I miss who I used to be

I used to do things. I used to ponder over fantastic ideas. I made sculptures, papier-mâché monsters, wrote poetry and silly songs. I used to go out at night. I used to ride my bike for miles. I used to walk across states through trails in the woods. I used to write. I used to be somebody else.

I remember a day in my youth when I walked through Golden Gate Park with my friend Kyle Linehan. I was pretty much broke, but I fearlessly let life deliver me into situations and I took them on and that day life left a $5.00 dollar bill in the grass and I picked it up and it felt like a fortune.

I remember eating fried fish with my fingers out of a cardboard bowl as I sat on a board walk by the water in the Ghirardelli Square area of San Francisco.

I remember playing cribbage at John Barleycorn's while "Peg Leg Eddie" and "Three Finger Pete" played chess. We all drank good beer and ate Chinese pizza.

I remember walking my dog to the park in the Seattle rain and then hiding from him behind trees as I whistled for him, waiting for him to come find me. He always did.

I remember dressing in an AstroTurf grass skirt as I marched on a hot day in the gay pride parade, not because of my pride of being gay, I'm not, but because of an event I was promoting to raise money for the Northwest Aides Foundation.

I once built a 30 foot long coral reef with fish that swam in and out courtesy of a few old record players. I built an 8 foot tall waterfall and volcano that released "smoke" and appeared to have minor eruptions.

I made hats out of paper bags and sold them to the Berkeley Hat Company. And others were displayed in an art show.

These are just some of the highlights of my years as a man who loved to live life. Today I spend so much energy just being part of the day to day and staying alive that I have no energy for living. My life is pathetic.

Oh, you'll want to remind me of how special my children are to me and they are but life was not meant to be a sacrifice of one's own joy and to substitute instead the joy of one's children. Both should be part and parcel of the process, yes? The greatest gift I could give my children is to be an example of how to enjoy life even while I struggle to keep us all afloat. But the struggle has become greater than just keeping us afloat. Just being part of the normal day to day is actually an effort now and that effort robs me of the energy and now I've settled into this rut, but I hate it. I hate who I am now. I miss who I used to be.

My name is Bil... and I have kidney disease.