No One is to Blame for Me, but Me

Let me preface this article by saying no one is to blame for me, but me.

I am insecure, not as bad as I used to be, but I am.

My feelings can get hurt too easily and I over think absolutely everything.

Why? I have put a lot of thought into it as I have aged, but here is what I have come up with.

My dad is one of the greatest men I have ever known, he is one of the most selfless people I have ever known, but I missed out on something growing up.

Again, no one is to blame, but me, but I can remember wanting to hear my dad tell me I was great, I wanted to hear compliments, but I do not remember getting them that often. My mom and other people would do it, but it never seemed to have the same reinforcement than if my dad did it.

Now I want anyone reading this to understand that my dad was a loving person to me, my sister and my mom. I learned many, many lessons on how to be a great father from him. He never drank alcohol and always gave of his time for me and my sister, but I just do not remember being told good job.

No one is to blame, but me in needing the words when I was almost overwhelmed with love by him through his actions.

Why did I need that affirmation from him? No idea. But it drove me to be successful in athletics just trying to get him to acknowledge it, but he didn't by word, but I got more than enough hugs from him.

Maybe it is become my dad didn't play sports and didn't understand what I was doing...?

I blame my grandfather who was a violent alcoholic towards my grandmother and his children, a grandfather who in his later life was very much loving to me, but was not to my dad. Because of that my dad spent much of his 20's and 30's when I was little, attempting to heal from his childhood. Considering what my dad endured, he was awesome...but I needed that verbal reinforcement.

No one is to blame, but me on how I feel about growing up.

Because of my immaturity, my lack of self-esteem, I do not know why, but I needed to hear those words..."I'm proud of you".

As an adult, my dad has used those words quite often. He's told me he's proud of me as a husband, father, and teacher/coach. You can see how proud he is of me when he tells me now and it feels good to hear, but there is this gnawing feeling I have carried into adulthood trying to please, not just him, but it has carried over now to my wife, my bosses, and other people that I care about.

My lack of self-esteem came about 7th grade when I went from being the cute elementary kid morphing into a young man with acne. The acne didn't affect me, but how people saw, treated and said things to me did.

Kids can be cruel, and even the slightest comment hurt deeply.

But, I was good at sports and that helped and my first love helped knowing that a girl in high school cared enough about me to over look the exterior because she saw my inside.

But it brought doubts.

It is crazy that I still long for verbal appreciation, it feels good to hear my wife say "you worked your butt off" for us to go on a trip, it feels good to hear any of my bosses or fellow workers acknowledge things I have done extra, and it feels good to be recognized.

But anymore, I feel less like I need it, and I will, in fact, try to deflect it. I have become that person that longs for the verbal appreciation, but then plays the humble person pretending that I do not need to hear it.

The mind is such a complex thing isn't it?

As I have aged and become wiser and grown in my faith, I have learned it is not about me in my actions in trying to be successful. My perceived slights are about me, but my actions to do what is right should never be about me.

I try to live each day doing for others and if they acknowledge it, so be it, if they do not, well I need to get over myself because that is not why I should be helping.

My expectation should not be loyalty or appreciation, my expectation should be am I glorifying God and being consistent in my belief system and if I am, that is all I need.

But it still hurts when I see friends getting together and no one asked me.

It still hurts when you feel that you have done a lot for someone and they do not reciprocate.

It still hurts when you have shown loyalty that few have, and yet you are overlooked, not seen and on the most shallow level feel disrespected.

But the battle I wage is my own, it is not my dad's fault, it is not my mom's fault, it is not my wife's fault, it is not my kids or superiors fault, it is mine.

I for too long have cared what others think and I know I have put up walls and it has made me come off as a jerk sometimes and maybe that is part of why I am left out.

If you put up the walls and keep everyone at arms length, you will not get hurt, but you will also be treated as if you do not want to be involved.

So I am writing to get some of these thoughts off my chest, to put them out there for me to feel better.

Maybe it will make you feel better too.

Maybe not.

Just know if you are struggling with these types of feelings, you're not alone and quit blaming others for what you can control in how you feel and what has "happened" to you.

It's not their fault.

It is you and your lack of completely understanding that you are enough, that you should help without expecting reciprocation and if you show loyalty, do not expect anything in return.

That is hard...real hard, but you should be attempting to help others not because it will gain you anything, but you should help others and do good deeds because it is the right thing to do.

But what do I know?

I'm almost 50 and still over thinking too much.

Perspective Riding Along I-65

Social media is too often used for negative purposes.

People get angry or upset and grab their phone and without thinking type out something that probably is not needed for all to see.

There are the political and other posts that are snide and one sentence attempting to make one side of an issue look as ignorant as possible through memes and other ways to make us look dumb.

But there are good ways it can be used and I hope I have done that more often than not.

And that is by reading about the lives of those around us and what they have gone through.

Reading about Calla Davis to Megan Ekart most recently to keeping up with Aiden Johnson and Spencer Emily and Ayden Billingsley and Iliad Mullins and many other situations in which young people have been injured or seriously ill can be humbling.

It should be humbling.

It should help us to remember that most of the things we watch on the news or read on social media are so insignificant, yet we let them stress us, age us.

Reading about those above and many others who have gone through real struggle, real life and death experiences, and too often the families dealing with the death of someone should help us to lead a more humble life with proper perspective.

I have often said if you want to know what is important in life, you want to know how we should all live, spend some time with someone who is dying. Suddenly, many issues mean zilch.

If you cannot allow that to give you proper perspective then travel internationally and I am not talking about driving through poor places on the way to a resort.

I am talking about living and breathing and eating inside some of the largest slums of Africa, South American and Asia.

I am talking about watching the amount of government corruption that exists in some countries that when you are pulled over by law enforcement the expectation is to bribe them to be on your way.

I am talking about understanding that this country is not perfect, never has and never will be, but there is a reason why millions are willing to risk everything to make it here.

But we do not keep proper perspective and sometimes we really lose it over nothing.

The other day my wife and I were watching the Northside Christian service where Pastor Nate Ross was helping the congregation deal with the passing of a little girl, Calla Woods, whose father is also a Pastor at Northside.

My wife and I shed tears, sang along and worshiped in that car on I-65 heading home from Destin, Florida and were moved by Nate's words and the presence of the Woods family at the service.

Then we pulled off the interstate to grab some food at the local Burger King.

They were busy, they were behind and one family of two in their 50's or 60's were not happy that they had not received their food yet.

It had been a whole ten minutes and they...were...not...having it.

I was standing there and just had watched the Northside service and I watched a man rip a bag of fast food from a young woman who is doing the best she can because he did not get his food fast enough.

It was hard to watch and say nothing.

But as my order came up, much later, instead of confronting that couple about how ridiculous their behavior was, I smiled and said "thank you" to the woman behind the counter who was apologizing for the time.

I am not perfect.

I have been humbled and I have traveled, but even I still forget how blessed I am.

And it is usually taken out on the people I love the most, or some stranger who is just trying to survive the moment so she can pay the bills.

If you are reading this or know of any of the stories I mentioned or have traveled to poor countries and you are not changed, then you have a real soul problem.

But we are not perfect and we will slip and forget sometimes, but realize, apologize and try to be better in the future.

That is all we can do.

Take care and God Bless.

2019 4th and 5th grade camp in the books

SCHS 2nd-3rd Grade Camp 2019 in the Books

Coach Means Many Things

John Bradley is my friend.

It did not start out that way because when I was in high school playing for Henryville, he was the varsity boys basketball coach at Silver Creek.

His job my senior year was to find a way to slow me down as a scorer, and well, he was the coach of the evil empire.

Somehow I was able to get past his past when he became the boys basketball coach at Henryville.

I had graduated a few years before and my coach had stepped down and there were a couple different guys who had coached and it didn't work out.

Coach Bradley was ready to come in and rebuild a program that the town could be proud of.

I was pretty lost those first few years after high school, not really understanding what I was doing, where I was going and would still attend Henryville open gyms and games when I could.

I will never forget one day I was standing against the wall of the Spurgeon gym (the older, smaller gym) and Coach Bradley came up and asked me how I was doing.

After some small talk about where I was working, what I was doing he then asked a question that would forever change my life.

"Would you be interested in coaching the freshman team?" he asked.

I was 23 years old, but the weight of coaching was something I had zero confidence I could do and he must have seen how I reacted because he told me to take 24 hours and think about it.

I did.

I accepted.

From that moment in that gym to today, coaching basketball has taken me around the state of Indiana, it has taken me to other places in this country, it has taken me to five continents (six this summer, headed to Australia), and has allowed me to be to young men what John Bradley was and is to me.

A mentor, and now a friend.

Recently, Coach and Mrs. Bradley's son, Michael, passed away and I cannot fathom the pain they have endured and still are and I am sure will for the rest of their lives.

But they can rest easier, I hope, knowing that they have made positive contributions to so many young people's lives as coaches and teachers.

They have given much of their time through the years to help others from students to adults. They have done so willingly and unselfishly.

If it were not for John Bradley walking up to a 23 year old and asking him a simple question, I do not know where I would have ended up.

But because he did, it has been a heckuva ride and all because he took time then and through the years to help me out.

My only hope is that he can understand what he has done and that he and his wife's lives have not been in vain because of situations that happen to them, but they have had hugely successful lives because of the situations they have created for others.

Who Do You Think You Are?

I'm just a guy who is probably too self-aware that is able to convey his feelings in written and spoken form that some people can relate.

That's it.

Sure, I'm a husband and father (the greatest thing I am), a son, a brother, a....well, you get the point. I'm many things.

I'm a basketball coach who has lost with seasons where I've won 3 games to this past season as an assistant with Silver Creek boys where we won the State Championship.

I'm someone who thinks too much, worries too often, and too often thinks they know everything and nothing at the same time.

I'm someone who deals with anxiety and sometimes feel like I don't know if I want to go on, but am scared to death I'm going to die.

I feel the weight of too much responsibility, but yet, will pull back when I cannot breathe because of me not being able to say "no".

Recently, I was asked by Leah Lowe if I would provide an article from time to time for the Charlestown Courier, and I agreed.

Not because I think I have anything anyone would want to read, but because writing is cathartic for me and if maybe, just maybe, it can help someone else see they're not alone, make them smile, or help them to remember something than that is a good thing.

I enjoy being from and living in southern Indiana.

Yes, I love my hometown of Henryville and my current town of the last 16 years, Sellersburg.

But I can also see the goodness in the surrounding communities and the people who make those places tick on a daily basis.

I enjoy traveling over seas (I have been on five continents and Lord willing six this summer when the family heads to Australia) for coaching clinics and the basketball people know about Indiana high school basketball.

I enjoy finding joy in the monotony of daily life. I believe we too often forget to stop and smell not just the roses, but the air outside even if it is the smell of whatever is burning from the Clark-Floyd Landfill (what is that by the way?).

Finally, my faith in Jesus Christ is what helps me make sense of the chaotic, depressing things that happen too often to and around me.

I put my hope not in the things of this world, but in Him.

I put my hope not in the people of this world, but in Him.

I put my hope not in anything of this world, but I do in Him.

So, here we go, this is the first installment of what may become something I do regularly, or it might be the last, depending on what Mrs. Lowe thinks.

It could be basketball related, it could be Jesus related, it could be family related, or it could be about something that is on mind and has nothing to do with any of that.

Thanks in advance for reading, but if you do not; well, have a great day anyway.