 AI generated Microsoft After a really rough couple of days, I had to run a few errands like picking up the grocery order and getting our prescriptions from the pharmacy. After going by the bank I headed back home. Once I was done with the errands I headed outside to sit down and catch my breath. I then noticed my wife heading towards the Post Office something she usually does in the morning. After a few minutes I went back inside to fix myself some lunch. But what caught my eye was sitting on the kitchen counter were two slices of bread, a butter knife, and a jar of mayonnaise.
Knowing all too well what had just happened, I simply left the bread and mayo sitting there on the counter. That’s because my wife probably intended to make herself a sandwich. But then got caught up thinking about the mail and simply walked away. It’s all part of our normal routine where one thing gets started but never completed. Where instructions, important dates, and even memories have to be repeated again and again, so she understands and remembers. Like I said, it’s been a rough couple of days. Dealing with a scammer trying to gain access to our personal information. With my wife going into panic mode when it happened and me working frantically to change passwords and calling our ISP to avoid any more data breaches. But even with all that still simmering in my head, seeing that unmade sandwich brought me back to reality. No matter what amount of crap life throws at you, most of our problems can be fixed. But when compared to the way others have to live with such unfair challenges, it is an insult to life to complain. For me to improve it was learning to forgive myself. To give myself the benefit of the doubt. All while remaining aware of the things that feed my pain. But for my wife any many others, they were robbed of any choice to improve. Forced to live in their circumstance, while learning to survive despite it. It’s easy for us to wallow in self-pity and not see the sunshine above the clouds. But God bless those not given a choice, may they always shine a light on our self-centeredness.
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 Amidst the drama in which I don’t live, the calm often allows my mind to obsess over the most mundane things. Then those stresses bring up old fears like my health anxiety and depression. It’s funny to be so self-aware of your fears and yet still feel helpless to do nothing about them. Still with all my ailments and phobias flaring up at same time. Just sitting in the backyard listening to the birds, while the rest of the world zooms by with its own problems. Pleasantly reminds me, I am not totally alone.
Still what’s sadder watching others totally ignore their pain, or being totally aware yet helpless to do anything about it? I struggle with the latter on a nearly daily basis. Dreaming up solutions to many problems, yet not having the energy to follow through. Some of you may say that’s just an excuse to be lazy, and for all I know you maybe you’re right. But for all the years I struggled to right this ship and create a successful life. I’d always end up reverting back into panic mode just to survive. So that leaves me here, trying to clear my throat of the early pollen before my eyes. But then right before my eyes, a small finch flies by tirelessly looking for food. While a distant woodpecker taps on trees to build shelter. My AI Writing Assistant often tells me to be more focused or you know, more positive with my stories. But sometimes even with the answer staring you right in the face. The motivation or the willingness to do anything just ain’t there. That’s when I remember to forgive yourself and rely on my faith and determination to make it through. Often when the heart is mired in pain. Taking a moment to clear your thoughts and to absorb what nature is saying helps to renewed our strength. Reminding us that the moments always flow, despite life’s interruptions.  The little seedlings from the sycamore trees fall like tiny snowflakes to the ground. Once again I’ve exiled myself to the backyard. With the sounds of commerce driving the well-oiled machine of our local economy. I hear log trucks and delivery vehicles moving past. There’s a certain kind of peace to it all. Especially after a long restless night of sleep, where the hauntings of life never rest. But the whispers of the morning offer such a welcome relief.
I was caught off guard yesterday when my AI overlord praised my writing from the day before. It pointed out the symbolism and casual graceful flow of my words. Usually while it points out such strong points, it also distracts me with suggestions of more detail and clarity. But after a bit of back and forth between us, I pointed out that my writing is more laissez-faire in attitude and delivery than a lifeless report. I think the AI’s getting the gist of what I’m saying. It’s funny how these AI programs are geared towards production and efficiency. And if that’s what I was shooting for, then its initial critique would have been great. But oddly enough that is never my goal, my goal is usually to find a little peace and serenity through my writing and photography. But I’m hoping to get my little AI buddy to come around to my way of thinking. That not all of life is just X’s and O’s or even ones or zeros. But at its core life is more about the satisfaction you create within yourself and in those around you. That finding true peace of mind is a greater achievement than just creating wealth. I smile for a moment as I hear a flock of geese fly overhead, and it’s with that gratitude that my often stressed-out heart sits here. Well aware that the subtle beauty around me is worth more than all the worlds acclaim or gold.  Sunrise Jekyll Island - FD Thornton It’s nearly 5 o’clock in the morning, and I went to bed feeling feverish my digestive issues dragging on. I attributed my restless to that, but along with my digestive issues and overall fatigue, I’ve been experiencing an uptick in my stress and anxiety levels. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had this kind of conversation. But a good 70% of health problems can be traced back to stress and anxiety. Recently the University which I graduated asked me again to join an alumni mentorship program for undergraduate students. I mentioned this to my bride to which she strongly told me, “No! You won’t”.
She recalls all to well the stress and pressure that I was under when trying to finish my Capstone Exams for my Graduate Program in 2015. You see it was that pressure along with the pressures of supporting my family and business that fueled my first, second, and Lord knows how many other heart attacks. I’ve lived with the threat of stress ever since 1999 when I was first diagnosed with GAD, Chronic Depression, OCD, and Panic Disorder. For a really long time I struggled to just get out of bed. But slowly through medication, cognitive therapy, and mindfulness training; I pulled myself up by the bootstraps mentally. But still sometimes that wasn’t enough. So as my mental issues increased more and more, they ultimately manifested themselves in physical ways. Of course being a smoker and obese didn’t help. But after my first long hospital stay and subsequent first heart surgery. I made improvements in my physical health. And for the past 9 years I’ve doing better to change my poor habits. But as I’ve realized, the damage was already done. So as I lie here making another midnight confession while my bride quietly sleeps. But I feel a little bit better, at least mentally. Over the years I’ve learned, I often can’t change what my soul’s feeling. Pain from the past is a hard path to avoid. Often all I can do is listen to what it’s saying and tell that hurting child I understand and love you. That is often the first step one most take to renew your hurting soul.  It’s been a few days since I posted, but honestly I just haven’t had much to say. It’s not that anything’s going wrong. It’s just that things are as they usually are so why rant or rave about it. Besides I thought I’d take a little involuntary shut up time. To just sit here and give my little old brain a bit of a rest. It’s a cool but sunny day here in old Alamo, Georgia. A band of geese that settled here during the winter, just flew by heading to I suppose a quiet patch of water.
My bride is doing the dishes, while I wait on a load of laundry to finish. It’s funny and frustrating to watch her work. She means well, but my bride can get so easily distracted that she’ll stop at the slightest distraction. Usually leaving a half done sink full of dishes while she’s off doing something else. My landlord just “slowly rolled” by the house in his pickup. I guess old habits die hard when you’re a retired prison guard. Remember that old saying ,“when life hands you lemons”, that your grandma would always tell you. Well my old Granny would pass on pearls of wisdom like, “when you stir shit with a stick, it only smells worse “, when talking about gossiping. Or a family favorite, “can’t never could”, when faced with a problem. Well now the shoes on the other foot and I am the grandparent now. My grandkids are still too young to really ask for advice other than watch me PaPa! But it’s still funny to watch the passage of time. Seeing your babies turn into frantic adults, while watching your grandkids learn to crawl or do second grade math homework. The passing of time is something we all must face. But it’s been a good day, my bride did finish the dishes and the clothes are now drying on the line.  Normally I would spend the first half of my morning sitting at my desk. But today with the wind blowing lightly, I decided to go outside and feel the chill allowing the quiet to calm my soul. With a second cup of coffee keeping my hands warm, I sit here with the sun to my back. Listening to sounds of this busy little town, paying close attention to the passing birds and the roaring semis.
Despite being awaken from a sound sleep early this morning, I feel usually upbeat. My bride however had a rough night of it with the chronic pain she suffers from giving her fits. I do my best to be sympathetic to her situation. As her full-time caregiver the additional stress it places on me falls between anger and frustration. Simply in the fact that nothing we have tried medically has helped so far. Living with my own health issues doesn’t help either. It forces me to put my own needs in the background, while focusing my attention on the needs of her and our son. For a really long time I was apprehensive about telling anyone about the conflict I feel as a caregiver. The balance it takes to be sympathetic and yet forgiving of my own selfishness. But in an effort to clear my mind, I feel it’s important to be honest about the situation. At times I may sound rather cold and methodical when discussing this subject. But they are the emotional safeguards I’ve placed around me that help keep me sane. Emotions don't come easy to me, especially when the last 36 years of my life have been dedicated to keeping my shit together. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, for those of you barely holding it together, I truly understand. For there are no easy answers to the added stresses caregiving can bring. Still by giving priority to your own health, you give you and your loved ones a fighting chance at making it. So don’t give up, otherwise you’ll never be a worth a damn for anyone, especially yourself.  Today is the first day this week I’ve been outside and don’t feel like I was freezing my ass off. During the winter months I like to come outside and sit in the morning sun. But over the last few seasons if there’s any hint of cool wind and I’m chilled to the bone. It may have something to do with my weight loss, but I rather chalk it up to thin skin and old age. Still my day just doesn’t feel complete, unless I can sit in my rocker outside and freak my EMC neighbors out. (The Power Company Maintenance Shop is next door).
Over the last few weeks I’ve been receiving praise my insightful writing and my willingness to show my vulnerable. Thinking about it reminded me of what my grandmother said about raising a family during the Great Depression. That, “we were so poor, we didn’t even notice the depression”. Exploring my vulnerabilities is second nature to me. My willingness to go to places many fear to tread is a healing process, I’ve come to depend on. Giving me the clarity to see things as they are. When caught in the depths of depression and fear. I sought nearly anything I could for relief. Early on I turned to destructive behavior such as alcohol, drugs, and overeating. But as the pain built and I imploded, the answers came through medication, cognitive therapy, and mindfulness. Western religion worked to a point, but it left me with too many contradictions. But common sense and a dose eastern faith allowed me to probe deeper and honestly see the real me. Awareness and vulnerability allow you to peel back to layers of pain. While learning to forgive others as we as yourself, gives you the peace you so desperately seek. So while I appreciate the compliments, this path was never easy. Still it is a faithful tool to quiet cold winds that blow within my mind.  My best days were so last century or at least that’s what popped into my head this morning before I got up. Now I’ll be the first to admit my youth was wasted (in more ways than one) in the ‘80’ and going into the ‘90’s; because by the ‘00’s rolled around I was already near my 40’s. But that expanse of time passed so quickly with me raising a family and trying to get ahead. But as the double ‘00’s rolled around our youngest was ten with the other three heading to middle and high school.
The thought of time amazes me, the references that pop into my head are often hard for my kids to fathom. Growing up in the sixties and the seventies give me an interesting perspective of the world and our culture. I’m just a hair older than the “Latch Key Kids” now known as Gen Xer’s. Oddly enough my mom and I are part of the same generation “Baby Boomers”. With my mother born at the end of World War Two and I arrived in the early Sixties. Social media is filled with the angst of the Gen Xer’s raging cynically about the winey little millennials and Gen Z’s. Honestly there’s not much I can say, for I’m not immune to the rage of the X’s, Millennial’s, or Z’s. But at least I’m gold with the Alpha’s because I’m papa. So with a touch of nostalgia I dance around this Ash Wednesday with my suspenders and my pull-on slippers now. Not so much dreaming of the past and what I could have done better. Instead I do my best to keep my mind active by practicing my craft every day, and ignoring the suggestions my AI overload gives me to improve my writing. Today as our special needs son loudly plays intros to newscasts over his computer speakers (his new obsession). I’m doing the best I can to just better myself, despite myself, or my laissez-faire upbringing in a world now so polarized by the id.  It’s one of those nitpicky gloomy days where the rain is pouring and the yard simple can’t hold any more water. After about two or three days of nothing, I’ve decided to try and write something. I know that in about a week or two, my mind will start drifting back down that dark road of stress and depression. Knowing that as the days drag on food stocks, toilet paper, and fuel will be in short supply till the first of the month. You’d think by now I’d figured out how to live on a monthly stipend. But with individuals each demands and the unexpected long doctors’ visits, you never know how much or little you’ll need. But for the moment all I can hear is the rolling thunder of these California storms passing overhead.
Gloom and doom, two works that stick to the back of the throat of every poor person in the world. Waiting and helplessness, two more words that cause good people to do stupid things. While I still got my sense about me it’s easy to strategize against such feelings. But just like clockwork, eventually the gods of fear and desperation taking over. Taking us down long lonely paths where the soul fears to tread. Through my own struggles and weird determination, I’ve been lucky that I’ve found some remedies to these problems. First through the wise words of my peers and then through my desperate search through prayer, therapy right, and mindfulness. I’ve gained some understanding of what’s going on in my head and I’ve learned to forgive and accept what I see. I’m not going to sit here and give you a course in how to find peace of mind. That is a journey each of us must take alone. But I will tell you that staying proactive and not giving in to the sorrow is the only way out. Listen I am far from having made a complete recovery from my depressive traits. But I understand better where the thoughts come from and how to deal with them. Within your history are seeds (thoughts), both good and bad. Those seeds are buried beneath the soil that makes up our genetic nature. Through mindfulness and meditation (prayer) I listen to those seeds as they spout. With compassion I listen to those fears, and I embrace them. Letting them know I hear them, and I understand. I didn’t say the process was easy, for years I’ve battled this, and I have won and lost. But like I said, this is my struggle, and this is how I deal with it while it passes overhead.  After a few weeks of questioning my faith. I’ve come to the conclusion that I was right all along. That staring at the numbers and trying to “figure out my audience” is just a waste of my time. Recently I’ve been using an AI to critique my work. What I’ve discovered was it’s suggestions were influencing my original intention. It was pointing me to the most popular conclusion in order to maximize my viewership. But what I felt I was doing was compromising my personal style and desired interpretation.
It put up a valid argument that my writing style often needed clarity to engage the reader. Like I said, the AI made some valid points, but at what cost? The slight hint of wit or flow the of my unique cadence? Not every story has a positive outcome or any outcome for that matter. For me stories just flow, they each take on a life of their own. Very seldom do I rewrite a story for the sake of popularity. Being mildly dyslexic does force my to make changes to the spelling or sentence structure. But a good 90% of my storytelling begins with no set agenda, it just flows. So to be influenced by a program that only sees things as black or white. Will eventually turn your toasted rye bread with avocado into plain white toast and margarine. It’s edible, but not very tasty. So due to my apparent rebellious nature, I suppose I’ll be stuck in the merges, grateful for the few fans I do have. But that’s okay, because I’ll still be able to smile to myself when a little quip or hidden line comes through in my work. I am fortunate in the fact that my livelihood isn’t totally dependent on my words. But my happiness and my desire to create certainly are. |
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October 2025
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