Empty Glass

I’ll be the first to admit, as much as I would like to consider myself a “the glass is ½ full” kind of guy, I am very much a “the glass is ½ empty.” While I like to make jokes and mess around about that, and prefer to play on the spin offs of “Who’s been drinking out my cup?” I am not a very optimistic kind of person. My first reaction is always negative, I have a hard time seeing through the dark and cloudy days, and as much as I preach that it will get better -I have a hard time believing that.

I preach it in hopes of one day, believing it. As if I say it enough, then maybe, by some small chance it will actually be ok. Maybe one day it really will be better, and if not then maybe one day I will believe that one day it will get better. I have tried to surround myself with people who are optimistic -in hopes of stealing some of their optimism. I have tried all the fool proof plans of telling yourself happy thoughts, and only thinking about flowers and sunshine and all that…

But there comes a day, usually two days into my attempt at an attitude change that reality steps up to the plate and reminds me of the harsh reality that we are living in. The one where every day is NOT sprinkled with sunshine. The one that says no matter how positive and optimistic you try to be -there will be those days that pummel you to the ground.

Last night after I turned the lights and the TV out and found my way to bed, I lay in the silence -listening to the sounds of dogs snoring and frogs croaking. For a brief moment, it was like life handed me a choice -to accept what was going on, face it head on and deal with it -or sweep it under the rug, ignore it and deal with it another day. It shouldn’t be of much surprise that I chose the latter.

See, last night I got called in for a late night meeting. Late night, unplanned and unscheduled meetings I have come to learn -are not good.

There just aren’t words to fully express what is going on. My mind shuts it out, I choose not to think about it, and pretend it doesn’t exist…and in some unexplainable way -my entire body goes numb. There are simply no words to explain it. The words that I need to understand and process only confuse me. The words they say don’t register the way they should and I begin to wonder if something is wrong with me. Last night was the first time my mind went anywhere close to acknowledging any of it. Block it out, continue on. Somehow it works, but somehow…it doesn’t.

I have yet to verbalize the words. To make them real. To put them out there. To admit. To accept. To believe. That with the good comes the bad, and the very bad, and even worse. It’s confusing in one sense, but frustrating in another. But trying to overcome the portion of my brain that simply wants to ignore is challenging.

After spending nearly eight months in a group home, specializing in dealing with situations like such -he teamed up with another kid and made a pact. Not a let’s be friends forever, sort of pact. But a pact that on Mothers day -the two of them would put an end to it all -once and for all. Yet instead of following through -the other kid involved got scared, took everything he had learned over the past amount of time that he has been there -and told someone about the pact that was to take place…putting an end to it.

Instead of feeling overjoyed that there is another chance, another opportunity for hope -I am frustrated. Upset. Confused. And yes…mad. Why couldn’t he have been the one that told. Why couldn’t he have been the one to take things to heart and see an out. Why does he have to be the one going through this. They aren’t questions, they are statements.

So much of me wants to just give up. Give up on everything that I have believed in and on. Give up on hope, and the future. Give up on tomorrow. Give up on him.

Part of me feels that I already have. That I am simply waiting. Waiting for the phone call that says “Its over.” Part of me wants to keep telling him to stay strong, that it will get better -but part of me just wants to join him, give the finger to the world and wait for death to give some relief.

I don’t even know what to think anymore. I don’t even know if holding onto the rest of what’s in that glass is worth it. I don’t even know if it matters if there is anything in the glass. Because sometimes that damn glass seems to be more trouble than its really worth…


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