Today marks five days clean.
Once upon a time, I wouldn't have said that publicly. Either because five days seems like some weak sauce or because I was embarrassed that I had a problem. And then I turned 50 & stopped giving a shit.
The first half of life is spent pleasing everyone but those who matter. As a kid, it was parents or other family members. Then you grow up to realize some (most?) of them weren't worthy of the respect you were forced to give; that road certainly wasn't a two-way street.
(Who’d think this masculine hunk of 4th grader would have a hard time?)
As I got older, I was told to be quiet by partners, bosses, sponsors, any number of people only concerned about their own lives and their own agendas. I've succeeded despite my surroundings since I was small. Can't afford to go to journalism school? I went to the Navy & attended military journalism school & traveled the world. Want to get into motorsports? I created a five-year plan to get my dream job & got it in three.
And then the bad guys won & took it away.
It was a hard lesson but an important one, that being the vast majority of the people in your life who have an inordinate amount of control over you don't care if you live or die. That's a fact. People who are literally criminally incompetent at their own job will tell you how to do yours. And I took it. Like we all do. Because there was supposed to be some big reward at the end, some dream position that would bring happiness & riches & washboard abs.
And it never materialized. Especially the abs. Obviously.
The first half of my life was a shitshow & I've left the vast majority of the people responsible behind & good fucking riddance to them. The second half was even harder, because that's when I started to understand the depths of the trauma caused by some fun genetically-based mental illnesses & a terrible upbringing because I was passing that nonsense to my own kids.
Then my 40s came & I really learned what bad looked like. Three heart attacks, two bypasses (one a quintuple), and a complete mental breakdown followed by a(nother) trip to rehab. SPOILER: it didn't take. Several stretches of unemployment added on top of that much made me feel worthless & useless as a man.
Jesus Christ, dude, I hear you say. Is there a goddamn point to this litany of boo-hooing? Yes. Yes, there is.
When I turned 50, I realized the insanity of a life where I allowed myself to be dragged down by people whose opinion don't/didn't/never will matter. I finally got my shit together. I have a job I love. I'm welcoming my NINTH granddaughter to the world next month. I have a wife who, stunningly after 25 years, thinks I'm worth sticking around for & who provided me with some incredible children.
The point I'm struggling to make here is, focus on yourself because no one else is gonna. When the plane depressurizes, you have to put the mask on yourself before you can help others. You can't be of value to anyone in your life if you think you have none yourself. There's a saying that goes something like, You've survived every bad day you've had to this point; today's no different.
But surviving is different than living. A conversation with a good friend I'm glad is in my very small circle made me realize that even though things can always be worse and that for some people, it's so much worse, there are always opportunities to rise.
Even in those black moments, when you've decided you've sat through this movie long enough & it's fucking sucked & it's not gonna get any better & maybe it's best to just leave early, you stand up. When you've lost the things that made you, you. Stand the fuck up. When everyone has left & all you have is anger & revenge fantasies, get off your ass and stand up.
Fall down 7 times, stand up 8.
This isn't for sympathy, pity, attaboys, or any of that. It's partially to keep me accountable to myself, but mostly just to put out there, you're a good person, whomever you are (I got rid of all the shitbirds in my Facebook feed a long time ago, where this was originally posted). Don't let the NPCs in your life dictate your path. Forge your own trail. Find the people who either assist or get the hell out of your way; fuck the goaltenders.
I'm five days clean today. Tomorrow is either gonna be the sixth or back to the first, although I'm pushing for the former. I know the people on my side. I also know the ones who aren't. The ones who are will always be there. The others never where & never will.
Find your people, wherever they may be, and live. Don't just survive, LIVE. Get that tattoo in a visible place, put the political decal on your car, speak your mind & defend those who can't defend themselves. Be unapologetically YOU.
And fuck the Dallas Cowboys. They know why.
Here's to standing up and choosing YOU, Brandon. One day, then the next. Rooting for you!
Thank you!