I am f---ing done

I am just fucking done. (Oh yeah, this is going to have profanity in it so if it offends you, don't read it.)

Where do I start? Maybe the jackass who left me a message that he wanted to talk to me about a case. Oh yeah, there was no fucking case. The douchebag cocksucker wanted to get me to pay them money to get cases. You know how I get cases? Because despite what some sons of bitches think, I am a good guy. I'd give a client the shirt off my back. Hell, I actually did. I gave a Starbucks gift card to one yesterday because dude needed a cup of coffee worse than I have ever needed one. People hire me because they like me because I am who I am. If I fuck up, I admit it. Ready? I fuck up. A lot. Some of my fuck ups (or are they fucks up) are small. One or two has been big. But I own it. Its my fuck up and I learn from it. So, jackass, fuck off and if you call me again, I promise to unleash a string of profanity that would make sailors proud.

And yes, I am a good guy. Fuck you if you don't think I am. You can kiss my hairy white ass. Seriously. Find 10 people who don't like me. You can't. Its just not possible. I have a list of folks who dont like me. Not people who I may have pissed off now and then. That would be everyone, including my wife. But people who genuinely think I am a bad person or an ass or a piece of crap. There are a couple. They are either wrong or the biggest morons this side of (insert your favorite moron here). I don't quite get it when I get bashed. Maybe, I am wrong. Maybe I am the douche. Its possible. It may even be probable. I don't get it. Fuck it.

Then there is my oldest. What the fuck am I supposed to do? A - He isn't living here so its very difficult to be a good dad. No, its impossible. What the fuck do I do? How do I parent him? I don't know. There is no book for this crap. And the "experts" have no fucking clue what they are talking about. They are idiots. Oh, do this, do that. Really? That shit doesn't actually work in real life. Sorry. Its just not that easy. If it were, I wouldn't be the fucking disaster that I am.

Of course, the more I worry about him, the worse of a father I am to the other three. I lose my temper. I yell. I get pissed off. I try not to. But it takes SO much energy, so much time, so much work. I don't get it. Oh, and don't even get me started about these families like the Duggar's with their 18 or 28 or 48 kids and how much work it is for them. They couldn't hold my fucking jock strap when it comes to dealing with this. They can take their book and shove it. I am so tired of people writing parenting books about how they do it. I don't fucking care how you do it. Wait, maybe that isn't clear enough: I DON'T FUCKING CARE HOW YOU DO IT. Was that clearer? Its great that you are God's gift to parenting. I am not. I just want to make it from one day to the next and not completely fuck my kids up.

The more this bothers me the more I worry about my health. Its not the heart attack that worries me. Its not even the stroke. I take decent care of myself. Its the other nonsense. I know stress is bad for me, but what the hell? I don't have a stress relief magic button. I just have to suck it up. And, the more I internalize it, the harder it gets. I am going to go to the doctor, but why? What is she going to say? So, I get a diagnosis. So what? What does that do for me? It means I know what I have. But how does it actually make me better? It doesn.t It seems like an idiotic proposition.

Of course, I have a diagnosis or three for my kid and that plus a quarter still gets me a pile of crap. Maybe those doctors aren't as smart as we think they are? Or maybe we just don't have a cure or a fix for everything? I don't know. I wish I did.

You know what I know? Nothing. Not a single fucking thing. Wait, I know something. I miss my dad. A lot. I wish he was here to help me figure this out. I don't think I properly appreciated him when he was alive. Screw that, I know I didn't. And I missed him when he passed away. But I miss him even more now feeling like I really need him to figure this stuff out.

I don't know what is wrong with me. I am one fucked up dude. (Its not often I refer to myself as dude, or ever so at least I have some sense of humor. Maybe I am  like Jimmy in Seinfeld. Don't bother looking it up if you don't get it. It won't be funny anymore.) You know there are days I sit in my office and look out at the world and wonder why...........why am I doing this? why am I not some drunk on the street? why am I different than the guy who works two jobs and barely makes ends meet? I think I know why.

A lot of it, if not all of it, is my wife. She motivated me to do well in school, or at least better than I had been doing. She made sure I wasn't going to be a bum. And I am pretty bright. Not a fucking genius, that much I know, but not an idiot either. I can put together a complete sentence. I think I am a good guy and do good deeds. (Oh, and a big one on that: I don't fucking brag about them. I do them. I keep my mouth shut and I move on with life. I am so, so tired of these assholes who do a good thing and then brag about it or plaster it on the Internet or only do it if you do something first. Look, if you want to be a good person (or company) and do a good deed, just fucking do it.)

But, I assure you this isn't what I had planned for a life. When I was 12, or 13, or 14, or 20, or 25, this is not what I had in mind. I love my life, usually. I am blessed in so many ways. Maybe thats it. Maybe we don't get what we want, but we get what we get and we have to realize the negative has to remind us how great the positive is. I guess. Maybe that is the key to all of this. Bad shit happens but bad shit will pass. I have always promised my wife I would take care of her and the family. I have to keep that promise. And I always will.

So, while Simon and Garfunkel reminded me "That's all I'm trying/to get some rest," maybe that rest comes another time. Maybe it comes when I have taken care of them. Maybe this is just a bad phase that will pass. It has to pass. Its just taking longer than any of us would have hoped.

So, at the start of this I was done, as done as done gets, but now, I think I feel better. A little music, a little blogging and a realization that life is good.