Stories - FD Thornton

The pollen from the trees is giving my eyes a fit. The burning and itching wake me up almost as much as my churning gut. At the moment Momma Cat is demanding all my attention. Because she is literally pushing the phone away from my face. Despite all the lessons Mother Nature has taught me, I still find myself doing the night owl thing, while my wife is still in a deep sleep. I may never understand why I carry this burden of restlessness. Thinking back to my working years, I woke up a many a night solving problems that plagued my days. I suppose old habits die hard and trying to change now is simply a moot point. Still, we go about our days complaining about the things we’d love to change. But as time rolls on, the habits that have become second nature, only tighten their grip. We each have our burdens I suppose. So I’ve adapted my life to work accordingly. Some of my “positive energy” friends may view that as a cop out. But I prefer to think of it as compromises with

After a several years of speaking my mind, I feel myself closing back in. Like maybe there’s nothing more left to say. I see friends across social media moving on with their lives. Yet I feel awkwardly stagnant, sorta like that U2 song “stuck in a moment”. So I lay here hungry, but not passionate for anything. Just here, unsatisfied with whatever I see. Mood swings are all a part of my routine. Panic Disorder leaves me yearning for sameness, while my physical condition limits my reach. Expectations I placed on myself have slowly eroded to vague fantasies of some wishful grandeur. But I’ve learned better by staring into the blackness of 4am. I suppose I should end this pity party on a bit of a “high note”. I guess being honest with yourself is a lot better than lying to the world. And that silence is often your hearts way regrouping after a bad day. So I guess I’ll just continue to breathe and type my unfocused non-sense. For anyone that still has the patience to read.

The alarm just went off, time for my 7:00 medicine. It’s a routine I repeat four times a day. 14 pills in the morning, 2 pills at 3:00pm, 5 pills at 7pm, and for a nightcap 2 more pills. 23 pills in all, all created to keep me alive and hopefully keep me sane. I don’t mention any of this to brag or to garner any sympathy. It is what it is, me paying penance for my sins. Listen don’t be so melodramatic with your replies. It’s all just “tongue in cheek” around here. The fact is most of our troubles point straight back at ourselves. Oh I know some things aren’t are fault, but eventually we are the only ones that can correct it. I’m a survivor, I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. So I fight. I listen to my doctors, I listen to my therapist, I listen to myself. And none of these individuals want me to die. So I pop my pills. Oh I complain and I whine about it, but it is a fact of life. I think the thing that weirds me out the most, is watching someone die by a thousa

Being out at the beach on such a grey blustery cold day, reminds me of the winters we would come here. Just the two of us and a rowdy pack of Canadians taking over the hotel. Sitting out in the freezing cold smoking cigarettes and our pipe around the pool. Plotting how we could snuggle cigarettes across the Canadian border and make a killing. All the while watching the snowbirds drive into and out of the frigid pool water. The sun’s finally broke through for a little bit, warming my bones. Lisa’s out on the beach picking up washed seashells from yesterday’s storm. There’s still a wind and rip current advisory out, so most everyone’s power walking or fishing. I can’t do any of that as much as I used to. Between the driving, walking, climbing stairs, and need for a nearby bathroom. I’m limited to just people watching and taking a few pics. But that’s okay, because I’m back home, on an island that I have been coming to since I was a baby. Sitting here looking out at the gr

I’m currently abusing my daughter’s massage chair. Trying to ease my sore back and even sorer mind. I just got off the phone with my favorite government agency. Needless to say, I wished I hadn’t called at all. But with certain organizations you often have to stay on their asses in order to get anything done. I always thought of myself as a pretty fair and efficient boss. At least that’s what my evaluations would say. But the inefficiency of this particular bureaucracy staggers the mind. So I’m sitting here, the door closed, George at my feet, listening to the dull hum of these warm magic fingers. Hopefully easing away the droning voices of our governments finest. As everyone around me knows, I’m sick with allergies. Normally this only happens at the peak of the season. But this has been going on since February. I wrote recently about forgiveness and living in the moment. But what I want to speak of today is reality as compared to our dream ideals. From the bay window

“Bearing scars from battles we’ve won and lost. We carry the pain of abuse we’d rather not discuss. Yet here we are, nothing like the innocence, but still carrying the flame.” Those are words I’ve written to a friend, a lover, and a sister. Someone bearing a load I cannot carry. But over the decades I’ve seen this woman beat the odds. Fight for family, listening to taunts and abuse no one should hear. I’ve watched time and disregard take away the beauty. Yet I still see the fire in those blue/green eyes. Only a handful ever understood she and I, but that’s okay. We moved far beyond those questions so long ago. This is just a word of encouragement. The only thing I’m any good at. Just reminding her, reminding you. That you will make it. Strength isn’t measured by wealth you accumulate, but in the love, we give to one another.

Anything else to Say? Is there really anything else to say? We spend moments, hours, decades dreaming of a better life. Yet despite our best made plans, we’re left right back where we started. I mean, I could lay on a big fat helping of gooey, sweet affirmations. But what good would that do; when you’re all alone facing your worst fears, without ever working on yourself? For a really long time, I schemed and made plans for my eventual success. But a great deal of those goals turned into nothing more than dusty bookshelves of positive affirmations. In my fragile mental state, I grabbed for any magic potion to make me feel better. But end the end, all I could see was failure and disappointment. That is until I learned to simply let go. While laying on a hospital gurney in an ER, my eyes began to open. For a number of years, I had practiced mindful meditation to relieve my Panic Disorder. I listened to the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh, but until then hadn’t grasped what he was

Not feeling particularly “oomph loomph” today, the skies are clouding up in anticipation of the rain. Sitting in my rocker, I watch the pollen fall on my phone screen. As the northern hemisphere awakens from its winter’s slumber. Spring is a few days away, and so too is the driving itch of renewal and rebirth. The kittens rest quietly under an old dresser drawer, while my wife keeps an eye on Momma Cat before she goes into heat yet again. I smell the burning of under bush in anticipation of another dry summer. In my own heart I also feel the need to purge myself of choking under growth. Partially forced, I’m pulling on the reins of my own ccreativit to devote myself to working on my collaborator ion her work. I’ve never been comfortable crowing about my own creation. Instead I’d rather let each piece speak for itself, giving it up to each viewers interpretation. This keeps me in my comfort zone. Relieving me of the pressure to outdo myself. Audiences are often a fickl

My wife and I paid a visit to my hometown of Savannah Georgia yesterday. We spent the day at a friend’s house catching up on the year we had missed. On the ride back home, I couldn’t help but reflect on my life, comparing who I was then and who I am now. In many ways things are much better, but in some ways, still dealing with regrets and pain. Like decisions I had made, the bridges that I had burned, and the moments that I missed. I often tell you guys, not to dwell on the past but to instead live in the moment. But actually, that is only part of the story. In order to move into the present, we often have to face our past. Before leaving Savannah, I burned a lot of bridges. I ended relationships and I cut off true friends, I had grown up with. All of this came from petty feuds and issues that I’ve carried since childhood. It’s easy to see these things now that I follow a more mindful path. But not so long ago I had to learn things the hard way. Near the death of a fa

It’s almost 6pm and I’m finally going outside. Mind you, it’s been a perfectly fine day. But as usual my weekends are spent catching up paperwork, doing chores, and managing a house I can’t manage during the week. I had nearly forgotten how to work outside the home. The wasted time, the playing “phone tag” with people you need to get ahold of, and making sure the two special needs people you are responsible for are safe. But those reflexes have been kicking back in, much like babysitting George a perpetual two-year-old. I’m not complaining, but honestly, I am. I had a sweet set-up going, working from home, making sure everything’s taken care of, and having my freedom. Sweet freedom. Still it’s a pregnant feral cat, that reminded me it’s time to put the phone down, and just be. Like I said this cat took to me like a duck to water. Always jumping in my lap, waiting my attention, and making damn sure she got between me and my phone. And this evening was no different, whi

Love is such an ugly mess sometimes. Rather through happiness or pain, love either heals the sick or ruins the mind. It seems to have no in-between, but in reflection, love often ebbs and flows with various degrees of comfort and stability. In my own life, love was never a comfortable thing. Growing up in a home where signs of outward affection were a bit taboo; you just assumed love was there. Rather through being provided a roof over your head and three-square meals, love had its own solemn form of display. Growing up that way, I practiced what I was taught. Assuming what I did to provide was my sign of affection. But when hard times came and they did. You’re left with the aching inadequacies that you have failed. My adult children often reflect on their childhood that way. Yet each one is thriving in their own way, achieving goals I never obtained. But this is about love, the vulnerability and faith of it. I see myself not torn, but divided by what I need from lo

I’m trying to make this a positive day, even though it’s turning into a shitty day. I know, I should remain positive. I mean hell, it is only 10 o’clock in the morning after all. But so far, I have been let down by one thing after another. For one my guts been giving me a fit for two solid days. A particular government agency I deal with nearly monthly won’t return my calls. And I can’t get a doctor to change an appointment I can’t make. I know, it’s all pretty “minor league” stuff, but I’m all so damn inconvenienced. While I may have a real pet peeve with people that “drop the ball” when they say they’ll get it done. I shouldn’t let it surprise me. I mean we all believe we are entitled to certain rights and privileges when it’s convenient for us. We all get extremely impatient when it comes to our demands and right’s. Hell we look at others that are different then us and consider them undeserving. Somewhere inside of us have this built-in prejudice that people differen

Can you ever gather back lost moments, while you were living out other plans? I left my former life some 27 years ago. Across the river was not only my history, family, and friends, but also a big piece of my personality. I left it all determined to make my mark, to be somebody. But after 10 years of bashing my head against the wall, something cracked. So I ended up achieving nothing, with four hungry mouths to feed. It took me another 10 years to feel like my head was back on straight, then I had my physical collapse. So here I am, a little wiser, a lot older, and a much weaker man than I used to be. Instead of amassing that fortune I’d promised myself, I’m poorer (money wise) now than when I first started. Writing that sentence, kinda makes me laugh. Not in any cynical way, but because of the irony of it. That’s because I discovered money and fame are nice, but they are also fleeting. That real satisfaction can only be achieved through hard work and focus on what’s re

I suppose I could start this story off with how crappy my weekend was and how physically and mentally spent I feel. But what point would that serve other than to find someone to commiserate my misery. Troubles are things we all go through. The difference maker is how you choose to get through them. Not trying to sound too cliché, but all you can do is the best you can to ride them through. Like I said it was an exhausting weekend, that seems to have stretched into my Monday. But what can you do? The choices that were made were either good nor bad. They were just choices. Now that things have settled a bit, I’m sitting here with a little jazz playing over the Google Dot. Waiting for the garage to give me a call on the tire situation. Till then life is moving at its usual pace either anxious or dull. Leaving me here with my own emotion baggage to deal with. I often wonder if it’s the psychiatric medication or the years living with such a heightened sense of anxiety, tha

In the quiet, rain falls outside the bedroom window. On yet, another evening of relentless rain and raising water. I find myself tired but restless under this patchwork of blankets and throws. Waiting on a dawn I will not get to see. Beside me, my bride comforts me with the occasional snort or murmur of words. Assuring me if nothing else, that she rests in peaceful slumber. I for one can’t afford such luxuries, for what amounts to a lifetime, I alone carry the burdens of living. In perfect candor rest seems a distance dream. Sleep that was once my friend, now has left me as well. But I don’t beg, I don’t complain; for burdens are but the extensions of one’s own fear. Fear that we are left to carry through time and beyond.