Being high all the time while recovering from a rotten leg issue taught me a lot of things. For one thing, it taught me that daytime cable is so much more amusing when you’re laughing your ass off. (Destination America by the way, is the best channel ever for this. I became addicted to it in the hospital, although it’s better on morphine…in spite of this, I’m glad I don’t take that anymore because I was becoming more optimistic, and who wants that?)
The other thing I discovered was that I cannot write impaired at all. I couldn’t even write a shopping list of shit I needed and I had all day to write it. I’d write “Mac and Cheese” and then watch a bad, hilarious house haunting reenactment.
I tried so hard too, but it would all come out as incoherent babble. (You can find them on the FB Author page. They are very easy to spot.)
As the weeks dragged by, I relied on the oxycodone less and less and my leg got better and better. It took forever. I missed most of my youngest daughter’s softball season and loads of other things while I recovered.
Things were looking up!
Then, my father died.
Now, for a lot of you, this would be a devastating life event; something that would bring upon you profound sadness and grief. A sadness that would cause you to reflect your time with your father. Relive the moments of tossing the football around, or going fishing or pretty much everything you remember about your dear old dad.
I envy that, in all sincerity.
I won’t launch into a tirade that seems to always hit that side of the family hard and causes them to do things like open their pie holes…safe to say though, that the old man wasn’t really a very good human being to his kids, or his wife. I’m sure that there are people who thought he was awesome and to those I say “Good for you.” I wish I’d known that guy.
Anyway, the shitstorm that followed (some of which I’m still contending with to this very day) was an emotional roller-coaster that went from me being sullen and angry, to sullen and furious.
But, in the middle of all this, I went to my favorite place on earth with my wife and daughters.
The New Jersey Shore.
Something very spectacular happened that I couldn’t have predicted even on my very best day.
I have PTSD which means, I get flashbacks here and there. (Which is sort of like being kicked in the balls…one never expects those either.) While I was down the shore, I began to have flashbacks.
Now, I need to explain a thing or two right here.
The flashbacks I’m used to having are usually horrible incidents of my childhood. These happen a lot less these days, but twenty years ago, it would happen during the least popular times. (My favorite one occurred during a date. There was no second date.)
The most recent one happened while watching “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” which is in fact, a really good movie.
Except, of course if you have flashbacks about your own abusive childhood. On the up side, it became easier to explain to people who have seen the movie how they occur-at least for me. The downside, of course, is I had them all throughout the fucking movie.
The flashbacks I had in New Jersey weren’t even a little bit bad.
They were awesome as hell.
I remembered being at the shore as a kid, swimming in the ocean, getting salt water slammed up my nose when I wasn’t paying attention and a wave would hit me in the face. Believe it or not, that was a happy thing to remember. I remembered the best parts of my my childhood that I hadn’t remembered since forever.
In a summer that was filled with awful, this seemed to be the thing I needed.
Which brings me here. In a better place all around. Motivated, working hard, writing, being alive instead of doped up and trying to watch enough TV to justify being awake.
I know it sounded like one shitty ass summer, but I discovered a lot of good things through the badness.
Sometimes, that’s enough.
Sometimes, that’s all you get, but sometimes, that’s all you need.
Nelson W Pyles 2015 ©