Freedom on Christmas

It has been awhile since I’ve sat down and wrote anything. Since I closed the website down I have been just working. As far as writing, I’ve been refreshing my batteries. When I closed Creating Dreams, I envisioned this blog to become a new voice for my writings. No longer trapped by what “needed” to be written, as far as putting pressure on myself with the Steps or Promises. If I wanted to say fuck – I could and my audience wouldn’t be hurt or misled by the premise of the site. Even though, I posted odd nude photos on the site, I never really crossed the line to erotica, which I could do on the blog – if I so wished. If I wanted to post a nude of myself, I could do that on this blog – if I wished. Those thoughts gave me a compelling feeling as to what this blog could become. But up until now, I just haven’t had the energy to write much of anything – until now.

In England, it’s Boxing Day. The day after Christmas. A national holiday which gets as much attention as Christmas. For me, it means another day off from work and a time to reflect and be sad with thoughts of how I have treated people and how people have treated me. On Facebook, I received wishes for a personal milestone, yet no wishes from some people who I helped raise.

I’ll freely admit that I was a horrible dad when I was drunk. With sobriety I made amends to every child I hurt and tried to the best of my ability to rebuild bridges between us. It hurts when my building is sabotaged along the way. Even then I’ve forgiven them for the pain they inflicted on me, yet my forgiveness is never respected with an apology.

Years ago, one child wanted a change of living circumstances, so they concluded the best way to do this was to go to the police and say I was abusing them. Not only did this affect my life, but also the life of my ex-wife and her children. I gave this child the change of life they wanted and now a decade later they still have never apologized for the emotional pain they inflicted.

I used to send financial gifts to some of these children and their children and not once did I ever receive a thank you. I finally surrendered to the thought that no matter what I did it would never be enough, so why even try?

I shake my head thinking that if they knew how comfortable my life has become (financially) that they would be calling me everyday. As much as I would love a relationship with them I won’t buy it.

So here I sit on Boxing Day, grateful for a wonderful wife and our not so little ginger cat, working on my final year of immigration before I can get a permanent residence card to live and stay in the United Kingdom.

Just writing this has me feeling free. Free from the immaturity of others who should know better. The sad part is that the cycle will not end. Alcohol has deep roots in my family. My parents were drunks and treated me like shit. Then I became a drunk and treated them like shit. And treated my kids like shit. Sadly my sobriety has not changed things. My kids are doing what I did as a young adult – treating their parent like shit.

As for me, the money I used to give them I now give to The Salvation Army to help other families have a joyful Christmas...