The Things You Have Never Been Told

 You are 17. You feel you know everything. But there are a lot things you've never been told. 

The bridge is already burning. There is not reason not to say it anymore. 

You have been sold a bill of goods that doesn't check out. 

I am a failure at many things. I am not good at many things. But I have given and I have tried. The voices that tell you what they want you to hear have their own biases. And now I have nothing to lose. I've already lost that which is most important to me. 

In your vitriol and angry texts, you told me I have never thought of anyone but myself. And that is true in many ways. I am self-absorbed. Selfish. Arrogant. 

But perhaps here are a few things from my biased perspective that you never got to hear. 

Yes. I was the one who said that things weren't working. I was the one who said we needed to live apart and figure things out. She was the one who called my parents and said I left her. She didn't call her own parents, she called mine. And they chose you. My parents chose you over me. And you ignore texts from the only one of them that is still alive. For everything he isn't, my father chose you over me and you won't even text him back. 

Once my parents rejected me and chose her and you and Peyton. I was left with a choice. Stay in a job that I dreamed about, be a shit father, or abandon that job as I had been abandoned, because like my parents I felt it was the right thing to do. 

So I did my best to find a job in Minnesota. It took time. But I still paid for everything I could. While she had no income and lived in my parent's home. 

I found a job, and I moved back. I tried to figure out a way through. It was clear from the moment that I got back that reconciliation was not an option. I was hated. I would never be forgiven for saying things weren't working. 

I worked at a job and failed. I couldn't balance being at work and hating myself and being hated by everyone who knew me. I failed at that job. 

I found another job. I failed again. In the meantime while I was failing I said I wanted to have you with me every other day. And we had some good times. I loved our placed in Mac-Grove where you two slept on the bunkbeds in the same room as I on a twin bed. We walked to the park, we watched videos and played games in that space. 

I got laid off in spring of 2010. Daycare was exceptionally expensive. With my failure to have a job, it was not an option to pay the $2000 per month for your day care. The oldest was off to school so that lessened the burden a bit. But I was faced with a choice. Pursue full time work or find a night and weekend job so we could avoid daycare. 

To be honest, if I could find a thing that worked and got to stay home with you when you were not in school, that would be pretty amazing. And it was and we did. Parks and museums, lunch at the Tap with friends and their kids. I will never regret for a moment the chance to have those moments with you. 

It felt like worked. I had a flexible schedule, which allowed your mother to dip out for 2.5 summers to get her PHD in Pennsylvania. If I had chased a 9-5 career in this time it never would have worked. But I loved the summers and the time with you. I had the benefit of my rent being subsidized by my parents who owned the place we lived. I was happy for the time with you and honestly felt it was fair that I support your mother in her pursuit of a PhD. I could never make her happy but it seemed that her academic pursuits did. 

After 4 years of taking jobs that made it easier for me to be with you before you were in school, you were in kindergarten and I had the flexibility to chase something else. I thought it would be in the brewing industry and I had laid groundwork for that. But it didn't work out. As many things don't. 

So I found a steady income and a schedule that I could control. I have fond memories of taking you two to school but first stopping by the store and counting in the register or the inventory. Of being proud of my space, the place that I managed. 

Eventually, I let another person's opinion impact my perception of that job. I have always done things to please myself as it pertains to how others perceive me. I left that job because I felt you could never be proud of me and that as a career. I do think that this was another of my many mistakes. 

So I took a corporate job and a brewery job on the side. I tossed away everything I had created through Blue Plate, the beer training I was so proud of, and the key hourly position. I left Goldy's when it fit our schedule all out of hubris, I wasn't proud of my career and I didn't think either of you would be either. 

It was a mistake. I worked for a year in real estate which wasn't a good fit. I felt like an indentured servant to the overlords. When my boss tasked me with putting together a bookshelf at his home, I finally realized how little I meant to the company. 

So I jumped at the first other option. And it was another mistake, a financial company that didn't really know what they wanted to do or be. I had 7 different supervisors in the 3.3 years there. I was so busy that I started to miss things. Couldn't make it to events. I failed in a whole new way. 

As a result, you both decided not to live with me anymore. That broke a lot of what was left of my fight. I get it, Mom's house is clean and more organized. She's got rules and standards, I have chaos and conflict. 

I didn't take it well. I took it personally. I felt rejected. I felt like a failure. All things that time have proven that I was. And am. 

I left Kentucky. I gave up a dream job so I could be a decent dad. And I failed at that. It hit really hard. And I didn't deal with it well. Why did I leave if I was just going to fail as a father anyway? 

Then I tried to make it right. I didn't make enough changes. Then covid hit. Suddenly, my parenting time is gone. I am reduced to parking my car outside the house when there is a report of neo-Nazi at the park next door and hoping I don't have to act. But personally hoping I get to, because if they take me out, at least it was me trying. 

That summer sucked. I barely saw you. I barely got to be a dad. Right before covid, we were playing catch, and it meant so much. Not the sporting part but the shared experience. That I will never get again. 

Then we sold the house, the house we lived in for years, neither of you wanted anything to do with it. You were out. 

Everyone moved. Mom and Dad. Andrew. Friends. I moved too. I wanted you to be proud of my new clear and fresh place. But you shrugged. 

As the covid pandemic continued, I fucked up. I lost my ability to drive and my car due to my own selfish, stupid, and thankfully not deadly action. It was my fault but it put another nail in the coffin of communication and connection. 

And I lost you both a bit more as well. 

I have been trying for three years to get some foothold back. To try and support while also acknowledging that I am a failed and broken person. 

It has worked on some level and failed momentously on another. 

Since I made the mistake of questioning my marriage in 2007. Life has not gotten better. I should likely have just never said anything and lived in silence. I spent much of the next 6 years subjugating my career for your mother's anyway. At least if I was a miserable husband, I might have gotten some credit. 

I am not a perfect or good father. But I have done a lot of good things and things that went against my best personal interests over the past 18 years that I do not regret. I regret much of my life after 2007. I regret much of my daily actions. I fret and overthink. I wish I had been better. I never regret the moments with my kids. Those are the only things that make sense. 

But it is unfair to tell me I only ever thought of myself. It is unfair to claim that I don't give a damn. It is disingenuous to look at our shared history and tell me I am nothing. 

You are everything to me. And I don't think you know everything I have done. 

You have every right to hate me. But I have every right to tell you more.