Thursday, July 2, 2015
One Amazin' Woman, One Lucky Man
Sometimes, you have the single most perfect, precious partner sitting right next to you. You KNOW you do, but you need to take a step back every so often and just admire and rejoice for what that partner means to you. My wife, my Princess, Belinda Poppell, is THAT woman. She has so much to offer (which I gladly accept), and her love for me is so freaking beyond what I would have thought possible 5 years ago, when we first met. It strengthens between us every day, no matter where we are. It just all flows together as the day goes on. Her responsibilities away from home increase every day, and due to my recent surgery, they have increased here at home as well. Does she buckle? Fold? Shrink away from it? No, No, No...she just gets stronger, in every way. I can only stand to the side and watch her grow, in her professional life and in our relationship, and I cannot do anything but stare in awe. Somehow, my baby manages to fit 25 hrs into a 24 hr day, without complaint. Always smilin' away (I do catch a tiny frown here and there, well hidden). There are a few reasons for this, but one of the most important is also one of the least acknowledged: her employees. From her new manager, Joel, to her assistant mgr's, Erica, Kara, Jaselle, Colton (hope I didn't forget anyone; my apologies) down through all her personnel at Dairy Queen, if it wasn't for the support, hard work and good attitudes I'm not sure how she would be doing. As the folks I have mentioned help her, they help ME. Every thing they do is one little stressor that she doesn't have to worry about...much. Another thing she has going on is her "swagger". She is the General Manager, she accepts it and she is damn good at it! When she finally gets home, to help this beat-up old body, she has an uncanny ability to disengage, maybe switch gears, that allows her to focus on me, and more importantly, US, and still maintain her professional attitude in case she has to jump back in. It has been quite an adjustment for her, and us, yet somehow she pulled it off, and I was never much help. I was focusing my own emotions on my soon-to-be 3rd knee replacement (yes, I only have TWO knees!, lol), with a 4th one in a quick turn around after rehab. My focus took over my emotions, which left me feeling weak and vulnerable. Again, here comes Belinda, riding to the rescue on a white horse, reassuring me always, that the strength of our bond has never been weak and in fact grows tighter every day. So, I would like to send a bucketful of thank yous to her staff for ALL that they have done in support, and also a big high 5 to her immediate supervisor, Brian Kelly and his boss Len, and all the DQ office staff for their support of my wife; without all of these important people, my Princess may have had an even more difficult time. I have NO doubt she would have still accomplished all that she has, and adapted as needed. Princess, I love you so much, and I know we need each other to make each other better. In the end, we have both found someone in whom we can place our hearts in the others' hands without fear of breaking. For that, my love, I will be forever grateful, and in your debt. I love you, always and eternally.
Monday, January 12, 2015
The Greatest Love Story...Ever
If this didn't happen to me, I never would have believed it; friends and family, and even friends of friends, believe. Just as Virginia believed in Santa Claus, after all my doubts in the past, love is there for you, and probably in the most unlikely of places. This is my Virginia.
I decided, in early 2010, to just pack up my life and move to East Texas. I told myself it was so I could be with my parents, and siblings. I had, and still have, some fantastic memories of my time in Northern California, and I count some of the folks there as my friends, and some of the most magnificent people I have EVER met. But Texas was calling.
When I first arrived, I stayed with my folks, until I could get settled and find my own place. On the lake, fish when I want (retired people have to do that; it's a requirement). So, as I was picky but still wanted the water, I moved into a trailer park, one that I had visited each year before, just to check it out, when I came out to visit. Went back down this time, hoping like hell I could find what I wanted. I did, and more.
With the help of my Dad and brother Jim, we got me all moved in, and the very first 2 people I meet (after the owner) was the maintenance team. Can't remember his name, but the other half, WOWZA! Long brown hair, nice, long tanned legs, and eyes that just shimmered when you would look into them.It was June, start of summer and already hot. She was drenched in sweat from working hard, and somehow that grabbed my attention more. In a relationship? Of course she was...damn, what's up with that, Santa?
Soon I discovered that if I had a minor maintenance issue, the "she" half of the team would be sent to fix it. Blown breakers on the a/c, other small annoying crap. Could I fix it myself? Sure. Did I want to? Why would I, when she would? It got to the point where I would turn the breakers off myself, so she would have to come up. And, normally I have a policy, that if you want to come to my home, call first. I forgot to tell her that. We talked, just little chats, found out she loved Lipton's Brisk Lemon Ice Tea, so what was my fridge stocked with? Yes ma'am, I have one right here!
Always on my mind was she. Some nights, it would just be a few folks out on the dock, or the shoreline, fishing and laughing. Man, I was so more relaxed than I ever had been in my life! And it was because of her. Under the moonlight, poles in the water, I couldn't care less if I caught anything. I would tell stories about my time in the military, and everybody would listen and laugh, or just listen, because some weren't funny. Some were paying attention, some fishing, but she was doing both. Even without a moon, I could feel her eyes on me. Me.
I knew her relationship was rocky; we talked about it. I talked about it with him, and I truly tried to keep them together, because, at that time, that's what she wanted, and I only wanted her to be happy. I had had my share of happiness, and I sensed a part of her that just yearned for that happiness, so I tried. I gritted my teeth, bit my tongue, and tried to help. It didn't work, they parted ways, and I lost contact with her, except for a few brief calls, maybe a Facebook note or two. She called one day for help, and I did. Because she asked. I didn't know her story of the past few months (and even though I had moved, I also had to do my own maintenance...double bummer).
Christmas Eve, 2010, playing on-line poker, minding my own business, up pops my chat window. It was HER, the young lady that haunted my dreams. "Hey", she says, "whatcha doing""Nothing, playing poker" Do you feel like coming out to Athens and pick me up, we can go do something?", she asked. Now, Athens is about 40 miles away, but I did not care if it was 40 million miles away, I was gonna get there, and I was gettin' there yesterday!!! Woke up Christmas morning with her in my arms, so I knew that Virginia's question was answered for me!
Sadly, that morning we talked, and I asked her if she would give me a few days to sort things out before I went full bore into anything resembling a relationship. She understood, and I took her back to Athens, and made a slow, lonely journey to my parent's house for Christmas. I walked into my parent's house, and immediately my brother and Mom looked at me and said, almost in unison, "He's in love" (my brother) and "Who is she" from Mom. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, prevented me from making the biggest mistake of my life. If they knew right of the bat that I was so happy, just by looking at me, then what the hell was I thinking, dropping her off in Athens?
I think, after some time together, that I simply wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to hurt her. I knew she wouldn't hurt me; but she had suffered enough, some of her own doing,as I had (some of my own doing). Called her several times Christmas Day, made plans, and she moved in with me on December 26th, 2010, and each and every day I am a much happier man, because my Mom and Jim picked out what I couldn't quite see yet; I had found love, and I had just dropped it off 40 miles away.
Belinda has been a rock for me for just a little over 4 years, and I have been her rock. We laugh, we cry, we disagree, but we have never had one single fight. But whatever we do, we do it together, and that is what makes us who we have become: US, not Norman and Belinda, not the Poppell's, not Belinda and Norman...US. We are one together, thoughts, likes, mannerisms, you name it. We are ONE. Now, anything titled "The Greatest Love Story...Ever" has to have a sound reason for being described like that, and this one does. It has a moral.
The moral of this story is this: If you see something you like but think you may never get it, no matter how SMART you are, act DUMB, so the lady has to fix your breakers. 24/7. Princess, I love you, totally and completely. Thank you for 4 wonderful years of happiness, and to little Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...you just have to pay attention, be patient and the gift of lifetime love will be yours!!
I decided, in early 2010, to just pack up my life and move to East Texas. I told myself it was so I could be with my parents, and siblings. I had, and still have, some fantastic memories of my time in Northern California, and I count some of the folks there as my friends, and some of the most magnificent people I have EVER met. But Texas was calling.
When I first arrived, I stayed with my folks, until I could get settled and find my own place. On the lake, fish when I want (retired people have to do that; it's a requirement). So, as I was picky but still wanted the water, I moved into a trailer park, one that I had visited each year before, just to check it out, when I came out to visit. Went back down this time, hoping like hell I could find what I wanted. I did, and more.
With the help of my Dad and brother Jim, we got me all moved in, and the very first 2 people I meet (after the owner) was the maintenance team. Can't remember his name, but the other half, WOWZA! Long brown hair, nice, long tanned legs, and eyes that just shimmered when you would look into them.It was June, start of summer and already hot. She was drenched in sweat from working hard, and somehow that grabbed my attention more. In a relationship? Of course she was...damn, what's up with that, Santa?
Soon I discovered that if I had a minor maintenance issue, the "she" half of the team would be sent to fix it. Blown breakers on the a/c, other small annoying crap. Could I fix it myself? Sure. Did I want to? Why would I, when she would? It got to the point where I would turn the breakers off myself, so she would have to come up. And, normally I have a policy, that if you want to come to my home, call first. I forgot to tell her that. We talked, just little chats, found out she loved Lipton's Brisk Lemon Ice Tea, so what was my fridge stocked with? Yes ma'am, I have one right here!
Always on my mind was she. Some nights, it would just be a few folks out on the dock, or the shoreline, fishing and laughing. Man, I was so more relaxed than I ever had been in my life! And it was because of her. Under the moonlight, poles in the water, I couldn't care less if I caught anything. I would tell stories about my time in the military, and everybody would listen and laugh, or just listen, because some weren't funny. Some were paying attention, some fishing, but she was doing both. Even without a moon, I could feel her eyes on me. Me.
I knew her relationship was rocky; we talked about it. I talked about it with him, and I truly tried to keep them together, because, at that time, that's what she wanted, and I only wanted her to be happy. I had had my share of happiness, and I sensed a part of her that just yearned for that happiness, so I tried. I gritted my teeth, bit my tongue, and tried to help. It didn't work, they parted ways, and I lost contact with her, except for a few brief calls, maybe a Facebook note or two. She called one day for help, and I did. Because she asked. I didn't know her story of the past few months (and even though I had moved, I also had to do my own maintenance...double bummer).
Christmas Eve, 2010, playing on-line poker, minding my own business, up pops my chat window. It was HER, the young lady that haunted my dreams. "Hey", she says, "whatcha doing""Nothing, playing poker" Do you feel like coming out to Athens and pick me up, we can go do something?", she asked. Now, Athens is about 40 miles away, but I did not care if it was 40 million miles away, I was gonna get there, and I was gettin' there yesterday!!! Woke up Christmas morning with her in my arms, so I knew that Virginia's question was answered for me!
Sadly, that morning we talked, and I asked her if she would give me a few days to sort things out before I went full bore into anything resembling a relationship. She understood, and I took her back to Athens, and made a slow, lonely journey to my parent's house for Christmas. I walked into my parent's house, and immediately my brother and Mom looked at me and said, almost in unison, "He's in love" (my brother) and "Who is she" from Mom. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, prevented me from making the biggest mistake of my life. If they knew right of the bat that I was so happy, just by looking at me, then what the hell was I thinking, dropping her off in Athens?
I think, after some time together, that I simply wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to hurt her. I knew she wouldn't hurt me; but she had suffered enough, some of her own doing,as I had (some of my own doing). Called her several times Christmas Day, made plans, and she moved in with me on December 26th, 2010, and each and every day I am a much happier man, because my Mom and Jim picked out what I couldn't quite see yet; I had found love, and I had just dropped it off 40 miles away.
Belinda has been a rock for me for just a little over 4 years, and I have been her rock. We laugh, we cry, we disagree, but we have never had one single fight. But whatever we do, we do it together, and that is what makes us who we have become: US, not Norman and Belinda, not the Poppell's, not Belinda and Norman...US. We are one together, thoughts, likes, mannerisms, you name it. We are ONE. Now, anything titled "The Greatest Love Story...Ever" has to have a sound reason for being described like that, and this one does. It has a moral.
The moral of this story is this: If you see something you like but think you may never get it, no matter how SMART you are, act DUMB, so the lady has to fix your breakers. 24/7. Princess, I love you, totally and completely. Thank you for 4 wonderful years of happiness, and to little Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...you just have to pay attention, be patient and the gift of lifetime love will be yours!!
Sunday, August 19, 2012
My beautiful bride, Belinda
My dear family and friends, I really need your assistance. My Princess is scheduled for a surgical procedure this Tuesday, August 21st. I don't get scared very often, but I am. It is a routine procedure, and the doctor says not to worry. Funny, but she is NOT his wife. I am not overly religious, and I definitely do not attend a church of any kind, but that does not mean I don't believe in something. I do believe that the power of love is the most overwhelming power, and we both have plenty of that for each other.
Belinda is the most special thing in my life, right at the top with my 3 sons. I just look in her eyes, and I feel exactly what she feels, and that is so rare these days. If I could take her place, I most certainly would. When we married each other, I promised to always protect her and keep her from harm. I promised to always be there for her. I would be her safety blanket, and to provide her security and safety. Now I am lost for answers, and it is where I ask you for assistance.
I am not a praying man, in the usual sense of the act. I guess you could say that I am selfish, in the fact that I will pray for strength when I feel I do not have control of my wife's safety and security. I have to turn her over to a surgical team on Tuesday morning, and I am scared. Very scared. I feel as if all the things that I promised her, I cannot give her on Tuesday. I have to cede control of her to people that I do not know, and I really don't like that feeling. In fact, I hate it. I am trying my best to show her strength, and to take all her worries onto my shoulders, and I do so readily and gladly.
Now, my request that I ask is this: Please, please, help me in praying for my Princess. I don't know if my simple little prayers are being heard, or if they will even work. I do know that the more help that I have from all of you, the better I will feel.
This woman has changed my life so dramatically, from the very moment that I first laid eyes on her. I need her, as much as I have ever needed anything in my life. As I said before, we have a love for each other that is rare. We are not a couple. We have become a singular being, knowing what the other wants without even speaking of it. We finish sentences for the other. She has taught me things about love and sharing and giving that I did not know existed. I need her to be safe, when I cannot be there to provide that safety and security.
I know that she will be under the best possible care, which does help me cope at times. I show her confidence, and I am keeping upbeat. But deep inside of me, I am not sure that I can do this alone. I am giving it my best shot, and I have taken some of doubt's best punches, and I am still standing tall. I do this not only for her, but for me and for us. Your thoughts and prayers will be appreciated in such a way as I can never repay them, unless you need the same thing from me. I will give you my word that I will always be there for any of you, at any time.
In closing, please remember my Belinda in your thoughts and prayers. We are in a place in our lives that we have both struggled to get to, and we deserve to continue that journey. Is that selfish? You're damn right it is, and I do not care. My only care is the health of my bride, and I need you, each and every one of you, to help us to get through this. I know I can count on all of you.
Belinda is the most special thing in my life, right at the top with my 3 sons. I just look in her eyes, and I feel exactly what she feels, and that is so rare these days. If I could take her place, I most certainly would. When we married each other, I promised to always protect her and keep her from harm. I promised to always be there for her. I would be her safety blanket, and to provide her security and safety. Now I am lost for answers, and it is where I ask you for assistance.
I am not a praying man, in the usual sense of the act. I guess you could say that I am selfish, in the fact that I will pray for strength when I feel I do not have control of my wife's safety and security. I have to turn her over to a surgical team on Tuesday morning, and I am scared. Very scared. I feel as if all the things that I promised her, I cannot give her on Tuesday. I have to cede control of her to people that I do not know, and I really don't like that feeling. In fact, I hate it. I am trying my best to show her strength, and to take all her worries onto my shoulders, and I do so readily and gladly.
Now, my request that I ask is this: Please, please, help me in praying for my Princess. I don't know if my simple little prayers are being heard, or if they will even work. I do know that the more help that I have from all of you, the better I will feel.
This woman has changed my life so dramatically, from the very moment that I first laid eyes on her. I need her, as much as I have ever needed anything in my life. As I said before, we have a love for each other that is rare. We are not a couple. We have become a singular being, knowing what the other wants without even speaking of it. We finish sentences for the other. She has taught me things about love and sharing and giving that I did not know existed. I need her to be safe, when I cannot be there to provide that safety and security.
I know that she will be under the best possible care, which does help me cope at times. I show her confidence, and I am keeping upbeat. But deep inside of me, I am not sure that I can do this alone. I am giving it my best shot, and I have taken some of doubt's best punches, and I am still standing tall. I do this not only for her, but for me and for us. Your thoughts and prayers will be appreciated in such a way as I can never repay them, unless you need the same thing from me. I will give you my word that I will always be there for any of you, at any time.
In closing, please remember my Belinda in your thoughts and prayers. We are in a place in our lives that we have both struggled to get to, and we deserve to continue that journey. Is that selfish? You're damn right it is, and I do not care. My only care is the health of my bride, and I need you, each and every one of you, to help us to get through this. I know I can count on all of you.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Can the Ultimate Happiness Get Even Better?
Sixty seven days. 67. This number represents the number of days that have passed since Belinda Sue McDonald made me the happiest person on this Earth by accepting my last name in marriage. It marks 67 days since Belinda and I exchanged our wedding vows, and folks, I'm telling you, the happiness factor only increases each and every minute I am with this woman. She brings to my life comfort, passion, safety and security. She is my very best friend, and forever will she be. She can be sitting on my lap, and still not feel close enough for my liking. Our relationship, like all relationships, has its ups and downs, I think. But I have not found a down moment yet, and honestly I am not seeing one coming at all. She is everything that I am, and I am everything that she is. We are totally and completely ONE! We are not a couple. Belinda is me, and I am her. We are inseparable. Her thoughts are mine and mine are hers. It just simply works out that way. We will look at each other, and we just KNOW. I can't explain it, nor do I want to. It just IS. Belinda Poppell has brought such a great amount of joy and pride into my life! God, I am so overwhelmed by my feelings for this woman, the words are hard to come by. Maybe this will help to understand: If I am in any kind of a down mood, for any reason, I know that I only have to look into her eyes. I see that twinkle of love and trust in those eyes, and my down becomes an up mood. Why? Because I am looking into eyes that love me back just as much as I love her, and that is one helluva lot of love going on right there. Are relationship isn't so much comfort, but it is a soothing, relaxing feeling, knowing that whatever comes along our path, what we have will triumph over anything that dares stop the boundless love and affection that binds us together. For life, and beyond. But, I think there is one thing that stands out the most, that makes me feel so full of life and love. She knows that she will always be safe, be secure and that I will always be there for her. I see total and complete trust in her eyes, and boy, is that a good feeling. When you know that your best friend, lover, fishing buddy, and yes, wife, has complete trust and faith in you and what we are, there is really no other feeling quite like it. I'm not gonna get all corny and talk about fireworks and sparks shooting off, drums beating and doves flying around our heads. It is a barely concealed smoldering passion, a desire, a....longing, to spend the rest of your life with someone, and you are so at peace and at ease with that feeling. That is what it is like, and I probably still have not done that feeling enough justice. I have seen her grow into an independent young woman, in a short period of time. She is so secure in who she is, and what she has become and what lies ahead for us. Belinda has no boundaries. She can do anything that she wants, and she knows it. I wish EVERY man or woman has that opportunity, at least once in their lifetime, to experience that I get, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and 365 days a year (Leap Year even gets me an extra day; how's that for sweet!?). She is not with me tonight, as she is performing her true calling and taking care of a person who needs her more than I do right now. I do miss her so, but she will be home soon and then we will be together as we should be. Then we will be as one again, though we were never really less than that. It just feels that way right now. I love you, Princess, and being apart, even for these few hours, only reaffirms how deeply I feel for you and for what you do for me. I just.........love you, babe! It is just that simple. One word: LOVE!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
For Belinda, with love and great affection
Very soon now, I will have the great pleasure of exchanging marriage vows with the love of my life, Belinda McDonald. For those who know her, and for those who don't, let me take a few moments of your time to explain why I am the happiest man in the world. I first met Belinda in May of 2010, and right away I was taken aback by her beauty and youthful exuburance. She immediately had my eye, and shortly thereafter she had captured my heart. Alas, the time then was not right. I was around her every single day for 6 months, and my feelings only grew stronger. I did not fight them; that was impossible. But I did hide them; as I said the time just was not right. But for a man who is so stubbornly impatient about getting the things that he wants, I surprised myself by biding my time. I never wished ill well for her in the situation she was in. Eventually, circumstances slowly began to change, but I still did not show my true feelings (or so I thought!). Women always seem to know what a man is thinking, while a man is generally clueless about feelings. After a while, the circumstances turned in my favor, and I have since become the luckiest and happiest man the world has known. When we sit next to each other, 12 inches apart, I catch a glimpse of her looking at me, and what I see in her eyes makes all the patient waiting worth every minute. Belinda is a very beautiful woman, with the biggest heart I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She would, and still will, do anything to help anybody. That is just her nature; Belinda is a very giving and caring woman. She has shown mean what love really means again, and that I should not be scared of it. And I am not, no longer. I have fallen in love with love, and with Belinda's help I have learned to trust love and what the true, singular purpose of that word. It means sacrificing all for the one you love, no matter the personal cost. You have a desire to give all that you can to that person whom you are in love with. When we are together, I still miss her. Now, how crazy is that? Well, if that is crazy, color me insane. I just lose myself in her eyes, because I see nothing but total devotion, caring and genuine love for me. I hope she sees the same thing in my eyes, for I truly love this woman. My feelings matter to her, and she is not shy about showing me that side of her. She does not have to go out of her way to make me happy; I just am constantly, stupidly happy whenever I think of her! I cannot imagine any part of my life without her in it. I just can't. Some people say there is no such thing as a "perfect" relationship. Well, I have to say that they are so off-base with that assumption. We complement each other in so many different ways I'm constantly in a state of amazement. We think the same things, at the same time, all the time, every day. I just wanted to say thank you to the future Mrs Poppell, for coming into my life and allowing me to believe again. What Belinda has given me is something so special that it cannot be explained, only experienced and savored. To my sweet, loving Princess, thank you so very much for changing my life. You have completely healed my heart which I thought was impossible. Your patience, the way you care for me, your passion, and your total devotion and love is the most special gift a man could ever receive. I accept your gift, and I do so with a big smile, open arms, and a special place in my heart, reserved only for you. You, Belinda, are the one that I love, the one that I will always love, and the one who will always love me. Together we have no limits, and our future has no bounds! I love you, babe, and do not ever forget that!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Sanity and Sobriety, Pride of Purpose: Reflections on a Year Past
Step #1: DONE. Today marks one full year on my quest to stop drinking, and I could not be happier or more proud of myself than I am right now as I sit and type these words. I have spent the last few weeks sorta collecting my thought into a pool with a singular purpose: To reaffirm belief in myself and my progress. You may have thought I would write this as part of a healing process. Nope, this is a purely selfish act on my part. It is about me, what I have accomplished and the future. Sure, there all kinds of people in my support group that deserve credit; they will be acknowledged.
Why did I stop drinking, BAM!, just like that? Doctor's orders? Blew'em off. Family pleas? Nope, weren't there and I would've blown them off also. Wanted to stay alive long enough to see my grtandkids? Didn't care. Time to set a good example for my grown boys? Nah, I would've done that long ago. So, why did I stop? Pretty simple, really: I wanted to. I was tired of "having the flu". It seemd like a never-ending mountain that I chose as my task. How does someone go from a GALLON of vodka every other day, to not an ounce, semmingly overnight? I'll tell you, it was harder than I would have ever imagined, but it had an easy flow along beside it.
When my trek first began, I knew my support group would back me up, but in essence they were worthless. I don't mean that in a horrible way. It is just that if I wanted to drink, I would have. Plain truth. I promised no one nothing, except myself. This project was mine and mine alone. No Alcoholics Anonymous, no rehab centers in the mountains of Colorado, no warm, steamy weather of Florida. The last thing I wanted to do was try and recover while listening to all the horror stories you hear at AA meetings, or the reasons why I was an alcoholic from the doctors at a rehab facility. Those places would have sent me back to drink faster than a luge run at the Olympics. I made myself a promise, and I was gonna do it on my own terms. I'm 48 years old. I didn't need a doctor who only drinks decaf or diet soda to tell me what alcohol does to my system. I knew what it was doing to me, and I finally chose to stop. And I didn't need a bunch of people just like me to tell me what alcohol did to their lives. I knew. It was my life, after all. I screwed it up, and I was bound and determined to fix it, by myself.
As an alcoholic, you lose all manner of trust and respect among your circle of friends. Damned if I wasn't going to get that back. My spouse never knews the bounds of my situation. I came clean with her. I told her exactly where I hid the bottles. I 'fessed up that I drank more each day than (I thought) she knew (she knew). Every time I spoke or visited with my parents, they couldn't understand a single word I said. I couldn't hold a semi-intelligent with any of my cats, for cryin' out loud. They would go to Momma and say "What the hell did that mean?". I missed out on a whole lot of things from the age of 17 to 47. Alcohol was a major factor in the disengration of my first marriage, and I'm surprised it didn't contribute to the demise of my current marriage.
I never set out to prove whether or not alcohol is a disease, a learned behavior, or a chosen lifestyle, but my view on that was inevitable. I firmly believe it is one part of each, in varying degrees. The disease part of the equation is the least; it is a by-product of the other two. Learned behavior is the primary culprit. My maternal granfather and 3 uncles closest to me all drank to excess. It killed my Uncle Gary, my mom's youngest brother. According to my Dad, his Father was known to pour down a few, but I never really knew him, let alone see him drink. Alcohol was always a part of family gatherings, so I learned about alcohol. But, who where the primary teachers? The parents of my friends growing up. Alcohol was always prevalent in certain households, and it was so cool to go back to school on Monday and tell your peers that you spent all day Sunday puking your guts out. I was stylin', yes sir. So I learned about alcohol from my family, but I learned how to drink to excess from childhood friends and their parents. Alcohol took the life of my best friend, his only sibling and their parents, as I would find out later in life.
After I joined the military, things got worse. Compared to today's standards, there was a very high tolerance for drinking among the troops. In fact, sometimes it seemed like you had to, just like high school. I never smoked a cigarette until I enlisted in basic training, and the reason was simple: If you smoked, you got a 5 minute break during your studies to "light 'em up". So I started smoking to get outside. That simple. After all that, the learned behavior became a chosen lifestyle.
I went to church as a teen with my family, and one thing they continually taught was free agency. Each human being has the power to make their own decisions. So, my choice was to drink or not to drink, and I chose the former. Little did I know what evil I had awakened. As a single man trawling the world with the United States military, things started to get out of control. After I got married, I knew my wild ways would disappear (insert big stupid laugh here). They only went into hibernation. When it awoke, it was hungry. I retired and went to school, where I had way too much time on my hands, and so I filled the time and empty hands with a bottle. It didn't matter which bottle was in which hand, as long as they were together. Again, a chosen lifestyle. My middle son doesn't drink, but my two other boys do. The oldest is not my biological child, but he is my son nonetheless. How can someone tell me it's "in your genes", when Darin does not have my genes? It is because he learned it from me, as did my youngest son Travis. The chose their lifestyle based on my example. On the other hand, Steven chose a lifestyle that was far different than what he could have inherited from me. Rarely drinks, but I proudly tell anyone within earshot that he is serving his country as his Father did.
Alcoholism is not a disease, it is a learned behavior, and a person chooses to maintain that behavior, until they die or change. I don't know if my support group knew that, but I figured it out rather quickly. You can't fix a disease, completely, but you can change behavior. That is what I chose to do, and I am so much healthier, happier, and confident in my life right now. I show my peacock feathers when someone asks why I choose to not drink any longer. If they want to hear it, I gladly tell them, and I know my pride-in-self and confidence shows through like a sheer curtain. And that's OK. I will not lecture, or describe the "sins" of drinking. They should know, if they are asking. Surprisingly, most listen intently (yes, they do; I would know if they were just placating me), and they profess good wishes and good luck on my continuing journey. That, right there, is a major reason I am able to continue to do well. Pride.
When a project this immense goes into effect, a support system is essential. Mine consisted of my spouse, my family, all my friends and my former spouse. Just the fact that I knew they were there provided a comfort level I had never had before. I knew they would come running if I started to falter, and in a weird way that made it easier. Not only did I not want to break a promise I made to myself, but people were rooting for me to succeed. It made me that much more determined. And, boy, have I reaped the benefits. I can hold intelligent conversations again, I make sense, I don't mumble my vocabulary. I was once an intelligent person, only fogged out by alcohol. Now that the fog has dissipated, things got scary for awhile. Much of my memory is gone because of an unrelated illness. But the memories I have retained are very unsightly. I will not discuss these things. Just believe me when I say that they aren't nice.
Back to the essential support group. I was so mad at them at first. Why didn't someone shake the crap out of me and yell STOP! Norman, you're killing yourself? Why was I enabled by certain factions around me? Where in the hell were they? One single person actually confronted me. My former spouse, Tami, told me to choose between her and my three young boys, or the bottle. I grabbed the bottle and ran as fast as I could. Left my boys behind, growing up without me. Some things in life you do are so freaking horrible that you don't even want to acknowledge that you were responsible for a crime like that. I was responsible. Later on in my downward spiral, loved ones from my Ma, Dr. Kawachi (primary care doctor), numerous emergency room doctor's and my spouse, Nickie, tried to talk to me about my situation. All to no avail. See, I knew I had no problem, but they sure had one. Leave me alone, I'm fine, I would manage to mumble out. Mind your own business. I am not throwing blame around. After all, what could they do? I had already ignored one ominous warning. Why would I heed another, that didn't have my children at stake?
At last, I chose the one thing that mattered: my heart. I pulled up my britches, rolled up my sleeves and went to work on fixing ME. Do not get the wrong impression, please. I am not, by any means, fixed. But I am repairing myself. It is imperative that I view my situation as a lifelong repair job. I simply cannot afford to let my guard down, for even a split second. I am well aware of that, and I accept that. At times, it becomes physically and mentally exhausting. Over the past year, there have been a few situations that have arisen that if I had chosen to have a drink no one would have said a thing, just because of the gravity of the issue. But I came to know one important truth: If I had just one drink, I would have had 21 drinks. No thanks.
For all those who provided support this past year, no measure of thanks is appropriate. It is immeasureable. This group was not particularly visible or vocal, but they were strong for me. I could feel the strenth that enveloped me. To all those I have hurt, embarassed or humiliated in years past, my profound and sincere apologies. I am in love with the new and improved Norman. I hope you are, also. Today, I celebrate my first birthday. My best gift on this day is the pride my Father now has for me. I am his son, and he will tell everybody. That is one gift I can't wait to unwrap next year.
Why did I stop drinking, BAM!, just like that? Doctor's orders? Blew'em off. Family pleas? Nope, weren't there and I would've blown them off also. Wanted to stay alive long enough to see my grtandkids? Didn't care. Time to set a good example for my grown boys? Nah, I would've done that long ago. So, why did I stop? Pretty simple, really: I wanted to. I was tired of "having the flu". It seemd like a never-ending mountain that I chose as my task. How does someone go from a GALLON of vodka every other day, to not an ounce, semmingly overnight? I'll tell you, it was harder than I would have ever imagined, but it had an easy flow along beside it.
When my trek first began, I knew my support group would back me up, but in essence they were worthless. I don't mean that in a horrible way. It is just that if I wanted to drink, I would have. Plain truth. I promised no one nothing, except myself. This project was mine and mine alone. No Alcoholics Anonymous, no rehab centers in the mountains of Colorado, no warm, steamy weather of Florida. The last thing I wanted to do was try and recover while listening to all the horror stories you hear at AA meetings, or the reasons why I was an alcoholic from the doctors at a rehab facility. Those places would have sent me back to drink faster than a luge run at the Olympics. I made myself a promise, and I was gonna do it on my own terms. I'm 48 years old. I didn't need a doctor who only drinks decaf or diet soda to tell me what alcohol does to my system. I knew what it was doing to me, and I finally chose to stop. And I didn't need a bunch of people just like me to tell me what alcohol did to their lives. I knew. It was my life, after all. I screwed it up, and I was bound and determined to fix it, by myself.
As an alcoholic, you lose all manner of trust and respect among your circle of friends. Damned if I wasn't going to get that back. My spouse never knews the bounds of my situation. I came clean with her. I told her exactly where I hid the bottles. I 'fessed up that I drank more each day than (I thought) she knew (she knew). Every time I spoke or visited with my parents, they couldn't understand a single word I said. I couldn't hold a semi-intelligent with any of my cats, for cryin' out loud. They would go to Momma and say "What the hell did that mean?". I missed out on a whole lot of things from the age of 17 to 47. Alcohol was a major factor in the disengration of my first marriage, and I'm surprised it didn't contribute to the demise of my current marriage.
I never set out to prove whether or not alcohol is a disease, a learned behavior, or a chosen lifestyle, but my view on that was inevitable. I firmly believe it is one part of each, in varying degrees. The disease part of the equation is the least; it is a by-product of the other two. Learned behavior is the primary culprit. My maternal granfather and 3 uncles closest to me all drank to excess. It killed my Uncle Gary, my mom's youngest brother. According to my Dad, his Father was known to pour down a few, but I never really knew him, let alone see him drink. Alcohol was always a part of family gatherings, so I learned about alcohol. But, who where the primary teachers? The parents of my friends growing up. Alcohol was always prevalent in certain households, and it was so cool to go back to school on Monday and tell your peers that you spent all day Sunday puking your guts out. I was stylin', yes sir. So I learned about alcohol from my family, but I learned how to drink to excess from childhood friends and their parents. Alcohol took the life of my best friend, his only sibling and their parents, as I would find out later in life.
After I joined the military, things got worse. Compared to today's standards, there was a very high tolerance for drinking among the troops. In fact, sometimes it seemed like you had to, just like high school. I never smoked a cigarette until I enlisted in basic training, and the reason was simple: If you smoked, you got a 5 minute break during your studies to "light 'em up". So I started smoking to get outside. That simple. After all that, the learned behavior became a chosen lifestyle.
I went to church as a teen with my family, and one thing they continually taught was free agency. Each human being has the power to make their own decisions. So, my choice was to drink or not to drink, and I chose the former. Little did I know what evil I had awakened. As a single man trawling the world with the United States military, things started to get out of control. After I got married, I knew my wild ways would disappear (insert big stupid laugh here). They only went into hibernation. When it awoke, it was hungry. I retired and went to school, where I had way too much time on my hands, and so I filled the time and empty hands with a bottle. It didn't matter which bottle was in which hand, as long as they were together. Again, a chosen lifestyle. My middle son doesn't drink, but my two other boys do. The oldest is not my biological child, but he is my son nonetheless. How can someone tell me it's "in your genes", when Darin does not have my genes? It is because he learned it from me, as did my youngest son Travis. The chose their lifestyle based on my example. On the other hand, Steven chose a lifestyle that was far different than what he could have inherited from me. Rarely drinks, but I proudly tell anyone within earshot that he is serving his country as his Father did.
Alcoholism is not a disease, it is a learned behavior, and a person chooses to maintain that behavior, until they die or change. I don't know if my support group knew that, but I figured it out rather quickly. You can't fix a disease, completely, but you can change behavior. That is what I chose to do, and I am so much healthier, happier, and confident in my life right now. I show my peacock feathers when someone asks why I choose to not drink any longer. If they want to hear it, I gladly tell them, and I know my pride-in-self and confidence shows through like a sheer curtain. And that's OK. I will not lecture, or describe the "sins" of drinking. They should know, if they are asking. Surprisingly, most listen intently (yes, they do; I would know if they were just placating me), and they profess good wishes and good luck on my continuing journey. That, right there, is a major reason I am able to continue to do well. Pride.
When a project this immense goes into effect, a support system is essential. Mine consisted of my spouse, my family, all my friends and my former spouse. Just the fact that I knew they were there provided a comfort level I had never had before. I knew they would come running if I started to falter, and in a weird way that made it easier. Not only did I not want to break a promise I made to myself, but people were rooting for me to succeed. It made me that much more determined. And, boy, have I reaped the benefits. I can hold intelligent conversations again, I make sense, I don't mumble my vocabulary. I was once an intelligent person, only fogged out by alcohol. Now that the fog has dissipated, things got scary for awhile. Much of my memory is gone because of an unrelated illness. But the memories I have retained are very unsightly. I will not discuss these things. Just believe me when I say that they aren't nice.
Back to the essential support group. I was so mad at them at first. Why didn't someone shake the crap out of me and yell STOP! Norman, you're killing yourself? Why was I enabled by certain factions around me? Where in the hell were they? One single person actually confronted me. My former spouse, Tami, told me to choose between her and my three young boys, or the bottle. I grabbed the bottle and ran as fast as I could. Left my boys behind, growing up without me. Some things in life you do are so freaking horrible that you don't even want to acknowledge that you were responsible for a crime like that. I was responsible. Later on in my downward spiral, loved ones from my Ma, Dr. Kawachi (primary care doctor), numerous emergency room doctor's and my spouse, Nickie, tried to talk to me about my situation. All to no avail. See, I knew I had no problem, but they sure had one. Leave me alone, I'm fine, I would manage to mumble out. Mind your own business. I am not throwing blame around. After all, what could they do? I had already ignored one ominous warning. Why would I heed another, that didn't have my children at stake?
At last, I chose the one thing that mattered: my heart. I pulled up my britches, rolled up my sleeves and went to work on fixing ME. Do not get the wrong impression, please. I am not, by any means, fixed. But I am repairing myself. It is imperative that I view my situation as a lifelong repair job. I simply cannot afford to let my guard down, for even a split second. I am well aware of that, and I accept that. At times, it becomes physically and mentally exhausting. Over the past year, there have been a few situations that have arisen that if I had chosen to have a drink no one would have said a thing, just because of the gravity of the issue. But I came to know one important truth: If I had just one drink, I would have had 21 drinks. No thanks.
For all those who provided support this past year, no measure of thanks is appropriate. It is immeasureable. This group was not particularly visible or vocal, but they were strong for me. I could feel the strenth that enveloped me. To all those I have hurt, embarassed or humiliated in years past, my profound and sincere apologies. I am in love with the new and improved Norman. I hope you are, also. Today, I celebrate my first birthday. My best gift on this day is the pride my Father now has for me. I am his son, and he will tell everybody. That is one gift I can't wait to unwrap next year.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Olympians and the Military: Proudly Serving Their Country
As a retired member of the United States Armed Forces, I know what it takes to eagerly serve your country. Professionalism. Extensive training. Pride, sacrifice, aand passion. Time away from family to travel the globe in pursuit of the objective. Even more extensive training. Sometimes it's a bloodthirsty calling. At other times, you must work side-by-side with your teammates. Sounds like job of an everyday U.S. soldier. Well, I'm talking about the Olympians from Team USA.
Sure, the military and the Olympics are different, but at the same time the similarities are uncanny. You are the face of the red, white and blue. The entire world is looking at you for your next move. An entire country is riveted, waiting for the literal, and figurative, bomb to drop. You ply your skills in far off countries, testing your training techniques. Adapt and adjust seems to be an apt motto for both groups.
When you are away for training, providing military duties or competing internationally, there is no difference. They both miss their families. They also must have a rock-solid supporting cast behind them. Life isn't always going to be a walk in the park. Trials, tribulations, setbacks; they all come with the job. Your supporting cast has to be there for you, to prop you up and urge you to continue when giving up is not an option.
I watched Lindsey Vonn cruise to a gold medal in women's downhill. Did you see how her family reacted? The glowing smiles and flowing tears? A look of disbelief, but with a confidence that the job was done as they had forecast. The long, proud loving hug she shared with her husband and biggest supporter, Thomas Vonn. If I project, I can see that bright smile and river of tears on my former wife's face when our son Steven stepped off the plane from Iraq in January 2010. What's not to like about victory celebrations and homecomings?
If you watched Shaun White, "The Flying Tomato", launch each of his runs during the men's halfpipe, what you saw was this: Steely determination, confidence, an almost "knowing" look that the gold was his. That look would be no different than that of a Marine about to take the last hill in a campaign. Failure is not an option. Shaun White guarenteed, with that look in his eyes, that he was the better man on this night. He wasn't chasing you; you were in a losing fight to maintain him. Hell, you knew that the world had already deemed it so.
During the NBC telecast, you viewed soldiers from Camp Eggers in Afghanistan wildly cheering for Team USA. That was a poignant moment for me: Two seemlessly disconnected groups pulling for one another, both wearing patches of Old Glory on their respective uniforms. You can't help but to get juiced by that!
It seems to me that, in fact, there is only one difference between Team USA and Team Military; The Armed Force of the USA fights for your right to wave that flag; Team USA proudly waves it in victory. Nothing quite like the historic raising the flag on Iwo Jima, but the effects reverbrate around the globe. Ask any service member or Olympian who has returned home after a victory in battle, and they'll tell you this: I served my country well in the international foum, and I'm raising the flag just to show you.
Sure, the military and the Olympics are different, but at the same time the similarities are uncanny. You are the face of the red, white and blue. The entire world is looking at you for your next move. An entire country is riveted, waiting for the literal, and figurative, bomb to drop. You ply your skills in far off countries, testing your training techniques. Adapt and adjust seems to be an apt motto for both groups.
When you are away for training, providing military duties or competing internationally, there is no difference. They both miss their families. They also must have a rock-solid supporting cast behind them. Life isn't always going to be a walk in the park. Trials, tribulations, setbacks; they all come with the job. Your supporting cast has to be there for you, to prop you up and urge you to continue when giving up is not an option.
I watched Lindsey Vonn cruise to a gold medal in women's downhill. Did you see how her family reacted? The glowing smiles and flowing tears? A look of disbelief, but with a confidence that the job was done as they had forecast. The long, proud loving hug she shared with her husband and biggest supporter, Thomas Vonn. If I project, I can see that bright smile and river of tears on my former wife's face when our son Steven stepped off the plane from Iraq in January 2010. What's not to like about victory celebrations and homecomings?
If you watched Shaun White, "The Flying Tomato", launch each of his runs during the men's halfpipe, what you saw was this: Steely determination, confidence, an almost "knowing" look that the gold was his. That look would be no different than that of a Marine about to take the last hill in a campaign. Failure is not an option. Shaun White guarenteed, with that look in his eyes, that he was the better man on this night. He wasn't chasing you; you were in a losing fight to maintain him. Hell, you knew that the world had already deemed it so.
During the NBC telecast, you viewed soldiers from Camp Eggers in Afghanistan wildly cheering for Team USA. That was a poignant moment for me: Two seemlessly disconnected groups pulling for one another, both wearing patches of Old Glory on their respective uniforms. You can't help but to get juiced by that!
It seems to me that, in fact, there is only one difference between Team USA and Team Military; The Armed Force of the USA fights for your right to wave that flag; Team USA proudly waves it in victory. Nothing quite like the historic raising the flag on Iwo Jima, but the effects reverbrate around the globe. Ask any service member or Olympian who has returned home after a victory in battle, and they'll tell you this: I served my country well in the international foum, and I'm raising the flag just to show you.
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