Jakez

part 2


“Linda,” I said, “just get on a plane and get back here. Nick needs you.”

At this point I was running back to my car, but a cop stopped me before I could get in. I guess he saw me all wobbly and pacing and didn’t think it was safe for me to drive. He offered to take me to the hospital instead. I was glad. I’m not sure I would’ve made it in that condition.

I climbed into the back of that police car, and he just took off. We were flying down all these back roads with the lights going and the siren blaring, running red lights, blasting through stop signs. The world was a blur. And as I sat in the backseat of that cop car, alone, the whole thing started to hit me.
What if Nick has internal injuries? What if he’s in shock? Is he hurt more than he’s letting on? How had this happened? And what about John? I’ve never seen someone’s head busted open like that.

I felt sick to my stomach. John had to pull through. I prayed to God that he’d be okay. And I prayed to God for my son. Here I was, nearly four months later, consumed with thoughts of John Graziano, who was still barely clinging to life in a hospital bed.

What if he never recovers?

I took another swig from that bottle of rum. I got angry at the cops and the media and everyone who blamed my son for hurting John. It was an accident. A horrible accident. Nick didn’t set out to hurt anybody. He feels so guilty. I wish I could help him.

Slowly that anger gave way to pain and this feeling of helplessness.

Why can’t I make this all stop?

I could feel the life draining out of me. I could feel myself bleeding. That’s what it felt like: bleeding. Not from a cut on my body, but a wound somewhere deeper. It had me curling my index finger on the trigger of a loaded handgun and putting it in my mouth.

For all my strength, my will, my ability to excel and be the best, I couldn’t control that feeling. That depression. Whatever you want to call it. I couldn’t control it any more than I could control the craziness that seemed to be crushing my family.

I hit bottom, bro. And I stayed there for two straight days. I even slept with my head on that counter. If I got up to go to the bathroom once or twice, I sat right down again and stared at myself like some fool looking for answers that weren’t coming.

And that voice in my head would not stop.

Maybe I should just do it. Only cowards commit suicide. My family would be better off without me. What about the kids? I’m gonna do this. Just pull the trigger. Why not end it? Just do it, Hogan. Do it.

That could have been the end of me right there — that night in early December 2007, in the bathroom at the big house in Clearwater that everybody’d seen on Hogan Knows Best.

I could picture the crime scene. The news stories. The whole thing.

Obviously I didn’t kill myself — but I came damn close. And if it weren’t for a completely unexpected phone call that snapped me out of that stupor, I might have followed that dark road all the way to its end, and I might not be here writing this book today.

In the days after I sat there with that gun in my hand, I realized something: I was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. If I was gonna keep living and breathing, I had to change things. I didn’t know how I would do it. Maybe I’d have to change everything. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wish I didn’t have to sink that low to get to that point, but that’s what it took.

Slowly but surely in the weeks and months that followed, I opened my eyes to a whole new world. And it worked. I’m choosing to live life differently in the second half of the game.

That doesn’t mean everything’s perfect. Far from it. As I’m sitting down to write this, my soon-to-be ex-wife is dragging the divorce into a second year. Hell, she’s spending time with a nineteen-year-old boyfriend — in the house that I pay for. Not to mention I’m facing a civil suit from the Graziano family that seeks more money than I’ve made in my whole career. So no, not everything is perfect. The difference now is how I handle this stuff; how I look past those things to see the bigger picture; how I’m actually grateful that these things are happening because I know that something greater is right around the corner. If that doesn’t make a lot of sense to you right now, I’m hoping it will by the end of this book.

The main thing I want you to take away from this is simple: If I can get through everything I’ve been through in the last couple of years and be happier and stronger than ever, then you can get through whatever terrible things might happen in your life, too.

Despite what some people might think, I’m not writing this book to make excuses for anything I’ve done or to try to change anyone’s opinion of me or my family. All I want to do is tell the truth and clear the air so you’ll be able to understand where I’m coming from, and where I’m headed. ’Cause believe me, once you breathe clean air, you never want to go back to breathing anything else. That’s how I’m living now, and that’s why I want to use the lessons I’ve learned to help other people. I hope that doesn’t scare you off. In fact, I hope that you’ll be one of the people I help — even if it’s just in some small, unexpected way.

If not? Well, that’s okay, too. I’m ready to open up about everything in my life. And there’s plenty to tell! So I promise to be as open and honest in these pages as I possibly can —occasionally about some heavy stuff that I’m sure you never expected to hear from the Hulkster. I don’t know, maybe you’ll laugh at me. Or maybe you’ll see a little bit of yourself in me. Either way, if you want to read this book for the sheer entertainment value of it, that’s fine by me, too. Let’s face it, brother: My life’s been one hell of a trip, and I’m more than happy to take you along for the ride.

msnbc.com

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