I had a good life once. Now, I don't know what I have. When things started going bad it didn't seem like a big deal at the time. You know, just another day in the life kind of thing. Hell, I was mature enough to know that you can't expect roses and unicorn shitting skittles all the time. You roll with the problem, come up with a solution, and everything works out. Except sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it just get worser and worser until you want to cry which is wrong because men don't cry. I never did. At least so people could see. I think.
I decided to write this because, well, I think, hell, I know, I am losing it. It is not a happy maker feeling. So I am writing this in hopes it finds its way to my daughter so she will know my side of the story and maybe not hate me anymore. Of all the pain I have felt since everything fell apart hearing her say "I hate you!" was the absolute worse. I thought we would have time to talk, you know, work it out, after her outburst and the tears. We never did. If you come away with anything from reading this then know this: You never have time for do overs. It's now or never baby and the river stops for no one.
It all starts somewhere. I try to focus on THE DAY when it all went wrong. I can't make up my mind. Sometimes I think I figured it out and I am happy. The next day I can't remember or I think "How could I be so stupid! That wasn't THE DAY! You wouldn't believe how many times I have started this story and then tore the sheets of paper out of my notebook and smashed them on the floor. I got thrown out of Starbucks the last time. The lady was nice about it but she was serious about me having to go. I knew this because everyone was looking at me with "Go!" in their eyes. That didn't bother me as much as the little girl who had "FEAR" in hers. That made me sad and ashamed. I am working on not making bad noises now and I think I am doing good. You would be proud of your dad.
So I decided to start when I was still someone and me and your Mom were together. Oh, I think you were five when we made the first mistake. We decided to buy a house. We already had a house. A nice house. You liked it. I liked it. Your Mom? Not so much. It was small. The school district was not the best. We had been looking for awhile and prices had kept going up and up. Your Mom's best friend, Shasta, was a real estate agent then. and she convinced your Mom that it was "buy now or be priced out forever!" To be fair it wasn't hard to convince me that she was right. It certainly seemed that way at the time.