Sex, Drugs, and Waffle House

One of the things I aimed to do with this blog as it grew was to post stories about my life to get some things off my shoulders, let some things out, and use it as a way to remember the past, then put it behind me. “Self Therapy” if you will. I want to be open and honest about my life, but there are things that I just feel do not belong at The DaddyYo Blog, as they have nothing to do with my life as a dad.

There is a part of my life that I am definitely not proud of, though I won’t deny it. There will probably be several posts along the way that chronicle this time in my life as I seek to visit it again, see where I have gone since then and what I have learned, and then put it behind me once again, for good. I have always found writing to be an outlet to share these times and to lay it all out in front of me, in black and white, and come face to face with the decisions I made. The good thing about it is that I can revisit, count my blessings of where I have gotten to, then I can file it away in the archive and move on.

I was not always the guy you see now. I wasn’t a dad, I wasn’t a guy who really had any plans, or hopes for the future. I really didn’t even care if I was living when I woke up the next morning. There was only one thing I cared about: getting off. And no, I don’t mean that sexually. I’m talking about drug use. A period in my life that at the time, I couldn’t find anything wrong with, and I spent a good amount of time justifying my use on a daily basis. Needless to say it was a bad choice.

My downward spiral really began after I was asked to leave my mom and dad’s because I had grown out of control, was fighting with them on a regular basis, and I was putting a huge strain on the relationships between me and my family. I spent a good while after that with the girl I was dating at the time, bouncing from friend’s house to friend’s house, hotels, and the back seat of a 94 Escort. We bounced from job to job and ended up working most of that time at a car wash. Our day consisted of getting up, getting stoned, and going to work. Work was not that much different from outside of work. We got high, we got jacked, we got drunk, and partied like there was no tomorrow. The checks between the two of us wore more than enough to afford a rent payment and bills. Problem was that I had other things in mind I would rather have spent my money on. So the cycle continued for quite some time.

A good part of our time outside of work was spent at a local Waffle House. There you could find us in and out on our days off and there all night most days. Some nights you could find us in the bottom of the parking lot, asleep in the car. We hung out there, and met many interesting people. Night shift at Waffle House was a world apart from any other. A night life as diverse as the UN meetings. You found wealthy, poor, bums, socialites, socially impaired, and all different ages and races. They were interesting people. Many we became friends with and spent time hanging out and partying with. You would find us all over town.

After quite some time, the lifestyle began to take its toll on me, and something inside me broke, and I snapped. I will never forget the day. Payday, and leaving work. Me and the girl got into an argument, and my mind broke lose. My hand reached out and struck her, and it was done. That night, she would leave me (and for good reason too.) I would seek out a treatment camp, only to leave a few hours later. Two days later I would be admitted into an emergency room, then transfered to an inpatient rehabilitation center. There I cleaned up, got my head on a little more straight, and went back home to good old mom and dads.

I learned a lot about myself after that period of my life. And to some big extent the whole experience and going back to life after, helped me become a more open person, even when it was just online late at night. I do not regret those times, though I do feel remorse for the things I did, and for the people I hurt. I count my blessings a little more now. The blessing of life, and of breath. The blessing of family, and being raised in a family that was founded on love. The love that allowed me back in the home, and to grow closer again to the people who taught me what love is.

We make decisions in life that we are not always proud of, but they are made at the time for a reason. Good or bad, the experiences in life make us who we are today. We can grow up and learn from our decisions. I know the paths I chose and I know where the went. I have the opportunity to teach my children about the lessons I have learned in hopes of preventing them from making the same bad choices. I can talk to others who have gone through, or are going through the same things. I can share my stories, and also share my hopes.

Final summation: To everything, there is a season. And I time to every purpose, under heaven.