As 2019 draws to a close and Christmas is here, I tend to get a bit introspective. Don’t worry, I’m going to save my “Things from 2019” post for New Year’s. Today I want to talk about some other things.

On this last Wednesday, Vince, TJ, and I did a Christmas Special on Masculine Geek. TJ won the vote from the guys in the chat and so he gets the prize, whatever that may be. I didn’t participate in the decorating of my home and compete with these guys, however, I ended up with 3 votes anyways. (One of them being my own.) Apparently having nothing but a green screen counts as Christmas in at least two other guys’ votes.

I don’t really care much for Christmas. I don’t even own any Christmas decorations. If you were to come to my home right now, you would find zero Christmas stuff going on. I’ve lived in the same home for almost 15 years now and never had any Christmas decorations of my own. My ex-wife had some when I moved her in, and I think my ex-girlfriend had one or two things as well. But me? Nothing.

When I was a young kid, I did the whole Christmas thing with my family. You know, bringing in the tree, hanging the lights and tinsel, wrapping the presents, and keeping the cats out of the tree. It was probably what the average person goes through with Christmas for the most part. Maybe that’s why I don’t have any memories that really stand out for me, they are all pretty par for the course.

The memories that do stand out for me are from darker times. My first memory was when I was 20 and it was right before Christmas, and I had actually picked up my shotgun, looked down the barrel, and entertained putting it in my mouth and pulling the trigger with my toe. I wrote about that time period and that particular relationship in another blog post that you can read about here if you so choose. I’ve already covered that one about as much as I want to talk about it.

The next strong memory I have of Christmas would have been 2014. In early November is when I told my now ex-wife that I wanted a divorce. Christmas was a joy that year, let me tell you. Again, my old friend, suicidal thoughts, had been showing up for a while. My only real options was to either put a bullet in my head, or get divorced. So I told her I wanted a divorce, and here we are.

Now let’s talk about Christmas of 2018. If any of you have been following me for a while, you’ll know or remember that in September of 2018 my Mother died and my ex-girlfriend decided to end our relationship. Christmas last year was easily the hardest Christmas I’ve had to date. The main saving grace for me on that one was reaching out on Twitter to literally anyone who would listen. Luckily for me, Vincent was the Man that reached out with a lifeline and helped talk me off the mental ledge that I was standing on.

Vincent doesn’t know it, well maybe he does now, but to me, I have a debt to him that I’ll probably never be able to repay. Not that he thinks I owe him anything, because I know that is not the case. Either way though, Vince, I can never repay you for what you did for me. You are a true Brother. I’m honored to be able to call you my Friend. You ever need anything, I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen. You know that. All you need to do is call and say the word.

I was reading a post written by Tim Beckett the other day, it’s called The Chasm. It’s a great read. You should check it out if you haven’t. In it, he talks about a college friend of his who committed suicide four years ago.

One of the things that Tim mentioned that really stood out for me was this:

His ex, after the initial shock, quietly called the police, had them clean up the mess, fake mourned with the kids, and resumed her life. Everything this horribly symbolic gesture he thought was supposed to get out of her, regret, sadness, misery, being lost, pining for him to come back, didn’t transpire. She cashed the life insurance check, went to the funeral, and then went on with her life.

There’s some brutal truth for you.

I remember when I was 20 and was considering eating a shotgun round. Why a shotgun? To make sure I did the job right the first time. I didn’t want to end up a vegetable or with brain damage or something of that nature. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it, and do it right.

The harsh truth: His ex didn’t give a flying fuck about his death.

I understand this completely. That girl that I pined over when I was 20, the one that was my “One,” she didn’t give a flying fuck either. How do I know this? Because I ran into her in 2015 not too long after I got divorced. 23 years later, life hadn’t been too kind to her. I remember seeing her and thinking to myself, “I seriously considered killing myself over you? Wow…” The best part of it all though was she barely remembered me. I guess I didn’t leave as much of an impression on her as she did on me. I’m positive it would have been the same for her had I followed through. She might have been shocked and traumatized for a short period of time, but eventually she would have moved on with her life. I would have still been dead.

Guys, the holidays are hard. I would say that the Christmas season is probably the hardest of them all, for all sorts of reasons. Whatever you are going through, you can get through it. Suicide isn’t the answer. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. If you are hurting, it’s okay to reach out and talk to someone. It’s what I did, both times I seriously thought about eating a bullet, and I’m still here because I did. Do the same. Reach out. Talk to someone. You can always reach out to me if you want. My DM’s on Twitter are always open, or you can reach out to me via e-mail.

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