going. I understand that, I know that, I feel it and accept it down to my bones. But it doesn't stop me from wishing I had a Delorean that went 88 miles per hour.

DAY 4 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN

and I took one look, said fuck it, went back to base camp and stared....

Parliament and Vikings

It's been 15 days since the mountain fell on me.

Today was... I dunno... today was a day. I don't know else to describe it. I got out of bed at noon, and just felt like crawling under the covers and watching the sun watch me until it hid beneath the horizon. But I didn't. I rose, a shambled around the house like an extra from the Walking Dead. I made peanut butter something for breakfast, and played some video games, and washed some clothes and pretended to go about my day. But I didn't I was on autopilot and I know it. My counselor said I didn't want any medicine that would numb my pain, but I'm not so sure. I know that grieving and sadness is a natural part of this equation and experience, but fuck that. Sunlight is a natural part of the world but we have all sorts of sun glasses, and tinted windows and sun block and air conditioning to mitigate the effect of the sun. So just because something is natural doesn't mean that

I've been thinking about personal ways to honor my dad. I have a small urn of his ashes, and I am going to take some of them to a Parliament Funkadelic concert at the end of the month in Detroit, and spread some there. He LOVED Parliament Funkadelic.. absolutely loved that band... I think it would be fitting to spread some of his ashes there. One of my favorite memories, in fact one that I shared at his memorial service was when he and my mom went to go see Parliament Funkadelic in DC. My dad was an old school DJ so he was ready for the Funk! He had on a hoodie, and some boots, and a baseball cap, and he was looking like he was ready to hit a mosh pit. My mother, had on a blue dress with heels and pearls and a pretty Sunday Hat. My pop said "We ain't going to no Jazz Concert", and he laughed while she went upstairs and changed clothes. I remember how PROUD he sounded when I went and finally saw Parliament Funkadelic live. the had come down to Lansing's Common Ground Festival in 2009, and I took my now wife, then girlfriend Monica to go see them. I remember him laughing when I told him she asked... "Why is that guy wearing a diaper?" and "Why is there a male stripper wearing roller skates and wings?"  and "Why is he climbing the speakers?".... he laughed and laughed and laughed, and I felt like he was proud of me for going..it gave us one more tng to connect on, one more thing to talk about.

 I'm also thinking about giving some of his ashes a Viking Funeral this weekend. It will be Father's Day, the first Father's Day without him there. I'll be up with some cousins by Lake Michigan.
There is something primal and earth and raw about a Viking Funeral. And even though my father wasn't a pillaging european with a horned hat, he survived 2 brain surgeries in less than 8 months. That makes him a warrior to me.

DAY 3 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN

and I feel like I'm at the bottom, looking up, not knowing where to start

My son smiles at me....

It's been 14 days since the mountain fell on me.

Yeah, it's been 2 weeks since my father died. This week has been rough, but today...today wasn't so bad. I woke up...around noon..went back to bed while Monica took the kids to the park. I finally got up and milled about. WE eventually took the kids to the park together and I watched while Zion ran and played and jumped and dug and did all the things a little boy is supposed to do. We played and I threw him in the air and chased him around and flipped him and did all the things a dad is supposed to do. All he wanted was to play rough with his dad, and he  smiled the whole time. And that smile got me through the day. And today, today wasn't so bad.

 I was going through the fridge, looking for some Kool-aid (like I always do about this time) and in the back I found one bottle of of nasty ICB diet root beer. It was from a pack my dad had bought when he was here for Christmas. And I looked at it, and just kinda of stared..and I guess since today was a good day it didn't really hurt me like the coffee cup had the day before. But I think I've decided I am going to keep that bottle of nasty ass root beer forever. Just moving it from fridge to fridge, leaving it in the back. Gotta keep a root beer cold for pop.

DAY 2 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN. 

and I feel like I got my feet on solid ground, but I still got a ways to go

Coffee Cups and Counselors....

It's been 13 days since the mountain fell on me.


So today was an off and on day. I started off really not wanting to get out of bed. I just kind of laid there until 11ish. I would sleep and then wake and sleep and wake and just stare at the ceiling. I went to my counselor yesterday and he suggested that I go to a support group. What he doesn't know is that I really could give 2 fucks about strangers right now. I really don't want to try to emphasize, and support anyone else. I don't want to hear empty platitudes and sob stories. And to top it off I have little patience for the idiocy of others, I am liable to throw someone throw a window. So, I sequester myself in my house to protect the masses. I went out today for a few minutes, and I was on edge the whole time... angry, annoyed, pissed at smiling happy people who didn't just have a mountain dropped on their head. Who's biggest worry is what's for dinner?

But I digress, back to me. I was doing ok... not great, but ok today. I started posting stuff non father related, and felt like I could peek my head out from under the proverbial covers to see what lurked. But I glanced over at a coffee mug I had brought my father when he was up here for Christmas. He had forgotten to take it with him when he went home. It's been sitting on an end table ever since Christmas and I had never noticed it. I noticed it today and I lost it a bit. Well, more than a bit... I crashed for a while... traversing between anger and rage and sadness and loss. I found some rage music and turned my surround sound up to window shaking and listened to Lil Jon, Mystikal,  Rage Against The Machine and Dead Prez, until I felt like I had evened out. Amazing how a small cup can bring about such emotion.

I talked to two of my siblings today, and they are frustrated, and angry and stressed, and it hurts that I can't be there. That I'm back here dealing with this from afar. This is new territory for all of
us, and I'm not sure where the path leads yet. But I know that it's a lot of pressure...they say pressure does one of two things. It busts pipes or makes diamonds... and I don't see any sparkle when I look in the mirror.

DAY 1 OF CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN. 
and I feel like I'm hanging on for dear life

Why write....?

So, why this blog?


On May 26, 2013 my father died after a long battle with brain cancer. He was 56, young...too young, I reasonably expected to get another 25-30 years of time with my father, but I didn't. And after he died, I felt like a mountain had been dropped on my head, and the rest of the world was walking around, smiling, happy hungry, running, watching, eating like nothing had happened... like life was just going on normally without realizing that a mountain had just been dropped on my head.

So after a week of feeling horrible, I decided that since I'm a writer, maybe if I write about how I'm feeling, this blog can become a release valve, and ease some of the pressure I've been feeling. I feel like a 50 pound weight with spikes, has been sitting on my chest... and I'm hoping this act of writing, this blog, will not numb the pain, but help me deal with it and recognize it and through the writing and recognizing I can find my way back home.

Why Chasing Tenzing Norgay as a name...? Well Tenzing was the first man to reach Mt. Everest, and he spent the rest of his life helping people conquer that beast of a mountain. If I could chase Tenzing, maybe I could get out from under this mountain that landed on me....

and start to climb.....