I love it when my friends think I’ve so got it together and that I am such a success. If they only knew how big of a screw up I’ve been in my life.
In fact, I often tell others that I should really be the National Screw Up Poster Child, since I’ve made just about every mistake in the book and tons of bad decisions, yet somehow, I’m still I’m chugging right along.
I always liked what Jimmy Buffett once said about mistakes. I am paraphrasing a bit here, since I can’t find the original statement. Basically, he said the reason we make mistakes is not to learn from them, but so we can recognize them when they come back around and we make them again.
I’ve gotten very good at recognizing mistakes. At least I recognize them when I make them again… and again.
I’m not saying that I don’t have a good life. It could have been better, I suppose, if I had made some better decisions along the way. For example, I turned down a golden opportunity once to run an event business someone else wanted to buy for me, but I turned it down because I didn’t know how to run a business.
I still really don’t, even though I’ve run CommuniCreations for the last 18 years now. It’s never been a booming success, but it’s kept food in my tummy, a roof over my head and allowed me to sit at home and make stuff up. There was a time when it almost got big, in fact, I almost sold it to another PR firm shortly before I came to Florida. But they wanted me as part of the deal and one day into working at their office, I knew I couldn’t go back to Cubicle World.
Of course, in relationships, we know how I’ve done there. Three at bats, three strikeouts. I’ve run the bases a couple other times and even scored. And one I made the starting lineup I would run off and join another team, thinking they had a better deal. They didn’t.
I’ve had my hand in someone else’s cookie jar on more than one occasion. But I think we all know about that. If you don’t, write me an email at me@robzerrvations.com and I will tell you all about it. Not proud of it by any stretch. It’s just life.
I have lost two houses along the way. As I said a couple days ago, it doesn’t matter whether a bank took it or the ex-whatever, you still end up moving your crap out unexpectedly one day, knowing that all the money you sunk into it has disappeared along with the “till death do you part.”
Thanks to an ex-whatever and CommuniCreations, I’ve endured two bankruptcies. The first ex had a penchant for spending lots of money, even though I was making $5 an hour working in a mailroom. She drove us down the toilet. In year three of CommuniCreations, we moved to Port Orchard and sales when down the toilet instead. We only made $26,000 gross that year. Yes, gross.
When I moved to Florida I didn’t just walk away from my entire life, but from CommuniCreations, the company I had built and nurtured. I didn’t know if I would ever see it again. But here it is, still with me.
I have been homeless twice. I never really thought about it at the time, but when you’re sleeping on the floor of your office or in the upstairs bedroom at your girlfriend’s father’s house, you’re homeless for all practical purposes. One was self-inflicted, the other an accident (the Pacer incident).
I’ve never seen my children grow up day to day, instead going with the installment plan, sending off monthly checks and either playing Weekend Dad or Summer Dad. I’d really like to beat myself up more about that but both of my children either have or are turning out great.
Over the years I have lost a lot of stuff. Some of it was pretty cool stuff, too. But it didn’t fit into a Pinto or a Windstar when I was asked to leave… NOW! I should have stayed the last time (not Diablo, but Parker’s mom). But I was taking medication for anxiety back then that made me not really think about consequences. I do now. I should have then.
I long ago gave up the idea of a retirement plan. Running a business kind of eliminates that dream. Just when you think you’ve got a little nest egg socked away the IRS knocks on your door or your computer fries. Always something.
I guess it doesn’t mean too much to me anyway because there were times in my past that I could have just gigoloed for the rest of my life with a wealthy woman. But as I’ve said, I can be corralled, but never branded. I would have eventually hit the road again, even when the perks of the relationship were very good.
And when things inevitably went south, it was never like I could just go home to my family. They don’t speak to me. Well, none of my brothers. We haven’t spoken in 30 some years now, all because I got a divorce from the first ex-whatever. Whatever is right. My mom and I didn’t speak for six years because of it. She’s missing in action right now. Had a medical issue and because none of us speak, she hasn’t answered her phone for 10 days. I assume she’s in rehab for her surgery but just to be sure, I check the obituaries in Renton. That’s probably the only way I will ever find out she’s passed on.
Of course, I didn’t really get into my brother dying at 24, my dad being deathly sick growing up and dying when he was 56, living on welfare as a child, missing out on my one true love, almost dying from mono, never living in a house long enough to call it home… OK, done, sucking up bandwidth here.
Don’t think I’m sitting here having a pity party as I write this. I’m sure some people would. Me, I’ve got a huge grin on my face because even with all the things that have happened over the years, I’m still get up in the morning, I still think “today could be the day” and I know that I can make it through damned near anything.
I wouldn’t have traded all the mistakes for the world. They are gifts to a guy who writes for a living — fodder for my readers, food for my soul.
Out on the Treasure Coast wondering what’s for breakfast,
– Robb