The Last Cowboy Song

This is the last cowboy song,

the end of a hundred-year waltz.

I was four years old when I discovered professional wrestling. My grandfather would sit me on his lap in his rocking chair, and we would watch the local wrestling from Amarillo. And every Thursday night, my mom and dad would take us all down to the fairgrounds arena and we would get to watch it live and in person. I became enamored with it right away. Something about the physicality and the drama caught my attention, even at a young age. 

One of the first names I became acquainted with at the time, was Terry Funk. Back then he was the brash younger brother of local hero and former world heavyweight champion, Dory Funk Jr. And his father, Dory Sr. had promoted wrestling in Amarillo in the surrounding area for decades until his death in 1973. Terry himself would become world champion in 1975. And that's when his legend really began to take hold. 

Growing up in Amarillo, everyone knew who the Funk family was. They had become local legends for not only their success in wrestling, but their philanthropy as well. Dory Sr was one of the founders of the local Boys Ranch and was well known for his many contributions to the area. And it seemed like you couldn't meet in anyone in town that didn't "know" the Funks. Of course, that wasn't always the case, but it felt good to think you could be part of the story of knowing the town superstars. 

The voices sound sad as they're singing along,

Another piece of America's gone. 

I actually had never had the chance to run into the Funks, until one fateful Saturday in October of 1988. My mom and dad had plans to go do something that I am sure I thought would be terribly boring, so I asked if I could go to the gym that day instead. I was by this time a dedicated trainee, and spending a couple of hours in the gym was obviously a much better idea than whatever my parents had in mind. As a matter of fact, my sister was even so desperate to get out of whatever my parents were doing that she asked if she could tag along. Even though she had never even been in the gym before. 

We pretty much had Fitness World II all to ourselves that day, except for one lone lifter lying on a bench wearing a Denver Broncos hat. It was while he was doing a set lying on his bench that his hat fell off into the floor. And my sister, being raised to have manners in a situation like that, simply walked over to pick the hat up and hand it back to its owner. When he sat up and cracked that big friendly smile, my sister and I both gasped as we took a look at that familiar face. After all these years, we were actually face to face with the local hero himself. And we could barely muster a "hi". 

Over the next several months, I would grow to know Mr. Funk better and better. And yes, I never called him anything other than Mr. Funk. Years of watching him on tv did not give me permission to call a grown up by his first name, so "Mister" it was. That was made clear to me by my mother the first time I referred to him as Terry in her presence. 

I wasn't what is now referred to as "smart" to the wrestling business back then. Which means I didn't really know that it was scripted drama. I had my suspicions but didn't really want to know it wasn't 100% authentic. And I bugged the crap out of that man almost every time I saw him, hoping to impress him with my knowledge of the both the business and his own career. I was literally a wrestling scholar at 16. And it says a lot about his kindness that he never chased me away, never had an unkind word, or even let on that I was bothering him. It was always a smile, a nod, and a pat on the back. Even agreeing to discuss the idea of training me to be a wrestler myself one day. But only after I had graduated high school. A promise I never got to test as my folks moved me to Arizona a short time later. But I will never forget the kindness he showed me in that short time I was lucky enough to know him. 

This is the last cowboy song....

There's an old saying that goes, "they don't make them like that anymore". And no one was truer to that statement than Terry Funk. He was from a generation of men that inspired me on an almost daily basis. As strange as it sounds, I have found an almost poetry to the battles those old cowboys had in those smokey old arenas of my childhood. Good guys vs bad guys in a packed arena, fighting it out for the thrill of the crowd. Those men were such a huge influence on me, I almost consider them to be like surrogate fathers to a kid desperately searching for role models. Whether it was the Funks, the Von Erichs, Dusty Rhodes and Dick Murdoch, or Stan "The Man" Hansen and Bruiser Brody, those old cowboys taught me the value of toughness, hard work, and always staying true to your word. Not to mention to remember that toughness and kindness were not mutually exclusive traits in a man. And without every one of them, I don't know if I would be the person that I am. Today Terry Funk passed away, and even though it's been 35 years since I got to know him, I am filled with profound sadness. Even though it was one of those things you were anticipating happening, I find myself still heartbroken. Thank you, Mr. Funk. Thank you for your kindness and generosity, for all the years of excitement and action, and for making a little kid believe in heroes. Rest well, cowboy. 

The voices sound sad as they're singing along, 

another piece of America is lost....

Mandy got married.

 When you've had enough unsuccessful relationships in your life, and loads of trauma as well, hopefully you start to see the correlation between the two. In my own experience, it took me decades to realize that the traumas in my life helped fuel the decisions I made regarding relationships down the line. We date, fall in love with, and usually marry what we know. And if what you know is toxic, abusive, neglectful, or any of those other traits, there is a pretty good chance that's what you are going to gravitate towards. 

I first met Mandy in May of 2003. She had just moved to Phoenix with her boyfriend Seth, and her 5-year-old daughter from a previous relationship, McKayla. She was working as a paralegal in town when her and Seth joined the 24 Hour Fitness where I worked as a trainer, and my manager was trying to convince to hire a trainer and compete in a local bodybuilding competition. Cindy, my manager, brought me into the room to help convince her as well. 

I remember being attracted to Mandy right away. But during the time I trained her, and even the months after, I always maintained a professional demeanor. Her boyfriend swore up and down that I was into her, but I am pretty sure he thought that of every guy in the gym. I was able to maintain my professionalism well enough that she was actually surprised to find I'd had an attraction to her once she'd broken up with Seth. 

After the breakup, Mandy was in need of a new job and asked me if I could help her get hired at the gym as a trainer. Once she was hired, we became pretty much inseparable. Again, as hard as it maybe to believe, I had no agenda in getting close to her. We just seemed to hit it off and got to be very close as friends. But that did evolve into us sharing a kiss one night while out with co-workers. Which eventually led to our first real date. A night I remember best for the 42(yes, 42) times her now ex-boyfriend tried calling her during the date. This alone should have been a red flag. The fact that she couldn't just answer the phone and tell him she'd talk later, or just be honest with him that she was on a date, showed a person afraid of tough conversations, and maybe even the truth. It was only when I answered the phone on number 43 that he finally got the hint. 

Only a few weeks into our relationship, Thanksgiving was right around the corner. I had no car at the time and wasn't really planning on anything for the holidays. So, I was hoping that I would get to spend the holiday with Mandy and McKayla. And when Mandy mentioned that her mother was planning on coming out for the weekend as well, I thought that this would also be my chance to meet her and spend the holiday getting to know all of them better. Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. 

When I mentioned Thanksgiving, Mandy mentioned that her mother had invited Seth to join them for dinner. I was both hurt and perplexed by this. Mandy said that she hadn't actually told her mother that she had broken up with Seth, only that they had been having problems. She was afraid her mother would be disappointed in her if she knew she'd broken up with him, so she hadn't gotten the courage to tell her. Not to mention the wee part about dating her former trainer, now co-worker, me. 

Hearing this new plan, I was crushed. Not only would I be spending Thanksgiving alone, but now I had to deal with the idea that my girlfriend would be spending it with her ex-boyfriend, and I couldn't even crash the party. 

When Thanksgiving came, my roommate was celebrating with family, so I would have the apartment to myself for the entire weekend. And with no car, I couldn't do a lot to get out of the house besides walking the neighborhood now and then. And being someone who struggles with depression, that meant wallowing in my sorrows for the entire weekend, just hoping that Mandy would at least have enough mercy to call to let me know that everything was okay, instead of allowing me to imagine the worst. 

After what felt like the four longest days of my life, I woke up Monday morning ready to go to work, and hopeful to at least get some answers. Work was less than a mile down the road, so it was a quick bike ride. I knew that Mandy usually had a client at 6am, so I was at least going to see her when I got in at 8. 

When I got into the gym, it felt like everyone knew something that I didn't. There was a different energy to the whole place, and some people even had trouble looking me in the face. It felt like I was heading to my own execution and didn't even know it. 

I found Mandy upstairs at the trainer's desk in the center of the gym floor. She had an odd, uncomfortable look on her face. The kind of look people get when they can't deliver uncomfortable news, so they think try being cute or funny, even when they're about to rip your heart out. 

I'm pretty sure my first two lines were something like "what the hell" as I started to press her for information. With that same uncomfortable smirk, she tried to explain that she was sorry for not reaching out, but Seth was always around, and she didn't want to upset him. To which I fatefully responded, "But I'm your boyfriend! It's not like you're married to the guy!"

Saying I didn't expect that comment to get the reaction it did would be the understatement of the century. At that moment, Mandy's expression got even more awkward. And then, like she was revealing some grand surprise, she lifted her left hand to the top of the trainer desk to reveal a wedding ring on her hand. To this day, I still don't know how I didn't throw up. 

It took several seconds to register what was happening. Mandy said that her mother had facilitated her reconciliation with Seth over the weekend. And in the excitement of it all, he proposed. Now, one would hope that she would think to mention the slight fact that she was supposed to be dating someone else at that moment, but it never happened. Instead, he suggested they drive to Vegas on the now so appropriately named Black Friday and elope. In a really bad effort to try and console me, Mandy assured me that she thought about me the whole way. Especially while driving through my hometown while on the way to Las Vegas. 

It was one of those moments where the world stops. Like a bomb going off. I was beyond in shock; I was emotionally comatose. I don't think I could see or hear for several seconds. And once I could breathe again, it was then that I started to realize why everyone had been looking at me the way they did when I walked in. Because she couldn't hide her excitement, Mandy had shared with everyone the exciting news of her surprise nuptials. Not stopping for a second to think that all of our co-workers were waiting to hear her say that it was me that she had gotten married to. And when she mentioned Seth's name instead of mine, then they were waiting for the punchline. Or at least a "bazinga!" And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she didn't even think I deserved to be the first person in our work to know what happened, let alone the sense of hurt or humiliation I might feel by finding out after everyone else that my girlfriend had married another man over the weekend. 

It was while sharing this story with my client one day that I began to realize just how much I had bottled up those feelings over the years. My client was so affected by it that he started crying when I told him about Mandy revealing her wedding ring. He was overwhelmed by the pain and humiliation that I must have felt. And it was in that moment that I realized that I did experience all of those things, I just didn't allow myself to feel it at the time. 

Looking back on this is a little embarrassing. I can't imagine what people would think of the crazy guy who would not only let someone treat him like that, but eventually allow that person back into their lives and even marry them. Yes, marry them. 

At that moment I had no clue just how much trauma I had really dealt with, or the extent of my mental health battle. I had struggled with depression and self-esteem issues for years. But it's only been in the last five years that I have started to see how they affected my life. 

The thing that made my client cry wasn't only the feelings he imagined I must have been experiencing, but also the simple fact that somehow, I got through it. And that it was experiences like that that sometimes-made people just quit and decide to end things for themselves. Which is what I hope people take the most from this. I got thorough it. I wasn't sure how, but I did. And I moved on. And I also eventually got myself to a place where I could not only look back on it and be okay, but where I can see that I am finally a healthy person. And that's worth being proud of. 

The Beginning

For almost twenty years, I have been writing blogs on various platforms, in a hope to find my voice. I have always hoped the stories about my life and how I have managed to survive and keep moving forward could someday be useful, and maybe even a guide for someone who needs to know that life does get better, and you can survive damn near anything if you try. 

The problem was, I didn't really know how to get those stories across. I felt that maybe it was because I didn't have enough experience as a writer. Maybe I just didn't have the "vision" to get these stories across. Maybe I am just not artistic enough. Whatever it was, I just felt unfulfilled in each attempt, and eventually got so frustrated that I just stopped trying altogether. 

It was only while recently telling one of the many insane stories about my relationship with my ex-wife that I started to realize that simply telling the stories as they happened and letting people see that I am still here maybe all I need to do. I was training a client when we started talking about relationships. And somehow, I got on a tangent and just started talking about one moment where my ex really hurt me. Funny thing is, I never realized how I had never really taken the time to process those feelings over the last twenty years until I looked at my client and realized he was crying. He started telling me that he couldn't imagine how hurt and humiliated I must have felt in that moment. That's when I realized that I actually never thought about it. That I had bottled up those feelings so much, that I still hadn't processed them. He told me that he knew I was a strong person, but the fact I was still standing and hadn't hurt myself or anyone else afterwards was a testament to just how strong I was. 

So, what I am going to do with this blog from now on is just that. I am going to tell my stories. All the crazy, dark, painful, sometimes insane, and occasionally funny stories about my life, and let people take what they will. With the reminder that I'm still here. I'm not always sure how or why, but I am still here. And I'm still doing my damndest to move forward, no matter what the odds. 

I don't know how often, or even what stories I will post here, but when I remember something that I think will be interesting, I will write about it. I don't know that I've led the most interesting life, but I know I have defied a lot of odds. I have done a lot of things that people said I couldn't do. And I got back up from more than my share of defeats, embarrassing moments, and just pain. And I hope that someone will see one of these stories and realize they can do the same thing. 

I am also a dreamer. I believe in magic. Still. Crazy as it sounds. Even at 51, I am still pursuing the life I have always hoped for, and I have no intention to settle. Whether it's the home or financial future I have envisioned, or even finally finding someone to share it with. I'm still searching. And I don't plan on quitting now.