After two days of high humidity, drizzle, and shitty temperatures; we finally got a little sunshine, wind, and pleasant temperatures. The leaves are tussling about the yard like children on a playground. Blowing ever which way with no particular direction in mind. I’ve felt pretty crappy the past few days since Thanksgiving. But the cloudless blue sky has turned my frown upside down despite how my gut feels.

Circumstance can be a huge motivator in ones life. Maybe you grew up poor and you’ve dedicated your life to accumulating wealth. Maybe you’re just the opposite and don’t see any way out of the poverty experienced by your family. Circumstance definitely played a role in my development. Leaving me fearful and silent to fight back at the shortcomings my existence left me. Circumstance is certainly a valid excuse when one is needed. Doing my best not to sound like a, “Hang in there, Baby” kitten poster from the break room. The incidents that formed your life are real and can be crippling.
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I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t let your circumstances dictate your outcome. Hey, I got a shit load of strikes stacked against me. I struggle with mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety. I fight low self-esteem from decades of bullying . I ended up being abusive and treating others with indifference myself. Physically as I was coming to terms with my mental situation. My physical health came crushing through the floor. Leaving me to this day struggling just to do everyday task. But despite it all, most of the time, I try. And that is all you can ask of yourself. Moments of pain and fear, they come and they go. But finding peace with yourself and your circumstance, will open doorways you never saw before. 

Vulnerability, considered such a weak and yet arcane word. For years I fought against it, yet in the moments of my deepest despair, it was my salvation. Even now I wage war against it, especially when others throw their perceived arrows against me. From early childhood I had to build a defensive wall to protect my insides. You know, those things I held dear like my dreams and my emotions. Mentally abused from an early age, I sought shelter in my imagination. Then later on in my sharp wit and bravado.

Not gifted as an athlete, I started as a skinny, four-eyed rut. That communicated much better with the adults in my life than with any of my peers. Through my inactivity and isolation I became overweight. Simply meandering through school dreading the next bully around the corner. After high school I had no focused ambition. Like many of my generation I sought solace in distraction and momentary pleasure. Kidding myself I was tough when on the inside I was just a puddle of shit.
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Over the decades it only got worse. Gasping at one straw or the other, hoping the next one would be the key. But I only ended up falling apart first mentally and then physically. It’s only been over the last several years that I have felt like my shit has been coming together. My secret, if you want to call it that, is searching. Taking time to reflect and not being afraid to be vulnerable. To face my demons and to ask myself why? I give my fear a voice, I allowed that vulnerability to speak. But instead of bottling it up and hiding it. I learned and I’m learning to let it go. I could go on and on, but what would be the point? Each of us has our weaknesses and our strengths. It is the searching for our truth that brings peace. It is our self-awareness that creates understanding. 

Well it’s the day before Thanksgiving and I’ve finally got to stop running around town. As you may or may not know my wife broke a bone in her foot. Her podiatrist has her in a brace and ordered off the foot for two weeks. She’s supposed to be in a wheelchair but it won’t fit through the door of our 100+ year old house. So I’ve been doing the cooking and cleaning, which I do some anyway. It’s just the dressing her and waiting on her that’s a little hard to get back in the routine of doing.
 
But I’m getting it done. We’re doing Thanksgiving at our oldest daughter’s this year. She’s doing most all the cooking so I’ll show up early just in case. Thinking back to all the thanksgivings we’ve endured, it’s a wonder I still celebrate the holiday. But now that we got grandkids and my overly sentimental wife, I am contractually obligated to still attend. I don’t know why I am like I am. It used to not bother me to drive 75 miles to my in-laws, parents, or my sister-in-laws house for the holidays. I guess it’s because I couldn’t afford to give my kids any of the nice things they got from them. So I grinned and bared the questions from family, all the while hiding the shame of my mental illness.
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So I’m sitting outside with that all too familiar headache I get before the holidays. Dreading even the little driving I have to do tomorrow. I guess it’s a little like PTSD, but mine is mostly self-induced. For too long I kept quiet about this shit. Listening to that voice in my head calling me a lazy idiot. As moments float by, neighbors stop by and cut turnips and mustard out of the garden. It’s sorta of a neighborhood tradition around here, Mr. Brown giving away from the garden’s bounty. We all give of ourselves, it’s pretty much what we do as humans, but often it can be too much. So I sit here and greet my neighbors, take in the pleasant weather, and watch more leaves fall. Knowing that despite the emotions, life’s going to be okay.   

It’s funny, in about two and a half hours I’ll officially be 60 years old. Like I’ve said a million times before, I have a warranty that’s only good till I’m 60, after that it’s all gravy. It’s unfortunate my parents didn’t get to see this day. Tomorrow there won’t be a gag birthday card from my mother in the mail. No celebration or birthday cake, but I did get a nice gift from my nameless daughter.

You figured I’d be fast asleep by now, but a certain amount of anxiety has been on me for a week now. I guess it stems from my anxiety of reaching a goal. You see, over the years once I obtained a goal, like getting my degree or overcoming a health issue. Instead of feeling proud of my accomplishment, I’d start to feel let down. Almost like the trophy was tarnished before I even unpacked it. I supposed I’m thinking the same thing will happen in the morning when I get up.
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So I’ve pulled away from any kind of goal setting or even worrying about my day. I was a great planner, I have been commended and rewarded for my ability to plan for any contingency. But even with that skill the final outcome only made me unsatisfied and hollow. So I pulled away. I suppose whatever memories or emotions this particular landmark brings, should be left on it’s own. Focusing on the moment is a hard goal to achieve. Marked by bouts of regret and “what ifs”, it pulls me away from the goal of contentment. Hell, if you’ve figured any of this out drop me a note in the comments. I could use a little wisdom. 

Friday I went for my 3-month check up with my primary care physician. She checks my weight, my blood sugar, my A1C, my blood pressure; you know the usual stuff. I go every three months due to all my outlaying medical issues. I call it my “Check to See if I’m Breathing Visit”. Well surprise, surprise I’m breathing. In fact except for my blood pressure being a little low, she’s pretty satisfied with my visit. After nearly dying on a few occasions, I tend to do what my doctor says. There’s something to be said about a near death experience that’ll keep you motivated.

Anyway, this morning was the first real cold we had this season. In fact it was a crisp 34°f this morning. Now only a few years ago this wouldn’t have bothered me. Back then I was well insolated enough (weighing 356 lbs.) that I hardly wear a heavy coat outside to work. But now at 230 lbs. with much thinner blood and less heart pumping ability, I’m freezing my ass off. As the picture above shows I am under multiple blankets with two heating pads in my bed. With the added pleasure of a calico cat laying on my belly. Now none of this reeks of motivation or overcoming obstacles. But it does say a lot about taking what you have and making the best of it.
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If you don’t take anything else from this pathetic, semi-humorous look at my life, take this. Life throws grenades at your happiness pretty much every day. For those of you seeking happiness I’m sorry. But eventually you have to brush off the dirt and bandage your wounds and carry on. And for you that say, “then what’s the point?” I’d say, it’s because there’s an energy and hope in living. Back when I was initially suffering with my mental health issues, I wondered myi if there was a point. But you know what, those struggles laid the foundation for overcoming these current struggles. Telling me that no matter that pain, the weakness, or the cold; that I matter, and the ones I covet matter. No matter how humble the reward of living is, it outweighs any supposed comfort you may find in defeat. Stay motivated, be alive.  

I learned a long time ago not to force myself to be creative. I mean I hear about artist and writers that sit themselves down every day to work on something. I don’t know, I can’t subscribe to that discipline. It’s not like anything I put down is really art. My compositions are more like a conversation than anything else. It’s stuff that just spills out my head and onto the screen. And besides, who am I to say if any of this is any good?

I write stuff, essays or poetry, that I think are pretty good. But once I publish it, I may get little to no response to it. Then there are things I throw together that I don’t really think that much of, that get liked, praised, and shared all over the place. It’s really weird. I guess that doesn’t make me much of a professional artist does it? But truth be told, I’m just a hack anyway. But I do enjoy hanging around “artsy” types. And every once in a while I may learn a little something from them.
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So I hunt and peck at this tiny little keyboard, searching for meaning or at least something to make you laugh. And I don’t know, oftentimes it’s either right there in front of me or I have peck around a few hundred words to get it out. I’m pretty straightforward I’m not much on flashy words or symbolisms. I tend to get to the point. Hell, even my spell check / word anticipator have just about figured me out. As humans we are destined to create. It may not be some priceless piece of art, but it can be a delicious meal, or a sage piece of advice for a lost friend.  Either way embrace your creativity, and although it may never sustain you, it can definitely enrich your days. 

I’m just sitting outside watching the leaves fall from the sycamore trees and covering the backyard. Lisa’s getting the laundry from the weekend hung out while the rest of town is waking up to another week. The winds are light and warm coming out of the east. I spent the weekend watching football and muting every political ad that I saw. Between democrats fretting about democracy and republicans looking for a new Boogeyman to blame, at least my water and sewage still works despite them.

Late last night I woke up to go to the bathroom. Going back to sleep I turned on an episode of Tara Brach’s mindfulness podcast. In this episode she discussed the difference between doing and being. It was a good reminder of how often we often end up “over-controlling” and not just living our lives. Several years ago after I was just getting a handle on my own doubt and self-loathing. I suffered from the first in a series of physical setbacks. These setbacks haunt me still today with my ever-growing/ever-changing intake of life saving medication and treatments.
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But despite all these setbacks and the to-do list of therapies I rely on, I still find time to just be. You see, what I suffered from the most was the over-controlling and over-correcting of my actions in order to achieve my goals. And while goals themselves aren’t a bad thing, the obsession and abuse they can generate often are. The worrying over projects, the continued fighting with self-doubt, and downright self abuse of my body; all brought me to a point where it all came crashing down. What I’m trying to say is, often letting go is the key to true contentment and satisfaction. In the last few years, while new physical problems have presented themselves. Through mindfulness and trust I’ve learned that “sweating the details “ is often an unnecessary stressor; that awareness and silence often supersedes and overcomes.  

So I’m sitting outside after a day of piddling around. I got our daughter’s dog smelling blankets and covers washed and back to her, then took myself for a walk down the Oak Trail at the local state park. I needed to clear my head after yesterday’s fiasco at my doctor’s office in Savannah. I drove two hours to get to his office on the Southside, fighting 90 year old drivers and log trucks all the way there. Only to be told the doctor was running at least two to three hours behind. At first I agreed to stick around, then common sense got the better of me, and I went home.

I haven’t rescheduled my appointment, I’m waiting to see if he misses me first and calls me. I figured since he has a satellite office in Vidalia (26 miles away) we’ll meet up there instead of me burning gas on a 125+ mile exodus to the hell town I left 30 years ago. Recently I spoke about examining ourselves and changing things in our own lives. The same holds true for the empathy we should feel towards one another’s life situations.
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You see, I’m not really mad at my doctor, I mean shit happens. But he does have a office full of employees that could have called but didn’t. Anyway I’ve wasted enough brain cells worrying about that situation. The goal in becoming aware is to focus on the bigger picture as well as bringing yourself to some sort of center. Life is full of so many U-turns and detours, it’s easy to loss focus and the achievement of peace. Other than my mindfulness practice, I spend time alone emptying my thoughts, I listen to the sounds around me, and observe the order in which nature runs. Walks in the woods was a major benefit in my troubled minds recovery. Hopefully I’m getting that back to that again in some small way. That is why I should show my doctor a little grace for giving that pleasure back to me.  

Six decades is a long time to try and figure out who you are. It’s pretty much a 20/80 split between those that are still searching and those that really don’t give a shit. At least that’s true for most people I know. Most label themselves by the work they do. Others by the good they have done. And yet they’re still others that could care less. Honestly I waver between all or none of these processes.

My immediate family would say I don’t give a shit, while a few others would say I’m exceptional and kind. Then there’s the vast majority that don’t even know I exist or at least act like I don’t. We are riddles wrapped tin foil, because the outside tells us nothing and inside even less. Unless you put a label on it you soon forget what it is you put in the freezer. You usually have to wait till it defrost to find out. And by then you’re stuck with whatever you got.
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Focus and awareness are not bad things to center your mind on. Either is emptiness and cleansing. I’ve discovered that both have left with a clearer mind and less clutter. Oh I still have my moments of stress and anxiety. But I’m mindful enough to know, nothing last forever. Saint and sinner are the images we all project. It’s usually not left up to us to create that label. We’re born and then we die, and whatever essence we leave behind becomes our legacy. Don’t get tied down to one label. Allow yourself to explore, to make mistakes. Labelling is often a condemnation. It limits who you can become and who you need to be. 

Without a lot of people to talk to I suppose I’m just left talking to myself. I’m a pretty good conversationalist, but oftentimes what I’m going to say is usually fairly predictable. It’s the close of another October afternoon and there’s not a cloud in the sky. The youngins across the road, in the fancy brick house with the big wooden fence, are putting on a show. Screaming and yelling at one another, while their mother and apparently their father (?), are bringing up the chorus.

A close relative of mine mentioned over the weekend they have another grandbaby on the way. This will be their daughter’s fourth child and they’re worry about how she can afford another little one. I stay closed month on that subject considering we had four “door step” kids ourselves. But I definitely understand her dilemma rather she does now or not. But life’s full of seemingly boring choices. With consequences that don’t seem like much at first, but can turn into some major shit shows before it’s all said and done. I get to wrestle with these kinds of choices everyday. But somehow I get a little lucky sometimes and eventually something good comes out of it.
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There are those of us that fret over every decision, every move. And in the long run, we usually end up regretting our choices either way. But just like those little ones across the way, screaming in crescendo, while their daddy’s growling and chasing them across the yard. We have to have faith that whatever choices we’ve made, are the choices we can live with. Attitude and a healthy perspective are important when dealing with the things life hands us. Fair or unfair, they are the things that will either save us or take us down. 

It’s the late afternoon, I napped for a few hours after a rough night my sleeping. Outside it’s still fairly warm hovering around the low 80’s. There’s a slight breeze blowing and the birds are chattering away like it’s springtime. From somewhere I catch the lightest scent of flowers, contrasted with the tamped down noise of highway traffic. I’m not thinking of much other the images you sent. Nothing provocative, just that sly smile you always give.

We know what we know. Painted on faces with well managed personas all dictating what we want to be seen. A performance we’ve put on so many times from the training we received when we were young. I guess that’s one of your qualities that holds me so. Knowing that with each other we see through the showmanship and really get each other. Still there’s an element of fear that pulls us back. A chain-linked fence that let’s us see in, but still protects.

But this isn’t meant as a criticism of you and our relationship, but more of an understanding. That beneath the surface of bravado lies the root of our desire. Where a mere physical relationship isn’t enough. Where dependents and need are eclipsed by confidence and admiration. Allowing us to love from a far and yet carry no fear of abandonment. Patience is our strongest weapon against the forces of fear. We know where we stand. We know each other. Through the good and the bad, we walk together alone. 

Who would have thought it would take me this long to get comfortable in my own skin. A dreamer by trade I was brought up to appreciate the spiritual more so then the physical world. Lost on occasion to the obligations of life. I have recently found myself tasting again the bitter fruit of good and evil, without so much as a nibble of the tree of life. Rambling deeper into the dark rabbit hole that is my soul. I can’t help but ask more questions than I can answer. But such as it is with us over thinkers and our big old brains.

I don’t claim to be a wise man just a dreamer of sorts. Making wishes and hoping for the best, while my neighbors only seem to wish to hate each others guts. But all’s quiet under the sycamore tree if you just allow it. While the turnips and the mustard in the garden struggle to take root. At the edge of my senses, I hear children playing, I smell the leaves burning, and see the loggers just trying finding there way home. The pyramids were built for no better reason than why we paste our own vanity filling up our driveways. To make ourselves feel more important than we really are.
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So we hold our own, and allow ourselves to get swallowed up by the mundane. While just beneath the surface pure joy and satisfaction await. I walked through the park earlier today noting nothing special in the browning leaves of the trees. What did kind of excite me was seeing all the families gathered around the different areas celebrating birthdays and reunions. For you see more than fame or knowledge or even peace of mind; there’s a certain contentment in the appreciated and the communal. For we are all way more similar than we are different. An inconvenient truth, some don’t wish you to know.  

​Usually it’s nothing more than the tiniest drop can cause a ripple. A ripple that spreads to the farthest reaches of the pond. Within my mind that ripple spreads, nothing major just an insignificant twinge or feeling. That spreads like dry kindling through my mind. Igniting thousands of tiny fires of fear that can flare up like an uncontrollable blaze. That takes my entire being hours to put out. Leaving me too spent and exhausted to do much of anything else.
It started with nothing but my constant getting up and going to the bathroom. Then there’s the twitching and cramping in my hand and arm. Then there’s the small traces of blood that come from blowing my nose. Each little thing insignificant, yet inconvenient enough to awaken me from a deep sleep. Was that a twinge of my heart? It feels as of it’s slowing down. So there it is tiny dustings of the truth that seed the fear and feed the panic in my soul.
If you dig into my early work, you find stories such as these, only in greater depth and far less control. At the moment I know what is happening. I’ve spent decades of my life avoiding and facing this time and time again. And yet in these nearly 25 years of diagnosis, I still can’t give you the solution. Oh, I can show you formulas, methods, and medications I’ve used. But nothing near what I would call a definitive answer. So I lay here restlessly typing away, giving you my priest my confession. Hammering out with all the honesty I can muster my story of interconnection. Of how, my heart, my mind, and my body are effected by the tiny fires burning in the deepest parts of my brain. 

The ground is covered in sycamore and fig leaves, and there’s a certain crispness in the air. I’m sitting outside for the first time in a while, listening to the birds and the squirrels. While off in the distance I can hear the roar of log trucks and other traffic heading down the highway. My fingers are cold and the keyboard a little sensitive to my touch as I search for the words to describe this day.

I don’t know exactly what’s going through my mind other than what I’ve already described. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this; nothing mystical mind you, just open to what awareness is bringing me. We waste so much time trying to describe out lives beyond what we can see. I’ve spent so much time just trying to figure shit out. But maybe it's not up to us try to figure anything out. Maybe life simple flows how it flows.
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For a moment give yourself the freedom to just accept things as they are. Then listen to the voice that’s buried deep in your soul. If you feel balance and harmony, then everything’s okay. But if something feels out of place, then search yourself and your surroundings for the answer. A simple breath is often all I need to know peace. There’s a certain grace in silence, don’t just sit there and deny yourself the pleasure or the company. 

After a weekend of being under the weather, my body’s still recuperating. Despite how good I may feel at any given moment, my body often likes to remind of what kinda shape I’m really in. The energy to get around just isn’t there anymore. I mean people look at me and tell me how much better I look. But honestly, whatever weight loss or other things I’ve achieved, I get run down really easily. So I spend much of my day piddling about trying to fight off the boredom of getting older.

I don’t mean to sound so blasé or defeated. But I prefer not trying to fool myself with some inflated expectation of how I feel. I guess what surprises other people the most is that despite my best efforts to remain honest. I don’t drag myself down deeper into the abyss of depression through my honesty. I suppose more than anything it’s my practice of mindfulness and honest engagement with myself that helps. It probably also has a lot to do with my stubbornness and arrogance to win. Awareness of who I am and knowing my limitations, doesn’t hurt either.
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I mean I wish I knew a patented method of teaching y’all how I do this. But I’m sure my damaged ego and id would lock horns on what works best. So I just sit around writing my autobiographical gibberish hoping someone can pull some little bit of truth out of it. My focus isn’t so much on the nuances of life, as much as, simple surviving it. While I do keep a few pleasures close to my heart. Unfortunately most of my time is spent caring for others. But the fight seems to be getting harder to wage, because with each passing moment the spectre of fear and worry must be tamped down. If not, all I have ever fought for becomes nothing more than myth. 

​The room is heavy with the scent of a vanilla candle. There's no sound other than the spinning of a box fan. Buffy’s perched on her throne, licking my fingers as I brush back her fur. Of all the mindfulness training I’ve received, this is where I’m most comfortable. Laying in my bed making short deliberate strokes along the cat’s fur. I don’t consider myself a classical practitioner of mindfulness and meditation. I don’t burn stinky incense or have any little statues of Buddha laying around. I just have myself and the silence between me and nature.

Between me, the cat, and the silence; there is still an undercurrent of anxiety I feel. For some reason people seem to want to deliver surprising news to me when I’m at my most vulnerable. I guess for a normal person most of the news is great and joyous. It’s just that I seem to get it first because I am at my most vulnerable physically. It’s  like they want me to know before I “kick the can” or something. So needless to say, it happened again. I was given some news before anyone else… just in case.

But I’m really not worried about it. I suppose I deserve this after scaring everyone the death over the last several years. And maybe for some people it’s a wise decision, given once you’ve been handed a death sentence. Oh quit groaning (insert eye roll). My point is, not everything’s a death sentence nor is it an excuse to just give up. You see I accepted the words I been given. I absorbed them and I take them to heart. Then I create a plan to overcome whatever trials and tribulations I’m facing. While my plans may not be perfect, at least it’s a plan and not excuse to just lay down and die.

Just sayin’.

Growing up I was full of doubt and fear, but at the same time I had the gift of bluster. It was my go to defense mechanism when fear and abuse was overtaking me. Because people can be cruel, especially when you’re young. But over the decades I had to learn to be strong. Now that I had a family had to quickly learn to be the strong one. It’s just that as my family grew older; what many see as a valued quality, became a cruel ploy to manipulate others. Being the strong one has it’s advantages. You cool under fire, have greater awareness, and seem to be a natural leader. But that being said, you can be overbearing, closed-minded, as well as abusive. In fact it can end up just as abusive as the ones that abused you.

I often show little patience with those around me, especially when a challenging situation rears its ugly head. Like I said, it’s considered a noble quality to those that admire strength. But I’ve seen the flip side of the coin, where drive and determination often wrecks fragile hearts. I’m doing my best to be more compassionate but often the fire brand of survival gets the best of me. And while it may seem admirable to pull one’s self up by the bootstraps. In reality it’s a quality that beyond just yourself come be abusive and aloof.  

You know I may be wrong about all this, but as I search my soul for greater peace and understanding, it seems vividly clear. While we all need to carry a certain amount of drive and determination. When we allow that bravado to override our decency and compassion, who are really helping? I like to think I’ve grown a lot over the years. But when growth continues to bury deeper that damaged child, have we really solved any of our problems? I don’t know, this is just shit I been asking myself the past day or so. Especially with all the crazy going on around me at the moment.  ​

​Well I’m up. It’s 4:02 in the morning and I would be getting up at five anyway to head to Savannah. The doctor changed my surgery schedule to today instead of yesterday as planned. So instead of spending a few days with friends and family, I simply came back home. This is supposed to be a day surgery so I assume after a few hours in recovery I’ll be shipped back to the house. A fun filled 125+ mile drive mostly on a two lane country road.

I’m not nervous or really anxious, I guess I’m more impatient than anything else. Simply ready to get this whole thing over with and done. I wish I could dole out some shining pearls of wisdom before I go. But all I can really say is that I’m fine. I’ve gathered all the information I could on the procedure, both pro and con. The doctor seems confident, almost a little cocky if I may say. But he’s a kid so I’d rather see that then see his hands shaking.

To all y’all that are worried shitless, take a breath. Say your prays and burn your letters, whatever gets you through. Over the past 40+ years I haven’t had the luxury of being allowed to worried or be nervous. I’m usually in the middle of the conflict trying to steer the damn ship. Making sure everyone else is alright. I know, I’m stoic to a fault, doing what I has to do to keep this boat afloat. Anyway, give me a little time to recover. Hopefully I won’t have to put out anymore fires this weekend. So y’all take care, I’m about ready to get dressed and put on a show.

Between the bathroom and the bed, I don’t know rather I’m coming or going. While in between I’m pounding “Depeche Mode: Live in Berlin” into my ears. As you can tell it’s just a normal night here with the TV on mute and my earbuds firmly in place. Lisa’s running a little late getting to bed because she’s watching “Dancing with the Stars” on the big screen. And, I’m here taking a moment to jot down a few thoughts about where I am at the moment.

You’d think with my upcoming heart procedure I’d be a little anxious. Don’t ask me why, but some things (like medical stuff) often don’t bother me. Now driving down to Savannah, that bothers me. Sleeping in a strange bed for a few nights, that bothers me. But having a doctor run a tube up my artery and kill nerves in my heart… I’m okay with that. It’s funny how the mind works sometimes. It’s also funny how time passes and changes us without us even realizing it.
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I was recently looking at some old photographs of myself and I was shocked at changes between now and then. To be honest, both images showed the consequences of an unhealthy lifestyle. Displaying how self-hatred and abuse can take there toll. But over the past decade I’ve done a lot of self-reflection. Through that deep drive into my psyche I’ve learned acceptance and forgiveness are key to my survival. So in this hour let us remember, awareness, faith, and a little selfishness go a long way in creating the balance we need to make it another day.  

What a difference a day makes. First we got a hurricane hitting Florida right now and the winds picking here in Alamo, Ga. But the skies here are still clear, but the birds and critters are hunkering down like they know something’s going to happen. I’m outside enjoying the cool breeze calling up everybody getting my “ducks in a row” for my surgery next week. Yes, we finally have a definitive date and time for my cardiac ablation procedure. So the first week in October I head down to Savannah Georgia to have it done.

As you may or may not know, I’ve been having AFib problems with my heart for a while now. I was taking a strong medication to counteract it, but the side effects finally outweighed to good. So for the past year or so I’ve been living with frequent AFib issues. So my cardiologist recommended me for a new procedure and after a number of months, I finally got approved. Over the last few months my anxiety levels have ramping up. Partly due to inflation, but mostly due to rising health issues such as AFib. But since getting approval for the surgery and a slight change in my medication. I’m feeling a whole lot better mentally and physically.
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At the moment I’m a little woozy from my recent flu and omicron booster shots. But I wanted to get those out of the way before going to the hospital. But even with the upcoming procedure and of course the storm, I’m feeling good and I’m feeling positive. I’ve pretty much covered all my bases as far as hospital’s, hotels, and travel arrangements. I got Lisa coming with me and her lodging and groceries covered. Hopefully this won’t be an overly complicated thing. Recovery should be fairly quick, the procedure isn’t too evasive. So while the wind continues to whip around me, I’m reminded that calmer heads always prevail. When caught in an unknown situation rely on the facts and not on hearsay. Because nature has a way of creating order to what otherwise seems to be chaos. 

There’s not a lick of wind blowing so it’s just a matter of time before the gnats show up. It’s a not so calm Sunday morning. The Baptist next door are showing up and a large number of log trucks are on the highway. We’re supposed to have a hurricane come visit us by the end of the week. I assume that’s why all these trucks are out on the road today. Knowing that by the middle of the week the logging roads will be soaked.

Lisa’s got my daughter’s laundry on the line. Glad I got it picked up yesterday cause of the upcoming rain. Hanging clothes on a line may sound like a quaint old custom. But for many like ourselves, it’s the only opinion you got. Many of us loose ourselves in the name of convenience. We order dinner from a drive thru or have our them delivered by FedEx or UPS. Precut, prepackaged, and ready to go. I don’t know, maybe I just lingered too long in the previous generation. But while I understand convenience, I’d much rather work my magic around the house, then pause and watch the clothes dry.
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Life’s too crazy as it is. Every time I leave the house I feel I have to change from cruising speed to overdrive. It’s in those moments that I have to ask myself, why the hell do we do this? One of the blessings on my ongoing heart issues is that it has forced me to slowdown. Not many of us take the time to find a positive in the face of a negative. But life often forces you to pause and take assessment of what’s going on. There are so many distractions out there, that we need to be careful where we invest our time. But without time to think or reflect, the skills we need to learn fade away. Leaving us vulnerable to the deceit and agenda of others. 

Within life’s grey pastures are the elements of life, of surviving. Where things don’t look as pretty and life gets mighty damn hard. In my 59+ years I thought I’d wasted a lot of time. But in reality it was simply spent in dutiful repetition. Living a routine meant to sustain us and keep us going.

We often speak of “living in the moment”, but that doesn’t necessarily mean excitement and accessibility. It can mean focus on the task at hand, the mundane and the common. Too often we look at our lives as wasted moments or missed opportunities. But continuing to believe that only cheapens the graceful periods you’ve actually received.
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As I approach my 6th decade I’m just learning to appreciate moments of sweet serendipity. When happenstance and routine bring about some of life’s greatest gifts. So my advice too you is, spend less time worrying about pursuit of the “brass ring” and more time appreciating the quieter moments life gives. 

Lord, I am a pitiful sight. I’m laying here on the bed, under a blanket with an ice pack on my head. My sugar was a little low this morning, so I eat myself an early lunch. Now I’m sleepy and my sinuses are starting to demand some attention. Recently a friend of mine brought up how the death of loved one can leave such a void in ones life. I replied that while that maybe true, it is the impression that a loved one leaves that will always remain.

With the recent death of the British Queen I suppose death has been front and center on many peoples minds. For years death was a major fear that stood front and center in my own heart. I worried mainly about what would happen to my family, especially my wife and special needs son. But for the last seven years after I actually faced death. For whatever reason, that fear has left me. No I don’t think it was some spiritual experience that erased it or some sort of gotcha moment.
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I think it had more to do with witnessing my family spring into action. Seeing how my boys and girls rallied themselves to see about the needs of their mother and for my own needs for that matter. It made me realize for all the bad parenting I thought I had done. That somewhere in all that chaos a little good came out. The moral I suppose beyond just being a decent parent is, to also be a decent human being. Both Christian and Zen Buddhist traditions ask that we be kind to one another. To greet each other with encouraging words and to listen compassionately. So if you think about it, how much better would life be if we all lived that way?

It’s kinda hard to describe, the feelings are so real. The sensation that something is very wrong. For a long time I was told I was a hydrocondriac. Because whenever I’d get my symptoms checked out they would often fade. I’d always been overweight and I smoked. But even then, I usually stayed pretty active physically. So my earliest health issues didn’t appear till after I developed Panic Disorder. My panic often displays itself in the form of health anxiety. Rather it’s shortness of breath or rapid heartbeat, in the beginning it would quickly appear then disappear. I blame my worsening symptoms on increased stress and my own shitty lifestyle. But 23 years after my initial PD diagnosis, there are times when it’s hard to distinguish between a panic attack and an honest to God health situation.

There are other mental health issues I suffer from like General Anxiety Disorder and Chronic Depression. But my panic is the granddaddy of them all. I’ve quit and lost jobs because of it. I’ve made foolish financial and life decision because of it. Effecting not only the quality of my life, but the life of my family. The months of initial madness spending days and weeks under the covers of my bed. My bouts with depression and agoraphobia, and the clinic’s tendency throw treatments against the wall to see if they'd stick; it’s a damn wonder I’m still around. But through trial and error, and a great deal of therapy. I’ve survival but all be it with more than my share of scars.
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This journey is much more than I can sum up in just 300 words or less. But lately my old friend panic has been back to torment my nights. I think it all has to do with an upcoming surgery I will be having in October. The surgery will hopefully correct my AFib situation. It’s a new type of surgery that is going through it’s clinical trials. So basically I’m going to be a guinea pig or at least a lab rat. But while I still approach this with my usual cynical humor. Down deep my old nemesis panic has found opening. Lord knows why I’m even bring any of this up. It’s a subject I’ve brought up more times than I care to mention. Still it feels important that I say, there are no easy answers. But a fight worth fighting often last a lifetime, just ask any of my friends working on their sobriety. Life’s often never easy nor is it ever drawn with a straight line. The point is to keep trying. There were so many moments when I could have just given up. But for some crazy I chose to fight. And to be honest, I believe you want to as well.
 

As you can see I’m finally outside again, after a week of endless rain showers. I had to go to my hematologist and give them about a pint of love. This makes the third time in the last week I’ve had blood drawn. I’m starting to run out of places to make a deposit. Sitting here the waiting room is full of patients. It is here I noticed I that I was quite possibly the youngest person in the room by at least a good ten years. Now this has nothing to do with ageism or anything critical about growing old. It was just an interesting observation about others and myself and this movement in time.

Sitting here now under a canopy of fading leaves, listening to the quiet of nature and the distant sounds of man. I can’t help but wonder where my life is heading. I mean I’ll be 60 years old on my upcoming birthday. And while many of my peers have achieved a certain amount of success materially, I seem to have stepped backwards. Acquiring less and less material wealth as I get older. It’s this kinda shit that used to stress me out. But as I step farther and farther away from the world and it’s over dramatic concerns. I find myself more in focus with myself and more at peace.
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But over the last few months of this self-imposed isolation, I’ve found myself worrying about more things than I had any control over. When my focus should have been drawn inward. Working to overcome the inner demons that are haunting my life. So often we forget about the world that we can control. And that by making peace with our own shortcomings we in turn make peace with rest of the world. It’s funny how just a few moments of inner reflection can open you up less confusion, less fear, and less anxiety. By investing (making a deposit) in one’s own well-being, you are taking the first steps in creating a better world of yourself and everyone else.