Authenticity

Rigorous honesty.

That’s what I’ve chosen.  I didn’t choose it on my own.  I chose it through a series of events that led me to the bottom.  And then another series of events that started building me back up.  One step at a time.

I find it very difficult to lie.  And believe me, I was the king of liars.  It just doesn’t work.  To be untrue means I’m being untrue to myself.  It means that I’m lying in my core.  At the end of the day, when no one is looking, when no one is around, I want to have character.  To be a man of character.

Speaking of Character, I’ve said in the past that I would love to end up one day a mix of Mark Twain and Rhett Butler.  Because as I was driving to work this morning I realized that I am a lot country, a little civilized and pretty damn smart.  And that’s a great mix (in my honest opinion).  And in that combination I want to be known for being someone who speaks truth.  Witty, maybe even a little bit daring, but I always true.

I can be blunt as hell, compassionate, can be hard to get to know and can be very loud!  Explosively loud.  But in recent months I’ve found that I find solace and strength in quiet.  I enjoy having those times where I am just by myself, with my thoughts, with God.  Alone.

As I’m trying to be authentic here, I have to state that I’m dealing with someone in my life who is anything but.  At least from my perspective.  Someone who's actions show they are purposely trying to keep me from the person who actually matters most to me.  I hope Cade and Cambrey understand, but that little boy means so much right now.  He’s at an age where he needs to see his dad.  Where he needs to be known.  And I am continuing to advocate for more.  For time, for communication, for a real relationship.

I married someone several years ago that looked so positive and put together on the outside.  But it wasn’t true.  It wasn’t authentic.  It was a façade; a picture painted to make things look perfect.  From my recollection there’s only been one person who ever lived that was perfect.  And I really love that hippie (if you don't think Jesus was a hippie, we should talk... like have a down and dirty conversation about a man who balked everything the establishment threw at him - for US!)

So I’m going to cry tonight.  And it’s okay.  I miss my son.  Little man.  I miss my older son.  I even miss the girl…

I choose to go to bed tonight and to wrap myself up in the knowledge that I am taken care of by a creator that is much bigger than me.  That the legal system, my ex, those who don’t care to understand recovery are not what guides me.  What guides me is a hope that comes from a God that I came to truly understand… in the rooms.

~ Peace

The Burtle