The Rising Son http://therisingson.posterous.com an autobiography posterous.com Sat, 20 Oct 2012 22:11:00 -0700 Last Call For Boarding http://therisingson.posterous.com/last-call-for-boarding http://therisingson.posterous.com/last-call-for-boarding

786646831

October 20, 2012

"I want to be an airline pilot", is what I answered when my father asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up.

I remember the conversation too.

I was 7 years old, and my dad and I were taking a walk around the neighborhood.

We didn't do much as a family because he was studying for something the Navy had offered him. But there were times the two of us would get out of the house. Maybe it was for a little exercise, or maybe it was to grab bite to eat. Either way, those moments we had together I still hold close to me.

But despite what ambitious dreams I had as a child, he never filled my head with doubt. Anything was possible.

As life would have it, he wasn't there for me very much longer. My parents divorced, and for some strange reason, I thought it was something I had done.

A seven year old boy, and his head filled with guilt that his father had left.

I remember a book he gave me the following Christmas entitled, "A Father's Love". The print was small enough that I didn't want to read it, and for a young kid, it was too much for me to comprehend. But as the years went by, I held on to it. I still have the book. Somehow, it was a tangible representation of something that I couldn't fully understand intelligently, but could feel inside.

I wouldn't know what I had lost until years later.

When I learned last year his cancer had come back, and that it looked bad, I made several visits to him to rekindle the father-son bond we had lost. Though I was no longer a little boy, I was still very much a hurt child inside. I needed to show him the man I had become, for better or worse. It was important to me that I resolve all the hurt that had built up in me.

I know that my step-mother, step-brother, and step-sister would not understand, but I held on to hope that my father would feel the same little boy he left behind, the same kid who carries his DNA, the same soul he breathed his spirit into.

The fact is that my father had all but abandoned me. He never made an attempt to stay in my life. Instead, I had made attempts to stay in his. His disregard for me is why my step-family never bothered to keep me close.

Over the waters of San Diego Bay, I watch the Boeing 737s take off, soaring into the skies to far away places, filled with hearts and minds with destinations to visit and business to take care of. The very same jetliners who took their maiden flights over the waters of Lake Washington, found their way to my hometown to become an integral part of a world in a constant state of change.

And even if I were to never to pass on the DNA my father and his father and his father passed down to me, its not all lost. It was never about the genes or the name, but of the spirit. It's that breath we breathe into a young mind that leaves a permanent mark.

Maybe I spent the last year visiting my father to resolve some hurt I had been holding, but at the same time he was leaving me something with me to carry on. I only now understand that.

I may have lost him physically, but he's in me now. Yes, I'm fraught with faults, but I am who I am, and I'm going to stay this way. I'm not going to change for anybody. This is the man who's going define himself in a different time and place, with the same spirit that his fore-fathers carried. This is the rising son born from the glory of a short, but very powerful union.

I'm going to take off and fly, and you can either fly with me or wait for another plane. I have a spirit to live for.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2213241/avatar-black.gif http://posterous.com/users/hgWNaDA8uo8KC Steve Johnson therisingson Steve Johnson
Sun, 22 Jul 2012 21:04:00 -0700 Betrayal and Bond http://therisingson.posterous.com/betrayal-and-bond http://therisingson.posterous.com/betrayal-and-bond

-1365027087

July 22, 2012

I hadn't felt this isolated in such a long time.

The words that came from my stepmother pointed me out like a criminal in a line up of suspects. That cold, dead feeling came down like walls shutting off all my senses, forcing me to withdraw into myself.

Since my dad was taken off chemotherapy, it seems he has only a few months to live. And after spending my life feeling hurt from the abandonment, my window of opportunity to heal is quickly closing.

I tell him how much I hurt inside. I tell him exactly how I feel, I tell him the thoughts that run through my head, and I explain everything I did in my past, all for the purpose of getting it off my chest and explaining all the mysteries of my strange, unconventional behavior. I was forthcoming with my heart, holding nothing back, but with no intention to hurt him.

Yet I already understood my words could hurt. I know he's sensitive. But I assured him I wasn't angry, and that my intention was only to connect with him on a deep, emotional level. He seemed to understand, insofar that he was kind and gentle in his response.

Now it seems my step-brother and step-sister are angry with me based on words they've posted on Facebook and based on things my step-mother is saying. It seems they believe my intent was to hurt my father for the hurt I felt as a child.

I know my father told his wife about all the things I said, its his way of analyzing things. But I know him enough to know that he makes his own decisions, despite conflicting words he may say to his wife.

And it was only months ago, when his cancer was diagnosed, the she praised me as her son, and expressed how happy she was to see me reaching out to my dad.  But that happiness wasn't true.  Inside, she resented me.  I was the last vestige of his old life.  I was a little annoyance tugging at his pants, reminding him of his old failures.  That's why she didn't like me.

So now, she and her son and daughter are seemingly against me. My father's dying wish is that we all embrace as one big happy family. But how can I?

It was tough enough just to reach out to my dad and put all of emotions on the table. And it was only possible for me to do that from the precious moments we had when I was a little boy. I never had such moments with my step-mother, step-brother, and step-sister.

I need to feel like I belong somewhere. Even when my father dies, I know he will be with me. I feel like I'm investing myself towards a spiritual bond with him, even if its painful right now.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2213241/avatar-black.gif http://posterous.com/users/hgWNaDA8uo8KC Steve Johnson therisingson Steve Johnson
Fri, 16 Mar 2012 20:54:00 -0700 Not Good Enough http://therisingson.posterous.com/not-good-enough http://therisingson.posterous.com/not-good-enough

Not-good-enough
March 16, 2012

There we stood on a dirt field.

Twenty of us kids staring down a couple of bold, confident kids our same age. We looked into their eyes, waiting for them to make the first move. And they, looked back at each of us, sizing up each one, plotting and scheming which was strongest, which was meanest, and which could outlast us all.

And all the while, I wondered why I was even here. I suppose that was my mistake. I never showed enough confidence as a kid. I always figured most kids were tougher than I. And it showed in my demeanor. But I guess I also wondered if maybe I finally had it in me. Maybe someday, I'd come of age, and make the other kids want me.

"I've got Joe", the first kid said.

"I got Mike", the other answered.

One by one they called our names, and each kid walked over to that respective team. And there I watched as each kid was called, wondering if I'd be next.

And why did I ever think I would be picked first, or in the middle? Why did I ever think that I had come of age, or developed the skills that made me valuable on a team.

Being picked last, or second to last, always made me angry.

I wanted to show those other kids that I was worth something. I wanted to score a lot of points. I wanted to make the big play. But its hard to do when you barely get the chance to hit, kick, pitch, throw, pass, or whatever. Sometimes I couldn't get a chance to play.

Into my professional life, this ghost has haunted me.

I'm not good enough.

I can't be relied upon.

I can't be trusted.

I will become a failure.

I gave management a try, only to discover its a mean world out there. If you want to be the best, you have to stab some backs. And I guess I just don't have the balls for that.

I twist the throttle of my Honda ST and I disappear in seconds.  Lonely two lane roads wind their way past the hills and canyons and lead me into tiny towns where others like me tend to collect. Sad sorry souls who've been forgotten are comforted by those like them, and raise their bottles in toast to me.

Except I don't want to stay. I don't want to be reminded. I just want to keep going.

The crowded bars of downtown San Diego somehow creates anonymity for me. The noise of people talking, the waitresses pacing back and forth, still leaves me a mysterious, unknown figure.  They look at me as if I'm as confident and content as everyone else. And as long as they don't know me, that's who I'll be.

Yet somehow, I come back around and feel compelled to give it another try. I don't want to live in a hole where all the other lonely people live. I want to give that ball a good kick and make the winning play. I still want to show that other kid that he should have picked me.

I still want to amount to something.

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Fri, 27 Jan 2012 13:21:00 -0800 Time to Start Feeding Myself http://therisingson.posterous.com/time-to-start-feeding-myself http://therisingson.posterous.com/time-to-start-feeding-myself

Fork

January 27, 2012

"You have a right to be loved!" Emily said to me.  "You have a right to be happy!"

I knew she was right, and I knew these things all along. It's just so easy to not see it when you're immersed in a bad marriage.

Emily, my therapist has been helping me put a lot of my feelings into a better perspective.

In my 21 years of marriage to Lisa I never saw myself as being held down.  I thought I was in the charge of our relationship.  And maybe I was to a degree.  But I can see now that she had been leveraging my guilt to keep me from growing as a human being.

I doubt that she was doing this purposely, and doubt that she was crafting every move she made.  But subconsciously, she felt other people were competing for my attention, and voiced her displeasure as I spent too much time away from her.

"I'm your wife, you're supposed to spend more time with me!" she sometimes said.

"No fair, you get to go to all these places while I have to stay home!"

"You're the one who decided to get a dog, you should have to be the one to take it to the vet!"

And when I finally did file for divorce from her, people began telling me stories of what she said about me, behind my back.  Things that should have been kept in confidence.  Things that berated me.  She made me sound like a fool.

I can't admit to being a perfect husband, sure I had my moments of anger.  But I kept myself absolutely loyal to her for at least 21 years, and was her caregiver throughout her cancer, kidney failure, gall bladder, heart disease, and a variety of other illnesses she dealt with.  I bought her the dream home she wanted, made her part owner of a successful Internet company.

So my therapist Emily gave me the reassurance I needed to hear that leaving my wife was no reason to feel guilty.

That I had done everything I could with what I had.

And now it's time to start feeding myself.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2213241/avatar-black.gif http://posterous.com/users/hgWNaDA8uo8KC Steve Johnson therisingson Steve Johnson
Sat, 19 Nov 2011 08:16:00 -0800 The Safety of Four Walls http://therisingson.posterous.com/the-safety-of-four-walls http://therisingson.posterous.com/the-safety-of-four-walls

November 19, 2011

When we got Max, we were told by his foster family that we were his third owners.

His first owners neglected him.  He'd go hungry and sick, and rarely get the love and attention that each dog needs to have.  His second owners had beaten him.

But I didn't know about his history when I first saw him at a pet adoption event.  The little guy laid there in his cage, not looking happy, but content.  Other dogs looked more happy, they'd sit up and wag their tails.  Max just laid there quietly, looking out at the world.  Somehow, that attracted me.  He had this peacefulness about him that seemed quite like myself.  

I look back now and realize he had felt safe in that cage.

The next several months were Max's best times with us.  He'd scramble all throughout the house.  His claws would dig into the carpet as he ran as fast he could around the couch and coffee table.  I called him "Rug Ripper" because that's what it sounded like when he was most happiest.

And when he was tired, he'd jump up on my lap and take a nap as I watched television.

We couldn't take Max everywhere we went, often we left him at home.

Finally I told my wife, "Max needs a companion.  I think he gets lonely when we're gone."

So we adopted another dog.  Mia.

The first thing you notice about Mia is that she's social, loves to be with you, sitting on your lap.  But you also notice how free-spirited she is, independent.  She's pretty smart, and definitely an alpha female.  She's always testing me for dominance in the pack.

It didn't take long for me to realize that Mia was my favorite dog.

Max quickly realized his place, which was at the very bottom of the pack.  He no longer scrambled throughout the house.  He no longer jumped up on my lap to take a nap.

I was concerned.  I still wanted Max to be that happy little dog that I knew.

I tried potty training both Max and Mia, but Mia was so darn free-spirited that I lost my patience with her.  And Max, seemingly became more submissive.  I tried to reward him with a treat, but he just wouldn't obey.  I continued to issue a command, use hand gestures, but the more I did so, he'd just lay down and pull his legs under him and stiffen up.

I took them to the dog park, I figured socializing them both was good.  Maybe Max needed the company of other dogs.

When I brought him in, six or seven other dogs came rushing up to him.  Max sat down and tightened up.  He showed his teeth and barked several times.  The other dogs didn't seem to care, and continued sniffing him out.  Max turned around, kept snarling, looking for a dog that would back off.  But none would.

Then Max managed to find a space in between a couple of dogs and he darted out and ran.  The dogs followed him.  Max got cornered up against a fence, and the dogs continued to sniff him out.  He laid down on his belly, tucked his legs underneath him, while the dogs inspected him from head to toe.

Often times, I'd try to train him to sit.  A rather simple command I figured.  But those old wounds would manifest.  When he knew I had a treat in my hand, his thoughts are to get it right away, because he doesn't know how many more days it may take for food to show up again.

"Sit" I'd say.  I hovered my hand over his head, trying to get him to sit down.  He wouldn't.  He kept standing, waiting for me to drop it.  I pushed on his hind legs, and he'd just get back up.  I raised my voice, get angry.  Then, he slowly walked into his dog house to hide.

One time, I dragged him back out of his house.  I resented the notion that he could find safety from his master.  I reached into his house and pulled him out by his legs, and proved to him that his house could provide no comfort.  He only laid down on his belly, on the patio floor, and peed underneath him.

I felt so rotten.

At one time there was a puppy that felt the comfort and love of its mother.  Somewhere along the way it became confused, broken down, and uncertain of how to get along.  Some dogs are lucky, and some are not.  For some, the safety of four walls is all the love it knows.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2213241/avatar-black.gif http://posterous.com/users/hgWNaDA8uo8KC Steve Johnson therisingson Steve Johnson
Thu, 06 Oct 2011 19:53:00 -0700 Starting Divorce Proceedings http://therisingson.posterous.com/74504486 http://therisingson.posterous.com/74504486
Divorce

October 6, 2011

She sat there in the paralegal's office crying the whole time.

I wanted to reach my hand out to console her, but how could I?  I was the one who petitioned for divorce.  I knew she could see 21 years of marriage coming to an end.  Yet, she wasn't fighting me.  She was letting me have my freedom with grace.

I suppose I could feel better about myself if she fought me for every last cent.  But then again, I pretty much gave her every last cent.

I keep asking myself if I'm leaving her for another woman, or if I'm leaving her for my freedom.  True, it was another woman who inspired me to leave, but I've been wanting to leave that marriage for several years, long before I ever met Tina.

Many people have told me that they didn't understand how I could stay in that marriage for all those years.  They didn't think we were a good fit.  Other people have maligned her, making it sound as if she was some kind of poison.  I don't know.

She still seems today the same person she's always been.  I can't really fault her for my leaving.  It got to a point where I just wasn't happy anymore.  I tried to explain my feelings to her, but she and I see things in different perspectives.  It's hard for her to understand the way I see myself and the world.  I didn't want to spend the rest of my life feeling only content at best.  I wanted to feel fulfilled.

In looking back, I married her for the wrong reasons.  It was the closeness of her family that I fell in love with.  The way her parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews all embraced me into their fold.  They made me feel like a part of their family in a way my family never did for me.  Her father embraced me as if I was the son he never had, in a way my birth father or step-father never did.

But as time went on, and family members began dying off or moving away, that family closeness seemed to fall apart.  Now, it was left to just my wife and I.

And the thing is that I never asked her to marry me.  It was as if she and I were expected to marry.  Her family embraced me so much, that it was like a foregone conclusion that we were to marry someday.  And the longer time went on, the more impatient her family became.  Finally, she asked me, "So when are we going to get married?"

I didn't know how to answer that at first.  I had gained such a comfort level with just being boyfriend and girlfriend, and relishing my time with her family, that I didn't want to lose all that.  So, I answered her back with, "How about St. Patrick's Day?"

Fast forward to the last few years.  We discovered we have very little in common.  We don't like the same movies, we don't like the same food, we don't like the same activities.  It's hard to feel passionate for someone who doesn't connect with you on any level.  

We didn't even sleep in the same room.  Not because we couldn't stand each other, but because that was the only way we could any good sleep.  She needed the television on to fall asleep, and I needed it turned off.  I kept waking her up with my constant shifting around in bed, and she kept waking me up with her CPAP mask making fart sounds.

Not to say our relationship was bad, it wasn't.  I had fun going on vacations and weekend trips with her.  But I didn't feel completely fulfilled, and after 21 years of marriage, I was convinced I would never feel fulfilled.

Some people say that I'm leaving her for another woman and that I'll burn in Hell for it.  But I don't believe in Hell, Heaven, or God.  I simply believe that the Universe and everything in it has a way of bringing things together to create harmony.  Just like the way stars orbit a galaxy, and the way planets orbit a sun, and the way moons orbit a planet, people who are meant to be together orbit each other, and those who are not, were meant to leave.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2213241/avatar-black.gif http://posterous.com/users/hgWNaDA8uo8KC Steve Johnson therisingson Steve Johnson
Sat, 01 Oct 2011 05:51:00 -0700 Asking For A Divorce http://therisingson.posterous.com/asking-for-a-divorce http://therisingson.posterous.com/asking-for-a-divorce
Rose

October 1, 2011

Fear and trepidation filled my soul as I drove closer to my house.

It was still my house, though I didn't live there anymore.  Just my wife.  Each time I visit, I feel more like a guest.

But this day I would be asking her for a divorce.  I figured she'd feel as if I had hit her with a ton of bricks.  I felt nervous the closer I got to the house.

As if, I hadn't already hit her seven months ago when I told her I wanted to be on my own.  At that time, she had nearly collasped.  I could see her legs being taken out from under her.  She begged me to stay, she cried, she tugged my arms.  It really killed me to say that to her.

So to make her feel better, I told her that I wouldn't seek a divorce.  I just wanted to be on my own.

But in the seven months since then, I realize that living the rest of life away from her, but still married to her, was only going to create problems for me and her.  Instead of letting that fester for years and years, I chose to drive to her house, and ask for a divorce.

When I said, "I've decided I want a divorce", I expected her to buckle.  But she didn't.  She seemed calm and collected.

"Funny" she said.  "I had actually been looking for an attorney".

By this time, she's become very skeptical of me. She's learned to hate me now.  I think she's still in love with me, but also hates me to the core.

I made a list of concessions.  She gets full title to the house.  She retains her half of the company, and she retains her salary.  I'll help her refinance the house.  Etc., etc.  That's only if she agrees to get a divorce through a paralegal, which I would pay for.

But I also made a second list of concessions, which I would make if she demanded we hire attorneys and drag this out through a court hearing.  I would keep my half of the house, but she keeps the house payments.  I want half the profits from the sale of the house.  Etc., etc.

I showed her both lists, and told her that if she agreed to go through the cheaper, faster, paralegal route, she would get a lot more of the things she wanted.  But if she wanted to fight this out through court, I would fight her as well.

But what she really wanted most of all is financial security.  She wants to know that she retains per position in our company, and keeps her salary and health insurance.  She wanted to retain her half ownership of the company, and still be entitled to half of the profits.

"Of course" I said.  "I'll make sure you're taken care of."

And I really mean that.  All I want is freedom.

And she was gracious to let me have my freedom the easy way out.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2213241/avatar-black.gif http://posterous.com/users/hgWNaDA8uo8KC Steve Johnson therisingson Steve Johnson