I’m on the cusp of turning 38. Every
year I always try to think positively about things to come or find some shining
light of things that have happened in the past year. Fact is, 37 was one of the
most horrific years I can think of. All I can think is that in order for a
diamond to be created, there must be pressure. The only way to know sickness is
to feel discomfort. Be thankful for the fever. Thankful for the nausea. It will
tell you everything you need to know about your illness. I guess right now is the
time to look back on all the wrongs I’ve done in order to really examine what I
need to do to grow the latter half of my life. Some people say 40 is the one
that really gets you. I guess 38 is what’s hitting me. I’m all in my feelings
about it. So I guess it’s time to examine myself and everything about me.
I don't talk to ANY of my
siblings. I mean ANY. My FOUR half sisters THREE half brothers... NONE. It's my
personal reasons. Two half sisters and 3 half brothers are my fathers and two
half sisters are my mothers... I just don't care. I cut off like God said He
separates the wheat from the chaff. Do wrong by me and it's a wrap. No
explanation. I cannot go backward only forward. There is no correction.
You can’t go back. No matter how
much you want to. That’s my problem. “I wish I could do it over.” “Man, if I
had only done it differently.” I’m just too angry about so many things I wish I
could change. Deep down I know it’s impractical to think that but it keeps me
going. How crazy is that? I want to let all of it go, but it seems so possible.
Almost like I can wish it into existence. I can remember times when I thought I
had a career. I can remember I felt like I had promise. Now I’m just a rundown,
damn near sour, middle aged man who abandoned his dreams so that he can be a
practical person and slowly melt away. That’s what I’ve turned into. I wanted
to be a cop til I aged out. Scored a 96 on the MSP exam when I was 26. Didn’t
make the academy cause more people scored higher. I used to be a DJ for a good
company over 12 years ago. It was a fun gig. I wanted to go into business for
myself but time just got away from me. Time always gets away from you. It’s
what old people pay to try and get back, what middle aged people wish to have
more of, and what all millennials take for granted. There were so many things I
had the time to do when I was younger but I just thought I had time. How many
of us always think “I can do it later. I have time.?” Well, fact is… hours turn
to weeks, then weeks to months, then next thing you know…. Years have gone by.
So I enlisted back in 1996 and went to basic the summer between junior and
senior year. Senior year I was the junior recruiter for Lunenburg
High. I loved
the Army and I did love what it gave me. I was supposed to ship out for
Aberdeen Proving Grounds in July of 1997. My dad and I got into a verbal fight
and I punched a plate glass window and I mutilated my right hand. In the end I
had 77 internal and external stitches and 6 hours of reconstructive surgery. I
almost had gangrene set in and they were just going to cut it off. The Army
delayed my ship out date for 6 months for physical therapy. I started getting
migraines and went to see my neurologist that I had for a long time. He knew I
had seizures. I hadn’t had one since I was 13. He asked about my ship out date.
I told him. He said ‘Do you really think the Army is a good place for you?’ I
said ‘Absolutely.’ He said ‘I don’t think it is.’ Next thing you know at drill
a week before shipping out, my 1st Lieutenant calls me in his office
and just like that… I’m discharged. Medical. The damn doctor got my unit and
sent a letter. Done.
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| Junior Recruiter at LHS |
I’ve always ALWAYS been absolutely
horrible at relationships. I’m just the type of guy that doesn’t give in to
anything. It’s not my build. When I was a teenager I was sappy. I was that
teenager that always bought roses for my girl. Oh not just the Cumberland Farms
ones. OH NO. I mean long stem, blood red, blooming, $40 a dozen roses. I bought
them so frequently from this guy that grew them on North Main in Leominster we
were on a first name basis. I got burned a lot by girls. I mean brutalized. I
always saw the best in them, but they saw the sucker in me. I was like that
puppy you could kick and would come running back cause it doesn’t know any
better. That was me. One time I remember I was working at Jeans West in the
mall and some chick and her friend came up to me and asked me to borrow 70
bucks and she said she’d come back once her dad came to the mall. She had to go
get something right then. My dumbass gave her the 70 bucks. I never saw it
back. You could just see the gullibility on my face. It was always there. When
I turned 17, I withdrew from the world. With that I decided I no longer wanted
to be the ‘nice guy’. I enlisted in the Army and went to basic. I came back
leaner and stronger. Started messing around with girls (and by girls I do mean
multiple) and had no regrets. I’ve explained before about my eldest son Anthony
and his mother. He was born in August of 1997 and died three days later. I had
a girlfriend at the time he was born and was messing around with another. I
wasn’t even with the mother. Keeping up? The mother knew I was with another
girl. We were going to be cordial but our son was a preemie. I was devastated.
I became reckless and me and the girlfriend broke up after she found out about
the side chick. That’s just one example. There’s too damn many to count. I am
not good at this relationship set at all. My life has too many condemned sites
of lives I’ve ruined. I look back and I see so many women that I’ve hurt now
that I’m older. I wish I could go back and just apologize. Neither of us
deserved that bullshit. Neither of us. We should have just been adults and
left. There really was no love there. It was just a convenience thing. No, some
of them probably did truly love me. Some of them probably just wanted to watch
my world burn. Either way, I still wish I could apologize to each of them. I do
wish a good majority of them happiness. That’s still a part of growing up
right?
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| Me and my biological mother |
I was a super privileged asshole of
a kid. Very privileged ASSHOLE of a kid. My grandparents raised me. They tried
to raise me right. They really did. I took everything (and I mean EVERYTHING)
for granted. They bought me pretty much everything I wanted (as they could
afford anyway) and I just wanted more. I had external issues with my biological
father and my biological mother, but my grandparents tried. They really did.
All I did was give them grief. When I became aware of girls… HOLY SHIT! When I
discovered sex…. HOLY DOUBLE SHIT! I
couldn’t have been any more disrespectful.
Years of yelling, fighting, swearing, disrespecting my grandparents house… all
for women. Well, girls really. My grandfather usually laughed at it all. He
didn’t really care too much. It bothered my grandmother. I should have stopped
it way early. I didn’t though. I definitely should have.
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My grandparents
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I tried to end my life WAY too many
times as a teen. WAY too many. I was an emotional bitch. Over girls, over
feelings, over the dumbest shit possible. I was a loner. I had no friends that
understood that I was hurting and had nothing in my life to fulfill the pain I
was feeling. I actually hung myself once and oddly enough the bedsheet ripped
cause I was too fat. The knot was secure and it just ripped. I was 12. I
remember it like it was yesterday.
Sometimes I’ve just wanted to watch
my world burn. There were times in my life where everything was great. I’ve had
a good and solid relationship. Or a good job. Hell, even just an all-around
good day. Here I come in and have to smash it to hell knowing I’m about to say
or do something to ruin it. Why? Because I want to see it crash rather than
wait for the other shoe to drop… because I know it will eventually. Just for
one fleeting moment of lust or a momentary funny quip for me at another’s
expense… it all ends. Those moments have changed the course of the day… or the
course of my life. Either way, it knocked the course into dangerous waters.
I am a bull in a China shop with
everything in my life. I am an epileptic that has seizures due to stress, I
have sleep apnea, and a mild case of asthma. Yet, I played 13 years of football
off and on, I’ve worked 3 years having a full AND part time job along with
volunteering with Rec League basketball from November to March and being
involved in football from May til October, and when that’s not going on being
very domesticated with cooking, cleaning, etc. My kids complain they only
really see me to coach, friends complain they never see me, my family says they
don’t see me at all except for holidays (which is pretty much true). How do I
cope with it all? I drink. Like I’m in college. Legit. I’m ALWAYS stressed.
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| Coach Duck @ Rec |
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Dan @ work
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| Duck @ Roadhouse |
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Rev on the field
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I’m a selfish prick when it comes to
some things. Yes, it’s true. I am all about giving back but damn can I be
selfish sometimes. Sometimes I just want what I want. I think I deserve it
every once in a while. I work two jobs, volunteer, etc. I should have the right
to be a bit stand offish when I don’t get things I want sometimes. Other times
though, I will act like a two year old if I’m pissed about it. I will stand up
for what I believe I deserve and nothing can change that. Of course, most
people can’t have a conversation about ‘possessions’ or ‘equality’ without
yelling but I like to think I can. I find that I like MY space or MY area
rather than other peoples. It just suits me better. It keeps me honest and away
from trouble. I can honestly say I don’t trust myself when I’m outside of my
element.
Since my dog died I have been in
limbo. Mocha was literally my roll dog. She died on 9/11. Can you imagine
sitting in a car calling people for 3 hours trying to raise 6k on a moment’s
notice to save your best friend because her organs are potentially shutting
down? Me neither… til that day. I ended up putting her down. Hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.
Having no comfort, no real ‘emotional’ rest, no
drink to enjoy my nights, I get up and get to work and go through my days. The guy that always has a smile and a handshake waiting for you with an encouraging word? That’s me. When he goes home… he sits alone and has his thoughts racing full of ways to deal with his roller coaster of a life. Tomorrow he’ll put that mask on and make damn sure he’ll be ready to lift you up if you need it.
I remember when I became a father. It was an ‘accident’. Total accident. Lindsey wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. Me and my ex were broken up and kind of off and on. Hell, I thought I couldn’t get anyone pregnant for that matter. It was after five times she finally got pregnant. Her mother called me at my job to tell me and I swore she was kidding. I didn’t even know Lindsey’s middle name. Lindsey was my best friend at the times’ ex fiancée. They had broken up a little over a year before that. We had just kind of migrated towards each other. He had cheated on her and we just became friends and that was it for a year and then it just happened. I went to pick herup after work and told her I didn’t want to be a father because I potentially could be working things out with my ex. She honestly and purely gave me an out. She really did. She told me I could leave her alone with a kid at 19. Scared and alone she would allow me to leave with no financial responsibility to her or this child. At this point, I could be EXACTLY like my father or I could stay. Remember, if you’ve read this blog before 3 years earlier my other son Anthony had died and I grieved him and I could have just walked away from this child? I told her (and I still remember the words I spoke to this day) “Well Lindsey, it looks like I’m gonna be a father”. That night, we swore no matter who or what came along her and I would ALWAYS do what was right for that child. It would NEVER suffer what we did. She, from a broken home. I, from one that never existed. We would always cover each others’ six. Our child would depend on it. Eventually we had another child. The same exact thing happened… same damn scenario. This time with a twist…. I asked her to move out ONE MONTH PREGNANT. Yes, I did that. Another wrong. All we did was fight leading up to that. I will always feel like shit for that. I got her pregnant a few times besides that and I bullied her into getting abortions. I was a straight asshole. Not only that.... I didn't even go with her. She had to bear that burden alone. I did put her through hell in the beginning with Da’lin. I drank A LOT. I mean A LOT. She worked and I watched Da’lin. He was a year old. We lived in a cramped studio apartment. She worked 8 – 4:30. I’d wake up at about 5 AM and start my daily diet of straight Jose Cuervo. She’d be off to work and I’d polish my first fifth off by noon, then I’d call her to bring my second. If she said no we’d have a problem when she got home. I usually was passed out by 8 or 9. Ran that diet for about 3 or 4 months. Came down to me putting her against the door ONCE and she said “It’s your family or the bottle Dan. Choose.” So I put down the bottle. Didn’t touch it for half a year. She then told me I could go have a few with one of my friends that invited me out. Back then, I craved alcohol like water. The smell, the taste, the feeling, the rush and mental impairment that came with it was something that I just needed. One time I even took Da’lin’s birthday money to buy a bottle we were so poor. THAT is a problem right there folks. THAT. RIGHT. THERE.
So about my son… Da’lin. I push him.
All the time. He’s my son and I love him with everything I am. I feel like I
should be more and have him see me as Superman because I never had that. I had
a father that I saw get shot in the neck in my driveway at 6, behind bars about
10 or 11 times by 9 or 10, and we had a fist fight by 19 and he was on the lam
by 20. See, I dedicated my life to showing him strength in the Ducksworth name.
Trying to teach him that our name is our brand. But…. when this all started I was
a young father I can remember a time when Lindsey left me alone with Da’lin and
he was about 6 or 7 months I guess. I was at a friend’s house and her and our
friend went out. He just wouldn’t stop crying. I mean screaming. Screaming like
someone was stabbing him. I got mad, screamed at him and I tossed him at least
20 feet and he landed on our friends bed. It was a attic room. He just kept
screaming. I was shaking cause I was scared I hurt him. When Lindsey got back I
told her what I did and she assured me that he was okay but I was just mad at
myself because I lost control. Since that time, I’ve never lost control with my
son or my daughter for that matter. I do push my son to the limit sometimes.
Okay well a lot. The reason for that is he is far smarter than I was in the
books. Not street smart anyway. This world will eat him alive if he doesn’t get
hip quickly. There are too many racial divides. WAY too many. It’s unfortunate,
but fact. It’s something he needs to adjust to. This world isn’t about participation
trophies and gold stars. It’s a cold place and you have to fight for what you
want. The way it is now it’s gonna get worse. Da'lin doesn't know how hard his
dad fights to show him the right path. I kind of think he takes it for granted
as most kids do.
The hardest…. I mean the HARDEST
thing to admit. I would like to say I’m so so sorry to my dad that I chose to
go to the gym rather than sit with you that last time. I was so focused on
competing that I didn’t see that you were dying. If you had just told me. I
wish you did. What you all don’t probably know if you haven’t followed this
blog is my dad died of complications from diabetes. I was on my way CRUISING
for a good finish for my first Strongman competition. I was in the gym 5 or 6
times a week. The last time I saw my dad I was on my way to the gym. The house
is on the way to Global in Fitchburg. He was sitting in his car in the
driveway. He was just in there waiting. I stopped and asked him what he was
doing and he said he was going to get bread but he had no keys in the ignition
nor on him. I told him I’d take
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| The Very Last Picture |
him but he said no. He said he
couldn’t decide if he wanted to go to Shaw’s or Market Basket but he knew
Market Basket was closed. Only problem was… it was 6 in the evening. Market
Basket don’t close til 9. I told him okay and I’d see him later I had to get to
the gym. I hopped in my car drove off and the last time I saw him alive was in
my rearview standing in the driveway staring down the road. Come to find out as
he lay in ICU taking his last breaths my grandmother tells me the day before I
saw him he told her he barely could see, he hid his keys on himself and hid his
phone because he didn’t want to answer calls anymore cause people would want
him to look at their cars. He knew it was the end. He didn’t have the heart to
tell me. I wish he had. I wake every morning feeling guilty about it.
So here it
is now 1920 on the eve before my 38th. I dread the minutes to the
countdown. If each life is a season, this is the end of summer on mine if we go
by the average life span. If I have wronged those unjustly, I am truly sorry.
For those that actually did deserve it… then there will be more karma for
that ass from more that you will hurt I’m sure. You give what you get. I sit
here a salty, bitter, middle aged man who has lost damn near everything… but
you know what? I’ve done so very much wrong. Yet, I’m here attempting to make
things right and that has to count for something. For everything I've done
wrong, I will have to answer for once this life is done. I may burn in Hell for
the things I did. The choices I made in the past. I can accept that. I knew
what I was doing was wrong and I should have made better decisions. My midlife
crisis I guess hit me at 38. This 38th year will be full of challenges. They
will be welcomed. However, I promise Dad.... I won't let it ruin me. I will
fight for the underdogs. I will fight for my children, I will fight for the
Ducksworth name, I will make damn sure I am alive at the end, and most
certainly that I am smiling in 2018 in spite of my enemies. I miss you. This
year Dad is all for you. All of it.
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