The Glass Prison Redux (Breaker of Chains…)

Hello strange world! Welcome back to one of the greatest pieces of literary art you will ever read on the internet. As I look back through the year, I realize that I’m not the same person I was about eight months ago. To say that this has been a long eight months is a pure fucking understatement. I don’t even know how to describe what has felt like an eternity yet, time continues to fly by like it’s nothing. It’s a complete mind fuck to feel like you’re trapped in the same day only to blink and have weeks go by just to feel trapped in another. Time is a form of art that is just pure fuckery of all the senses in the best and worse way possible. God is an interesting being that could easily give you the short cut through the treacherous mountain but, finds it way more interesting to take you down the scenic route. He could take the main road during a snow storm but, he’ll take the untreated back roads at full speed without all season tires and still get you to your destination in one piece. Yeah, my year has been a hell of a train ride that has tested me in ways that would make 2010-2012 jealous. Now I should note that I didn’t tackle with the suicidal idealization that has caused me problems in the past; I dealt with a brand new problem that hit me harder than it has in years, anxiety. Now I wouldn’t call this full blown clinical anxiety that has me hyperventilating in a corner or, on meds; I would call it several months of being perpetually anxious over a series of events happening in my life all at once. To get a better idea of this, we need to start back at the beginning.

March in itself was a pretty eventful month, the clock was ticking for me to obtain a car before facing disciplinary action at work. I had taken on a promotion that required a car for transport between clients. I was currently working on having a car as soon as I could all while hitting financial setbacks that were a result of my poor money management. It didn’t help that I relied on someone I thought I could for once count in my life help me find a good working car at a decent price, we’ll talk about that guy later because he’s a big part of this eight month journey. Thankfully I have a mother who has always been willing to help me out of all the holes I dig for myself. After the longest four weeks of my life, I was able to purchase my first car. The rest of that month would be somewhat of a breather as I would cruise around in my brand new (okay, five year old) car as I learned to navigate the roads of a city I knew better on foot. It was a great month, unfortunately it would be the calm before a series of events that would really rock my world. Without going into details my mother would kill me for divulging on this blog, I watched a pretty rocky marriage finally buckle under the pressure of my father’s bullshit.

Starting with April, the next few months would be a roller coaster of drama that took a toll on my mental health in ways I couldn’t fathom; always feeling anxious about what the next day would look like and, if there ever was a light at the end of the tunnel. I felt like I was nine again, watching my parents scream at each other and you wonder if it’s the last time you’ll see either one of them in the house. To top this all off, months of searching on Catholic Match would finally pay off as I would establish contact with a woman who would eventually become my now girlfriend of five months. The courting process would add to that anxiety as I would go through the motions wondering if this would actually work out or, if it would wound up like all the others that came before. I would wake up every morning anxious of the day ahead; I was a wreck, a shell of myself some days. I would have to put on the Flemmings Beaubrun face that said everything was fine when on the inside, i was barely keeping it all together. It was like the proverbial Glass Prison I trapped myself inside of the summer my ex dumped me. My dad would continue to play his usual mind games at the cost of our well being. I learned that spring that I was nothing more to my Dad than an object he uses for his own personal gain. Our relationship over the years felt like such a lie. I endured every cycle of abuse without even realizing it; it was pretty fucking painful realizing that I had no father figure to look to. How the fuck was I supposed to be the man of the house when I had no man on this earth to teach me how to be one in the first place? I felt inadequate some days as I would try to work to become the man I needed to be to enter a new relationship. I would realize that this woman I was dating saw a goodness in me I had difficulty seeing in myself.

The evening we shared our first kiss on the Portsmouth Memorial Bridge, she asked me what good qualities I saw in myself. I mentioned my crafty writing abilities and my madd computer skills; She then told me something I would never forget, she told me “you underestimate how good of a person you are”. Those words would stay with me as I would start to really dig deep and undo the damage caused by my father’s antics. From learning to be more daring and not second guessing myself as a result of my dad berating me for every little mistake to learning to be better with my fiances so that I can provide a future for what ever family God provides me; I would walk this road with with three sets of footprints in the sand, some days two and, one set on other days. I had been anxious for quite some time but, the prison I built for myself was once again about to be shattered. I started to really let my girlfriend in on what I was suffering with in internally; a decision that scared the shit out of me but, one that would give me a rock to lean on during some really bad days. I recently went to a Catholic retreat called a Cursillo not too long ago that that really improved my faith life and, gave me a sense of fatherhood I thought I’d spend my entire life without. The prison I built for myself was starting to shatter and, several chains would be undone in the process.

Honestly, I’m pretty emotionally worn from these last eight months. I started seeing a therapist again a few months ago because I was tired of always being anxious, I needed professional help to process all the crazy shit I endured the last few months. I needed help to undo all of the chains on my heart from years of verbal and psychological abuse. I was pretty nervous opening up about my dad years ago because I wanted to protect the man’s reputation not realizing I was falling into typical victim behavior. He puts on such a great facade that I some days wonder who the fuck would believe me. It always felt like his word over mine because he’s a masterful manipulator and gaslighter who can sway the opinions of others without them realizing it. Like jello shots chased with more liquor, you don’t feel much and next thing you know you’re on your ass and you don’t know what the fuck hit you. I’ve had it with the man’s shit. I gag a bit when I refer to him as my dad because some days I just don’t think he’s worthy of such a title reserved for someone who doesn’t manipulate their way into the hearts of their children and whose love is unconditional and not the result of giving in to manipulative bullshit at the cost of ones well being.

Me being the good person I am with all this emotional baggage is nothing short of the grace of God because I should be the biggest asshole on this earth. I’ve dealt with this constant fear of becoming that man and yet, in spite of everything he’s put me through I’ve become the complete opposite, a flawed guy who constantly strives to do good for those around him. I guess I’m not such a bad person after all. I’m not the ugliness of the wounds I’ve endured at the hands of this mortal coil we call earth. Maybe that’s why the man I once called my dad is such a bitter person. Maybe unlike me he became the ugliness of the wounds he endured at the hands of this mortal coil. Maybe he let his baggage drag him down to the point he became his own baggage and proceed to project that ugliness on those who counted on him the most, the people he was entrusted to care for. We all became his emotional punching bag whenever he didn’t feel good about himself. He had a pretty ugly outlook on the world and any ideal contrary to his own was subject to harsh criticism. The painful thing is that though I know I’ll be fine deep down, that man may never know true happiness. He will always be miserable because he will continue to push away a truth he once knew in favor of a lie he’s convinced himself to be true for over 30 years; the lie that he’s in control. Some days I’m indifferent, some days I fucking hate him, some days I feel sorry for him. I feel a great many things for him with neither of those things being love. I have this constantly reoccurring dream where yell at him and tell him how much I hate him.

I try my best every day not to succumb to and become my wounds but, it can be pretty tiring. Thankfully God walks with me every day to ensure I never walk such a lonely road. I’m thankful for all of the people and, all of the opportunities in my life that constantly bring out the goodness in me. I’m thankful for my girlfriend who has become a crucial part of my growth on this treacherous journey; I’m thankful for my mother who never stops believing in me no matter how much I fall on my face; I’m thankful for the friends who have become such a phenomenal support system; I’m thankful for Eminem songs and the angst within them that gives me the motivation to write such powerful blog posts; I’m thankful for my girlfriend’s family who has truly embraced me with open arms and has also helped me realize my goodness. It don’t think my girlfriend’s Nana truly understands the impression she’s made on me since this relationship started. I hope to be as awesome of a grandparent down the road but before that, I hope to be a better father to my children than mine was to me. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect and I’ll probably have my bad days but, unlike my dad at least I can admit I’m flawed rather than hiding behind a facade that distorts the truth far worse than a commissioner deploying a witch hunt against an entire team for under inflated footballs.

I’m overwhelmed, I’m worn but, most importantly I’m just so fucking tired. It’s been such a long year and yet, it’s gone by in the blink of an eye. It’s a complete mind fuck to feel like you’re trapped in the same day only to blink and have weeks go by just to feel trapped in another. Time is a form of art that is just pure fuckery of all the senses in the best and worse way possible. Being me is one of the hardest fucking tasks one has ever been entrusted with but, someone’s gotta do it and there just ain’t anyone as good at being me. I wanted to write this post for several weeks now but, I never knew how to deliver such heavy subject matter in the most Flemmings Beaubrun way possible. I guess I just needed time to let it all sizzle. I’ve said all I could on the subject on my dad and I hope this is the last time I ever talk about it in a blog. That man is not worth the word count, my breath, my energy, my well being and, my sanity. As for the man, I hope one day this will just be a memory; I would hope we can try to build an authentic relationship but, that’s just wishful thinking. Even if he never comes around, I’ll be fine. I’m blessed to have others to hold me up on the days I feel like falling. That man left a nasty void in my heart but, it’s a void that doesn’t have to be filled with lies and deception; It’s a void that can be filled by the love of a God who looks upon me and walks with me every day; it can be filled with the love of friends and family who see the good in me; it can be filled by a woman who continues to love me unconditionally and be my best friend and lover on this crazy ride we call life. That void can be filled by giving myself to others in need of my help. I’ll be fine; it’s a nasty gash that God has given me plenty of gauze in the form of a crazy support system to heal. Once again it’s been real, I hope to have some more content soon.

Stay classy….

Well, what the fuck are you still doing here? This is the end of the blog. Oh, you want more juicy details about the lovely lady? This is the most I’ve shared about her in a while and you’re telling me you want more? I guess we can do a spinoff and give her her own blog post if that’s what y’all want. In the mean time, let the cleaning people do their job, I’m sure they want to go home; It’s been a long day.

2 thoughts on “The Glass Prison Redux (Breaker of Chains…)

  1. I wanted to read about your Dad especially after the last blog.

    And you had a reasonable fear about becoming that man.

    Are you feeling your own man now, Flemmings? And glad you opened up to your therapist?

  2. Pingback: The Monster (A Tale From The Glass Prison….) |

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