- An abused kid, I didn't like home - but I didn't run-away from it. I ran towards living in my creek as often as possible. I knew I would come back home, and get the beating for some semi-legitimate reason for an exaggerated punishment. But I just spent as much time in the new life in the wilderness as possible (wallowing in goodness and freedom to help me through the bad).
- Later it was jumping into computers, sports, friends, job or something else was the draw towards learning/knowlege/mastery or giving me a purpose. I couldn't get away from the old/bad, sometimes the old wasn't bad and was good or great -- but still I had to go forward. I remember telling a friend in my teens, I didn't expect to live until 30, so I wanted to get as much done before then as possible.
- I hated fighting; a gentle intellectual. But I didn't have a choice, small and mouthy, I was forced to fight. And my Step-Dad beat me for running away from a fight (fear him more than any other child). I learned to never run-away. I'd beg kids not to make me fight, but if they made me, I committed and went through it -- the way to peace was to destroy them as a lesson to the rest, leave me be. I fought 1 kid, 2 kids at once, and a kid 2 grades greater -- not that I had a choice. My fight or flight learned to never flee; I just had to teach them to regret forcing a fight and go forward (even bruised and bloodied).
- I started to become a tormentor (let's say pre-bully), it was what I knew (the strong abused the weak). But I didn't like who I was becoming, so I ran into it -- I took Martial Arts; you aren't going to bully those who outrank you. And I taught myself self control (to walk away or ignore), and taught others how to defend themselves. I ran towards the pain, and new reality, and got through it. If something is good or bad, there's still something better over the horizon.
- As a teen, I wanted to be self sufficient to get into a new life. I tried every drug or experience, but I wasn't drawn into addiction; I didn't want to run-away or escape from life. I was anti-addictive: trying something was appealing, losing control to it and getting stuck had no allure. I tried everything I could think of; skydiving, backpacking through the sierras, Martial Arts stuntman, and so on. Lean into the change. But few stuck; what else is there, give me more.
- With Melissa, I ran towards a relationship and marriage -- despite the disasters that were my parents, grandparents and some friends. And I just vowed to learn it, and be better. I was. Not perfect, but well past the mark of most, and good enough to have a wonderful life with her. Now that's over. I can't change that. What's next?
- I also had the drive to try to change jobs, and cities/cultures. Experience all that life has to offer. She was more happy/content with how great things were where we are, and was a nester. We compromised and moved less than I wanted, but more than she did. To her, every move was leaving something behind, to me it was a new challenge to be explored. I dragged her, and she appreciated being dragged... eventually.
- With Melissa's death? The same. I don't want to run away from Grief, Texas, our life our home here, or the wonderful past we had together. I wallowed in it, and journaled it, and went through it. Suffer, Suffer, and now I carry the baggage of what was lost. Such is life. I can take all that brutal experience has to offer. At least for a brief period of time... just don't hold me back.
- Past memories hurt; bring it. I can deal with and talk about that. Each time I talk about it, I get a little less sensitive and stronger. I can't control the pain, but I can control accepting it and the future; moving into the future. New Adventures, New People, New Experiences.
- Age wise? I'm over half way to death... her passing reminds me of that. Gotta go forward. Life is going to be over soon. I can't change that, or the past... or wallow too much in the parts of life I don't like. I can just do what I've always done, and let it go. Keep moving. I can't stop grief/pain, but least I drank deeply from the chalice of life, even chewing on the bitterest seeds of sorrow, loss and grief floating in the cup. Now ever onward into the breach... I'll stop moving when I'm dead.
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