The Worst Buddhist in the World in Drink Drunk Distraction

So I’m a little end of tether here. Just a little teensy bit towards the end of the rope. I got three kids asleep, my wife is wrecked from looking after an angry little ball of newborn, and I’m out here in the office drinking white wine from a bottle hidden beside my desk and generally feeling like some kind of sneak-thief Hitler.

So right now, I’m sort of feeling finished - like that Bukowski quote - fuck knows which book it’s from, but here it is:

“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished.”

Just like I’ve had too many bits sliced off, and now I’m just sitting back watching a bad movie, checking my watch to see when it’s going to end. Jesus this is self indulgent bullshit, but then, it’s an anonymous blog, so fuck it.

For want of a better way of explaining things, about 15 years ago, after learning Shaolin martial arts from a nice old fella with nothing better to do with his Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays, I became the Worst Buddhist in the World.

I came to rely on those training sessions. 2-3 hours to just drop out and focus on technique, or listen to what they call ‘Dhamma talk’ - which is kind of like The Master explaining complex ideas from Buddhism - like co-dependent arising, or single pointed mindfulness - shit, google it if you like. Buddhism’s weird - but for some reason or another it seemed to resonate with me much more than my ancient Irish parish priest telling me not to touch my cock did.

Then we ran out of money… and we wanted to have more kids, so we had to move 2 hours out of the city North. Rent’s cheaper. It’s close to the beach. There are forests. Nicer for the kids. Supposed to be nicer for us. Problem was I didn’t realise how much I relied on training. Problem was, I didn’t realise how lonely my wife would feel away from everything in the sticks. Problem was, the mother of my oldest child is now kicking up a massive screaming match over us being too far away, and the trip being too long for our daughter. Problem was, I started drinking pretty fucking heavily, and in secret, and I’m not smart enough to hide it.

And also I just had her call me into her room to say “fuck you” to me because when I put the baby down he wasn’t asleep enough. Or something. And then just came out and said she hated me. Jesus Christ. About once a fucking week she just goes fucking crazy and starts screaming.

Anyway, back to being the Worst Buddhist in the World. I lie a lot. I drink a lot. I also watch waaaay too much porn. At the same time I’m baffled as to why my meditation doesn’t go very well. I’m wracked with guilt and fear, and so of course, when I try to be still and silent for a while (which is hard enough to get time to do) all of this comes floating to the surface.

To what to do? Why do I drink? Mainly because I’m afraid. I’m anxious. I can’t sleep. I could probably change that with regular meditation, mainly ‘metta’ or loving kindness meditation - and also some exercise and eating well. Here’s the problem. In the mornings I’m hung over, and I want unhealthy food. So I start out like that. By the time the day’s half done, I figure it’s been wasted with unhealthyness… so I scrap it, decide to change tomorrow and look forward to getting smashed that night… problem is, I’ve been deciding to change tomorrow for about three months.

So what about the porn? It comes back to feeling everything’s been sliced off me. I don’t know if this is a fantasy, but I seem to recall, before the kids, before the wives, I used to have a good ongoing relationship with a lot of different women. There weren’t any promises made, and I’d often get a call when someone broke up with their boyfriend. One of them said to me once that I was like a cowboy, straying into town for a fuck then off the next day. I liked that image, and so now I’m a dad, with a dad-bod and getting grey in the beard - the young girls in the office don’t flirt with me any more, I feel like somehow I’ve missed something. But hey - I can still watch porn - despite knowing that most of the actors involved are as desperately unhappy as I am. Maybe that’s the charm. Maybe that’s a good idea for a book. A porn addict who only gets off on the emptiness and desperation of the porn-stars - it’s not the act, it’s more about them creating a backstory where they need to cover rent or buy shoes for their kid - hence ‘Bukkake-Party Part 5: the Gapening’.

In terms of my relationships, I don’t think I’ve been tricked, but I feel fear of becoming an “old man with broken teeth, stranded without love” (Bob Dylan’s words, not mine) led me into a blindness where I couldn’t see the crazy in my partners until it was very well too late. Fuck that’s kind of one-sided. I love my wife. She IS flat-book crazy, but I love her.

I’m pretty confused right now, and I can tell you the white wine isn’t helping at all. Or my wife telling me she hates me. Or work looming tomorrow. Or mediation with the ex looming on Wednesday. Or the fact my wife hit another car and we can’t afford to pay the excess. Or suspecting I’m going to get fired. Or my eldest daughter acting out because her mum says I’m a liar and a terrible person. Or a myriad of crazy things. There’s too much in my head right now.

I can afford rent. I can afford clothes and shoes for my children. We don’t live in a war zone. We are safe and happy and healthy and well.

This is why I’m The Worst Buddhist in the World. I don’t know how to be thankful.