Funny story.

So, a funny thing happened to me today.

I woke up around 6 to get an early morning workout in. I’ve been really focusing in on my workouts to get back into playing shape. You never know when the opportunity may arise…

Anyway, I finished up around 9:30 and noticed I had a voicemail from my attorney. And he had good news. Apparently, my three-month anger management sentence ended a week ago (I’m still on probation for another 9 months). What does this mean? I don’t have to keep up with this blog anymore. I guess I should technically change the title.

So… yeah? I don’t know. When this all started, I was (quite obviously) hostile to the idea of keeping a blog and having my personal feelings available for the entire world to read. But now I’ve gotten accustomed to it. I mean, I know that I don’t have the largest readership in the world, but I look forward to writing this stuff for you guys. Fuck, I enjoy writing it down for myself. After all, I feel that personally I’ve made great strides lately and writing it all down helps me keep everything in check.

I really don’t know. Maybe you’ll hear from me again. But maybe you won’t.

Congratulations!

I just wanted to congratulate my teammates on clinching a spot in the playoffs. I’m not going to lie, it hurts my ego to say this, but you guys have been playing incredibly without me. I mean, shit, clinching a playoff berth with four weeks left in the season? Amazing.

Well, that’s it. Just good job and keep it up. I wish I was in there with you boys celebrating…

Raining.

Today it is raining, so my 3 consecutive days of going outside streak appears to be over.

I spent the morning playing around with the functions of Blogger. I’m still not very good at this whole “programming” thing, but I think I’ve managed to do a decent job of making my blog different from anybody else’s that I’ve seen. If anything, at least the colors and font all mesh together now. A lot of people don’t know this about me, but I’m actually quite concerned with aesthetics. I take great care in my appearance wherever I go. I always told people that it was Maria that decorated our house, but in reality I did most of the work. I guess I was always afraid of letting this passion known since it didn’t coincide with my “bad boy” reputation. But who the fuck cares now?

My somewhat self-imposed isolation has forced me to do a lot of thinking lately. Obviously, I was initially only concerned with Maria and why she would leave me. But recently, I have moved past that. Ultimately, I’ve decided, it doesn’t matter. Maybe she was fed up with my shit. Maybe she found someone else in LA. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All I know is that she’s gone and we’re over. So instead of fretting over this (although trust me, I’m still heartbroken), I’ve begun looking inward and I’ve got to say… I’ve been a real douche.

And it’s not just how I acted with Maria, or what I did during my days of binge drinking (Have I mentioned that I’ve stopped drinking?). As someone who is a (young) veteran in the NFL, I haven’t maintained any of my off the field responsibilities. I know you’ve all seen those “NFL Cares” and United Way commercials, where Star Player X is helping plant trees or having a catch with an underprivileged youth.  What you might not have notice is that I, as one of the top-billed players in the league, have never appeared in a single one of them. That’s because I’ve never showed up to one (much to the chagrin of our commissioner) because I’ve never deemed it important enough. Like I said, I’ve been a douche.

I’ve also been a real dickhead in the locker-room. As a three-year veteran, I should be a team leader. There’s no reason for me not to be a captain, or at least looked upon as a defensive leader. But I’m not. Instead, my leadership experience consists of hazing rookies and organizing the upheaval of our coach last year.

Now, I could sit here and write that that’s all going to change, but if my failed marriage has taught me anything, it’s that words don’t mean shit. Instead, I plan to change my actions when I’m reinstated. Well, if I’m reinstated. Now, I just have to hope I am given that chance.

Rebuilding.

Today was my first day out of the house since she left. I didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to go, but I just needed to go out. I really don’t have much else to say.

It was a start…

I don't know what to say.

Let me start by saying thank you to those of you who have left me words of encouragement. I may not personally know you, but your sentiments meant a lot.

I still haven’t heard from Maria. After much begging, I finally convinced one of her friends to give me her phone number. I must have called 100 times over the course of two days. Some messages were angry, others apologetic, but all of them were tearful.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of this, but I still can’t really make sense of it. I mean, I know that I’m no angel. In fact, there were plenty of instances where Maria could have left me for good reason. But why now? We hadn’t been fighting at all. I mean, besides my suspension, our lives were fine. In the end, there is only one explanation that I keep coming back to. It torments me… but there must be another guy.  

Maria, if you’re reading this, please give me a call.

My thoughts.

To begin with, she’s gone. She’s really gone and I’m pretty sure she’s never coming back.

I still don’t know what happened. As I wrote on here, she called me a week ago to tell me that she was coming home early. There was no hint of anything wrong in her voice. She simply said that they finished with the preliminary shooting early, so she was going to head back.

Of course, I, being the idiot that I am, got all excited assuming that she was coming home because she missed me. I decided to surprise her at the airport, and before I went down, I picked up a chauffer’s outfit from a local costume shop. I met her at her gate, full regalia, with her name written on a sign card and a bouquet of roses. I guess I should of noticed something was up when she didn’t run and jump into my arms, but instead gave me a lukewarm hug with a deadpan face underneath her oversized sunglasses. She was awkwardly quiet the entire ride home, brushing off all of my questions with simple one or two word answers.

We barely got through the front door before she told me. I can’t even remember her exact words. I was fucking blindsided. But the gist was this:

“You’re a fuck up. You’ve always been a fuck up. You’ll always be a fuck up. I deserve better, and I’ll find it out in Los Angeles.”

And that was it. The next 24 hours were a blur of yelling, alcohol, and moving trucks. She was obviously thinking of this for a while, since she and all her stuff were out of the house by Wednesday night. I tried calling her, but she changed her number. She blocked me on Facebook and Twitter. And since I’m giant douchebag, I don’t know any of her friends or family members’ phone numbers to find out where she is.

So here I sit in my living room. What was once a room filled with nice furniture and photos of the past four years of my life is now empty. I’m sitting on an old beanbag chair from my freshman year in college and using an overturned milk crate for a desk. Apparently all of the furniture was hers.

I’m a fucking wreck. Every time I think I’ve hit bottom, I get thrown down another level. I mean look at me. I’m a 250-pound, professional football player crying like a teenage girl. But that’s what happens when you take away a man’s rock. His best friend. His love.

I literally have nothing left… 

Maria left me...

Good news!

I finally got some good news today. Maria is coming home tomorrow! Granted, she was supposed to come home over a week ago, but they had to extended her initial time there due to some fuckup in the writer’s room.  I don’t even care, I’m just happy she’s coming home.

This is exactly what I needed. Life has been handing me nothing but shit lately, but maybe this is the start of things turning around. I mean, first Maria comes home, and then maybe the league will uphold my appeal of their suspension. Alright, maybe not, but this is at least a start.

I don’t know if you could tell but I’ve been pretty down in the dumps lately. Shit, I’ve even been commenting on other people’s blogs on this stupid site. I was about ten minutes away from joining a message board, but I would kill myself before I got that lonely. But none of that matter’s now, because my baby is finally coming home.

Sorry for the lack of posts lately.

No I'm not. I'm only writing this because I got another angry call telling me that I wasn't holding up my end of the deal that kept my ass out of jail. Frankly, I could give two fucks at this point.

Seriously, what do I have going for me that would make jail so bad? I can't go to work. My wife's halfway across the country. And that bitch "Precious"? Fucking bit me, so I had to return her to the pound. 

Honestly, I don't know if things could get much worse...