Wildwood Daze – Dirty John – Part 2

Living at the shore always brings you to the beach. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is. If you live in a city you go meet up in a park or a bar. If you live at the shore when the shit hits the fan, you head to the beach.

I go home covered in puke and my mom is cool with the rock and roll lifestyle.

“Is Jim okay?” My mom was totally fine with my best friend/lead guitarist blowing chunks all over me.

I’m in a working rock and roll band, and we have had a an incident with our youngest underage member.

“I think he’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get your clothes into the washer.”

I loved that my mom was always on board to dispose of the evidence.

But I just loved that mom was ready TO make it all go away.

 

I hadn’t heard from Jim and prayed he was still alive

It was a real growing step in this new band and I was fearful about what could happen to us going forward.

I knew in that moment I would need to form a new band with Jim and we would have to go to LA but he liked music that wasn’t so so furious so I would miss my friend.

As much as I loved Jim and the band, I knew I needed to go to LA an create something new.

But I’ll hang here because I love you.

 

A day passed and I spend the day worried about my friend.

There were was no email or text social media back then. You either get a call or somebody shows up at your door.

I get a call on my land line from Jim.

It was 7pm.

24 hours after my best friend had lost his shit.

 

“What happened last night?”

“Lets meet up and I’ll tell you the full story.”

We meet up and Jim seems fine. He’s just young, and confused. Nothing like this has ever happened to him, and that has to be jarring.

Your first blackout can be frightening. I’ve been there many times and it never gets any easier. I never let it happen anymore. I totally manage my shit now.

 

I meet up with Jim and we go to the beach.

Living at the shore always brings you to the beach. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is. If you live in a city you go meet up in a park or a bar. If you live at the shore when the shit hits the fan, you head to the beach. There’s just something about the power of the sea and it’s timeless intimidating beauty.

It was night and off-season, and Jim and I were no strangers to wandering through this resort/retirement island community in the off season.

There was a beauty to Wildwood that no one knew that belonged to us. The natives.

As fucked as we were as teenagers in a resort community that didn’t own hotels and boardwalk stuff. We found our way.

Instead of falling into the usual drugs and teen pregnant rich kid boredom we had our band. We were going to break out of what everybody else was in this town. Usually rich kids from prosperous seasonal business owners. We were just regular dudes. Jim and I were tight.

I will be grateful my entire for life for meeting Jim. He is a wonderful man and father and husband. I just really dig him and wish I could see him more. Because we actually share something unseen that is really special and belongs to only us.

I miss him.

Wildwood in the off-season is quiet and dark.

If you live in a place that is away from city lights, you’ll understand what the sky looks like when you look upon it in a rural or remote area.

City light drown out the sky, and I live in Philly and I’ve seen all the skies I need to see, but let me describe what a night sky looks like when you’re away from city lights.

I was on the beach in Wildwood with my father one night. We were fishing.

He said, “Look at the sky, son.”

I of course did as he said.

“What do you see?”

“I see more stars than I’ve ever seen.”

“You can’t see that in Philly.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Then my dad said this…

“It’s like a thousand diamonds scattered on a velvet pillow.”

I loved him so much in that moment.

The beautiful, charming, elegant being he had become through all of his pain and suffering to raise me an my sisters into who we are today.

 

These thoughts fill my mind as I meet my best friend I’m glad isn’t dead like Bon Scott on the beach that evening.

There were umbrella stands on each block of the beach. They were these wooden boxes on legs that were used to store umbrella rentals during the summer, but were empty during the off-season.

Jim and I meet up and head to the beach.

I’m so happy to see him and I’m so happy he survived. I was so scared after the Dirty John incident and I know Jim hates when I tell the story, I was genuinely grateful he was okay. I love Jim and it was the first time I thought we’d have a rock and roll tragedy on my watch. I couldn’t lose him and I was scared the whole time.

We walked together along the shoreline.

People come to the shore and do their thing every summer and enjoy the beach. But what people forget is the mystery of how all life rose from the sea.

As my only friend and I walk along the shoreline, every step we take lights up around our feet.

There are iridescent animals that react to contact and illuminate when struck.

So imagine this people… Every step you take on a night beach, there are lights around your feet with every step you take.

Yea, the beach is so much more magical than you know.

We saw and experienced all of that.

I loved that we were in a band together. Rocking out and living our little dreams, but still be moved by the magic of life itself.

That’s why I always loved Jim. He was and will always be one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. A bright and beautiful artist who I had the honor to jam with and most of all have in my life as a friend. I miss him and think of him often.

 

We find an abandoned umbrella stand/hut and climb inside it.

The beach is completely desolate and there is no one around. There are no umbrellas so the boxes are open. Jim and I climb inside of the box and chill.

“What the fuck happened last night?”

I describe in great detail to my new lead guitarist what happened and he is appalled.

I tell him how I turned his head to the side so he wouldn’t end up like Hendrix or Bon Scott.

I think we’ve both learned from this experience. I love Jim so much that he can vomit on me anytime and we can still go forward and rock out!

He is and will always be one of my best friends in this world.

 

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My Father – 1929 to 2016 – When The Ocean Met The Sky – Part 4

“Your body may be gone, I’m gonna carry you in.
In my head, in my heart, in my soul.
And maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both live again.
Well I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Don’t think so.
Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you get.
You get away from me.”

I’m a father.

 

I have Lorelei.

 

She is the absolute light of my life. She lives with me. I never lie to her. She’s been with me since she turned 18 because she could no longer survive in the hostile environment of living with her mother. I only lasted 7 years with that woman. But my daughter was a prisoner with her for nearly two decades until she finally escaped at the age of majority.

Dad….

Why would you create more drama around your death? Was your going not enough?

Was your LIFE not enough???

Were we not enough?

 

You and your fucking ring. You give me your fake college ring, your mistress’s high school ring and your dog tags.

I was looking through some of the effects that you left me. I didn’t understand the 1964 Northeast High School ring that was among the stuff you left me.

But upon closer inspection I realized last week while editing this mess, that you never attended Northeast High school.

1964?

I’m looking at that ring in my hand right now. It doesn’t fit on my finger. That’s a girl’s ring.

And then I saw the inscription.

EBR

Why did you leave this to me?

That’s Eileen Barbara Ried’s High School ring.

Who became Eileen Lentz.

The love of your life.

Yea, I know man. I know how all of that works. I get all of it.

That woman that makes you feel better than anyone you know in the world.

I’ve been there.

We never get to keep them, Dad.

They belong to other people.

We only get to stop in and love them for a brief period of time. Because guys like us are unable to do that.

Yea we’re alike in some ways.

 

I’ve accepted that about myself.

 

I met Eileen. Lovely lady. I get it. You and mom were a decision based on tradition. Eileen was your secretary that became the love of your life. Again, I get it. I’ve lived the very same thing dad.

You made me.

I remember you drilling me in the basement over my studies and multiplication tables and telling me I would never amount to anything. How I should never be a victim, but in that moment that’s exactly what you were manufacturing.

I was your victim.

I’m a child.

There’s nothing I can do.

You have absolute power. I can’t even fight back or contact the authorities.

I remember you said you would actually take my woman from me, because I would be such a loser, she would rather be with him than me.

I was 12.

Readers. I have been writing Phicklephilly for two and a half years. Writing has opened my mind and past to so many roads that have been long forgotten.

Think about what my father said to me.

I’m so awesome, I’ll steal your girlfriend because you’re a piece of shit if you don’t become what I want.

I can’t make this up. I know it’s the holidays and I wrote this after his death and I couldn’t bring myself to publish before, but I am going to say everything here.

It will be true and I need to do this.

 

Be a man of your word. Your word is your bond.

 

Dad… Listen to yourself. I’m an artist, a musician, and a writer. I have anxiety and depression. I made it into art and music and a successful sales career.

You broke me as a kid. I’ve been spending my life crawling up from that and being the low self esteemed over archiever, million dollar producer in everything I do.

Fuck you.

You never had an original thought in your head in your life.

I know for a fact you are just a collection of shit you read or things you heard from other people.

You’re data is good, but dude. For fuck’s sake, you could never relinquish your OCD power.

Let’s face it.

The Temple ring?

Really?

I get it.

You dropped out of high school and felt ashamed. You joined the Army. Awesome. But everybody in your whole life thought you graduated from Temple with a four-year degree. You went there to get your GED (That’s getting your high school degree) and you hooked up with my Mom.

Tim gets the 3 diamonds because he worshiped you. That’s what you wanted from your father but never got.

And you never got it from me, because you couldn’t possibly fail as a father to your son, but you did.

You gave me a lot of good, but the negative ran so close to the parallel of the positive it has always been hard to tell.

Think of how shallow you are. You’re so disappointed in your son that you pass your diamonds on to your grandson. Dude, for fuck’s sake. it’s so obvious. Your son is a loser. but you love your grandson who basically worships you and plays greatest hits with you so you’ll leave your dumb jewelry legacy with because you failed as a father to the son you never understood. The sin you were ashamed of. The son you beat like how you broke your wife with your words and deeds.

“After I gave you a licking I would go downstairs and watch TV and eat Breyers ice cream. It tasted like mud.”

Really dad? I’m in physical pain, terrified and crying in my bed reading comic books and you are struggling with your dessert?

 

FUCK YOU.

 

You left me your dog tags and your dog’s, dog tags. I don’t give a shit about any of that.

Why the fuck would I want any of that?

Oh, and that button with the picture of Barbara Sweetman. Why Dad? Yea, I know she was your last affair on mom in the 80’s.

Why do you have to leave this dead bird on my step?

I don’t give a shit.

You’ve proudly told me all about your affairs and frankly, I don’t even know why you ever married.

Probably for the reasons I did.

 

You simply thought its was the right thing to do at the time.

 

Republican thinking…. as you once said to me.

 

 

Don’t worry dad, I’m sure future blogs will be so much sweeter, but this one just came forth it being the holidays and all. (I wrote this piece in 2017 when I was still reflecting on your loss. I don’t feel this way now. I forgive everybody)

I continue to grow, and wonder why you never did anything after age 62 when you retired. You would have been awesome in a deli or a toy train store or a wine store.

Why did you just stop?

 

I want to keep the train rolling until I die.

 

I don’t want to end up parked in a station. (And I certainly won’t leave a dramtic note to my daughter)

 

I’m going to run this train until it goes of the fucking tracks.

 

I’m sure Mom enjoys the quiet away from you.

 

I know this may sound a little angry, but as you all know, nobody lives rent free in my head anymore.

I’m not angry at you. This post is a year old. I’ve forgiven everyone a long time ago. My mind and heart are clear. This piece just burst forth out of nowhere a year ago.

 

I just didn’t have the guts to release it.

 

This is also not a dig on my nephew.

 

He’s a fine boy and I love that kid.

 

And dad… at the end of this, I’ll say this. For where you came from, you are an amazing man.

I get it at my age. You did the best you could with what you knew and the tools you had.

I get it.

All is forgiven. The joy you brought to this family is greater than all of your sins.

 

Life is fleeting and fragile. Enjoy yourself.

 

 

My Father – 1929 to 2016 – Diamonds and Rust – Part 3

Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. You get away from me.

Sister Janice was born in January 1961, I appeared 18 months later in August 1962.

I have no idea about the circumstances of my conception. But apparently it was too soon for my mom and she was pissed at my dad for knocking her up again so fast. He said she didn’t speak to him for the entire pregnancy. Can you imagine this kind of juvenile bullshit? First of all he should have laid off mom and I have no idea why he needed to hit that again so soon. Apparently my mom wasn’t that into sex at all. He once told me that she said, “we’re like a couple of dogs going at it.”

Brutal.

Clearly this is not the glorious celebration I’ve experienced during my union with another vessel that is clearly in love with me and we are going to make a Lorelei. Sadly that was a calculated well-timed act scheduled by her mother but it’s too late now. Lor is here and she is a wonderful part of my life.

But then my parents had four kids… I don’t have any information why or how that happened. But what kid really wants that data about their parents anyway. Right?

But once I was born, my mom spoke to him again and loved me. It was a very hot in the summer of August of 1962. It was so humid she would take me to the basement to give me my bottle. I was born when they lived in North Philly on Hope Street but they got the house in Lawndale when I was one, and that’s where I grew up.

I was always careful and timid. Janice would kick me in the crib because I was the new youngling. She started biting her nails because I was the new baby. The new star.

But all shooting stars fall.

Janice was bold and would crawl right off the couch and I would watch and hang back. My father would laugh that his one child would venture forth and fall and the other would hang back and survive.

We need people like Janice. The ones that are stable and go forward to bring the species forward.

But we also need people like me to stay behind, to draw the pictures of her adventures, and look after the women, the young, and to entertain the tribe.

 

Let’s get back to the theme here.

Janice’s son looks a lot like my dad. Janice is very much cut from my dad. We have history to prove this. She marries well, and creates a wonderful son. My nephew Tim is a great kid. Their whole family is great.

Tim always adored my father. He loved Pop. My father was able to roll in with the treats and the toy trains and do “Greatest Hits” with Tommy.  He didn’t have to raise Tim.

Janice and her husband did.

He’s the Paragon.

Tim adored Pop.

My dad adored his father and got nothing.

“Here’s $10….  get them a set of trains. ” (Didn’t give a shit about his sons)

Tim adores my father. That’s the ONE Thing my father has always wanted. A little boy who is well-behaved. A sweet kid. No drama. Goes to college. Gets a great job. Is lifeguard of the year. Looks like him. Understands him. Knows how to navigate him in a safe respectful, gentle way. Diplomatic. Can live with him during the summer and be the perfect companion. Justifies his existence.

I commend Tim for being sentient enough to understand my father.

The complete opposite of me. This boy was raised by my sister. Not by Horace. That’s a whole different relationship. This is “Greatest Hits” and Tim makes great records!

Tim became the son my father always wished for. He was this perfect respectful boy who gave him what he always wished for from his father.

His circle was complete. It made my father so happy.

Of course the kid that looks like you is from the daughter who is most like you and he’s perfect. Because he isn’t the shit you ground into powder in the studio that never made the album.

Tim is your Greatest Hits album.

You don’t have to raise him. He stops in and gets the BEST of you. He loves you. He worships you like you worshiped your dad. He loves the toy trains. He’s a good, compliant boy. He’s not Helen’s family. That’s the son you wanted. You didn’t have to raise him and download your pain and bullshit into him. You never threatened or hit Tim with your hands.

It was easy.

So good. Not lies or weird. Not the component of you that harbors your dark side that’s you and knows your dark side and struggles with it. He doesn’t know that I know the truth about you, dad. He’s a sweet boy that looks like a better version of you and doesn’t share your demons.

But I know you, and I know ALL of your demons and we’re all on the same side now.

He’s clean. It’s easy. Give him the ring Bilbo Baggins. You’re a man who taught us that we should always live by our word and that our word was our bond, but you were lying the whole time. To me and to yourself, man.

Come on….

How did you live with all of the infidelity and the illegitimate kids?

 

You reckless fuck.

 

You did it because you could. Maybe that’s why I love a good paradox in all of my stories. Because that’s you dad.

(I’ll get to my half-brother and sister in a future posts…. yea, I know… horrors…. phicklephilly phollowers!)

It’s so easy. Tim doesn’t have to be raised by you and all of your rage and OCD and anxiety never touch him.

You’re countless fights with mom and how many times I failed you don’t exist. Clean slate. Awesome, Pop.

Tim is the perfect son you always wanted because it’s easy and you can forget all of the sins you seared into my mother and I.

It’s okay, we forgive you, but the memories remain.

 

You’re the son he always wanted Tim. Automatic and easy. You get Pop Pop’s triple diamond ring and I…. his blood son gets passed over. (I don’t give a fuck about his stupid jewelry, Tim. My identity comes from a place my father has never seen.)

The 3 diamond ring goes to the you…

(My grandfather left a ring to my Dad that had 3 diamonds in it. He wore it every day. (Is that to show some sort of affluence?)

Jewelry is nothing but shiny stones and metal.

All that glitters isn’t gold, dad.

I would have pawned it anyway, because stuff means nothing to me anymore. Life is to be lived and experienced and we are meant to always evolve.

I’ll tell you what brings me joy.

Knowing my daughter Lorelei is healthy and happy in her life. I’m fine, but once you have a child… that’s until you die. I never screamed at her or frightened her. I never hit her. Hitting children is wrong.

You scared me and hit me a lot. That doesn’t make for good people. It’s wrong. I’m smaller than you and I’m not allowed to defend myself. So you can hit me and do whatever you want to me and I am powerless. So no matter what you preach to me about life, and honor and being a man of my word…

You still get to abuse me verbally and physically.

Simple as that, asshole.

Tim gets the 3 diamond ring because he’s the son you wanted but you never earned.

Janice made him. Not you.

 

Your subtle message of inheritance and bloodline bounces from me like piss in the ocean, father.

 

Just like your weird cryptic messages left in a toy train station about how it’s your last stop and all of that. You knew it would be found by Janice. How fucked up is that? So you want to cause pain and sadness and drama beyond your expiration? I’m going to hit the accelerator here and say, drama queen. Because that’s not cool. In movies that’s cool. You and I loved film, dad. But you don’t pull that drama shit on your favorite daughter. What the fuck were you thinking?

Dad….She loved you more than anybody in the world.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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My Father – 1929 to 2016 – Diamonds and Rust – Part 2

Still proud to have known you for the short time that I did.
Proud to have been a step up on your way.
Proud to be a part of your illustrious career…
and I know you did it all,
in spite of me.
In spite of me.

I have my father’s words. His laughter. His lessons. His charm for sure. He taught me so much. But that’s what my father was. He realized he had nothing. No natural ability that his brother Jack had and he made a decision. He was going to read. He was going to learn all that he could about the world.

He once told me. “Son, I just got to a point where I realized I didn’t know much. I don’t know much about anything. So I started to read.”

He also said that the best things in his life were my mom, us kids and his books.

I really believe that, because I was once sitting on the floor playing the lead from “I Want You’ from the Beatles, Abbey Road on my guitar and he walked in and said, “That’s really good, son. I can only listen to music… you can make music.”

Greatest compliment ever.

That’s the same thing as him saying to my mother, “I love you Helen Barr with all of my heart because I can never truly love you, or be you, and I would love nothing more that to be like you.”

My dad was a simple guy that grew up in the depression and struggled with himself and life itself. He was bullied as a kid as was I but I never understood why he would knock  me around with his words and his hands.

Maybe life’s burdens were an incredible weight that he couldn’t bear, and that it relieved him to hit me to make the pain and frustrations stop in himself.

I can’t imagine anyone ever doing that to a child but our parents are from a different era than where we are now as a parents.

I’m okay with that. I love my Dad, and he didn’t know any better. I accept him and forgive him for all of his failures as he has forgiven my failures which are many.

I know I have disappointed him, in so many ways. But I appreciate his forgiveness. But sadly as he lies cold in a grave in Cold Springs. NJ, the very thing he wanted me to become he snuffed out with his on actions a long time ago.

I’ve spent the last 40 years of my life crawling from the wreckage of his behavior to finally stand in the sun and not feel like a worthless loser. I remember feeling at 12 years old him reflecting his on fear and failure upon me.

I never understood why he did this until I really got to know who he was.

Why would a kid that suffered so much as a kid and was bullied and had to be the stand up guy in the family and the unloved do this to his son?

He couldn’t help it. I really think that when he screamed at me, and beat me he was simply beating himself.

I get it.

You hate your life, You’re not living the life you want and you’re now married to a lovely woman who kind of isn’t the hot babies your accustomed to and she is actually a puritan lady. You made the republican decision to capture some kind of credibility and get some sort of family thing going on because yours is shit. Her brothers are cool awesome dudes.

I get it. I did something similar when I got married.

You did so much better than I did in that area, you brought Janice, April, and Gabrielle into the world. Well done, Sir.

But I think, once you did it you saw that maybe that’s not what you wanted…

Back to the beatings….

I have never raised my voice or my hand to my daughter Lorelei because It’s wrong and unnecessary. But instead of repeating the sins of the father I have learned from my upbringing all of the great things they taught us. There are many! But I have discarded the violent wasteful acts of the previous generation.

Thanks mom and dad. It didn’t hurt so much, and I know you did the best you could from your medieval beginnings but you made better people!

We’re all okay and miss you both very much. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of you both.

I feel the words flow through my fingers as I write this. I just had to sit down and get it out.

 

“For a long time I thought you’d be coming back to me… Those kind of thoughts can be so cruel…”

 

I’ll finish this tomorrow…

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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My Father – 1929 to 2016 – Diamonds and Rust – Part 1

Well I’ll be damned
Here comes your ghost again.
But that’s not unusual.
It’s just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I’d known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall.

Note: I wrote this a year ago when I was still feeling salty about a lot of things. I’m fine. I’ve forgiven everyone and life is better than it’s ever been here in Philly. There may be moments in this tome that seem angry or bitter. I am not either of these things. I’m just telling a story about a man who struggled with himself and my relationship with him.

I have done dozens of edits on this peice and even thought about cancelling the series the night before it was published. But I have to go with my gut and just tell the story.

One day I’ll be gone too. But this will blog will live on the internet forever.

And I know no forever.

Everything in you life is finite.

The only thing that feels like forever is the Universe.

“The universe is everything that ever was, is, or ever will be with no limit to time and space.”

The rest of everything and what we are is simply dust in the wind.

 

The holidays are rapidly approaching Dad and you’ve been gone for a couple of years. I was looking at some family photos recently, and I saw one in particular. It was your wedding photo with mom. A couple starting their life together full of promise and hope.

I was listening to the rock opera, Tommy by the Who. A brilliant rock opera you turned me on to in the basement of our original home in Northeast Philly.  I listen to all kinds of different music all of the time, but something happened during this combination of words and music.

I looked hard at the photo and the first thing that struck me was what a beautiful bride my mother was. The next thing was how much my sister Janice’s son looks like you. Thankfully he has more hair and a sweeter disposition, but the eyes and smile are there.

Janice has always been more like you than the rest of us. I love her very much and she’s definitely not you but most like you of any of the kids in this family. I’m definitely A Barr from mom’s side of the family. (Barr is my Mom’s maiden name.) Her brothers were charming, musical guys that kept their hair, youth and liked to drink and hang out with the ladies. My daughter Lorelei agrees that we are both Barrs.

April, our middle sister is probably a combo of my grandmother on mom’s side and your Aunt Margaret. Fiery, with a take no prisoners personality. The most beautiful of all of the children. Baby sister Gabrielle is firmly ensconced in Mom’s family as well. I hear my mother in her words and mannerisms. Gab is the closest relic we have left of our mother.

Dad, you and I had a challenging relationship. But it mirrored yours with mom in a way. We were both sort of at your mercy most of the time. Mom and I were family and you were the king that ruled over us. A fickle king that didn’t really know who he wanted to be. But always stepped up and did what he had to provide for us, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

You’re mother although a sweet woman married safe. Grandpop worked hard and knew how to make money and provide for his family. But he didn’t like being a father. He had no idea. You told me you looked upon like him like he was Superman. But he was just a man who worked hard, and liked to hang with is buddies at the bar. You wanted more, but got nothing in return. He’d tussle your hair and call you Pete. What the fuck is that? Your name is Horace.

(English and French form of HORATIUS, and the name by which the Roman poet Quintus Horatius Flaccus is commonly known those languages. In the modern era it has been used as a given name since the Renaissance, in honour of the poet.)

That’s a very old name, and it was his name and he made you Horace jr. because you were their first-born. Like my sister Janice, you unfortunately are the children that have to go through life with a sickle, where the rest of the siblings follow giggling and laughing. But you both have always carried a burden.

You were first, adored your father but struggled. Your younger brother Jackie was smarter, cuter and could do no wrong. I loved your brother very much. He has always felt like the dad I should have had. I would have flourished better in that family. Just leave me alone and let me do my art and music.

But you always had the cross to bear. I’m sorry that happened to you, Dad. That’s no life for a kid.

I love you, Dad.

I will love you until the black wings of death scatter my days and we will both be equal.

Your parents split up and got divorced when people didn’t do that. You were in Wildwood with your mother and little brother Jack, and my Grandmother sent you on a mission.

You were fourteen years old.

Your mother sent you to Philadelphia on the train to tell your dad that you all wouldn’t be returning to Philadelphia at the end of the summer. A cowardice act but understandable at the time.

On a side note. The building she sent you to where your dad worked was at 5th and Chestnut. The Hotel Monaco stands there now and they couldn’t alter the building in any way because of its historical value. I have partied my ass of at the rooftop bar now called Stratus in the Dusk and Vapor rooms!

When I was at my lowest at age 14 I remember your mother saying, “He’s going to be great. Someday, he’ll make you so proud. ” Grammie knew. Grammie saw the inner fragility and strength in me. I loved her. Everyone had turned their backs on me in 1976 but Grammie was the only one that vocally held out hope for me. At the time I didn’t even know what was going to happen to me.

I remember years later my own mother said “I didn’t love you back then.” (Puberty)

Think of how devastating those words were to a child.

I forgive you mother. I was a fuck up and brought nothing to the table. I understand why you said that, and it’s okay.

Dad you took the train to Philly and went to the building at 5th and chestnut. That’s were your dad worked for an insurance company. He was great at his job, because he knew that all clients were equal regardless of their race. I remember when you told me that, and even though grandpop was a shit dad he did teach you some great core values.

He said to you to never say anything bad about black people, because they had the same needs and wants that we wanted and should be treated with respect. He may have liked to party at the bar with his crew, but I like this guy despite his shortcomings as a father. He taught you some important lessons, so that’s something.

My grandfather’s values still stand proud with me today through you.

Not you. Him. Shitty Dad, but honorable Grandfather values.

Dad… You’re just a collection of things you’ve been told. It’s okay. I understand.

Jack is the one with the original thoughts.

You still did good.

You go there, nervous and scared. You’re a kid. You go up to is office.

“Hey Pete.”

“Hey dad. Listen, we’re going to stay at the shore. Me and mom and Jack aren’t coming back to Philly.”

I can’t imagine the fear you must have been feeling in that cold, lonely moment.

“Ha! You’ll be back!”

And that was it.

My frightened father had to tell the man he worshiped and had failed him that he and his wife were separated.

How fucked up is that?

What does that do to a boy’s mind?

His brother Jackie is the cute one. He’s the star. Jack is as smart as a whip. My uncle Jack was the first graduating class of Margaret Mace in Wildwood NJ and he was Valedictorian. He never cracked a book. Jack was brilliant, funny and charming and built for business.

Very successful, married twice, plenty of kids, not around much, busy with work, but an amazing guy. All of his kids for the most part are wonderful and I’m happy to have them in my life to this day.

I can’t wait to see my cousins at my sister Janice’s annual holiday party this year. I love looking into the eyes of my cousin and seeing Jack’s eyes.

His light still flickering in his first daughter’s eyes.

 

The winter was rough for my grandmom, dad and Jack. I’ve heard tales of them waking up in their beds and condensation coming from their mouths it was so cold.  These are old seashore houses with no heat. My father forced to go to shitty resort town schools. (Wildwood High School) Funny how this would repeat itself with me many years later. (Sins of the father)

Why would you put me through this dad?

When he was a kid, my dad would go to get his toothbrush in the morning and it would be frozen in the cup in the bathroom.

All they had for heat was a little wood burning stove in the corner of the common space.

One day a neighbor called on my grandmom and said that someone had been dismantling and stealing his fence at night. His wooden fence was literally disappearing.

It was later learned that my uncle Jack would go out at night and take pieces of the neighbor’s fence and burn it in their stove to stay warm.

I love my Uncle Jack.

My father dropped out of high school and fell in with the wrong crowd. At one point they got their hands on a gun and were going to mug some guy to get money. He was rudderless in his teen yearsand losing his shit.

I felt this same darkness living in Wildwood in the winter of 1980, so I get it. No crime, but what a nightmare to live in a thriving resort town in the winter. There is NOTHING to do. It’s a ghost town.

It was awful. I felt cursed to be dropped there.

I lost all of my Philly friends, my band and everybody I knew. It was all about my dad escaping Philly and making sure that Janice went to Franklin and Marshall. After that his wife and kids would have to start over in a fucking ghost town.

 

My father ran away from home at age 17 and joined the army in 1946.

He said that it’s what made him into a man and brought order to his life. So basically it saved his life.

He had a great time in the army and learned much. Traveled the south and met many wonderful people. He fell in love with a beautiful girl named Naomi, but she eventually threw him over for another man.

Just young love doing what it does…

He comes back to Philly and goes to Temple University to get his GED. He meets a cute secretary who works there and starts dating her, and the rest is history. She became my mother.

 

Were they a good match? I’m going to go ahead and say no. But they made it work with what they had and knew and isn’t that what every fool does? I certainly have!

My mother always said, “Marriage is a dice roll. You just have to hope it comes up that you win most of the time.”

For the most part, I have a really normal family. That stability and core values, love and discipline worked and made some good people.

All of my sisters have turned out well.

What does that tell you?

It tells you that DAD was a good dad. If the girls turn out well he was a good dad. They are all wonderful women and I’m proud to be related to them.

It all worked out.

 

I’ll continue this tomorrow…

 

 

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Check out 5 reasons why it’s important to put your spouse before your parents

Keeping your spouse at the top of your list, above your parents, is vital to the success of your marriage. That does not mean you don’t love and honor your parents. It just means your spouse comes first.

Devotion to your spouse is vital to the success of any marriage. In the Bible the apostle Paul was teaching the people about marriage and the duties of husbands and wives when he said, “For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh… . Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband (Ephesians 5:31-33).”

In order for marriage to flourish both husband and wife need to leave their parents and start a new home together. From that moment they need to be number one in each other’s life. That doesn’t mean they don’t love and care about their parents. It simply means that the top priority has now changed from parents to spouse.

Here are a few reasons why this is so important

1. It shows honor and respect for your spouse

When your husband or wife knows he or she comes before your parents, it creates a deeper marital bond. If a wife continually runs to her parents for counsel instead of first talking with her husband, it can create a feeling of distrust. The same with a husband. When you talk together as a couple about your problems and seek answers in a united way, it strengthens your marriage. Parents can be consulted, but it’s best done with both of you present, not going behind each other’s back. That doesn’t mean there won’t be times when one-on-one time with a parent is needed. It just means that running to a parent is not your first or usual response.

2. It shows your spouse and your parents that your marriage is solid

If one or the other keeps running home to Mom or Dad, complaining about his or her spouse, it can be damaging to your marriage. A mother of a young married daughter told about how her daughter was continually telling them bad things about her husband – nothing big, just annoying things like he doesn’t pick up his clothes, he watches too much TV, or a myriad of other nit-picky traits. When this happens the parents can’t help but feel like you married a loser, even though there are wonderful things about him that you love. If they have a skewed view of your mate due to your continual barrage of negatives, they may not give you proper counsel, even may encourage you to leave him. Unless there’s abuse, that would be disastrous. When you put your spouse first, your parents and your spouse will recognize how important your marriage is to you.

3. It creates a stronger intimacy with your spouse

When your focus is on your mate then each other’s needs can be met. There is a bond of devotion where deep sharing of thoughts and experiences kindle a love that can be experienced no other way. This kind of intimacy opens the door to a more romantic relationship. If you don’t feel like you’re number one, genuine intimacy is hard to achieve. Allowing your parents to have that number one spot can put a damper on your relationship. A woman told us about how her mother-in-law called her son every night at bedtime. She said, “Just when we finally have some alone time after the kids are in bed the phone rings, and it’s her. The other night we were snuggling on the couch enjoying each other when it rang. We knew who it was. My husband always feels obligated to take the call. It’s taking a toll on the intimate side of our marriage.” This couple solved the problem by the husband telling his mother this was not a good time to call. They then set a time that worked better for all concerned. Most parents want their kids to have a happy marriage and will respond to such requests. Taking this action helped his wife realize how important she was to him. Setting boundaries with parents in a kind and loving way is important. Keeping close to parents matters, and it can be done without jeopardizing your marriage.

4. When things get tough you can count on each other

When you’ve kept each other at the top of the list, there will be no question about loyalty to and from your spouse. A couple told of a time the husband lost his business. He said, “My wife was by my side the whole time, cheering me on, right up to the bitter end when the business collapsed. I knew that even if my parents or others criticized me for taking this risk, she would stick up for me.” No one chooses to fail, but if it happens it is comforting to know your spouse is right there to buoy you up. That goes for other kinds of challenges, as well. When you have kept each other as a priority, you’ll be there for each other through the hard times. Your spouse is your greatest support system. Parental love and support is nice to have, but in the end it is your spouse who is by your side daily.

5. When your parents reach the end of their lives, having your spouse by your side will be very comforting.

Keeping the relationship strong with your mate can make all heartaches a little more bearable, particularly this one. If you have been respectful and loving to your parents, all the while keeping your mate as your priority, your memories will be sweeter and your marriage will be stronger.

A caution

In all of this, don’t push your parents away. Include them in ways that work for you and your spouse. A loving relationship with parents can be very helpful in keeping your family strong. You and your spouse can build that relationship while keeping each other as your main priority.

Thanks. I hope this was helpful. I’d like to hear your thoughts on this piece.

 

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Wildwood Daze – The Union Jacks – Dirty John – Part 1

“Okay, He’s freaking out like a retard. Put him in his bed and we’ll go.”

I had been to the restaurant where Brian our drummer worked part-time as a busboy. I don’t remember, but I had been there to meet up with him once for some reason. I do remember Brian telling me the bartender there liked my “friend with the big eyes.” (Me.) I don’t remember that person and quickly dismiss it in my mind.

One night Brain wants to bring us to the restaurant where he works for drinks. We get there and the band sits at the bar. Brian introduces us to the bartender, Frank. Or, as Brian calls him, Frank the Fag. Now I get it. Frank fancies me. It’s a compliment, but I’m straight.

We all order bottles of beer. Frank is being Frank but he’s nice as could be. We’re all just chilling at the bar and it’s nice to all go out and have a drink as a band. It’s like we’re somebody now. People recognize us when we’re out and I like it.

We’re sitting there for about an hour chatting about music, when Frank presents me with not one, but two large tumblers filled with a frothy pink liquid.

“What’s this?”

“It’s called a Dirty John.”

“Thank you, but I never drink hard liquor. I just don’t do it. I’m a beer guy only.”

“I’ll drink it!”

Jim is the youngest and newest member of the band. I think he wants to show that he’s a bad ass that can hang with the older guys.

“That’s really not necessary Jim.”

“No. I want to.”

Jim proceeds to chug the drinks.

We settle up and walk outside. Brian and Mark say they’ll bring the car around. I’m smoking a cig waiting with Jim. Brian doesn’t allow smoking in his car so we wait.

“I gotta take a piss.”

“You could have gone in the bar, Jim. Actually, I gotta go too. Beer goes right through me. There’s some tall hedges behind the restaurant. Let’s go back there.”

We walk back and are standing next to each other as if we’re just a couple of students pissing in the urinals in the Boys bathroom at Wildwood High. I suddenly hear this rustling noise and a thump. I glance to my right and Jim has vanished. I zip up my fly and go to the spot where he was.

There’s Jim, face down in the next yard. While pissing he literally just collapsed forward between the hedges. What the fuck was in that drink? Whatever it was, it hit him like a sledgehammer.

Brian and Mark pull up in his yellow ’77 Ford Mustang II.

“What the fuck’s up with Wolfie?” (Brian sometimes referred to Jim as ‘ Wolfie’ because the way he brushed his hair back, it resembled Lon Chaney’s monster.)

“Guys get over here!”

Brian and Mark scramble from the car and run over. We get Jim to his feet and he is just gone. Slurring and stumbling and we get him to the car. It takes all three of us.

“He went from buzzed to black out in a matter of seconds!”

Brian’s driving. Mark’s riding shotgun, and of course I’m in the back with drunk boy. He’s really out of it. Conscious, but super fucked up. More drunk than I’ve ever seen anyone ever in my life.

Brian’s driving him back to his house. “He better not fuckin’ puke in my car! I swear to god!”

We get to Jim’s house and I’m about to get him out and he pukes all over me. He doesn’t even know I’m there. Now I’m wearing the Dirty John meant for me.

Thankfully his parents weren’t home when we dragged our new guitarist back into his house.

We carry him through the door, in front of at least a half dozen siblings. They all look on in utter horror. I assure them their brother isn’t dead. He’s just sick and we’re taking care of him.

The kids know me from school. I’m the kid that comes and waits for Jim each morning and lets my glasses steam up while watching the Today show waiting for my friend so we can walk to school together.

 

It’s a mess. The little kids are clueless. We are simply a group of guys bringing their older brother home because he’s sick. Everything’s fine. Just like in any household in the 70’s. It didn’t happen.

We bang Jim up the stairs to his bedroom. When I say, bang I mean he was dead weight and me, Brian and Mark did the best to get him to his room.

This is all new ground for all of us. We’re new musicians, but we don’t know anything about but extreme behavior even if it’s accidental.

My best friend is so sick. I am wearing his puke. We try to run his head under the shower to revive him. He cries out like a molested child so we withdrawal.

“Okay, He’s freaking out like a retard. Put him in his bed and we’ll go.”

Brian was always so pragmatic.

“Turn him over on his stomach.” (I say) Put his face at the edge of the bed.”

“Why?”

“Umm… Bon Scott….” (See: Tales of Rock – Bon Scott) 

“He’ll be fine.”

” Dude. Hendrix died choking on his own puke.”

“He’ll be fine.”

We leave our lead guitarist in his bed and all go home. It’s bee a fucked up night.

My best friend got poisoned by a drink meant for me. What was Frank’s plan? Get me drunk beyond recognition and take advantage of me? That’s kind of evil.

But the worst part of it is… Was Brian in on it?

 

 

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What You’re Taught vs. What You Want

I have worked in financial services for 20 years and advertising for 10. I’ve been very successful due to my skill in sales. But I’m done with the rat race and corporate America. It’s all a big lie.

We all do it to buy houses and get wives and kids and the American dream and it’s all a fat lie. But everybody’s buying it and they can’t invest fast enough or stay in it as long as they can as debtors because that’s what they’ve been sold and taught, and it’s all a lie.

You’re father told you to never to be a liar but that’s what you’re all living.

Imagine how you’re spending your life. In your apartment, Watching football with your bro’s or reading your comic books or whatever, and a lovely lady would come over maybe once a week and fuck you and love you. You are her one and only, and then when you’re done with dinner and sex and whatever else, she goes away until you summon her again for the same loving experience?

Perfect right?

You can’t. That’s for young men. You must marry, and get a house. mortgage and have kids. That’s what you’ve been sold so hard that you have lost yourself. You don’t know what you want anymore because your afraid your dream will fade. Your stupid legacy. Your shitty bloodline will end because of some shit your parents told you.

Lies.

All men want a lovely girl to make love to and have a cool life with,  but think about it…it’s bullshit.

The marriage is a fortune. We hate that we have to spend two months salary on a ring. What huge diamond conglomerate set that number? Everything in this country is about making money.

It’s sad.

Hey, spend a thousand dollars on a dress that you’re only going to wear once! It’s a giant party that costs a fortune. All the planning and everything. It’s awful. I’ve done it and will never do it again. She twirls around in a white dress for one night in front of her family and friends, and the guy is not allowed to ever have sex with anyone else again.

I think it would be better if you just get married at the court-house, if you absolutely feel that you need to be legally bound to another person. It would be nice if everybody would just send money and that would be it.

Most people just settle anyway. They’ve run out of options or are simply tired of looking. Most women start panicking around 27 years of age and start getting serious about finding some shlub to help them pay down their revolving debt they cranked up in their 20’s buying handbags, booze, shoes, and vacations.  They get a roof over their head and then start cranking out babies.

That’s it. Replicated a million times all over the world.

Thousands of dollars for the mortgage, the cars, and the kids!

Kids are an absolute fortune. Let’s have children so we will both have to work very hard for a very long time. What’s the point? There’s too many people in the world already. Then you have to get a bigger house in the suburbs where they have better schools.

They will push and struggle to make a bunch of money for a lifestyle that is absolute bullshit. It’s boring! What guy would want to work that hard and that long? Deal with a wife and kids everyday? It’s really not something I think most men realize they are getting into.

It’s almost never the guy’s idea to get married. The first set up is usually the best. You have your place, she has hers, sometimes you’re together and sometimes you’re alone. Perfect set up. That’s the set up I currently enjoy.

But what happens? Biological clock starts ticking.

“What are we doing? Where is this going?”

When you start to hear that shit, either run, or just surrender fellas.

Game over.

But it’s not all women’s fault. Some guys are just too insecure to be alone. They want that one chick that they can have sex with because they’re either not good at hunting, or have simply lost the will, or don’t have the fatal charm to go out and date.

I bet if you did a survey, and you could get the men to be honest, most would agree they would like to sit on the porch or go to a game, drink beer with their bro’s and get the occasional sex that’s consistent, and then just be left alone.

How cool would it be if Cinderella turned into a pizza and a six pack at midnight after she fucked your brains out for two hours and got off the property?

It’s sad. I hate seeing a bunch of broken down losers working their fucking asses off and getting pulled into jobs that mean nothing so they can support their lifestyles they built and they never really wanted any of that.

It’s all a lie.

We all want a simple uncluttered life, and we all end up miserable debtors.

Most people don’t have the courage to be alone.

To be in a room by yourself and take a deep breath and say:

Maybe marriage isn’t for me.

Somebody has to say this stuff, so it might as well be me.

Have a great week!

 

 

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Ambria – Chapter 15 – Atlantic City – Part 3

I did. I hope she enjoyed it. It sounded like she did but I don’t hear so well when my ears are locked between a pair of caramel thighs.

Sunday night was amazing. We got down here and her place is great. I did to her what I told her I was going to do. I like to give. She knows what that is and she says she likes to give as well. But we were there in her lovely efficiency at the Ritz Carlton in Atlantic City after our long days of work and the journey here. I want to please her. The cocktails are flowing and the dating is done. She has seen to that. It’s time for the you and me. We’re both tired but our desire is there and I really want to give her a reward before we retire at her lovely place.

I did. I hope she enjoyed it. It sounded like she did but I don’t hear so well when my ears are locked between a pair of caramel thighs.

I do my best and we fall into a satisfied sleep.

I awake the next morning and we’re both tired but want to head out onto the boardwalk in Atlantic City to people watch but get some food and drink.

I drank vodka from 5 to 8 last night before she picked me up. It took the edge off what was happening. The cheating, the new girl, the new place, AC, and the holiday. All nightmares to phicklephilly.

But I will soldier forth and have sex with two different women and love them both equally and make it work. I’m insane. Stop reading this blog now.

 

Lovely Ambria is so affable. So chill. This is a dating blog but it’s been two years and we made love three times that morning before we left the house.

Ambria has told me on our other dates that her fallopian tubes don’t line up so she can never have kids. That’s heartbreaking for everyone except me. I’ve paid $125k in child support to and absolute monster so if the planes are clear to fly with no babies, I’m ready to roll. I will send whatever boys I have left into the valley of joy as many times I can as long they are safe every time.

Ambria can’t get pregnant so I can have the best super sex with her that every man on Earth wants everyday. It’s 4th of July weekend, I’m at a sweet condo with a gorgeous lady that has pretty much brought me here to close, so yes. Let it roll. And roll we do.

We get down to some serious intimate love and we create some new positions.

You all know, when you have amazing sex in the morning your day can never suck after that.  It’s impossible.

Think of it. Oh my God, I got fired today… I did have mad sex this morning with Jennifer Lopez. Ah… I’ll find another job.

Everybody on all of the dating sites on Earth just wants to make mad love to someone who loves them.

That’s it.

I know there’s a whole bunch of responsibility in a relationship. I’m a parent I get it. Shut the fuck up. You all want that electric sex to light up again.

That shit is gone in your life. It ‘s okay. The brightest stars burn out early. Supernovas are so bright and then are gone. Jimi, Janis, Jim, Kurt.

I once talked to a friend of mine why everybody was so fixated on food all of the time, and he said it’s because we can’t have sex all of the time.

That dude may have been right, but he makes a good point. You’re trying to fill that hole in your life with everything else that isn’t real love and sex.

That’s what everybody wants. Don’t lie to yourself.

If you could have that sweet man or woman in your life that you could just be easy with and be yourself with you would love that.  They accept you. You can just hang out and it’s easy. No trouble. A balance.

Beyond the mortgage, the car payments, the utilities and an all of the kid, shit you really dug each other… that would be a solid relationship.

That’s what everybody wants.

Simple.

So here we are. We wake up in the same bed. The space is lovely. It’s here. But I could live in a space like this forever. I see this efficiency as a model for the rest of my life and I’m dead serious. If Lorelei moves out, I’m going to get a place that looks exactly like this.

Thank you Ambria, for clarifying my future housing to me.

Maybe Ambria and I are meant to travel together.

We both decide that we need to clean up and go walk the boardwalk and get some food and drinks.

She allows me to shower first and we are good sex/travel partners. I love to go first.  (The water is hot, and I’m in and out)

What’s great about this room is that is very old hotel room. The shower head has that dial on it that goes from shower stream, to pulsating jets, to sharp skin drilling streams.

I love this feature but feel the pain as the jets hit me in places that laser jets of water shouldn’t hit my genitals like a hose at an early sixties racial uprising.

We’re both happy we have finally consummated our little dating relationship. I mean I hope we have, but I adore Ambria, and this shit is destiny.

Ambria is the architect of this holiday weekend and she’s gotten what she came for. It happened three times this morning and now here we are. We’ve had a lovely. romantic courtship and now we’ve gone to her shore house to have loads of hot sex.

Phicklphilly is a dating blog, but that’s what happened.

Two of my sisters read this blog and I’m sorry Janice and Gabrielle, but I need the followers so I’ll deal with this at Janice’s annual holiday party.

How about we never talk about it ever again and if I show up with an attractive woman at Christmas and just pretend you know nothing. Because you won’t know which one it is and you’ll blow my cover.

 

Lovely Ambria and I wander out onto the Atlantic City Boardwalk. It’s a warm sunny day. A people watching feast.

Time to go find some hot food and some cold beer.

 

 

 

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5 Signs A Broken Relationship Is Still Worth Saving

5 Signs A Broken Relationship Is Still Worth Saving

How could you know if your broken relationship with your partner is worth saving? Is there a sure sign of things being beyond repair? We will look at some of the symptoms of broken relationships that can be revived, and some advice on how to save your relationship.

You and your partner have had your ups and downs, but lately it seems like you’re in a deep one. Not every crisis has to mean the end of a partnership though. All of the time that you’ve put into this pairing is an investment that you want to see a return on. Don’t walk out yet if your broken relationship is still worth saving.

1. YOU STILL TRUST YOUR PARTNER

There cannot be intimacy without trust and there cannot be a good trusting connection without open communication. Open communication is not about nagging or criticism; it is about expressing your feelings so you can both get what you need, and hopefully, what you want from the relationship. If sex has declined, it’s not the end of your relationship. You can still have intimacy without intercourse through touching, and that might build enough trust to lead to being able to have more sex.

2. YOU’VE SURVIVED CHALLENGES WITH RESPECT FOR EACH OTHER

Coming through the fire has made you stronger, not weaker, and your love for each other can still be enough to save the relationship. Read below about the power of touch and positive communication to heal your relationship. You’ve been through some hardships, but you’ve made it through the rough parts by each others’ side.

How your partner handles stress is a great determination of their character and it reveals a lot about them to you. If you survived a challenge and can look at your partner with respect for their courage, composure, and ability to find humor, you are a lucky person because your broken relationship is still worth saving.

3. YOU STILL BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF LOVE TO HEAL

Love is one of the most powerful forces on the planet, and we don’t use it as much as we should. Give hugs, kisses, gentle shoulder rubs, and caresses to your partner as often as you think about wanting to do it. Physical contact helps stimulate the release of oxytocin and that makes couples bond more strongly.

Oxytocin is called ‘The Cuddle Hormone’ for a reason. It helps mother and child bonding, as well as romantic couple bonding. Oxytocin may also help with healing, literal wounds in the body, and with emotional ones also, so hug it out. Researchers looked at couples and their levels of oxytocin while they talked. They found that positive communication patterns where couples could be upbeat with each other had the highest blood levels of oxytocin. The study also found that higher oxytocin levels had the power to heal. You can literally heal your broken heart with oxytocin.

4. YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THAT YOU ALSO PLAYED A ROLE IN WHATEVER BROKE THE RELATIONSHIP

Maybe you did nothing wrong, but you didn’t believe yourself worthy of love, so you couldn’t truly receive the love that your partner was giving you. Relationshiprules.com has a great way of putting this; ‘open yourself to embrace the fact that the other person is truly and actually madly in love with you and is ready to cross any physical or emotional barrier for you. This moment of clarity is the reality of every strong relationship.’

How can you fix whatever is broken if you won’t acknowledge that it needs to be fixed? There are two people in every relationship and both contribute to the health and security of the partnership. Neither one of you is blameless but neither one of you is completely to blame either. If you say nothing else, say these four sentences to your partner often; ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Please forgive me.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘I love you.’

5. IMAGINE YOURSELF SEPARATED

Are you happy or sad thinking about breaking up with your partner? If you are happy, you will be smiling as you think about it. If you’re not smiling, it’s a sign that your broken relationship is still worth saving. A breakup can lead to a major depressive disorder or depression, which is a terrible consequence for your mental and physical health.

Researchers looked at when depression was most likely to develop for teenagers. They found that ‘The severing of a romantic relationship in the past year may set the stage, or at least one stage, for developing MDD (major depressive disorder).’ Depression can kill and it is nothing to brush off. Extreme sadness is common for people going through romantic relationship difficulties. If you feel depressed, seek help sooner rather than later.

 

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