How much good is "Good Enough?"

I started a new job this week, which adds another important piece of putting myself back together. When I moved to Chicago, I promised myself that I would focus on getting back to what I know best: the wonderful world of hotels and hospitality.

I am a "meeting consultant" for an agency in Chicago's "loop." I was so happy when I landed this job, if I had a wool cap to toss in the air, I would have whirled my ass around on Chicago Avenue and pulled a "Mary Tyler Moore." My first few days have erased many fears and uncovered some sad reality. I was basically trained in one day, the company's system was quite similar to many I have worked with in the past. Now, I have been put on a multitude of other duties, which I did not expect. This would be the price of over achievement during the training process. So what is the sad part? I guess I'm still trying to prove something...I don't know, to me? To everyone I've disappointed in the past? No matter the answer, I sat at lunch alone today while others finished training.

With a plastic fork, I played with a dull salad contemplating independence. For me, this is the reality of supporting myself and never having to disappoint my partner. Maybe once, I could do this thing called "life" on my own. Don't get me wrong, I've cleared some huge hurdles this year and fought more demons than the "Halliwell" sisters. Still, I sat today feeling "not good enough." The afternoon turned gray and the Chicago air grew cold, appropriate for my mood. I sat alone for the rest of the day at my desk completeing odd jobs for the more tenured office staff.

I guess today was a day to reflect on all that's been lost, most precious of which are opportunity and time. I have amazing faith that all I have been through has it's purpose, but why do I still feel "not good enough?" Still I smile knowing that I'm fortunate to have a job (even though it's only four hours a day.) I submit to any task assigned with a grin and a "thank you." It's times like this I look back on the days when I was the one assigning the work and wonder where it all went wrong. There's a line from a song "It took a while for me to learn that nothing comes for free. The price I've paid is high enough for me." Again, there's that word "enough."

As for Mary Tyler Moore tossing her cap in the air, notice they freeze the shot with the cap suspended in mid-air. What you don't see is the part where she doesn't catch it, it falls in a mud puddle and it's rolled over by a cab. That just about sums up my day.

Some things never change....

It was a strange weekend. First a Chicago production on Saturday examining personal relationships post September 11. The Richard Greenberg play would require a focus group discussion after the curtain came down so we all could sort out the train wreck we just witnessed. Then there was a Sunday morning phone call from a wonderful friend who I haven't spoken with in sometime. Then our "Sunday Dinner" group got together for the usual catching up which is sometimes insightful but always hysterical. Then there was an unexpected encounter with another friend from my day's in New Orleans. Through all the events, including the mentally exhausting play, one universal theme emerged: change and how well we deal with its effects.

Richard Greenberg's "A Well Appointed Room" focused on two relationships in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks of 9/11. The two-act play took place in an apartment that had a wonderful view from "New Jersey to Brooklyn." Those who are familiar with Manhattan know that the World Trade Center's Twin Towers would have been the focal point of this view. In all its thought-provoking dialog, both couples face enormous communication challenges leading them to the breaking point. The focus group was interesting in most could relate with the characters and pull a piece of the story from their own lives. For me, the play only reawakened memories of a painful period of my life.

My phone rang Sunday morning, which was unusual, but when I heard the voice on the other end it suddenly occurred that some things never change. It was my former partner of ten years, Greg. We had not spoken in sometime and I remembered that for Greg, Sunday mornings were for phone calls and catching up. For the lack of a better term, Greg is my "Kryptonite," my saddest personal failure, my worst blunder, my biggest mystery and still my greatest friend. I miss him immensely so when he finally called I found myself nervously speeding through topic after topic to catch up.

Looking back, I should have listened more giving him a chance elaborate further on his new life in San Francisco. At the same time I continue to have this ridiculous need to let him know I'm not the person that left our house on that rainy day in September 2003. Come to think of it I have that ridiculous need to continue to prove that to a lot of people. Some things never change.

I enjoyed catching up on the many wonderful things that have unfolded both professionally and personally for Greg, all of which he deserves. When we hung up, my current partner John in his usual understanding tone asked: "Are you okay?" I just nodded my head in confusion. He left me to my thoughts. John has never felt threatened by Greg. He respects the ten years we shared and truly wishes that one day I'll be at peace with what was not said, what was not done that lead to the destruction of something that at one time was something good. The sad thing is I know the truth and shakes me to my very soul if I dwell on it. I just learned it all when it was too late.

Our Sunday dinner group would lead to more discussion about relationships as our friend Oliver is going through a break-up of a five-year relationship. At one point I uttered in frustration: "Maybe it would have been better if we just hated each other at the end." We (Greg and I) were never capable of such device and both know the road that has unfolded is one that has its purpose. I think at some point we have to realize there is something larger than all of us paving new roads we have to take, yet we don't understand.

After dinner, a few of us used braved the bitter cold to head to "Sidetrack" and a dose of the late Laura Branigan with "all those voices in her head calling Gloria." I ran into a mutual friend of Greg and myself and suddenly realized how tiny the world had suddenly become this weekend. What is really strange, everyone uses pronouns when referring to Greg, never uttering his name: "Have you talked to "HIM?" or "HIS" name came up not too long ago. I was happy to look at our friend last night and say: "Oh, I talked to GREG today. He's really doing well and I couldn't be more proud of him."

John and I headed home. One of the many great things about my sobriety is that there's always a designated driver. John had been drinking and headed straight to sleep. As for me, I stood with my memories in my new "Well Appointed Room" with it's beautiful south view of downtown Chicago petting my cat Skutty. I told her I spoke to her daddy today, you remember GREG I said. She was just enjoying all the affection and attention. Some things never change and that's just fine with me.

Father knows best.....

Well here it is one year of sobriety. Time to celebrate? Actually I find myself reflecting on how I got from point A to point B.

The past year has been a time for digging deep to find answers about myself. As far as those that surround me, it's been a case of cautious optimism. Sure "that smile" I used to have is back, my decisions are well thought out and I've been more than strong attending functions with friends where the wine and alcohol flow freely. Hey, I know who and what I am or what I've become. It's been a very long road to get here!

There has been a great deal of forgiving and at times none in return, but that's what it's all about right? It's okay to bottle up old anger and throw it out to sea. You just have to hope the tide does not toss it back your way. I don't see that happening. I've mentioned my dad in earlier postings. He had this amazing capacity to forgive. He lives in me, I know that now. I have what I call "Toby" moments and just look up and smile when they happen.

My father and I shared a special bond while I cared for him. We cried together when the night was rough. Sometimes we didn't even have to speak and we'd break out in tears. My dad did something one day that has touched me forever. I was having a pretty bad day with my mom and was on the couch next to him teary-eyed. His usual "What's wrong son?" followed. "I want to know what this is all about. I mean everything." My dad started to cry: "He's never coming back." he said as we both held each other and wept. Toby respected and mourned what we both lost. He'd been there and knew the loss that could result. Then my father whispered something to me I've kept to myself to this day.

To this wonderful man who always had a few dollars in his pocket for you no matter if it was his last, a man that never judged but forgave, a man who worked tirelessly to give us anything we wanted, a man who fought his own demons and paid the price, a kind-hearted soul who saw good in everyone and finally his spirit that helped me turn it all around a year ago. Daddy, thank you. I'm smiling more than ever and we both know why? I love you!