Blog Archives - TRUTH-LIES...with FD Thornton

The Gilded Cage

1/28/2025

It's three in the morning I had what I could only describe as a detailed bad dream. It ran along the themes of an earlier dream I had about a week ago. That dream dealt with the inadequacies I felt from living here in the new apartment. In this dream I lived through a series of events between myself and the ruling class of the gilded age. In this dream my family and I lived and worked for a wealthy victorian family living in opulence, while my family lived in what could only be described as a slum from a Dickens novel.

Much like a Dickens novel, the dream was richly detailed. To the point that I thought it was actually brought on by something I had eaten, much like Ebenezer. It had vivid details of gilded decor and shining hardwood floors. But hidden away from the hallowed halls of the manor were the shameful layers of dirt and feces that cover the poor. Needless to say, this awaken me causing me wonder, what does this all mean? Much like Scrooge, it may be nothing more than a bit of undigested piece of meat. But now sitting at the keyboard, I really think it is something more than than just a piece of spoiled meat.

Hidden deep in our souls are all the inadequacies we’ve gathered over our lives. Places we seldom tread, but yet still influence our everyday decisions. Everything from putting ourselves in unnecessary debt, to working ourselves to death just to look successful. From marrying the wrong person just because we think we can fix them. To tearing ourselves down so much that it becomes the only way we know. I lived these lives and it’s quite apparent I also live them through my dreams.

For me, the easiest way to free myself from these chains is to speak about them openly. Through mindfulness I’ve gained an understanding that when my inner child is hurting. It’s hurting from past trauma and future worry. The best way to escape this is by acknowledging those traumas and by embracing them with love and compassion. I have to remind myself daily to focus on the here and now. To seek help when i need it and put away my meaningless stoic attitude. And remembering that life flows like the timing of nature, and that patience and determination creates the eternal rhythm of life.

Honest Work

1/26/2025

Today it has been a good day, even with a restless night. That's because I've learned to take those empty hours and turn them into a productive night of writing. You see, over the years I've learned that moments of insomnia and anxiety can be turned into productive moments writing and problem solving. By taking painful moments of emotional distress and releasing them through my pen.

I post my writings online and on my website: "fdthornton.com". My purpose is to entertain and help others who may be in the same situation. But sharing my work online and on social media can be a challenge. It's hard to know if my message is reaching anyone, so there's a constant debate in my mind about whether self-promotion contradicts the selfless act of creating art. But even with a small audience, I know my words have resonated with some people, and that's what keeps me going. I finally relented to using Google Ad Sense to monetize my site through ads. But as much as I hate pop ups, I worry that my few viewers will think the same way. But by putting them in I'm supposed to gain favor with Google Search and therefore gain more views. But is that the goal of doing what I do in the first place?

But I love my art, my words are my therapy. And all I wish to do is share my words freely with those that enjoy them. So while I'm all too familiar with branding and focusing on my niche market, I'm still a bit of a free spirit as it were. Because while some of my words may be poignant, I'm often given to moments of humor and cynicism. But still they are my words. And for a good chunk of my life I was miserable. Wearing a painted-on smile that my generation taught me to wear. Only to eventually break down both mentally and physically. By chasing down someone else's dream of success and happiness. By the world's standard I am considered a "loser," but it doesn't mean that I am. By rediscovering my craft I have learned that I am more than just a number. I am an artist with a story to tell and a passion to share, rather it makes me a dollar or not.

I Shrugged

1/24/2025

Image: HistoryCollection.Com

With $26.00 in my bank account, I walked into the $1.25 Store to picked up a few things we needed and some we wanted. We don’t get paid till next week and while we probably have enough groceries to hold us do till then. With my electric and trash and water bill as big unknowns, who knows how much we’ll have for such luxuries next month. My family grew up poor with the expanding “gig economy” and my ongoing mental health issues. I can understand why my two oldest kids are still a bit paranoid about every penny they spend.

As for myself I’m just used to being broke. I mean there were days when our kids were small, when it wasn’t nothing to hawk a wedding ring or a few guitars just to keep them in food and shelter. A number of people I know used to look at us as “white trash” or “lazy”, or “retarded”. I know those are not polite words to use in modern company, but they were words I heard clenched between the smiles. After years of battling depression, OCD, anxiety, not to mention my ongoing chronic health issues. I seem to have made it to a point of fixed income stability.

With an unused MBA diploma sitting in a box I’m watching “CNBC’s Closing Bell”. The usual newscasters seem to be wetting themselves talking about the days record stock prices. Casting their crowns to the gods of gold and commodity, while people even worse off than me, do their best to survive. But I know better than to complain I shouldn’t be jealous of other’s successes. Still it’s hard to watch those with a lot of worldly success seeming put down those without. I was reminded recently by an AI Language Program that not every successful person is shrugging their shoulders at others. But they all seem to have caught the attention of the powers that be. But I don’t know, maybe I’m just too low on the ladder to see any mountain tops from here. So I turned away and shrugged.

Scent of Home

1/23/2025

I was skimming through some images a friend sent me of the snow back home in Savannah. Most of the images were of the old fish camp where I spent a good chunk of my youth. The camp was nestled on the banks of the Ogeechee River just outside Savannah. While the images look different from my memories of 50 years ago, there is still a strange familiarity, even with snow on the ground. But one image stood out amongst the rest, it is a shot taken from the road leading up to the main house. I don’t know if it was glare of the sun shining through the Spanish moss or the glistening of light off the snow. But I swear I could smell the scent of wet Spanish Moss after a cold rain.

At first I thought it was just a trick of the brain, but then I scrolled through the images again looking for shots to save. Then it happened again, that musky scent, I can almost smell it now. It’s funny how scents, music, or even images can take you back to a time your brain has nearly forgotten. And for a split second you can recall the entire memory just like it just happening now. I remember when my friend’s brother drove me down the long dirt road to the river. The road turned and narrowed, and we rode over a large drainage ditch to what looked like a small island with a lot of cabins like something off “Gilligan’s Island”. While now most of the cabins are long gone, the Spanish moss is still hanging from the oak trees that are still around.

While the houses I grew up in around Bloomingdale is still there, looking at it now it’s not the same. The air is different, the vibe is different I feel like a stranger touching ground for the first time. All except for the river. It’s hard to explain the magic that river has over me it’s a blessed piece of ground. I don’t know if it was the people that lived there or something much deeper. Either way memories are what they are, both good and bad, but it’s up to us how we deal with them. We can either try and run away from them or we can embrace them using them to clear the path to a more peaceful present moment.

Make Do

1/22/2025

It’s hard to see the snow through the darkened window of my office. But when I turn the lights off it’s a wintery wonderland right outside the double paned glass. It didn’t start sticking until right about sunset so the only way to see it now is by streetlight. Tonight I was awakened by a yell from my wife, apparently a bad dream of something. After about a half hour of calming her down, she took a gummy and I’m sure she’s snoring away. I myself would usually scroll through my phone till my eye turned bloodshot. But this time I thought, “Why not make full use of my own office, just like the old days.” “When I’d wake up in the middle of the night and pen my ideas for work and school?”

I wish I had my old desk lamp and not this overhead ceiling light for inspiration, but you make do with what you got. So I sit here in the absolute silence like I am used to as to not wake up my bride. Typing away clever puns or writing scripts for workflow plans. Listening to the silence I draw that inspiration I so desperately seek. Seemingly from out of thin air like a magician at a carnival sideshow. But as the words drag on, the magic often fades, and the muscle memory kicks in, and the click of the keys slows down. In retirement and disability my options have faded, and a new generation takes over the decision making. Leaving me to tend to the few that remain and need my help.

It's not the life of solitude or companionship that I dreamed. But it guarantees me a life of tending to the needs of those I love. So as I spin around staring through the darkened glass. I’m reminded of that bible verse about “…see through a glass, darkly”. Where the sum of my soul is reflected, but my fate is still unknown. So I quietly or not so quietly fade into the background were my little moments of genius shine through. Reminding me I am no faded light, but instead a shining individual as brilliantly lite as snow in the dark. Not dependent on likes or numbers from Patreon or Substack. But just living my freedom making do by sharing me.

Inner Noise

1/21/2025

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt that I worked for a major TV network and were filming a debate between conservative and liberal voters. The only thing I could gather from the messy disturbing dream is not to listen to political podcast while going to sleep. There are times when I think I should adopt of oldest daughter’s philosophy of just ignoring the news. The stress it brings is often nothing more than an added burden to the stress and anxiety I live with already.

But as with most of us that suffer from a myriad of mental health issues, including OCD. We can’t help but help but obsess about the things we see around us. But as I use my cognitive and mindfulness training I’m usually pretty good at tapping down the seeds of anxiety. My most prolific use of mindfulness training is through my use of journaling. If you have read any of my stories you’ve probably figured out they’re nothing more than confessionals for my faults and weaknesses. While the vast majority of social media is nothing more hyped up promotion. I find the platform is best suited for exposing the weaknesses that we all feel.

That in a way by exposing my faults and weaknesses I’m helping others find a way to escape by showing they are not alone. Sadly in the real world I still wear the armor of a tough arrogant SOB. But like I said, my written words offer me a slower pace in which to expose the cracks in the armor. So while a tough exterior may be the calling card for this strongman world that we all now live. Confession, exposure, and letting go are for me the best way of releasing all the pain and guilt I carried for so many years. So don’t let your insides eat you out from within. Face the bitter truth of an imperfect life and seek solace in the simplicity of the breath.

Preacher Man

1/20/2025

The sun burns brightly across the white panel door in the room indicating a bright but bitterly cold day. Huddled up with a second cup of coffee outside is lite ablaze with the promise of anther day. After a confusing rough night, my body is still getting used to the central heat and ceiling fans giving me confusing notes of hot and cold. Not so much at the sacredness of the day, but of the approaching winter we are about to receive.

A preacher man once told us to judge each other by the conduct of our character. Yet some 60 years later we still judge each other by everything but. Age, race, religion, sex, and more are still all excuses to hate and discriminate in this enlightened world. I grew up in a time of open warfare between long held prejudices of the South and the rights of the black minority. I saw an effigy of that same preacher man being hung from a tree in front of my elementary school. At my small primary school in Bloomingdale Georgia on the west end of Chatham County. I had always attended school with the small population of black kids that lived in the segregated parts of our town, and this was before court ordered school desegregation.

As we all rode the bus to our new school in the next school year. I felt fear in my heart seeing that effigy hanging there, but I could only imagine the fear the black kids felt that morning. Watching those white parents protesting just beyond the school grounds. On the day we honor that preacher man, we are about to swear in a new leader for this country. He’s promised us the moon and the stars, while using words I frankly found offensive. But I’m trying to get him the benefit of the doubt, but we’ve already witnessed his words and actions before. Maybe I am a unicorn being from the deep south yet leaning towards more liberal ideals. But I think of myself still as that little kid that seeing the raw hatred I saw all those years ago. Judge them by what they do, not by what they say.

Echoes of Change

1/17/2025

Sometimes it’s a challenge moving to a new place and getting used to the noises all around. Especially when you live with someone who tends to create a lot of noise. In my situation I have two people that seem to enjoy banging pots and pans, talk loudly to themselves, and playing their devices at extremely loud volumes. I’m beginning to understand more and more everyday why my oldest son wears earplugs. Being condensed into a smaller space only amplifiers the noise tenfold, so mornings in my office turn into an echo chamber for “Kelly & Mark”, “Cocomellon”, and “Murder She Wrote”.

But in all honesty these are all just symptoms of the things that are really bothering me worry and anxiety. As we head out into this new adventure of living, we all have to adjust to the changes in our own path. For my wife it’s dealing with a new space and a whole new level of modern appliances. While I have to adjust to the confinement and the echoing of sounds. But our son who seems to have the least trouble, simply makes his tea and enjoys having his own bathroom.

Still as the older statesman of the family I feel like I’m having the most trouble adjusting. Just this morning my Word 365 changed yet again without asking me by adding the “Copilot” program to itself. So far I rank that cheat code right up there with that damn “Paperclip” from 30 years ago…remember that. Anyway I disabled it, if I wanted to use an AI program to write my words I’d use “Gemini” and believe me, me and it get into enough fusses about that. Anyway while my Dear wife plays “nursery rhymes” way too loudly and bangs around even more pots and pans, I take it all in stride. Knowing that this move here is for the best despite my current anxiety getting the better of my head.

Dipping Into The Supernatural

1/15/2025

I’m often not one that puts much value in the spiritual world, at least not anymore. But my whole life I’ve had these little visions or dreams that would often come true. Just like when I looked out my office window and saw the overcast sky and noticed how the light shined across a bare pecan tree across the fence. Then I felt that familiar sensation of déjà vu I’ve felt so many times before. Like I said this has happened to me on a number of occasions over my lifetime. And while I may not remember every dream, when the vision does come I remember that sensation all over again.

Searching Google Gemini AI it offered some interesting “causes” behind such incidences. The search included three possible interpretations including: Intuition and Subconscious Awareness, Synchronicity, and Precognition. All which I’m sure you’d all rather search yourselves. While each in their own way delve into various instances of projection, they all seem to carry a common theme. That the human mind often carries the ability to project a desired outcome, even if that outcome isn’t what your looking for at the moment. Google AI did gave me some other interesting insights into my own chain of thought by describing as well: The Law of Attraction, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, and The Observer Effect. All which again make fascinating reads.

While my cynical mind often sees my little visions as nothing more than happenstance, it does create an interesting rabbit hole to crawl down on a boring weekend afternoon. Still it makes me wonder just how some things such as our destiny often lie just beyond our control. But from experience and observation no matter the reason, life and the pursuit of peace are the major goals each and every human heart. So while my cynical heart often preaches that “No good deed goes unpunished”. Within the soul there is always that glimmer of hope that truth and happiness will win out in the end.

Has It Really?

1/14/2025

Between two worlds of quite seclusion and extreme fear, my fight or flight mode propels me into high gear. Still getting used to this alien world in which I’ve landed still gathering my footing between assurance and trepidation. My extreme anxiety hates “living on the fly” yet that is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last several years. Handling each crisis as it comes, succeeding or failing with such laissez-faire’. But this time it’s different the stakes have changed, the fall feels so much more potent. But has it really?

The feeling of the unknown was such an adrenaline rush for me in my youth. But the pressures of parenting and caregiving pushed to their limits so many times, it’s not surprising that the gasket of sanity eventually blew. Leaving me paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong call. Still many wrong calls I did make leaving me and my family dealing with the aftereffects. But time is a teacher and despite my apparent deficiencies, at the moment life has now taken a turn for the better. Despite my apparent troubles with the thermostat.

In an odd sort of way, it is freeing to speak in terms of fear and honesty. For it clears the mind of any pretext of supremacy, allowing one to have an honest conversation with yourself. Be mindful there is a difference between honesty and self-destructive thought and often walk a fine line between the two. But over decades of practice and mindfulness self-training. I have learned to open my thoughts to a sort of open therapy which I oddly enough lay bare on these pages. But for me this is my therapy, part of my medication, and my peace of mind. So as I sit here raddling off my troubles and fears, know I am looking to nature and the natural order of things. Knowing that “This too shall pass” and that as long as I’m sincere things aren’t really as bad as they seem.