My Week in Review

How many times can your life spin out of control

About 25 years ago, I decided to get a series of Chinese symbols tattooed on my left arm. Each symbol was to represent something positive like faith, hope, sun, stars etc. etc. I know, they probably say, diapers, milk, eggs and car but nevertheless, I had them put on my arm for a very distinct reason. You see, in a one week span that 25 years ago, I had: 1) my car stolen 2) my motorcycle stolen, 3) my apartment broken into (in which I was subsequently robbed of my rent money, my cologne, my toothpaste and my favorite basketball shoes) and 4) my girlfriend broke up with me. All in a week.

For that reason, I had the tattoos put on my arm to remind that just when I would think things were bad, they couldn’t possibly be any worse than that fateful week 25 years ago.

Looking back, I should have added another symbol or two as this was one week of my life from 6 years ago…

Monday morning: I read my daughters texts and tweets, I see a few images of pipes and drug references, I threaten to drug test her through a series of Twitter DM’s. She says bring it on. and it’s not even 9 am. I’m now THAT parent.

Mid Monday morning: I go see the doctor and he says that I have a broken foot and plantar fascia. Sweet, now what? What’s next?

Early Monday afternoon: Get a FedEx envelope, the bank is closing in on taking our house. I sarcastically think-the timing is impeccable.

Monday mid-afternoon: Talk to a real estate agent about a house I’m interested in-it’s in Pittsburgh. We’re moving to Pittsburgh. I think to myself, Who moves from Florida to Pittsburgh?

Monday late afternoon: My friend and co-coach of my son’s baseball team has decided to quit coaching, blaming it on that he only has 18 months to live. Seriously? He’s dying? Wtf?

Before I leave for the day: My best friend in Pittsburgh calls me to tell me that he can’t take his girlfriend any longer-she is 25 years younger than him and he proceeds to tell me that he has taken 260 Viagra pills in 8 months and is starting to see purple. Oh, and she is also a heroin addict. I’m not sure what blows me away more.

Monday evening: I drug test my daughter and she passes…she’s clean. I mumble to myself that I can’t believe that I just did that.

Tuesday:

Tuesday morning: I write a check to the IRS for $20,000 and I know it won’t bounce and I think how bizarre that I’m able to do something like that. It’s just not my DNA to have that kind of money. It sure sucks that they get the money. I wonder out loud what it would be like to keep that money and do something fun. I let that feeling last for about 10 seconds.

Mid-Tuesday morning: I make arrangements to fly to Pittsburgh for 24 hours to look at a house to possibly buy/rent. The thinking being that a change will do all of us good. Particularly, my daughter. I think, I’m really moving back to Pittsburgh. From Florida. Again, Who does that?

Tuesday afternoon: My son casually tells me that a girl got busted for selling Oxycontin at school-she’s in 7th grade. He tells me twice because I needed to hear it twice before it sinks in.

Late Tuesday afternoon: I find out that my good friend and co-coach of the baseball team has stolen approximately $3000 in baseball money raised from the team we coach. Oh and he is a coke addict. This is the same guy who said he was dying in 18 months. What sort of time warp am I in?

Tuesday evening: I meet with the parents of the baseball team to let them know that our coach/my friend is MIA and word has it that he was never in Tampa being treated for his cancer but paddle boarding at a resort over the weekend. They’re not happy. I feel the heat in their eyes as they look to me for answers. Of which, I have none.

Late Tuesday evening: We finally decide that we must sign the papers to short sell our house. It’s sad and sobering. I tried.

Wednesday:

I drive to Fort Lauderdale and fly to Pittsburgh and see a/the house. I feel we have no choice and decide to take it with the hopes they let me, since my credit is for shit. We’re really doing this.

Thursday:

My wife calls me to tell me she lost her job. She’s crying. I look at my left arm for strength.

I spend the whole day traveling home. It sucks. Flying sucks.

My mind is racing through what-if scenarios. My neck is tight, I know its stress. Sleeping is tough. Every conversation is difficult. I just stare at people at the airport wondering what problems they have. Trying to search for perspective.

I get a text that my wife and son are at Urgicare-he may have a broken finger. There’s goes his promising baseball career I say sarcastically out loud to one.

I have a headache to end all headaches. I get home at 2 am.

Friday:

I meet with a local not for profit drug prevention org and agree to help them with the design and messaging of a new website-I’m not getting paid but I feel good about it.

I meet with the guy that will sell my house. He’s anxious, I’ve known him a long time and he annoys me sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. My wife thinks he’s sweaty and gross. He is but he’s a nice guy.

The owner of the house in Pittsburgh checked our credit and thinks we’re shady. I take major offense. He will only rent to us if we give him 6 months up front. The rent is $3000 a month. We can’t swing it. We’re stuck for now. We’re not moving to Pittsburgh. I’m half happy and half sad.

I meet a child psychologist at Starbucks after overhearing her conversation with one of her patients, yea I was eavesdropping. I ask for her card.

I sit in Starbucks the rest of the day in a catatonic state. it’s tough to work. I wait for five o’clock. I stare at my arm again and keep saying to myself, it could be worse, it could be worse…I’ll get through this.