Broken

At a time like this, I wish I was writing about...Elvis. He always made life better. Or Jerry Lee Lewis, who was more of a rebel than Elvis ever was. The Killer standing at the pumpin' piano, fingers stretched across the keys, blond hair falling in his eyes.

Well I say come along my baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on

But I can't. I'm lost right now. I love all my readers & I never wanted to tell you this, but now I know I have to. Maria & I got a divorce. I didn't want it & I still think with counseling, we could've saved our marriage, but that's a mute point right now.

I have  to let go of that little girl I met in the library, the one who loved me when I had nothing, the one who made me a better man, who brought me back to God. (I was hardly a believer before.)

When I was in a good mood, I'd walk into the living room, see Maria & the kids & say, "It's my three favorite people." I thought my wife & daughter were the two most beautiful girls in the world.

When I was in a bad mood, it was hell. I've struggled with depression all my life. I remember the last one before the split. Matt, the guy I worked for, was an intense guy. He'd bang around in his office, throwing a tantrum. Goddamit! Shit! Jesus Christ!  And I'd sit at my desk in fear, praying to God it wasn't something I did.

I feared my unhappy job being on the line. I couldn't sit still at home. I was literally walking anxiety, pacing the floor. Maria wanted to help me.

Jeff, I love you

She'd say it over and over & I don't know that I ever stopped pacing or looking scared & depressed long enough to say, "I love you too, little girl." I took her love for granted. I thought she'd always be there. I hated what I was doing, making her depressed too. She said she had to go to her mother's for a couple of days so she could feel better. She took the kids, but two days became...she never came back.

We had been fighting a lot that last year. I said some abusive things that I'll regret for the rest of my life. I never wanted to hurt that little girl. I'm so so sorry. She forgives me, but she feels, probably accurately, that if we got back together it would be the same thing again.

I had dreams -- that I'd get her a better ring, that we'd renew our vows on our 20th wedding anniversary, that I might actually live to be 82 & we'd be celebrating our 50th. I was going to be a better husband to her, I vowed to myself, but it was too late.

I failed her. I lost the love of my life. I lost my family. I used to feel like I had the family I always wanted. My first family was acrimonious, hell on earth.

I was 3-years-old. My mom was sitting in a chair in one end of the room, Dad in a chair at the other end. They told me they didn't love each other anymore. I kept going from one chair to the other. "Mom, do you love Dad?" "No," Going to Dad. "Daddy, do you love Mom." "No."

Mom re-married, then got divorced again. Everything was so final & hallow when he left. I was 12. I was sobbing uncontrollably. "Mom, please don't get married again because I can't loose another dad."

I vowed I'd never do that to my kids, that I'd give them a better life. We were great parents, but there were too many fights between Maria & me. I called her a nag. When I didn't get the trash out before it piled up, she'd say, "It's just the way you were raised."

I was okay, driving to the courtroom on the day of the divorce. I sat by her, but when I held her hand, I lost it. It was the worst day of my life.

It's like someone I loved has died. The depression has been insurmountable. I pray alone in my bed at night. "God, please give a disease so I can die." It would be the humane thing to do. But God's not gonna do it. I prayed that prayer before when I was depressed, just certain that God would take mercy on me, but it never happened.

I haven't told anyone I work with about my personal troubles. Why do it? Then they would be talking about my mental state & they would know when I go to the break room, multiple times a day, it's to bury my head on the table & cry.

When I was 16, a neighbor up the street from my house, was going through a divorce and he committed suicide by carbon monoxide. Now I can see how he would do that.

"You better not kill yourself," Maria said to me. "Don't do that to your kids."

Of course I'm in therapy. They have me for life. My therapist's name is Jennifer. She's good. I'm on four medications for depression and anxiety.

Maria is in love with another man now. She'll probably marry him. Have his big last name. Their relationship got 94 likes on Facebook. "Couldn't resist his charm," her aunt wrote. (Well I can have charm. When I'm operating on a functional level, I'm good.)

But I'm not ready. I want love. I want what I had with Maria. I want to love someone like I loved her. I want someone to love me like she loved me. But every other woman looks ugly or her personality is annoying or she isn't as down to earth & non-pretentious as Maria is. Jennifer tells me most men are re-married within a year of getting divorced, but it won't happen with me. I'm so broken. So many dreams have failed.

I failed.

Knowing I failed my best friend, my lover and that now she has a new love -- makes it so much worse. It's torture and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, not even some cocksucker I knew in Oklahoma and I hated that sonovabitch.

It's Saturday & I wish I was back in Jett, Kan. with my family, going with my son on his paper route & listening to Elvis.

                                "Everything I Own" -- Bread