The Bloody Doors Off

So today I had a meeting with the boss. Because of the dearth of work right now, my contract has gone from being a utility player to a pinch hitter, called off the bench when needed. They, as am I, are hoping we can turn things around and get everyone to use my services and bump me back up to an everyday player.

And yes, my contract does say “as needed” when it comes to hours. We just all assumed, at this point, it would be more feast than famine. They are NOT letting me go; but I am free to take on other work in the meantime.

I understand where they are coming from, and we’ve already taken steps to try and up my caché.

I was fine until this evening. It hit me tonight. As I told Marlo, I want to support my family. And I worry I can’t.

To continue the metaphor, I’m not sure if I should be swinging for the fences or be content with hitting the odd single, or taking a base on balls.

But I certainly hate striking out.

Tonight I enjoyed a production of ‘Shrek The Musical Jr.‘ with my future step-son, Coltrane, performing as one of the storytellers.

If you’d told me three years ago I’d be a proud parent doing something so obvious, so fun, so fulfilling, just watching a 10-year old boy sing his heart out in a school musical.

Well, I’d probably have thanked you. Because I couldn’t imagine it then, but happy it’s a part of my life now.

Sure there are going to be difficult days ahead (there always are; I should know, I was that kid once) but nights like this are so damned rewarding, it’s just…

So worth it.

It’s been a busy week.

I’m adjusting quite nicely to the new job, err, contract. Of course, they said if we like each other, it’ll become permanent. And I can say I really like this job, even with the extended commute.

I put in 10 hours yesterday to get a project ready to go for a conference State-side. A lot of work. What surprised me was the feedback I got from the principals; a lot of praise for the hard work my colleague Darryn and I did, that it wasn’t going unnoticed. This is a huge change from the past companies I’ve worked for. We were always the grunt workers, and it was the people above us who took the credit.

Not here.

It’s refreshing.

In May, I’m moving in with my fiancée, whom I am marrying in November.

Starting a new job in a week.

So much change. After being stagnant for … years.

I’m ready for this.

I have to be.

I am.

When I proposed to Marlo, it extended to her son. I was stating, without hesitation, that I was willing to become a parent to Coltrane.

So, for the first time, in, well, forever, I’m taking responsibility not only for myself, but my relationship with her and, as important, taking responsibility for the caring and well-being of a small human.

I’ve been a partner before. I’ve been in relationships where my significant other had an offspring. But until now, I’ve never parented.

I wish there was a manual.

I know, every parent does.

I’ve had to grow up considerably in a brief period of time. Not that I wasn’t an adult before, but now my choices and decisions reflect on how another person’s personality and ability to function in the real world will develop.

I worry that I’m stepping on toes. But I know Marlo would tell me if I was out of line. I try in all cases to support her decisions, as one should. While dipping my toes in the parental waters and hoping he respects me as much as I do him.

It’s true what they say: you don’t fully understand your parents and the choices and sacrifices they made until you are a parent.

I’m not scared. I love the boy like he was my own blood. I just hope I do right by him and Marlo.

Please, don’t let me screw up too much.

Oh hello, Howard.

It’s been a while.

Months. Years?

People might not remember you. I wrote about you once or twice.

You’d been there for years, but over the last eight months, you were silent.

Why tonight? Why now?

I can be happy.

I can be happy.

I can be.

I can.

This should be an interesting Christmas.

I’m in a healthy, stable, loving relationship.

I have two contracts ramping up for next week. One of which looks to go for weeks (not meaning I’ll be putting in 35 hours per, but they should be funneling me a fair amount of work).

I have plans for Christmas Eve, the day itself, and New Year’s. While I still have social anxiety, I’m able to face it (right now).

And yet.

And yet.

There’s that tiny part of me…

Please let this be real.

Let this be one of the less darker timelines.

Just this once.

I’m at war with myself. Desperately trying not to sabotage my life. Fighting against what I want to do, with reasons that are, at best, suspect. The little things are frustrating me; the big ticket items have me scared to death.

I’m allowed to be happy. I remind myself of this in the quiet moments. I’m allowed to adult, as much as it scares me sometimes. But I worry that I won’t measure up. I didn’t before, so why would now be different, says the critical inner voice.

Stupid. Stupid stupid.

I only use this blog when I’m in fight or flight mode. Never for the good times. Wouldn’t it be nice to (re)read a post about the weekend spend in Stratford? Of course it would, that should go without saying.

And things are still terrific, at least in that area of my life. I’m just afraid to tell my anxiety that it just might be okay to exhale.

I’m still awake.

Think I’m getting sick. There’s a tickle in my throat.

Can’t sleep. Basically toss and turn, mind run wild. Visiting places of nightmare that were the less than bright moments of my life. Decide instead to embrace the dark and brew a cup of coffee.

I can sleep later.

Maybe.