Day 206 – the flight of the knuckleball

I must first clarify that I suffered no molestation as a child. I lost my viginity at 14 to a senior girl in high school of my own free will.
This is my story. Watching R.A. Dickey’s story is watching someone else tell my story. The parallels are uncanny. Though I never played baseball…the handicap of missing a ligament derailing his big payday sounds eerily like my inability to read music being found out right before stepping on my first big tour bus. Hearing his wife talk about how many times theyve been so close to success and the rug was pulled out at the last minute… hear him talk about his struggle to keep a public face and falling apart privately……watching the lies unravel and his life fall apart once again. Wow. Hearing how his depression, unwillingness to face his demons and lies caused him to cheat on his wife and almost lose her…and although I never cheated I know what losing the love of ur life feels like. Hearing about how he almost attempted suicide….I actually did attempt it and by the grace of God my friend of 15 years was there in time. How therapy caused him to hit rock bottom and begin to live in truth and integrity…I wouldn’t have made this much progress without Jim. And how his life so eerily emmulates the up and down inconsistent flight path of the knuckleball that he was forced to master because of the declining speed of his unreliable fastball….its crazy.
Listening to him talk about his life…sounded like him just talking about mine from a script. Hating the man he had become at rock bottom he turned to God. I too had no other recourse but to turn to Dad….the similarities are astounding.
No, my mother wasnt an alcoholic but he doesnt talk about her drinking….he talks about growing up alone….without a mother because she was passed out or incompasitated. I KNOW that hurt…I grew up seeing my mothers back as she was leaving or seeing her door close as she walked through it at night. Came to school when I got in trouble….never when I was celebrated or achieved something. He talks about the pain of being told and convinced that he was damaged goods because of the abuse and then being told because he was missing a ligment in his arm. God knows I struggled all my life with that. I have heard from three years old until this very day…my mother continuously repeat the same mantra, “your daddy was no good and youre going to be just like him.” She made sure as a child I knew that I was never going to be anything of value and a horrible man simply because my dads blood ran in my veins. Never good enough. I played a mean piano at 16…but couldnt read music….not good enough. Too damaged. And when I finally pour out my heart and face my lies; confess it all to the ppl that depise me most….her parents….admitting things ive not even shared with my own children. …once again, im told….youre full of it and too damaged for our daughter. … yeah…..R. A. , I KNOW what that feels like, bro. He hurt the woman he loved more than anything by cheating on her….I hurt the woman I loved more than anything by lying to her…..he got caught…I confessed. His moment of purging was when he confided in his therapist about the abuse… moment was on my knees in the living room of my ex’s parents on my knees in tears in front of our counselor, our counselors husband, my ex and her parents.
He has endured a lot of criticism and took a risk by talking transparently about his past….I continue to face the same critics and the same risks….
But as he so aptly put it… ” i pitch a ball that has to thrown as act of faith…just like i live….through the ups and downs….I have to live in integrity and in the present…..hoping that ill end up exactly where im supposed to be…..just like a well thrown knuckleball”…..


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