Been hesitant with a new post. Ultimately, there’s a handful of reasons for that. As I sat and thought about it, though, I realized the many parallels and symbolism between my personal goings on and this once-great country of ours, ‘Merica. I’ve avoided writing using a myriad of excuses when perhaps instead, I should be writing about those very excuses. A little blog-therapy, if you will.
I’m personally having a hard time at this thing called life and have for a while now. Fair to say that statement is applicable to both this nation and a majority of its’ citizens. Many of my difficulties can be attributed to living with physical pain. I tend to believe that when someone hears me say that or reads it, the reaction is mostly dismissive. Sure, there’s typically an obligatory, “oh, that’s too bad” kind of sentiment, but that’s about as far as it goes. I honestly have no idea how common bad, long-term, chronic pain is in our society. It’s a hard category to gauge and/or quantify. That said, I can only speak personally. The best I could come up with to quantify it is what I imagine a POW is subject to or reserved for those being tortured. Yeah, it was that bad. There would be moments in the day that I would be walking (limping, really) in just regular, old pain when a high-voltage shot of misery would materialize out of the blue and literally, knock me to the floor into the fetal position in uncanny agony. Hospitals have a 1-10 pain scale. My days would start around 7 and end at 12. This level lasted a solid 2.5 years with another year and a half of build-up to that point. Every day, every step, no considerable breaks or relief for 4 years.
Thankfully, that extreme level has finally subsided at least somewhat and to a point where I can function again. Needless to say, the physical, mental, emotional and financial toll this took was incalculable. I mention this in an attempt to equate it to the country and more specifically, the economy. Obviously, the economic pains of this country go back further than 4 years. I would argue they started in 1913 with the inception of the Federal Reserve. However, for the purposes of this debate, and my correlation, my fours years are akin to the last 40 here. Not coincidentally just about exactly the time when Nixon took us of the gold standard. Anyway, I certainly did not know 4 years ago when the pain started, that I would be in for what actually went down. It wasn’t until the last couple of years when all those areas of my life also started to really suffer.
The economic suffering for well over a majority of the people has been spiraling downward awhile now and hopefully, becoming realized by even the casual observer. I won’t and couldn’t possibly list all the stats here. No, for that, you should check out this guy. Needless to say, by pretty much every single accountable measure, our economy’s pain level is at least a “9”, especially compared to 40 years ago. In some cases it is literally hundreds of times worse off now than 1973. With my pain increasing regularly the first couple years, doctors held off operating and tried various “band-aids” instead. I knew I needed surgery, but who was I to say, right? Just like the politicians though, they’ve been kicking the can down the road sticking finger after finger into the dam of debt (and everything else) that will soon so obviously break and absolutely flood us right out of our homes.
It all came to a head personally when bankruptcy was the only viable financial solution and a few months after that was separating from my wife. We had been married for 8 years but best friends for 15. So damaged was our relationship that the separation will soon officially be divorce. What was once a truly beautiful, loving and respectful relationship now finds two people who can hardly talk to each other. In essence, we collapsed.
Make no mistake, that collapse is coming to this country with 99.99% certainty. I feel compelled to leave .01% for something like alien intervention. There is also the chance we the people wake up from the coma we’re in and demand the critical, radical changes needed immediately. Short of either miracle, it is simply a matter of when, not if. What I find as another unique parallel are my feelings for both my wife and my country. Deep down for both, there is still nothing but love. It’s impossible to love someone or something so much for so long, regardless of what transpires, that the love just completely evaporates. Rather, what happens is other feelings and emotions become more prevalent and are almost forced to the surface. I love my wife. I always have and always will. The sadness in my heart burdens me greatly and I grapple with my ability to indeed overcome it all. Because of the love, it’s impossible to ever use the word, hate, specifically for her. However, despite that love or possibly even because of it….consequences have been such that I have come, and remain very close to, well, a hateful place. I hold a large amount of anger and animosity for some of the decisions she has made, words she has chosen to use and not use. Betrayal, in my opinion, all very hurtful and cold and ultimately making it hard to remind myself to in fact dig down and see that love.
Granted, big difference talking about a country, or any “thing” versus that of a person. To that extent, however, I love this country. Always have, always will. It’s America! There’s certainly a case to be made that my love for this country was based on fallacy and fairy-tale and thus misplaced on its face. To a certain degree, I cannot argue. Without question, however, events have occurred and people have come about that have changed humanity for the better, all thanks to the existence of America. There’s also the inherent, pure, natural beauty of the land that’s as diverse as the people who occupy it which one cannot help but fall in love with. Here, though, I can and do hate. I hate almost every aspect of what this nation has evolved into to this point. Ignorance, depravity, inequality, immobility, tyranny, corruption, greed, indifference, apathy, immorality, injustice and of course, betrayal are revoltingly rampant and seemingly, law of the land. Of course there are still good people, good groups and good intentions. Sadly, they are methodically dominated by their counterparts.
I titled this piece, “Putting My Guts On The Table”. I got the idea actually, from my kids. In addition to the chronic leg pain I needed to endure, I have also had the great displeasure of being invaded every so often by cysts. Oh, truly the frosting on the cake whenever a golf ball sized pocket of pain and pus decides to infect my waistline or backside. Four or five times over the years they have developed to the point where only surgery will eradicate them. Just two days ago was one of those times and I now have a 9″ scar across my belly as an endearing reminder. I joked, however, with my kids that during the operation the doctors would literally be taking my guts out and slapping them on the table. “Cool, we want to see it”, they replied. Unfortunately, I’m very afraid that those kids are very soon going to see some real nastiness with the bloody, inglorious, end results of this country’s declination.
I thank any of you freaks who made it all the way through this post. I can’t encourage enough clicking on the one link I provided and watching that vid. Anyway, I think it was good therapy for me to battle through this. Better therapy still is always good tunes! It doesn’t really have any particular meaning or significance, at least, especially for what I have written here. It’s just a darn pretty song that makes me smile whenever I hear it, so, what’s wrong with that? Ladies & Gentlemen, Mr. Waylon Jennings, A Song for Life. You freaks be good now, ya hear?