Well, too late for that, right?
Everyone loves their kids. Nothing so special in itself.
But Jeny actually saved my life…let me see if I can trace the outline of how without going on for two hours.
Back in the early 1980’s I was busy working in the electronics industry where, over a period of ten years or so, I burnt myself out completely. In 1985 I had to face the reality that I could never go back to work in the industry that was all I had ever prepared and studied for.
Hand in hand with my burn out was my dad’s death, always tragic and in this case, unexpected and harrowing. I got the “joy” of having him taken off life support…and sat next to him in his room for four days while he died.
These things combined to shove me over the edge and I had a very real emotional, mental break-down.
No, I never sought help for it, my depression taking me deep into myself and my apartment for months, curtains drawn, never leaving, barely speaking, enjoying the days by trying to figure out the best way to kill myself.
Eventually, a need for making a living and some natural healing, I guess, shoved me up out of my ebony self to the point where I was functional most of the time…and I continued ahead.
I still had bouts of depression that had me contemplating suicide on a regular basis.
Fast forward thru lots of other sick and depressing shit to find me living here in Stockton in 1989, driving a big truck for a living (hauling fuel)when my wife (whom I still loved back then) announced she was pregnant.
What? What do you mean, “pregnant?”
Can a woman your age even get pregnant?
I guess so…
Jeny gave me a reason to live, something I had been sorely lacking for years. I grabbed onto her like a drowning man grabs a chick with big tits…what?...and held on tight.
From the second I understood that my baby was growing I read to her, kissed her goodnight and good morning, “touched” her…lived for her.
I still do…I guess that’s obvious from the way I speak about her here on 43…she’s my world. Not in some sick way that weighs her down, I would never put that on her. (In fact, she doesn’t have any idea of the things I have just told you…and, no, she never comes to the site…)
I will admit that I indulge her way too much, and this sort of thing stunts the skills of responsibility she should be developing better…but I am at a loss to know how to stop. I’m trying…and getting slightly better.
Jeny is my pride, my joy, my heart, and, yeah, my life. She’s a wonderful little kid…and though she isn’t perfect, there is scarely a thing I would change about her.
And…without ever knowing it she literally saved her daddy from a self-imposed and probably disgusting death.
Thanks, baby.
