Prozac and Whimsy

When I was a kid I had a mate called Adam, Fat Adam to be more precise. It wasn’t a clever or ironic nickname. He was, and still is, a large boned fella called Adam. There wasn’t even another Adam in our friend group that required a differentiator for him. It was just mean but that’s how everyone knew him. He’s the only person I have punched in anger. He isn’t the only person I have punched but he is the only one where I threw the first (and only) punch. It wasn’t a fight, he didn’t come back at me with anything. He just held his face, cried and went home.

If we weren’t in the mood for him and saw him coming we would hide and pretend to not be in or get our parents involved in the ruse and tell him we were already out. This one time we were playing hide and seek and he was the seeker and everyone just went home. It wasn’t a planned thing, someone said it would be funny and everyone agreed.

I wasn’t popular as a child, I didn’t have many friends. I spent a lot of time alone in my room reading and wishing my life away. Dreaming of being old enough to get away from it all. So this makes our, my, treatment of him so much worse. It’s not like he was this awful twat or anything, he was just a bit annoying and a voracious liar.

I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for the things we used to do to him, and when I was still on Facebook (more on that another day) I accepted his friend request and messaged him to apologise. He was overly gracious and said we were just kids, it was a long time ago, none of it mattered and that he missed the good old days and we’d have to catch up soon. We messaged sporadically and liked each others posts but I still felt that remorse and I still do.

I carry a lot, like a FUCKING LOT, of guilt with me despite being a generally ok to good type of guy. After I first read High Fidelity – much too late, it and the film had been out years at this point – I immediately became a music snob or at least more of a music snob (more on that another day) But the main thing I took away from it was how I wanted and needed to apologise to the one and only girlfriend I have had and didn’t marry. Not for not marrying her, that would be insane.

The year was 1998, my first and newly ex girlfriend was pregnant with our first child. I was sworn to secrecy of the pregnancy and was in full blown freefall. I was chaos to be around. I drank myself unconscious fairly regularly and even into hospital at one point. I lived from one gig to the next, smoked a lot of cheap resin, picked and took mushrooms and dabbled with acid. Somehow this attracted a lovely lass called Taz. My mate Tom was besotted with her and he was the smart choice, he’s a nice lad, he’s smart, they are the same age, they both play guitar, they caught the same bus to and from college. But most importantly Tom wasn’t, and still isn’t, me.

The first time I saw her alone I was drunk on a Saturday afternoon and heading home after buying a copy of Vitalogy by Pearl Jam from Woolworths. She walked me home (a lot of people found me and walked me home in this period) She came in and up to my room. Nothing really happened, she thumbed through my ever growing CD collection, pointed out I already had a copy of Vitalogy and I told her she could have it if she wanted. She wasn’t really into Grunge, she was a punk. I think everyone should have a punk phase and the younger the better really. But she took it, hugged me, hugged me a little longer and then we kissed. Just a peck but there was a spark there.

After that we fell head over heels pretty fucking fast. We’d sneak time together behind everyone’s back, I think we liked the secrecy of it all. The first time we kissed in public was at the May fair. I’d been to a mate’s funeral and had been drinking all day. Tom was making moves but she held my hand as we walked through the streets and then we ate each others face off by the Waltzers. Tom looked like his heart was broken and went home. I took Taz back to my room and she lost her virginity to me.

The guilt I carry for Taz is huge and on many different levels. She deserved so much better than me for her first time, especially a shitshow drunk me. I feel guilty that I can’t actually remember her really real name. It is either Tasmin or Tamsin but everyone, even her mum, called her Taz. Tasmin makes the most sense but I’m not 100% confident. I feel guilty that I called her by my ex’s name more than once. I feel guilty for the pregnancy scares and morning after pills. I feel guilty that when we finally broke up (she, rightfully dumped me for a dude called Pablo. Pablo had a mohawk) I was back with my ex within months. I feel guilty that I have never apologised to her. But it would be weird now right?

I feel guilty that I never told my dad about mother’s affairs and he had to find out when I published a book that should never have existed. I feel guilty that I didn’t see my dad for years after he left. I feel guilty over the fire me and my cousin set when we were ten that took two engines to put out and a different kid got the blame and was grounded for the entire summer.

Mainly I feel guilty for how good my life is these days. I have a fairly decent job on a good wage. I’m clean and (mostly) sober. I have friends who are there for me no matter what. I have a fantastic relationship with my dad. I have travelled and seen things I could only ever dream about. I can pretty much do what I want when I want. I feel guilty that one of the best days of my life didn’t involve Sals at all. I feel guilty about all the days and nights I spent away from our old dog and the days and nights I spend away from our new one (more on that another day) But most of all.

Most of all I feel tremendous guilt that everything that is great about my life has come about since I was cut off from my family. I haven’t spoken to my mother and sister since 2012. I have seen them, always at family funerals but we stay the fuck away from each other. I haven’t seen my kids since 2012 as well but you already know that. 2012 was hard and I’m not sure how I got through it alive but I’m still here. It took a long, long, time and there have been ups and downs along the way but my life is immeasurably better without these people in it and I have found a peace with that. I wouldn’t change this life for anything. Everything that has happened has lead me to here but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel awful for the carnage I have left in my wake.

I’m not the boy that I once was but, I’m not the man I’ll be.