At the show last night

Last night, I finally did something I've wanted to do since I was a child. I went with my wife and youngest son to see Duran Duran in concert. I've been a major fan of theirs since 1982, and seeing them live was on my bucket list.

The show was great, and I had a decent time, but it could have been better (not because of the band, despite the absence of Nick Rhodes, my favorite keyboard player).

I spent most of the show worried about the wife's mood, though I was determined to have a good time regardless. She's never really liked the band, and usually has something snide to say whenever I play any of their music around her (which I seldom do anymore).

Now, to be fair, buying the tickets was her idea. I simply mentioned that they were coming to town a month ago, and she told me to go ahead and purchase the tickets. This was one of her attempts at being nice lately, which I appreciate, but I'm cautious of.

She's not a monster, let me get that straight right now. I'm not trying to paint her in a bad light, or make her look horrible here. She can be quite sweet, when the mood strikes, and I haven't exactly been the husband of the year in the past.

Anyway, it was a sweet gesture, and oneI sincerely appreciated, even if I was a bit nervous about it.

When the show began with the band Chic, she seemed to be having a good time with our son. We were all laughing, dancing and enjoying the lights and music.

Then came some people who took the seats next to her. The man kept stepping on my wife's foot and sticking his butt in her face as he danced with is date. At first, he apologized and moved back toward his own seat, when he noticed he was invading her space. But, then he eventually stopped even acknowledging his mistakes.

As Duran Duran took the stage (the band I was there to see), I saw the angry, brooding look on her face, and figured the night was now officially ruined. I offered to switch seats with her, and at first, she refused. But soon, she accepted my offer when she had enough of the jerk beside her.

For the rest of the night, I stood in such a way that whenever he backed into my space, he got one of my elbows sharply in his back. After three or four times, I guess he finally got the point, because he seemed to get a lot more cautious about where he was dancing.

However, the damage was pretty much done at that point. She remained seated, checking Facebook, and looking angry the rest of the show. By the time the band came out for the encores, our son was ready for the restroom, so I told her we could leave.

I give her a lot of credit. She really did try to have a good time and let me enjoy myself last night. I was honestly worried that it would end a lot worse than it did.

I would like to believe that maybe, just maybe, things may finally be changing for us. Still, I need to keep my guard up and be careful.

In the Dark of Night

"Am I worthless? Am I guilty? Am I too far gone for a remedy?"- Weashuman "Take the Bullets Away"

I'm in a dark mood tonight. The depression has my soul, and I can barely stand the empty numbness any longer.

This isn't anything new (which is what worries me). I have always had these moments from my earliest childhood. The problem isn't the way I feel (or can't feel) during these bouts. It's where my mind goes, and some of the choices I've made in the past to get past it.

I call out to the Lord to deliver me from this mood, and try to focus on one of my stories. But, there doesn't seem to be any solace, and the words just won't come tonight.

Instead, I just sit here, reflecting on my failures as a husband, a father, a human being. 

Part of me wants to believe I deserve this (and always has believed that). Like maybe this is my penance, not only for the crimes of the recent past, but for a lifetime of being me. Maybe this is my cross to bear (so to speak), a tortured, empty soul struggling for just one more day of existence, without fully knowing why.

The other part of me thinks that, perhaps this is the lure of Satan, trying to pull me back into my old, self destructive ways. Maybe, it's an excuse my personal demons are trying to use to somehow justify going back to how it used to be.

I don't know, and I don't care. I can't go back. I won't go back. I'm not that person anymore, no matter what the demons or anyone else may think. That side of me may not be dead yet, but he's locked away so deeply, he'll never return.

Lord, please release me from this darkness. Heal my bleeding soul, and return me to your light, because I can't do this alone... Amen.

To anyone reading this, goodnight and God Bless.

The Road to Damascus

First of all, let's understand that I'm not going to air my dirty laundry here (or anywhere else, for that matter). Just suffice it to say that, I'm no saint, and I've done some pretty monstrous things in my recent past. Things that cost me everything and everyone I held dear, until I had my "Road to Damascus" moment. (For those who may not know, the Road to Damascus moment, is a point in your life when you no longer have a choice, it's change or die.)

Now, a year and a half later, I'm in the process of rebuilding my life and my relationships with my family, my wife, my kids and my God.

I don't know when it all started exactly, or even why, but I do know that I was not always the monster I became. Despite the bullying and abuse I suffered as a child, I was always a good kid with a kind, sensitive heart. I believed in God and the inherent goodness of man with all my heart, and didn't let the darkness I endured get to me.

And then, one day I woke up to find my children barely knew who I was, and hated what they did know. I had an ex wife I never loved, and a current wife that could no longer stand me. I was a liar, a cheater, a thug and a coward. I was an "angry atheist" who not only denied the existence of God, but openly mocked and ridiculed those who believed. I didn't care who I hurt, and tried to excuse my attitude and behavior with how I was treated.

I had just been thrown out of my house with just the clothes on my back, and was living in the sleeper of my truck. My wife wasn't returning my calls, and even my own mother was barely speaking to me. To put it mildly, I had to look up to see rock bottom.

As I was driving a load to the Dallas/Fort Worth area and feeling sorry for myself, I seriously contemplated suicide. I was determined that, after I delivered my load and shut down for the night, that would be the end.

For some reason, my radio decided to crap out on me in that moment, and the only thing it would play was a Christian Rock station. (I had driven that route thousands of times, and knew the stations all along it by heart.) The first song I heard was "Not Gonna Die" by Skillet. The next was "Take the Bullets Away" by Weashuman (We As Human). Then came "Love Alone is Worth the Fight" by Switchfoot. Song after song, it seemed the radio was playing just for my benefit. And, each one was positive, uplifting and either about living, or fighting the evil in your life.

I was in tears when I finally delivered the load, and by the time I pulled into the truck stop for the night, I was emotionally drained and exhausted. I fell asleep, and dreamed of my grandfather (who died over a decade before).

In the dream he told me that I was not alone, that God still had a plan for me, and that the radio was my first sign, and there would be another very soon.

That's when I awoke to my cell phone ringing. It was my wife, wanting to talk things over.

You have to understand something about my wife, she's a very strong woman, who seldom gives second chances (especially when someone wrongs her as badly as I had). The very act of her calling me qualifies as nothing short of a miracle in and of itself.

From that time until now (a year and a half), I've dedicated myself to my God and my family, and I've worked hard to change. It hasn't been easy, and I still have a ways to go, but I'm not backing down or giving in. Some of my family, including my oldest son, will probably never forgive me for the man I used to be. But, I'm going to continue to do the best I can.

I don't claim that my story is proof of God's existence for anyone else (That's between you and Him). I just know what I went through, I know who was to blame (me), and who's the one that saved me (God).

Welcome

I've decided that I need a new blog, an online journal of sorts, to document the changes I've recently made (and continue to make) in my life. Unlike "Professional Reality" (my other blog), this one is more about me and my personal journey in life.

Anyway, I feel that this new blog deserves a fresh introduction...

Hi. My name is Todd (T.J. to my friends and family). I'm a Christian, husband, father of three boys, budding author (meaning, I haven't gotten up the nerve to attempt publishing anything yet) and apparently, a political/social commentator. I'm also a science fiction/fantasy/occult geek, a music lover and crowned "King of Useless Knowledge" (coronated by my wife and family). 

At times, I can have a weird and twisted sense of humor, and in other times, I can be a bit manic and moody. Which one I'll be during any given entry is anyone's guess, and basically depends upon my mood at the time. I also have been known to have very little filter, will always call it as I see it (not to be hurtful, just honest).

As with my other blog, I'm writing this more for my own benefit than anyone else's. My head tends to get very crowded, writing has always been the best way for me to sort things out and clear my mind.

Recently, I've undergone a very traumatic and violent change in my life (entirely my own doing), and sometimes, I need a way to think things through, and put everything in perspective (yet another reason for this journal).

Though I doubt anyone will, you're welcome to read and comment on anything I post here or on my other blog (ProfessionalReality.blogspot.com). 

Okay, now that the boring stuff is out of the way (for now), let the entries begin...