The Dark Side of the Road

Warning: this article is going to be a bit darker than normal. If you want full time happiness, please google "mommy blogs". You will probably be much happier with the results.

I love the road; I genuinely do. But by the time I roll in my driveway next Friday, I will be ten days away from my family. With the exception of last summer's trip to Australia, I have never spent that much time at a stretch away from my kids, and I had one along with even on the Australia trip.

Never. In nineteen years. And yet, until I can afford to load my family up and take them on the road, this is the new reality.

But I'm not supposed to talk about that.

When I left the house my wife had to assure the kids that I was coming home. They see so much uncertainty around  them that when I'm gone, they live with the fear that I'm never coming home.

But I'm not supposed to talk about that.

Every night I pass on the road, I have thousands of people pass me by. Statistically, most are Christians, or claim to be. Even if just a small amount, just a fragment really are, not one of them stops just to talk, just to lend the companionship on a friendly voice. I find myself having to duck into stores and libraries to escape the blazing heat of the day that makes you feel half baked and disoriented by the time I turn in for the night. And yet everytime I address the reality, I'm criticized, condemned, and told what a rotten stinking negative person I am.

But you want fluffy bunnies.

It's this simple: if you can't be my friend in the rough times, I don't need you in the good times. I don't need money, don't need pity, just a pat on the back from time to time and a recognition of how hard I am working just to tread water.

When I commented that I couldn't make money in the community, a lot of folks laid into me. Some of those folks even claim to have tried to be my friend (although their definition appears to be "Facebook friend").

I'm actually not an overwhelmingly negative person. I try very hard to put a positive spin on things. But sometimes, when the hail is pounding on your van roof, and the winds are tearing away at your last shred of resolve, you have to give. Even Jesus did, and I can't expect to be any better than him.

So if you are my "Facebook friend", and you expect me to poop rainbows, do us both a favor, go to Facebook and unfriend me. I frankly don't need you.

For those of you still here, understand that the romance of what I am doing is there. But that romance of the road does not for a second detract from the fact that I am missing another day in the painfully short time I have with my children. And that's time I'll never get back.

I love you, even the asshats. But I don't love the fact that when I need a shoulder, I get turned away and called (yes, literally in at least one instance) a "crybaby".