3 Years Removed

It’s that time of the year when I see the date on the calendar, and I wish I could fast-forward a week.

After three years, you’d think the pain would be less intense and that the confusion would subside into something more clear.

Yet, they remain. The pain still burns in my brain, and the understanding is still murky.

But, we’ve all got lives to live, and the one I’m living is pretty damn good, so long as I can be present in it.

Let’s start with the good. I’ve been sober from alcohol for two years and seven months now, my work-life balance is better than it’s ever been, and I’m more involved in my daughter’s life than I could have ever imagined. I can’t express enough gratitude for these gifts—I’m very lucky.

Sobriety from alcohol has continued to allow me to find my footing when I feel like I’m slipping. If I were still reliant on the bottle, I’m confident everything I’ve worked so hard for would fall apart. Not only that, but the surest way to avoid being present in your life is to wash it away through drunkenness.

My work allows me to be on when I’m at my best, break whenever it’s needed, and be available at home or in my personal life so that I can handle those important priorities whenever necessary. This is crucial. If I were stuck grinding it out in a soul-sucking job every day, my outlook and energy would be quite different. I know this because I’ve been there before.

Being involved in my daughter’s life is one of the most special opportunities I’ve been given. I’m aware that most fathers aren’t as lucky as I am to be around their children almost always—especially during these earlier years. I might not always be able to give her my undivided attention whenever she craves it, but I’m here and available whenever I’m needed. This is extremely important to me, and I’m glad that I’ve discovered a way to make this possible.

So, there’s the good that I’ve either reinforced or have come to realize over the past year.

However, there are some emerging evils that are worth acknowledging here.

My daughter often asks about her brother and expresses that she misses him with a youthful sadness I still feel ill-equipped to decipher. My relationship with, well, relationships, has become “indifferent.” And my inner victim keeps trying to make an appearance.

My heart breaks when my daughter asks me why her baby brother isn’t around or how she wishes she could just play with him. We’ve explained to her what happened, how we’re all in this together, and that we love her. But, deep in my mind, I know these answers will only suffice for so long--if at all. The trauma is there for her, and only she can own it. But, we’re raising a smart, strong, and independent little girl—I’m confident she’s going to be alright.

I feel as though I’ve become calloused in my dealings with other people and my relationships with my friends, family, coworkers, etc. I have very little patience for excuses, complaining, and wasted potential. I’ve been on a quest to kill my weaknesses, the things that have been holding me back, and these are some areas that drive me to madness. Probably because they exist within me, so when I identify them in others, it grinds my gears. I didn't care so much in the past, but when you’re reminded of the brevity of life, these areas for improvement begin to take center stage.

My inner victim is someone I didn’t think existed. But after seeing how I’ve treated others, the thoughts that I’ve contended with inside my head, and even some of the writings I’ve published here (maybe this one included), I’ve acknowledged that he is still alive and flourishing. To be clear, I despise victim mentality and always prided myself on being able to push on or take control of a situation to avoid feeling “woe is me.” But, the truth is that we are victims when we experience trauma. The pain we feel is real. Support and attention help and feel good. However, it’s easy to get hooked on the attention for the wrong reasons, and it’s even easier to feel like the world is against you and that nothing will ever get better.

So as I sit here and process all these thoughts that I’ve just laid out, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I’m proud and grateful for my progress and growth as an individual and for my carefully constructed life. Yet, on the other hand, I’m reclusive, judgemental, and saddened by the early departure of my daughter’s childhood innocence.

The years don’t make the pain any less painful or any less real. But, they offer space to process and learn from the experience and time to create new opportunities for growth and happiness.

Time is the most precious and finite resource we have, and because of Lennox, I now value it more than ever.

With that, I’ll avoid the urge to ignore the date, I’ll refuse the desire to wallow in my self-pity, and instead, I’m going to do something to honor him and celebrate the time I’m so lucky to enjoy here.