I can hear Lisa talking to the cats like they’re our children, through the other wall my oldest son plays an old video game. Me I’m laying here half-ass watching a playoff game while finger-tapping these words into my phone. It still amazes me that people actually read this junk I write. I mean, I have no formal writing pedigree. I lived nothing if not an ordinary life. I’ve lived no exotic adventures or even lived through any extraordinary stories beyond my own. Yet I have a modest following of 10 or 15 people, that either like my words or the silly little snapshots I take. 

Whatever the reason, I caught the bug to write again after a 20+ year drought. As a kid I wrote all the time. I wrote poetry to all my girlfriends. I wrote superhero stories for all my guy friends. I later wrote stories just to keep myself sane. I suppose I’ve built quite a persona about myself. Being the person others have perceived me to be. I often think to myself, why do I act that way? Like I’m silly and boisterous around some, hard and grouchy with others, or cold and inhumane around a few more. All the while my wife Lisa gets the pleasure or displeasure of seeing it all. 
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Now I see the world through a very cynical pair of glasses. I suppose my life experiences, have shaped me that way. Hearing kind words coming out of someone’s mouth, while at the same time seeing true intent coming from their hands. I suppose I could accept some form of redemption for those sins. But when actions are repeated over and over again, redemption is farthest thing from my mind. So in order to walk the path, sometimes you got to wade through the shit to get to solid ground. But some things in life aren’t worth trying to understand. All you can do is just move forward, while dropping that excess baggage as you go. 

Where do I start? While I was expecting something to happen Wednesday, my mind is still in a whirl over the events in Washington. I mean these once fringe groups wanting nothing more than the anarchy and civil war. But when you recklessly play with fire, something’s gonna burn down. So between the fear mongering on stage outside and in the halls of congress, what else did you expect? My favorite part was all the news analyst and political elites clutching their pearls in disbelief. 

But enough about that shit. My New Year doesn’t begin till 12:02 pm on January 20 anyway. And even then, I’m holding my breath. The last six years have taken a toll on me physically. The last five years have done nothing but exasperate my mental health stability. While on the outside I can show a certain degree of calm, my insides are slowly breaking down. Down to the point where even the slightest change in routine or order, can cause serious changes physically. I reckon after 20+ years of walking around feeling like your pants are on fire will do that to you. 
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So this morning I probably won’t turn on the news or read my newspaper. I’ll just go over to my daughter’s and dog sit a 100 lb. five-month-old puppy. And for a few hours, I’ll worry more about what George is putting in his mouth. Then what’s driving seemingly rational humans into a paranoid state of fear and hatred. Because without compassion, empathy, or truth; the lust for power “makes for strange bedfellows”. So don’t be surprised who you wake up with in the morning.  

Please note this was written the night before the incident in Washington DC on January 6, 2021.

I am done…seriously. I am done with the whining, I am done with the denying, I am done with the anger. Most of my family and a pile of my friends, know I’m a “bleeding heart liberal”. But most of them at least still love me despite my “sinful ways”. And I should know, my father-in-law tells me he loves me and prays for me every Sunday. It’s like when my Mom would tell me, she burned letters for me every day to God. That’s the kind of conservatism and Christianity I appreciate. 

But over the last several years I’ve noticed a new intolerant kind of religious stance that’s taken over America. That kind that sounds eerily familiar to the rantings of other intolerant religions. I like to believe in the good of people. I like to think all faiths have some inherent good in each of them. But like I said, I’m just done with the shouting. Give me a valid reason why your way is better than mine. Be willing to listen and compromise. Turn off the rhetoric and fear, and give me the honest truth.
 
Listen the young woman that cuts my hair is as conservative and religious as they come. But we have a whole lot in common. She loves to laugh, she needs to feel love, and she tells a great story. She enterprising, enthusiastic, and loves those she loves. Why can’t we all be that way? This life can be really sad when all you live for is control and domination. It means you live in anger; it means you live in fear. Let’s all be a little more patient with one other. Let’s give everyone the benefit of the doubt, at least in the beginning. I’m so tired of the hate and the banter, that I’m just about ready to shut it all off. Breathe for a moment and listen to the voices and not the shouting. 

Wish to be someone I wasn’t, like an actor on a stage. But eventually when the lights dim, all I’m left with is the man I had always been. Without respect of family or kin, I was left to wonder a path of troublesome introspection changing values, like changing socks. It feels a bit redundant even mentioning this, but most everyone wishes they were someone else as well. But it’s also worth repeating that when chasing fantasies of a better life; change never comes without putting in the work. 

As a recap I seriously started reinventing myself some 14 or 15 years ago. I pursued a higher education, which I achieved in 2015. But it wasn’t an easy journey there were many stops and starts along the way. Then there is my ongoing mental health issues, which I still live with, but I can handle far better with experience and mindfulness. Now over the last 6 years, I’ve battled back from near death with my physical health. Which despite the limitations it has placed on me. I sit here more at peace and comfortable with myself than ever.
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Life’s journey leads us to lots of disappointments. But in those moments that we often learn the most. I may never achieve my childhood dream of being a rock star or even a decent musician. But I’ve learned to appreciate the little things like the cool chill of a January afternoon. The relaxing companionship of a rescue animal. To breathe in the air and hear the constant complaining of a couple of squirrels. Dreams are tempered by reality, but in moments of awareness, you will find your heart’s desire.

Walking a path through oak and swamp leaving all I had known behind. I walk backwards through time to an ancient fort. The massive structure covered in mold and spanish moss, build in several iterations of wood, dirt, brick, and stone. I thought for a moment how this was once a thriving town, left to waste like someone’s bad memory. 

As I lay here the memories fade as quickly as they came. But I still smell the dampness of the wood, stone, and ground. I am a nomad at heart a citizen of no particular cult or kin. I don’t belong to the “burbs”, didn’t stick around any particular religious sect, can’t even call myself “Geechee” though I’m an adopted son. 

But yet life still pulls, it pulls us to our desires our destiny’s. When we ignore the pull, we often turn inward destroying ourselves in the process. Making bad decisions and gasping at whatever straw we can find. I understand we should keep moving and that we should bury the past. But life without embracing the pain, is a life without embracing yourself. 
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So I carefully navigate the path, mindful of roots that can trip me. Aware of the places and the people I have known. Becoming less chameleon and more a product of experience; with each step, each hill I must climb. But when you awaken from the slumber, that’s usually how it goes. So as I look over the next horizon I follow a path to a nobler truth. That I’m never really alone, when experience and curiosity led the way. 

New Year’s couldn’t have picked a worse time of the year to happen. For one, I’m not in a very festive mood. Two, the weather is just plain crappy. And three, for me 2020 hasn’t really ended yet. I mean, we are still in the middle of a pandemic, the sitting president is showing out like a three-year-old that needs a spanking, and for some damn reason the entire world is watching our senate race like the damn country depends on it. I’m just tired. Tired of the election temper tantrums, the whole not being able to see what few friends I have, and the preventable deaths that have occurred. 

I don’t mean to rain on anyone’s “hope and change” parade, I’m just being honest with my emotions. I cannot will a good attitude on myself. I tried the shit way too many times, only to see my pumped-up emotions get popped by a single sharp pin. My only solace is that soon my attitude will change. I’ve lived over 20 years with clinical depression. I’ve seen my share of highs and lows. I’ve watched myself fight and fight to feel “better”, only to be dragged back to the ground by a single drop of rain.
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It’s a part of who I am, so I’ve learned to accept it. I’ve also learned that through acceptance and compassion I can deal with it. I have learned to love myself as I am, warts and all. Through forgiveness and self-respect, I’ve learned that things will never change unless you deal with the inside first. No matter how much weight you loose or how much success you have in life. Nothing is ever enough till you make peace with yourself. Life is an unending struggle for us frontal lobe thinking creatures. We threat about the past, as well as the future. When what’s really important is the here and now.    

Outside I’m cleansing my palate of all the isolation and bitterness I see. From watching the news and social media, that fills my mind with the poison of fear and division. But now that I’m in the backyard, where even the joshing of the EMC crews is a welcome distraction between what is real and what is fake. Why do we allow a handful of bitter souls dictate our thoughts? When it is clear the real world simply operates like a clunky, but we’ll oiled machine. 

Listening to a combination of chatter, truck back-up buzzers, and the occasional songbird bird. I am surrounded by everything but the mindless clutter of well-worn rhetoric that spews from the screen. I marvel at the balance of the antenna tower next to my home, while the same time I am amazed by the complexity and balance of the sycamore trees.  Why do we so enjoy the superficial? The talking clans of ignorance that believes they can explain away the randomness of it all. 
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I sit here in the mid-afternoon, while cars and utility trucks pass by. Seemingly unconcerned with the breeze blowing the remaining leaves that wave it me on this picture-perfect day. An elderly neighbor walks by, with two or three kids in tow as she does three times a day. With a walking stick in hand, her name brand track shoes that look out of place, with her button-up sweater and long skirt. Yet this is what’s real, this is what I cling too, in these seemingly fearful and stressful times. 

The water spickets are dripping waiting for tonight’s freeze. It’s been a colder than usual December around here. We usually don’t get this cold a weather till late January or February. But I got the sun to my back, so it doesn’t feel as cold as it is. My mind dances around thoughts between what I want to do and what I’m capable of doing. Sometimes it’s a bitter chain tied around your neck, when you dream dreams and are yet acutely aware.
 
So I dance this dance with myself. Doling out advice and encouragement to others, like penny candy from Grandma’s purse. Not that I don’t like penny candy, it’s just sometimes I feel a bit hypocritical saying those things. When I’m sitting here in a stationary position. Maybe I remind myself that each situation is different. That one man’s medicine can be other man’s poison. Then again, maybe I’m just making up for all those cynical and insulting words that flowed from my mouth.

Whatever the reason, I sit here and little like John Lennon “Watching the Wheels”. Working on what I can, and accepting what I can’t. I know that may sound defeatist, but at least it’s honest. The road to perfection is a slippery slope, especially when you place so much pressure on yourself to win. So that eventually when you do stumble, it knocks you down so far, you may never get up again. So I’ve learned to just breathe, then accept, and continue on my journey. 

It’s funny, how I don’t talk about dreams much anymore. I mean I had dreams, things like business ventures and goals to achieve. Even after my major health scares, I dreamed of creating this new life. Now I just seem to meander through each day without much thought of tomorrow. I wonder, is that a good thing or a bad thing? I haven’t put much thought into it recently. I'm just simply “float through life”. 

It’s almost like it was decades ago when I would have some awesome idea and never see it through. Although back then I was held back by a sense of fear and inadequacy. Today it just feels different. At the moment I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe it’s mental, maybe it’s physical, or maybe a little of both. I mean I’m laying here with my heart fluttering a bit. Causing me to pause for a moment and take some deep breaths. 

Whatever it is, I suppose it’s good that I’m thinking about it. Instead of just sitting here like a stump rotting from the inside out. So many people just give up. They drone through life bitter and angry. I mean most work simply to survive, but the fire of life has long burned out. I hope that’s not what is going on with me. I mean to come as far as I have to just fade away would seem tragic. But then again, simply living day by day focused on the here and now. Is that such a bad thing? Living to encourage others and to observe life at its simplest, is that such a bad way to float through?

Left to explore ghost, I struggle through nights in implosive dreams. Digging through a boneyard of a triumphs and failures. Where faces nearly forgotten, come to life to comfort or settle old scores. Paralyzed by dreams, I sift through the sands of memory. Like cleaning a litterbox long forgotten. 
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I ask myself why, I ask myself how? All those buried and left for dead, keep coming back. Are they here to remind me of where I am? Or are they simply here to take me back to where I been? I breathe deeply through the fog of memories, only to find myself in this place. Living in duality, not between light and dark. But between who I am and the person I pretend to be. 

We open our eyes to the selfishness around us. Planted firmly in our own ambition and goals. Yet within that paradigm of self-preservation, there are those that are helpless. Recently a friend was thrust into a situation where they had to take custody of two of their grandchildren. The circumstances can either be seen as selfish or tragic for the children’s parents. Whatever your judgement of them, the children are innocent and caught in the crossfire.

For my friend it seems to be a no-win situation. The children, basically dropped off at their door step by the authorities. Left my friend and their spouse to fend for themselves as far as supplies. Thankfully, they have received some help from their community. But still, you have two fifty-somethings in poor health dealing with sick baby and special needs preschooler during a pandemic. I’ve been thinking a lot about them and their situation. Wishing I could be more than a cheerleader on the sidelines. 
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As I toss and turn on this unseasonable warm December night, I think about my own selfish pursuits. About how I love to complain when dealing with my own children’s silly little problems. Then I think about my friend. I have no doubt my friend will make it through this situation, they always do. But then I think about how we as a people, a nation, and a world; treat the innocent. Those thrust into situations not of their own doing. Do we continue look at them with indifference? With no concern for their future or wellbeing? Or do we finally crawl out of our own comfort zones and make a difference. 

It’s a crisp 52° this morning, I’m sitting here in my scared space I suppose. I broke down and listened to Thich Nhat Hanh book “Making Space” last night. It’s basically a rundown of creating a meditative space for yourself. Going over the basics of mediation and the value of mindfulness. It’s a short listen, but it’s well worth the time. Reminding me that one’s sacred space can pretty much be anywhere you can find or create. 

I suppose you already know my scared space is outside in my backyard, next to the busy EMC maintenance shop, next to a major US Highway, down the street from the county courthouse. Not exactly the quietest place in town, but with focus and awareness, any place can become a scared space. For mediation is basically ones way of getting out of one’s head and focusing on the here and now. 

I watch my children living their lives threatening over bills, mortgage payments, and their own family problems. Maybe I just seem lazy to them, but I totally understand. For the better part of my adult life, I worried the same about them. Even to this day I am responsible for two disabled adults in my home, along with my crippled ass old self. 
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But their lives are spinning too fast to listen to an old fool like me. Especially when I tell them life’s eventually going to catch-up with them. We all need a scared space, rather it’s a unused room, the garage, or a quiet garden space. It is important to just let go. Even for those of you with religious sensitivities. You have church or better yet prayer. Take time for yourself, the world demands much, but you demand more.

The suns at my back, it’s unseasonable warm at 73° for Christmas time. The world says we’re in trouble but not in my backyard. Still, that doesn’t make me lackadaisical or ignorant, I mean, I got my mask and hand sanitizer. Even though the world looks peaceful from here.

Everyone say it’s time for revolution, but I think it’s time for a good dose of reality and respect. Not only for your side, but for mine as well. All or nothing is a dangerous stand to take, even jf you’re right. Because at some point someone’s going to disagree, then all hell going break loose.
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But if you’re not going to be happy till you become someone’s master, then go ahead. Because you’ll never win an enemy by killing his children. So don’t even think you can win without respect. Don’t believe you’re winning with that “see all, know all” attitude, without listening to the other side. 

Like a restless fool, I pushed it a little hard today. Even though my body was giving me all the signs to slow it down. As usual I ignored all the symptoms and now, I’m paying the price. Oh, don’t worry it’s nothing too serious. It’s just when I push myself like this, it always ruins the rest of my day. That’s because as far as how I treat myself, I’d give me a “D-”, definitely below average. 

But when you’ve been schooled your whole life that you are worthless. You end up believing those damning words of abuse. To the point that where you don’t even need anyone else around to abuse you. Often I get so miserable that I am just piss poor company to be around. I’m loud, verbally abusive, and simply turn into a rotten person. It’s not that I have the inside straight on shitty behavior, but I am honest enough to admit it when it’s here.
 
I guess at the moment, I’m on some plateau. Where I’m sorta tired of riding this rollercoaster of up and down emotions. Today should have been an enjoyable little outing. Instead, I went out totally unprepared physically, which in turn shot me to hell mentally. At the moment my body’s recovering from a very overactive digestive system. Which in turn brings on a total lack of hydration. That eventually drains my blood sugar, to the point that I over compensate to recover.
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But don’t worry, it’s all on me. I’ve spent years working on this poor soul. But don’t worry, this wasn’t my first screw up, and it most certainly won’t be my last. For the moment, I’ll just lick my wounds. I won’t worry about this being a teaching moment or even a cautionary tale. I’ll just toss it up to over enthusiasm, under preparedness, and piss-poor timing.  

Sitting back on this rainy night, listening to some old AM tunes. I’m taking back to afternoons spent sitting in the car, while Mom and Sister shopped at the dress shop. While Dad would piddle around the Western Auto with Matthew. I would get Dad leave me the keys so I could switch the car radio to 1290 WTOC. In the early ‘70’s TOC was the AM rock station before FM got popular. 

Paul McCartney & Wings, The Electric Light Orchestra, The Eagles, and Stevie Wonder ruled the airways. Listening now to McCartney and George Harrison remind me of simpler days. When the world wasn’t so panicked and stressed out. Where a 13-year-old could still dream, without being reminded of what a fat, four-eyed weirdo he was. While these days aren’t much different, at least I’ve grown a thicker skin. But the stains of ridicule remain the same.
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But as always, I have my music, the one thing that has never let me down. Oh there where some dark years when I lost my songs. But over the last ten years the music and emotion have come rushing home. So I lay here with “Band on the Run” pouring through my buds. Forever telling me I’ll never be satisfied with the status quo. That “All Things Must Past” and to live is to grow beyond what I know. 

Wet colorful leaves circle around my feet. The ground damp from the midnight rain. The temperature has dropped at least 25° since yesterday. But at least a breath of sun is shining through. I write all this even before I the dawn breaks. But the anticipation of a brighter day has already formed in my dreams. 
 
Hoping for better days is more than just a pipe dream. I am a man ruled by his elements. I don’t try and push away feelings of sadness or dread. I welcome them, embrace them as a part of who I am. Since I began travelling this road of mindfulness. I am not a perfect student of any particular sect. Just a man looking for peace.
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Recently I was berated publicly, for my emotions on FB. Basically, telling me to find my way “back to the Lord”. I guess I could have gotten upset or posted a clever rebuttal. I just kinda laughed about it and give ‘em a “Like”. For over twenty years I’ve searched for peace. First going to my Christian upbringing, then exploring subliminal messaging and binomial therapy. For the last decade or so, I’ve settled into mindfulness, mediation, and awareness. I suppose the point here is, never settle for something that gives you half-truths. Greet each day with a degree of anticipation. Good or Bad, take it and learn from each experience as it comes.

Restless and a bit listless. I tow the party line of dutiful provider and faithful spouse. But as the years move quickly, the rolls take on different meanings, except for a chosen few. The bones grow wary sometimes, and I often find myself longing to bury myself beneath the covers, once again. It gets harder and harder to come up with excuses to paint on a smile of optimism. Instead opting for the words of silence for relief. 

I find it very hard to be “inspirational”, these days. Having been separated me from the few I confide in. Leaving me alone with the echoes of my own broken mind. I leave my misery sprinkle about, in words of hardened candor or in the blustery sayings of a bitter old man. But these are nothing more than the honest cries of disappointment and shame.  
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I wish I could offer some words of peace, if just for myself. But making empty promises are just not my thing. Maybe it would be wise to simply bury my head in the sand. But the before mentioned obligations make that impossible. So I tighten the belt one more notch and preform the task at hand. Turning them into nothing more than chores I no longer look forward too. This in turn heaps even more guilt on this raging brush fire in my soul. 

As time follows us, existence and finality follow suit. The person looking back at you in the mirror is the same, but time and scares have left their mark. I’ve learned to accept such things. But for a while I rejected all thoughts of the end. But teetering on the edge of mortality taught me a lesson. That despite my best efforts, time waits for no one.
 
In 2015 after laying on a hospital bed for seven days, being monitored and pumped full of chemicals to save my life. I grew wiser. I understood that what I had done before than wasn’t enough. That the fear I carried about my own mortality, were nothing more than words pressed into my mind, by the inadequacies that I felt. So something had to change.
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That was five years ago, and after a few more hospital visits, I’m still learning. Learning that I don’t know everything. I mean I’ve read all the books, went to all the seminars. Yet it wasn’t until I learned to love and to forgive me, that I learned anything I needed to know. Life’s still a struggle and I have my days. But through self-awareness I am able to focus and live one moment at a time. 

It’s 3:40 in the morning, I’ve been up for about an hour. Mostly feeling pressure in my gut, with the occasional heart palpitation. I don’t worry about it too much, it’s just the same old, same old. I figured I’ve been due a few days like this after the last few weeks. I mentioned earlier to a young friend, that I don’t let troubles bother me much as they happen. It’s usually afterwards that the pressure finally settles on me in the form of some physical reaction.
 
But it is what it is, 21 years after being diagnosed with Panic Disorder, Chronic Depression, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. You either accept those fact or bury them away in your prideful mind. Both mindsets will lead you down similar but different paths. I consider my stories the creation of my more logical side. While my poetry is the creation of my more emotional side. Lately my poetic side has taken over, giving me some release from my troubled mind. 
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As I lay here, I accept the release my words give me. Writing is my meditation. The words flow freely, much easier than they have in years past. I’ve noticed that the more pride I let go of, the more content and accepting my mind gets. So many of us live in this bubble of rules. Believing that “herd mentality” will eventually set us free, well I don’t know about that. While the world lives by a very strict genetic code. There are so many outside forces that twist and pull at each living thing. That life eventually turns into it’s own unique puzzle. Whereby adapting to circumstance is the key to survival.

Not feeling too dandy this morning, I got a headache and my guts are tied in knots. Other than that, I look good. I took a hot shower at my daughter’s and even give myself a nice smooth shave. But even in the shower I could still hear my insides churning. Making it clear what kind of day this is going to have. But what are you gonna do? Give up hide under the covers all day? I don’t know, I tried that shit and it didn’t get me very far. I also tried burying my head in work or in denial, but all that ever gave me was the situation I’m currently in.

Listen, packing it all in may sound like a great idea. But take it from me, all it leaves you with is a rotten feeling. That eventually leads you down a dark path where you take out your fear and frustrations out on others. Thank God I had a young family. If it wasn’t for them, I’d probably be six feet under by now. At times when I didn’t feel like moving, I'd eventually have to force myself up and go to work or at least go to the store for my family. You see deep within me there always was a fire. A fire that quietly told me I would be okay, if I tried. 
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This year has certainly been a test on the psyche of the world. Especially for those that feed from the trough of misinformation. To be honest my only problems with 2020 have been limiting my travel and a lack of toilet paper. I’m already self-isolating, I don’t like people much, and I much rather be alone. I suppose my point is, “Roll with the Flow”. Life is like a leaf on the wind, being carried where it may. You can believe differently, I don’t mind. But just know, life only takes you as far as you take it.

My life has become a reflective ritual. Sitting under what’s left of the backyard shade, I smell the freshly washed clothes on the line. Nearby a neighbor mows their grass, while the kids down the street yell and ride their bikes. Other than that, every so often a car passes by, all the while the migrating birds sing from the tops of the trees. The sun slowly moves, meaning I got to move my chair again. While the fallen leaves on the ground are a not-so-subtle reminder, winters right around the corner.
 
Each of these things take on ritualistic duty, that helps keep me sane. Years ago, I wouldn’t have taken so much time to notice such things. But the ghost of my past guide me and nurture my senses to look beyond the next moment and to focus on the here and now. I meditate much like my uncle and my father; by stopping, listening, and observing. While on the trails, I watch for deer tracks, pay attention to how the wind moves across the yard, and notice the smells that cross my senses. 
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But sometimes my focus is broken. The troubles of the day start to weigh heavy, pulling me towards despair and troubles. So I cherish these few moments when all things seem okay. Giving me focus and stability to go through another day. Reflective ritual is more than just a well-worn path for me. It’s a guidebook to the answers I often seek. 

Vulnerability melts into the darkness, avoiding light and sound. Leaving your eyes blind to the truth. Leaving your ears mute to the sound. The body says a lot about how you truly feel. The discomforts and pains so often tie directly into the environment in which you live. At the moment I feel discomfort and pain. From the surface, everything should be good. Still there is a gnawing centered deep within my soul.

Persistent headaches and constant sense of dissatisfaction, plague my mind. Rather it’s one thing or twenty, who the hell knows. Certainly not me. I often feel like a canvas that simply wishes to be left alone. Life battles us from three fronts spiritual, physical, and mental. I suppose in a way all three of these are lacking some satisfaction. Laced with my usual tendencies for fear, dread, and longing.
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Maybe Dad was right and I should push all these things to the side and just work myself to death. But so much of me is just self-analytical, the result of too many visits to the Community Mental Health Center. But the gist of this is the fog that often plagues us, even after so long on the journey. Wishing to some degree I could turn off the noises I express through art. But these words are but a reflection of what I see and feel around me. A catalog of these difficult times. Where reality and madness exist side by side. 

Within my dreams, fear and unrest manifest themselves into palpable realities. Drawing me ever deeper into the storms of worry and dread. Ignoring such things will only lead you down dark unhealthy paths, of self-destruction and pain. After nearly 21 years of recognizing and working to face my self-abuse. I still find myself faced with the unfortunate truth, that these ingrained tendencies never magically go away. 

The best option I have found is to face down the fear. Not in a competitive way, but rather by listening, giving the fear a voice. By telling that inner child that it is okay to feel that way. Maybe I live in some alternate reality, where forgiveness begins from within. But for me, no matter how many times I hear someone else offering me away out. It eventually falls away, like autumn leaves in a howling wind. 
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So I face my truth, I face my shortcomings; and with that in mind I try and make things better. I wish I could wrap my arms around this hurting world. Where fear, hatred, and divisiveness reign supreme. But I cannot, I am just one man. But I can touch that individual next to me and they in turn can do the same. Living your truth is a much stronger testament, than forcing it down someone’s throat. 

I finally got a day off from my taxi service, yet here I am wide awake at 5 in the morning. Apparently, I can’t win for losing at this sleeping game. Anyway, I been feeling a little extra tense these last few days. Not so much any situation with myself. But more or less worried about other people and their situations. I mean, you can’t help but feel for the people in your life going through bad things. Being a totally unprofessional therapist, people do seem to take comfort in talking to me. But I often find it hard to shake off the emotions I feel them place upon me. I suppose I skipped that class in Psych 101. 

I will admit I have been internalizing some of the shit going on around me. I know some of you may find that hard to believe, but I do. Lately this has been leading me down a path of poor choices in a number of areas. From impulsive buying to poor dietary choices. I suppose it’s just the same old “song and dance”. But it’s a familiar tune we all love to play.
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So for now I’ll just lay here, my mind racing and my stomach churning. Because at the moment this is my reality, my confession. But probably just as soon as I turn off the app, I’ll be at rest. Knowing I made my confession to a world that’s just as screwed up as me. Lord knows, I ain’t no superman or a guru high on a hill. I’m just me, listening, confessing my sins, and apparently not impressing anyone. But for the honest person, isn’t that all you ever want to be? 

For the last few days, I’ve had me a good case of the mulligrubs. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s a real word that can either mean foul mood or uncomfortable stomach. In my case it means both, my belly’s uncomfortable and I’m in a foul mood. But I take these things as they come, right now I got a heating pad on my belly and an ice pack on my head. I am such a pathetic site. But pride left me along with my libido, a long time ago. So I don’t worry about such things anymore, I mean I do carry a diaper bag after all. 

Pride is such a funny thing; I suppose it’s not much different than the plumage of a peacock or antlers on a deer. It’s a source of gravitas, a way of standing out from the rest. In my own life I always knew I was witty and observant. But I was also very much aware that I lacked the right plumage. And while I’ve gotten through life fairly well, in the back of my mind there was always that sense never measuring up. A sense that has led me down a path of many destructive behaviors. 
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But I’m sure none of you know what I’m talking about. I mean you guys driving around in your shiny new F-150’s. And you gals clinging to your last shining moments of youth. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to be judgmental. It’s just that most all of us clang to some attribute that makes us special. I ask that you forgive my mulligrubness, at least for now. The key is to not let the ghosts of doubt, rob you of our comfort. Clear your mind, allow yourself a little forgiveness. Change what you can and be at peace with the rest.