I took the weekend off from writing. Truth is, I’m really not motivated to write today either. I’m forcing myself. This is a rough week with the three-year anniversary of my sons brutal beating (by Austin Vantrease and Jonathan May) sitting squarely in the middle. Oh, how I hate November 7th.
I would rather hide from the world for a while. Just stick a pillow over my head, squeezing off the sounds and light, and sob. That would be easy to do. It’s so damn tempting.
I won’t, because it’s not my style.
I can’t, because I have no choose.
It’s best to square-up to it… face it head-on. Then plow through it. That’s what strong people do and I want to one of them. No matter the challenge, I want to rise above it. No, not just that, but make it better. Improve the situation, so to speak.
I realized early on in life that, like Ryan, I was an effective leader. It was noticeable in the organizations I ran, the teams that I coached, and the family I nurtured. All successful. Even now I hope most see it in my campaign to keep Ryan relevant. I pour my heart into it. It defines me. What I didn’t realize was my family’s (potential) strength. I sure do now, to my dismay. As for me, I have proven this to myself many times in the past three years. I’m being boastful here (as I often am), but it shocks me that I’m stronger than I ever imagined. But, that’s not to say the strong don’t cry… we just try not to do it in front of others. That’s not because we don’t want to appear weak, it’s because we have the feelings of others to consider. It’s nothing more than a façade to make others comfortable around us.
Also, I wish I never knew this about myself. How much happier I would be in blissful ignorance. I’d trade these — strength and ignorance — in an instant.
Strength is one thing, endurance is another. There is a trade-off.
For Ryan’s sake, I worry how long I can keep this pace. For now I’m doing well enough, but clearly this is slowly killing me. It’s getting me from both sides. The pure, unrelenting stress must be having a hell of a fun time with my physiological systems. In other words, converting it into physically destructive properties. Then there’s the toll it’s taking on my body. It’s not just the bruises and scratches either. It’s the strained muscles, chronic achenes, and joint issues.
I hurt on every level.
There’s no end in sight so, like I do, I live in the moment with this aspect of my life too. I glance up every so often to make sure I’m heading in the right direction and see what the next obstacle is in front of us, but then it’s back to the task at hand. No need to look back, that’s just the wreckage and it’s too much to bear seeing it.
During this week, when readership will be up, I’d like to use this horrible anniversary in a positive way. Let’s see if I can increase donations to Ryan’s Special Needs Trust Fund. Ideally with more people signing-up for the monthly recurring option, but a one-time contribution is always appreciated. For those who already do this, maybe even see if they might make an extra donation, apart from their recurring one. No sense faking anything here (Real and Raw!), I’m blatantly exploiting the anniversary of the beating to improve the situation. Ryan’s situation, to be exact. I you can help, the contribution form (in yellow border) is in the right sidebar of this page.