It's been a full weak

It's been a crazy 7 days.

I chewed out 2 of my 3 bosses.
Plummeted into 2 depressions for no apparent reason other than the list of reasons I mentally keep with me at all times.
I got a paycheck of _____ (my pride has limits)
I saw a couple of favorite relatives of mine that I haven't seen in years.
My wife and I had another one of those how-many-more-of-these-can-we-take-moments
And I'm back to taking Tylenol PM to put myself into a coma in order to get sleep every night.

I've had a couple of people ask me the same question this week. It's one of those questions people ask while trying hard not to say what they're really saying. The kind of sentence that could easily have a "dumbass" slipped onto the end.

They ask me how I can admit to feeling a certain way when I write blogs. They use the word "open" a lot. Like - "Wow - you're very...open when you write (dumbass)." or "Didn't expect you to be that - open (dumbass)."

I think "open" has turned into the new "pathetic," at least in my case, and that's ok. They don't mean any offense and the truth is - I'm not offended. I'm just open (dumbass).

But just in case anyone else is wondering how I can admit to things that people should try to hide, I thought I'd take a shot at explaining it - to myself.

Truth is, I have no idea. I don't know why I have to write about things that I should likely be trying to deny. Maybe the denial thing, or bury it down in my chest thing, or take it in the closet for a good cry would be the better route to go. Trouble is, with me it usually turns into road-rage, boss-cussing, wall-hitting idiot rage disorder, if I don't take time to pound it out on the keyboard instead of the drywall.

I have a marraige therapist that I love. I mean love. Seriously. Not in a derranged, dependent kind of way, but in a how-does-this-woman-who-knows-me-for-so-little-of-a-time-think-I'm-worth-so-much-effort-and-work-kind-of-way. She knows me really well and calls me on my sh!t every time. Sometimes even when I'm not trying to pull it - but her heart is laways inthe right pace and she's right 98.37% of the time. Anyway - she told me something once that I always knew, but never came close to realizing. I'm conceited. I know you knew that. I knew that too, but I never really understood it. She explained it to me.

I always ask people's opinion on things - like everyone - about everything. I even ask people I don't really respect to give me their thoughts on things that I know they're stupid about. Or - I ask people I respect about htings I know they're experts on, and then ignore their opinion completely. I never really got that about myself - never even noticed. Always kind of thought I was collecting opinion before choosing the best route, but no - that wasn't it.

One day my therapist told me "I have never met anyone who asks so many people's opinions and yet doesn't value any of them even while he's asking." Wow - that's so stupid. It can't be true. It's true.

Then I realized why I do it. It's how I think. It's how I reason, or understand, or figure things out. I need a blackboard to do my calcualtions. I need base to start to build. It doesn't matter how high or low the base is, I just need a starting point. I need to hear the situation, the setting, the problem, and the alternatives to get it all clear in my mind, and then I need the other guy to play the trial and error dummy. It helps me. It helps me find a light when I feel caught in a rat tunnel.

I have great and brilliant friends. Seriously - even the ones that are socially retarded, egotistical, and/or oblivious to the world around them, I have the brightest friends of anyone I know. One of you guys is a Calculator extremist who can sell, plan, or accomplish anything your devious mind can create, another a chemist, the other a tech-guru, the other an Air Force officer, another a religion major grad, the other an English grad with a Masters, one who's the most amazing artist I've ever seen - and at the end waiting humbly and patiantly- there's the a brother, that in all liklihood is the smartest one of us all. If you really know Steve, that shouldn't even offend you because you probably already realized it.

The side point is, there are times when I'm pretending to listen, and I'm actually listening. And even when I ignore the words of maybe-wisdom, I'm not saying I ignore it because I don't value the messenger. I do. I just value my own a little more - but, assuming my motives are pure shouldn't that be the way it is? I'm a grown man.

But the point is I can be open and pathetic in front of online strangers and best friends alike because in all honesty - I don't care what you think of me.

I've been broken in one way or another for a long time, and one thing it's taught me is this - sooner or later, everyone else is too. I've seen the best and the strongest people I know absolutely crushed at one point or another. I've seen people with that look on their face that let me know they had finally come to the point in their lives when they believed the worst about themselves, when they were convinced they weren't worth the effort it would take to pick themselves off the ground that was covered in whisky, or tears, or pictures, or whatever it was that ripped out their sternum.

I've see the strongest people I know attheir weakest - and it didn't make me think less of them. It made me hurt for them and want to beat the hell out of whatever lie had broken them to that point, but it didn't make me look down on them unless they were a democrat.

I admit to being a fool, a liar, a cheater, a selfish manipulating ass, and hot-headed-self-absorbed-doubleass. And believe it or not - I'm ashamed of it all - all the time - even when I'm soaking in self pity I'm marinating in shame and self hatred. That's waht makes it harder than the usual self pity thing we all learned as teenagers. But I'm not ashamed of being broken. I'm too broken to care. I feel worthless, enough to not feel like I've lost anything if someone else agrees with my low opinion of myself.

And yes -I can hear my mom's voice even now, but I know I have a lot to be grateful for. It's not about being ungrateful. I hope it's not. It's about not knowing how to get over what you should have never put yourself under.

I have a family that loves me, people that pray for me, and enough looks, charm, humor, and brains that I should have the advantage in three out of four of those catagories with almost anyone else I happen to meet (I'm allowed to be vain as long as I'm being so open right?)

But right now - I don't know how to get off the ground. So I keep doing this hoping it'll help me figure it out.

I'm not admitting to anything that anyone shouldn't be able to relate to (hopefully you're not all cheating, lying fools, but I just said "relate"). If you can't relate to shame, anger, and hopelessness - congratulations to you, you demented sociopathic freakjob, but I don't want to know you- and like everyone else in my life, I don't value your opinion.

But - I am glad you exist, because the people that have only seen this pit from the ground level and never the underground level are some of the few people I can still look down on.

There is one disclaimer I need to add. My brother Stephen. He's the one I do care about more than all the others because he has always had the God-given ability to let me see myself through his inaccurate, big-brother tinted hero goggles. And sometimes, as near sighted as those things are they're the only things I have left that's lets me have a look at the man I used to think I could be.

If he tells me I'm being too open, I'll listen, Everyone else, whether I love you, like you, barely know you, or never met you I still will likely ask for your opinion on the matter, it's just that chances are I won't be listening to me when I ask.