Holding Back The Years

Here we are. A new year with new bad decisions to be made and I’m old enough now that I have to write them down so I don’t forget them. The holidays are over and I’m happy to say that I didn’t do a goddamn thing.

Like, seriously.

Nothing.

I stayed at home for the most part. My son came down to visit for a few days and we mostly hung out, played video games and changed the oil in his car. We spent a few hours the day after Christmas at my brothers house just eating some munchy food and hanging out.

Alright, so I did do a thing, but that was it.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day I was at home, mostly alone. My roommate was here but he hangs out in the carport most of the time. He has a little area set up out there with a desk and an office chair. There are various LED lights spread about and he has his bluetooth speaker out there to play his music. Yep, he’s out there even when it’s cold. He’s got a space heater out there.

I don’t know either, he just likes it outside.

New Year’s Eve, he wasn’t here. So I was truly alone. It was glorious!

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good dude and I’m glad he’s around despite the fact that he goes in my kitchen and tests me daily, I’ve known him a little over 20 years and for those of you that listened in on the podcast I had a few years ago, ya’ll know him as *Leo, the other half of the podcast duo that was us.

New Year’s Eve was also, boring as fuck.

I spent most of the day straightening and organizing some things and thinking about what I was going to write in this post. (I still don’t know.) I’ve discovered that I do this new thing that I didn’t do before. I start to do something that has a reasonable expectation of being completed in the same day. In the middle of said thing, I get sidetracked and discover something else I need to get done as well and promise to add it to my to-do list, only I actually start to do said new thing, wash, rinse, repeat until I have started (and left incomplete) 6 tasks of which, I have completely forgotten 3 of and don’t even remember starting or at what point in the task I had quit and moved on.

So as a preview of my old age, which is apparently already here, I spent New Year’s Eve day hobbling around the house and every hour or so, shouting out loud, “FUCK!!”

The nursing home is gonna love me.

New Year’s Eve night was equally as thrilling. I actually intended to start this post, but I was looking for a picture I wanted to use for it. I dug through closets looking for a couple of old external hard drives it might be on but it wasn’t on those. I pulled out my newer external hard drives to see if I had put it there somewhere. Nothing. I looked in boxes all over the house for actual physical pics (that I know I have seen in the last 2 months) and I couldn’t find those either.

3 hours rolled by and I still hadn’t found the damn picture.

Midnight had also rolled by and I didn’t even notice. I probably still wouldn’t know except my son texted me at 12:15 to tell me he was “ringing in the new year with Dayquil because Nyquil makes me feel like shit”. There were no fireworks outside. I didn’t hear anyone shouting or singing. The only thing I heard was some reruns of Young Sheldon I had playing in the background.

So, HAPPY NEW YEAR, or whatever.

I finally found the picture I was looking for around 4:00 this afternoon (it’s still New Year’s Day). It was on THIS computer . . . in a folder called “Pictures”. It wasn’t even in a subfolder.

What were the wasted hours all about? This picture . . . .

Which brings me to what I was going to talk about. Usually people spend the New Year’s festivities reflecting (and I use that term loosely) on the events of the past year and what they will do to further enrich their lives in the coming year. 2023 is out and 2024 is in and let’s all make empty promises about what we’re going to do this year.

Not me.

My brain went further back. Like way back. Back to the 80’s and only as recent as the early 2010’s. I’ll start with the fact that the year 2010 was 14 fuckin’ years ago really freaks me out.

That picture up there, the one I had been searching for since yesterday, well, that’s me.

THIRTY EIGHT fuckin’ years ago.

*old man voice (other than mine, you assholes)* The year was 1986. Ronald Reagan was 6 years into his 8 year presidency, I was jammin’ to that brand new hit Let’s Go All The Way by Sly Fox and bitching about Sammy Hagar joining Van Halen. The list of questionable decisions to be made was long and unchecked and it was time to get started on it. There was weed to be smoked and beer to be consumed and there was no way I was gonna let that Member’s Only jacket sit in the closet and collect dust.

In a way, I wish I was that kid again and at the same time I’m thankful that I’m not. There have been more ups and downs since then than I could possible count. Funny (not) that it’s the downs that seem to carry with you, well into the future. Mental and emotional abuse that I didn’t even know was abuse until I was in college and my interest in psychology was piqued. I was sitting in an Abnormal Psych class at Appalachian State University in Boone, NC when I had that “Holy Shit!” moment.

Been fighting with it ever since.

There’s good stuff too. I was dating a girl back when that picture up there was taken. She was all that and I was a 17 year old in loooooove and that was the girl I was gonna marry and live out the rest of my life with, I don’t care how much her mom hated my “Yankee” ass. *spoiler alert* We did not get married and we broke up between my freshman and sophomore years of college and we lost touch.

“So where’s this ‘good stuff’, Eric?”

We got back in touch about 12 or 13 years ago and have been in touch ever since. In fact, she and her husband and a couple of her kids stopped by a couple of weeks ago to pick up some of my chocolate chip cookies.

And she’s reading this.

There I go again, starting one subject, wandering off in the middle of it and then forgetting what I was going to say.

Time moved on and I eventually joined the Marine Corps at the ripe old age of 25. I was one of two “old men” in my boot camp platoon and the only guy older than me was only 2 months older. Fortunately, my knees, back, hip, neck and everything still worked ok at that point and I made it out of Basic Training relatively unscathed.

About 9 months after boot leave, Jr me came around. Just so you know the math is correct.

Jr spent most of his baby time in Quantico, VA, while I flew around the country in a big, shiny, green helicopter chasing Bill Clinton around. It wasn’t a bad gig. I saw damn near every state in the country and most of the big cities that go with them. It was truly a great experience.

It was not great for my liver.

Anyway, the little one, who is not so little anymore.

Now he’s 28, taller and bigger than me and if I had stayed at the job I was doing 2 years ago, he’d be my boss right now. He’s grown into a man approaching his 30’s with cynicism, sarcasm and zero faith in humanity.

Just like his Daddy! I’m so proud.

If I went through all the different phases of my life here like I have done in my head the last two days, this post would never end. There were so many events, so many places, ALL of the feels. I’ve lived in New York, North Carolina, Tennessee, California, Virginia, Michigan, Texas (ok, I only drove across it but it felt like a lifetime), Colorado, Florida and I have thankfully landed back here in North Carolina and I’m staying.

For good.

There is a chapter in every one of those places and several chapters in a couple of them. I’ve made friends and un-made some friends. I like to say I have a small circle of friends because I generally don’t like people as a rule, but when I get on my New Year kick, I realize that circle isn’t as small as I think. I still have friends that I reach out to in every single one of those places, yes, including Michigan, the asshole of the country. There’s even a few in states and even countries that I haven’t lived in, including one of the guys in that platoon picture up there. He’s the one holding the right side of the other sign.

I guess the point is that I don’t look at New Years as the celebration of the upcoming months, but a nostalgic time for me to look back and see what roads I took to get where I am today and the people I met that helped get me here, good and bad. It was a strange and sometimes terrifying trip but I do look forward to seeing where else it will go. For a long time, I hope. It has been a particularly intense reflection this year since it has been something I’ve been doing for the past 4 months on an almost daily basis. Not hard to get in that mindset when some days, I am reminded with almost every single step I take, I almost wasn’t here for it.

2023 was, without question, a train wreck into a dumpster fire at a shitshow and it ranks real high on the list of shitty years out of the 55 I have to choose from, if not taking the #1 spot. It was with good reason I looked back on all my years instead of just 2023. It was only fitting that the car wreck kind of brought 2023 to a close because things were not looking real great before the accident, and I believe the accident was a turning point. A turning point for the better.

I know, I know, I’ve said that shit before and it didn’t do any good.

It feels different this time.

A lot of it has to do with a sharp, stabbing pain that runs from my ass to my spinal cord, but even still, it feels different. There are dark corners of my brain that have been dark for a long, long time, that are starting to get a little bit of light. Some of that shit is ugly as fuck when you shine a light on it and it tries to retreat, but that’s the stuff I’m there to fix or eliminate. Let’s face it, some of that shit is irreparable and it’s gotta go. Some of it has been there a long time and it is hard to let go of.

It’s Mental Stockholm Syndrome. Some of the things in my head have done some terrible shit to me and completely ruined certain parts of my life, but they’ve been there so long, I kinda love them and it’s hard to let them go.

I think I just came up with my Psychology Masters Thesis that I would very much like to get.

Don’t tell anyone.

Also, this is America and a college education is only for people that have money or a strong desire for crippling debt.

Or I can start a GoFundMe to get me to Germany for a free college education AND a great cost of living.

AND get to learn the terrifying language of my ancestors.

Seriously, it’s terrifying.

Anyway, just a couple of things left I want to say and I’ll wrap this Holiday Brain Vomit up.

First, as I thought about all the people I have met over the years, as would be expected, some of the ones I have lost came to mind and I just wanted to take a minute to remember some of them out loud and stay aware of some of the fucked up things that can end our lives earlier than we thought. Just bear with me for this part.

I’m going from left to right:

**Mike Nelson – One of my best friends when we were teenagers and someone I had only just recently got back in touch with. I only wish it had been a little sooner. Cause of death: Self-inflicted gunshot – Nov, 2011

**Tony Register – He’s the one sitting on the left talking to me with my son. Close friend since 1993. Taught me that it is possible for a straight guy to hang out with a gay guy and it didn’t have to be weird. It still entertained the shit out him to make it weird on purpose sometimes. Cause of death: Lung Cancer – Oct, 2016

**John Orozco – Nicest gang member I ever met and one of my biggest supporters when I was in recovery in Colorado. He’d give me the shirt off his back if I needed it. He called me “Uncle E”, I called him “Beaner” (he gave no fucks about political correctness). Cause of death: Drowning, suspected murder – Jul, 2017

**Wes Schulmeister – Also one of my biggest supporters in Colorado who took me in when I had nowhere else to go and he only knew me as someone he had played games online with and had never met. We unfortunately lost touch with each other when he became a vocal anti-vaxxer and anti-masker. I only add that last sentence because it will become important. Cause of death: Covid 19 – Aug, 2021

**Lisa Dombal (no picture available) – My cousin, friend and one of my biggest cheerleaders. She could always cheer me up no matter how low I was feeling. She was the cousin that was closest to me in age and we had always got along, even as very young kids. She is sorely missed. Cause of death: Brain cancer – Dec, 2013

I didn’t include all that stuff to be gory or weird. I included it because I think it’s important to remember that any of us can leave Earth at any time, for any reason, without any warning, regardless of your strength of character or value to others. I am reminded that I was almost on that list, for something as equally out of the blue as those are.

That’s why it feels different this time.

Ok, Ok . . . ok, I’ll take us out on a funnier note

You may have noticed that I put an asterisk next to my roommate Leo’s name earlier in the post. I did that mostly so I’d remember to type this part of the post and I’d see it when I went back to proofread. Leo is my roommate’s real name and I’m sure you’ll probably hear it again in the future. It’s also to let ya’ll know that I don’t ever, EVER use anyone’s real name if I say something about them without their direct permission to do so. Not EVER.

Leo was kind enough to give me permission to use his name and I think that will make it easier on all of us. He also gave me permission to be publicly deprecating to him. In fact, he seems to enjoy it. Come to think of it, he kind of enjoyed it when I did it on the podcast. Not sure what’s going on there but he’s like a weird verbal submissive that like to be abused.

I baked 6 dozen cookies last week.

Again.

I sent 2 dozen to work with Leo just before Christmas.

I also think he just fucks with my kitchen OCD for his pure entertainment.

A dangerous hobby, indeed.

Also, if you’re gonna use my coffee spoon in the morning, rinse it, dry it and put it back next to the sugar bowl where I left it. I don’t want to put a sticky spoon into the sugar bowl. Leaving it with coffee still on it on the edge of the sink to leave a coffee stain is not acceptable even if you got your own spoon.

No screaming on that one. That one is new and we have not discussed it yet.

Yes, my kitchen OCD is THAT bad.

It’s not Leo’s fault I’m unstable.

But if he does it again I’m gonna rearrange his carport bar and make weird shit happen in his bedroom.

Don’t test me, Leo. You’ve got to work and I got nothin’ but time and an imagination that borders on criminally insane.

I’m glad he’s here though. I wouldn’t have made it through the last year without him and for that I am forever grateful.

No, I do not want a weird hug.

Ok ya’ll that’s enough for now. It’s now 3 am and it’s January 2nd and I have a feeling when I stand up from my desk I’m going to get a visit from that sciatic asshole with the knife for a while. The holidays are over, people are returning to their offices which means there are jobs to be found and disability attorneys to hassle and none of them seem to want to cooperate with my nocturnal nature. Assholes. Leave me a comment, tell me you were here and send me some more readers who you think might appreciate my disjointed, wordy ramblings.

I fuckin’ love all ya’ll!

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