We shared the same parents. How had I managed to become a lost man? Homeless. Addicted. Living in the woods. We come from a nice family, well respected in this small town. Wealthy, and with means. My brother would go on to be a doctor. Married. One child and another on the way. An officer and gentleman in the Navy. He followed my father's directions for his life to a T. I took a left turn at Albuquerque. I'd try so hard only to fail and to complicate things. I wanted so much to please my father -- to make him proud. I ended up alone, mentally ill, and bereft of friends and family.
I remember when my niece was born. I was an Uncle. I heard through the grapevine about it. Not from my family. I cried. I sobbed. I was jealous. The evening would find me in my tent drinking beer and feeling intense emotions. Why did my brother get all the lucky breaks? He had the perfect life of a loving wife and a prestigious job. I was left with nothing. "I didn't ask to be mentally ill," I would cry out in anger as I got drunker. That was when the thoughts of suicide would sneak into my mind. Maybe I could drink myself to death, I would think. I would eventually pass out to wake up freezing cold and still alive. It was terrible times -- like some horrible rendition of Groundhog Day. Times I want to forget, but temper the man I am these days.
That is what I just wrote in my memoirs and deleted. I am shying away from all things analytical. I felt uneasy about it as if I shared too much emotion. I talked about the dreaded suicide that so escaped me during those days. I think I have run talking about homelessness into the ground as well. Like some apparition from a dark past, it haunts me. Calls me. Come back to your old ways it seems to say. I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It inhabits my every waking thought like some penance I am doomed to pay.
The hardest part of writing a memoir? The past. It hurts to relive those memories. I want to go on with my life with some pollyannaish mentality -- forgetting where I've come from. For me to write these memoirs, I am going to have drudge up old, tired emotions and family dirt. The mental illness that all effected our lives for years. It is scary, but something I feel I must do to put the past behind me. Here's to hoping I would learn and grow, and not become some bitter soul living in the past.
13 comments:
Andrew, I have a theory on this...God made some souls so perfect..Angelic...too perfect for this world to handle...so, God must give them a burden, an imperfection of some sort. The imperfection keeps the pureness of the soul from blinding the rest of us. You are one of these souls.
I think the mental illness must be left in the past and understood to some extent in order to be put away. It is very hard to do that bb/c it is a daily battle, the same with addiction but I think writing about it def is therapeutic in many ways
gl
~Vital~
Thank you so much. That is one of the kindest things someone has ever written about me. I do appreciate it very much. Take care of yourself today.
Keep holding on. Funny, I happen to be listening to this song. ~Vital~ is right.
Andrew, I stumbled upon your blog today, read your last post and was touched by your strength and the depth of your tortured soul. I bookmarked you so I can keep up with your writing. You are very inspirational. I was meant to find your blog today. Your gift to this world is amazing...thank you Andrew.
I Next Blog-ged you. Very touching.
I was reading my old journals from the early 1980s (to remember the facts about some comic book related stuff I was writing about in my blog), but I had to wade through all sorts of my own angst about life at the time. It's hard, but the good thing is that I'm not that person anymore. And, I gather, neither are you.
Good luck.
Andrew, it doesn't hurt to look back to whence we have come, just don't dwell there. Keep looking forward, knowing you have made great strides. Be proud of your accomplishments, you've come a long way.
How emotive!
It's very interesting reading your blog.
mish !
hi.... i just bumped into ur blog...... and believe me.... i just couldn't stop reading..... this is the 1st time i actually went on reading... on and on.......i usually flip thru blogs lik we do while browsing channels on TV....ur life is very intriguing..... so different from mine .........back here in india, its a different world....... i am an engineer by profession, but i still don't own a car..... a homeless drunkard would most certainly be screwed in these situations....... homeless ppl have a horrendous time here....... maybe u shld visit india sometime and see how ppl lead lives ..... it can get very bad.........
thank you once again for this wonderful blog..... i think i am getting addicted to it ... good day! :)
The raw pain that you captured was incredible. And all that you felt was normal..Try not to be too hard on yourself, you have so many things that they don't-street smarts, seeing through diversity,overcoming extreme challenges..from where you were at 3years ago, to where you're at now, is remarkable-like a man starting off on the climb of mount Everest to fall a few times, to deplete their O2, but to succeed 3 years later-it wasn't easy, and it takes special people to manage these tasks-you're unique. Be Proud!
If you were my son, I'd tell you just that.
Always,
Crusty~
Dear Andrew,
This post is so brave, so honest. You are an absolutely amazing writer, and an inspiration to me in the way you have retained your humanity and compassion through such hard times. Just remember that the past is *how* you got to where you are now. It's not *who* you are now.
Sending you best wishes across the ocean.
I think that the passage you deleted was beautiful. I think that your blog is beautiful—even the things that you think are embarrassing. You are a gifted storyteller. You may have a mental illness, but it is part of who you are. I will keep reading as long as you keep writing.
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