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Blockhead

I think my Dad just called me a blockhead. Certainly, it is not a criminal act. At least that is what I gather from social media and through the giggles of my lawyer friends. I doubt he will feel any remorse, serve any time, or make any restitution. However, he called me a blockhead! It all started when we were having a nice text together. He has gotten a little hard of hearing and “these new fangled phones” don’t get loud enough. So, we text. He is having some medical stuff done and I am getting ready to go solo practice and we chat. IT is not uncommon for us to text back and forth for about ten minutes and he will say he is done texting and the conversation stops. This time we had gotten about two minutes into the conversation and I was talking about how out of place I feel in many different situations. This is not new for me, nor particularly interesting. I’ve always felt that way. I have a great family of mostly extroverts. I had lived as an extrovert for many years before discovering that people wear me out. I needed time to be alone to get energized. I am a true introvert. I am the only divorced sibling. I live in Idaho. I don’t drink. I have had difficulties legally. And the list goes on. Currently, I am the only medical doctor in a hospital full of psychiatrists. By the way, if you ever really want a reality check, get several psychiatrists in a room. It is surreal. Oh and it does really only take one to change a lightbulb. I am the only addictionologist in Idaho practicing inpatient rehab. I am single.

Anyway, I was talking about how I am both scared and relieved to be going solo again. There are pros and cons for sure. My Dad then said you cant stick a square block into a round hole! There is was, he was calling me a blockhead. I decided to practice from the book, The Four Agreements, and have the courage to ask the question:

ME: Am I the block or the hole?:

Dad: You decide.

See? Can you feel the cruelty? IT was a sad moment until I realized it is genetic.

I thought about how he has been widowed for almost 20 years. He doesn’t drink or smoke. He cant hear. He keeps getting older as I stay the same age I’ve always been. Blockheadedness is either genetic or contagious. It pervades all aspects of my life. In work, I am generally an oddity. Frankly, I prefer it that way. I do things in a unique way. It is fun to get to be my real self when at work. I dont really fit in with social groups. I dont drink or party. Most people my age are married or want to go drinking. ITs not bad, and I enjoy hanging out (in case anyone who reads this thinks I am a recluse), but I am different. Dating is the worst. I am an introvert, remember? Most women have gotten out of marriages because they were bored in some way or hurt. They want fireworks, travel, ski diving, etc. I want relationship. I left because I didnt exist as a real person when I was married. I want to be a real boy, Pinnoccio. I go on occasional dates. We have a good time. But it isnt enough. Maybe I lost my mojo. Maybe some obese scottish guard went back and stole my mojo!  Thats it! Its not that I an genetically a block head, it was induced by removing the mojo. It caused the corners of my scalp to extrude. Maybe, the rounded head is really formed by mojo holding in the corners, like tension ropes. My Dad was not picking on me, he was warning me about my mojo.

Nah, its genetic.

 

 
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Posted by on October 9, 2019 in journey, life

 

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my daughters, I love you

I stood on the mountain top again. I climbed to the top of the world and looked around a bit. The air is brisk and thin up here. There is a bitter wind that seems to leap frog up my spine. The view is breathtaking, but I muse that there isn’t much breath to be taking at this moment. I have already spent the time holding up my fists like a Rocky statue. I have yelled to hear the echo reminding me I am alive and alone. I sit in the crossed leg position and ponder life. I feel like the guru that is rumored to be at the top of the mountain. I sit and consider. I am not considering anything in particular, just musing. I am alive, alone, and have a leaped frog spine as I sit on the mountain top at the top of the world.

I have laughed and celebrated. Suddenly, I feel myself begin to weep. I am not sure where it is coming from and I know this is not a good oxygen choice. I can’t stop. I feel the pain of my daughters. I can feel their hurts and hearts. It screeches like a carrion bird, tearing at my soul. I want to fix it and to protect them, despite how they hold me away. I weep, my heart weeps, my soul weeps. If I had a guitar, it would gently be weeping as well.

I stop weeping and feel emotions from loved ones and loved ones lost creeping up my spine to be leap frogged by the wind. The emotions are bitter and run the gambit. They are foreign only in they aren’t mine. I have had similar feelings, but felt them as I feel them. Now I see these like the recognition of a childhood school mate decades later, familiar and foreign all at once. I am annoyed and embarrassed that I cant screen these out like I usually can. The thin air, the time alone, the wind chill has exhausted my defense and the emotions slither in. I’ve felt them before from these same sources. To be confronted with them again is painful. It is also a relief. It is a reminder I am alive, I am open, I am connected. More importantly, it reminds me that I love.

 
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Posted by on January 26, 2017 in children, life, Uncategorized

 

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snow angel, my @$$

I spent Christmas with my Dad. We were both going to be alone for the holidays and have our own reasons for not enjoying the holiday season. So, we decided to just hang out together. He is from New Mexico and has occasionally been heard to say that it gets too cold there. I live in Idaho, very close to Canada. And we had a cold snap. And we had snow. Lots of snow. I will never forget the look he gave me after I had to go out and buy a snowblower. It was an interesting combination of pity and disgust. It might have just been he was cold because we had to drive with the hatchback open to get it home. I didn’t ask because I was thinking about how fun power tools are. (It stops being fun after you have to do it three times within 12 hours.)

snow

We had a very mellow good time. We even went grocery shopping. We made meals and watched Sons of Anarchy. We laughed and just enjoyed each other. I was looking in the pantry this morning and I cant find my cereal. There are 2 very large onions, some potatoes, and I think a box of pasta helper I didn’t buy. I also have a new toaster but I am not sure what happened to my frying pan.

He is a little hard of hearing and has a knack for starting conversations as you leave the room. I found myself holding my pee several times while he asked about something or told me a story. I also find myself whispering throughout my day because I find myself talking very loudly whenever I am around him. I slip into interpreting and repeating when we are out at restaurants or in stores. The day after he left I turned on the TV and panicked as the loud explosion on the show reverberated through the house. There was a brief minute, right after I nearly wet my pants, that I forgot that I could turn down the volume. deaf

My Dad has this knack of questioning things he disagrees with. It is very subtle. “So, you like to use crescent wrenches when you put together machinery?” Its not necessarily condemnation, but it is clear that a box wrench or even a gosh darn socket wrench would be better. I have developed two habits when questioned about anything in my life. One is to just say, “Yep.” The other is to have ready a complete explanation and rationale, complete with cited references and quoted statistics as to why the use of a crescent wrench is superior in agility and adjustable functionality.  For the snowblower, I just said, “Yep.”

snowblower

We drive each other absolutely batty sometimes. We are good friends and enjoy each other most of the time. I am baffled by him frequently. I am amused by him as well. There are few people in this world I trust and respect as much as him. Its nice to get to pee when I need, recognize the food in my cabinets, and not feel the need for prepared answers when I use the lazy tool. I can have the TV at a volume that wont frighten airplane pilots.

I miss him.

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2017 in life, Uncategorized

 

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