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

The Rest Of The Day

5/30/2025

Sitting here waiting for my tummy to settle after my breakfast of pills and other chemicals. These last few days I just haven’t felt my best (if there is such a thing). Last night I was bombarded by another series of strange and troublesome dreams, followed by a foggy/lightheaded morning. As I probe my soul I think it’s again about the stress of money and getting the damn bills paid. While I’m sure many of you are now saying, “So what else is new?”, believe me I wholeheartedly agree.

But outside the window the sun is shining, but I can see the heavy layer of humidity hanging around. So despite the perfect picture view, I know what awaits me out there. So as I belch up the remaining layers of chemical residue from my belly. I’m not looking forward to the rest of the day. After moving a little cash around (AKA: Rob Peter to pay Paul) I got the past balance due paid on the rent. I made damn sure I got printed receipts and conformation numbers (cause I now trust these people as far as I can throw them). Still despite the F’d up management system we currently have, but at least they ain’t lied to my face. Threaten, maybe. But they haven’t lied…yet.

Forgive me for my piss poor attitude, but after staring at a lifetime of broken promises, can you blame me for being a little leery? Still this is the best place we have ever lived…ever. So I’ll try and control my suspicions till the other shoe drops. But my wife seems to be very happy and my friends in bigger towns tell me for what we got, we’re getting a hell of a deal. So I’ll finish this rant by saying, “Life is nothing but a shit sandwich, and you got to take a bite out of it every day” – Russel Moore. God rest Russes soul, for no truer words were ever spoken.

Polished Abuse

5/29/2025

Image By Adobe Express

I’m staring at this damn cursor again after another night of vivid dreams. It seems like my life has turned into a merry-go-round of living the same bad dream over and over again. And just when I think I’m about to finally finish this ride, there I go spinning around again. When I look out the social media window, I can see seemingly perfect families having the most perfect time. Loving couples on perfect vacations in the most exotic places. Never realizing that most are living these scripted lives that are so micro-managed and planned to a tee.

I’ve come to a point in my life where I was forced to stop micro-managing my every move. Forced to make time to slow down and rest when I needed to, thereby allowing myself to explore my imagination to my heart’s content. Still when I look out that window, I see loved ones forced to continue to dive through hoops. In this never ending cycles of “polished abuse” just to please another’s desires. Where they speak one thing but do something completely different. My heart goes out to those people forced to live like that; seemingly left without a choice.

Unfortunately I can’t offer any set solution. There’s the choice to run but running is offered to those who are physically abused, not so much for those in seemingly idealistic situations. Those mentally abused with cold hard words or Jekyll and Hyde mood swings. One could hope the abuser would get some help, but then you’re only fueling their need for attention. I’m not sure what got me on this subject other than watching a close friends suffer wishing I had an answer. So be as supportive as much as you can. Offer them a moment of relief. Let them know you are with them all the way.

Ripples

5/27/2025

Image By Adobe Express

Looking outside it’s kind of a drizzly damp morning. The usual cloud break we get by mid-morning is all but gone. So I have resigned myself to looking at the dull whites of the clouds and the faded green of the trees and plants. After what can best be described as a restless dream filled night. I woke up to a hot shower and changed the bed sheets after a long weekend of being a home body. At the moment, my attitude is much better than it was this morning, I assume the hot water and the shave done the trick.

If willing, I’m faced with a full day of phone calls and enquiries about various pieces of mail I received Friday and Saturday. Dealing with both my health insurance supposedly getting cancelled and getting my copiers ink shipped to the wrong address. Both of which will be time consuming and labor intensive. This on top of the missing $800 money order the Postal Service can’t seem to trace. Other than that, I am doing okay.

I don’t mean to sound so blasé about the whole thing, but I got bigger fish to fry. Like making sure both my wife and son’s needs are being met. My wife has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow while our son has a physical the following week. Along with little things like seeing if our son can go back to work training at Easter Seals. And that the ever changing rules for my retirement will finally stop changing month to month.

But as you’ve seen me write 100,000 times, “It is what it is”. I guess I’m saying all this to say, “It only takes one drop of water to cause a ripple across a pond”. So if you feel like nothing is getting done in your situation, don’t give up. Create more ripples and more ripples, until a tidal wave of change wipes out the landscape of injustice.

Out Of Bed

5/26/2025

Sandra Saxon Burnsed

At the end of my morning pill taking, I save my two gummy vitamins for dessert. It’s a pleasant fruity ritual that I savor after all the dry powders, pills, and capsules I have to take. And while I may complain about all the chemicals I have to ingest, the result is that I have beaten the odds and survived this long. I sent the first part of my morning exploring the posts I subscribe to on social media. Exploring all the beautiful shots taken over the holiday weekend. All while scratching myself, trying to motivate my own ass out of bed.

But don’t worry life isn’t all that bad, and I don’t fault anyone for wanting to present themselves in the best light. I mean, who would you rather look at on a post, my mug or that of a supermodel? But when you read between the lines of glamour and good lighting, you often find a hurting soul just the same as you. So I guess my point in all this is, don’t be jealous of other people as much as your wounded soul may want to be. Cause you never know the pain other’s have felt till you’ve walked in their shoes.

In this age of heartless judgement it is so easy to pass judgement on the superficial things we see about each other. I know that in my situation it’s easy for me to judge those in better financial and social standing. Watching others be able to take lavish trips or walk around with the most positive energy and be in the best of health, for me isn’t always a strong motivator. But you don’t often see them at their lowest point. Like when they are struggling in an abusive relationship. Or trying to pick themselves back up after a devastating accident or health issue. It’s in those moments I try and remind myself, we all share a commonality of both pain and joy.

From Breakdown to Breakthroughs: My Mental Health Journey

5/25/2025

My world, my life circles around me keeping the status que for my wife, son, and myself. Since 1987 most of my waking moments has been focused on protecting my family and making sure their every need is attended too. For many years I didn’t have much time for hobbies or other pursuits, my life was dedicated to the security of my family. With a special needs spouse and son, along with three other healthy “normal” children the stress of basically being a single parent was/is great. But I don’t think of myself as having any more pressure put on me than any other caregiving adult. That is till my first mental breakdown.

In 1999 I experienced my first full blown panic attack at work at Reidsville State Prison. It was so bad that they took me to the infirmary to be checked out. Once I was cleared, I was sent home so I could get checked out by my personal doctor. At the time the local physician found no problems other than my obesity, diabetic, and blood pressure issues. So all they suggested was breathing into a brown paper bag to help with my hyperventilating. As the days went by I found myself having more and more panic and anxiety attacks, especially every time I went outside. The problem got so bad that I eventually made the decision to quit my job with the prison system. Thinking that maybe that was the cause of the problem.

Instead my panic attacks got even worse, effecting my ability to even drive to the store. My life became pure torture. With the voices screaming in my head what a worthless human being I had become. After several weeks of this endless torment I finally was able to get the clinic to prescribed me Xanax and Paxil. That helped some, but I still stayed in the bed most of the day. It finally got to the point that I gave custody of my two oldest children to my mother for a number of months so I could focus on getting better. That is when I hit the lowest point of my life. I felt like such a failure, failing my family and myself.

I finally did get an appointment with the regional mental health center. After being evaluated by them. I was diagnosed with panic disorder, chronic depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, and agoraphobia. First I was pulled off cold turkey from the Xanax (which was a treat) and left with the Paxil and given Buspar. For the next several years the dosages of both medications had been tweaked with, along with weekly personal individual and group therapy. It’s funny how that recently there has been a renewed focus on mental health. When back than in the early 2000’s there was nothing but budget cuts. Now it looks like more of the same now.

After a while of being able to go back to work and regain custody of my kids. I rather foolishly pulled myself off Paxil due to the side effects and the fact that I was feeling better. But just as quickly as it came all the old symptoms began reappearing. But I came back to my senses and at once I went back to the mental health center. This time I was taken in by a semi-retired Psychiatrists I lovingly named “Dr Jellybean”. After several months of tweaking and one-on-one therapy I was functioning well through mindfulness training and new medication.

Since then I still practice Zen Buddhist mindfulness training and still receive my doses of SSRI medication. While I still suffered from some bouts of depression, anxiety, and panic. It was physical stress that got the better of me, damn near taking my life ten years ago through Chronic Heart Failure. So far I’ve beaten the odds and lived much longer than I was expected. I give all the credit to my own fear of death and the need of my family in those early years. Recently it has been the epiphany of no birth, no death that has kept me going. For those of you facing the string of mental and/or physical health issues. There’s no need to give up. Find a place to put your determination to survive, don’t let these voices of fear go unanswered. Give them a voice, listen to your gut, and seek wise counsel. Each step I may have taken may not have been the perfect one. But it was a step all the same.

Cargo Pants

5/21/2025

Getting dressed for an early doctor’s appointment this morning, it reminded me of all the days I had to get up and get dressed for work. For most of my career I either wore a uniform or at least had to present myself in a professional way mostly business casual. But over the last several years I’ve gotten away with wearing sweats, t-shirts, or cargo shorts. Besides most of my business wear has long outgrown me. (I’ve lost 130 lbs.)

It's now been a thunderstorm and a doctor’s appointment since I wrote that first paragraph. And so I’m back home changed into my normal attire of a t-shirt, shorts, and white ankle socks. The doctor’s appointment was all good, blood pressure is good, A1C is good, and my feet aren’t swollen. Now looking out of my office window the hedges long the fence have the loveliest white blooms. I for one am feeling pretty good considering the added hardware. In the past I wouldn’t have taken the time to notice much. My mind would be so preoccupied with everything I needed to do.

Between my job, taking care of my wife and family, and setting up a new business and finishing school. All while suffering with chronic depression and panic disorder which was all swept under the rug. Then came the heart attack which I ignored for nearly a week before I started drowning in my own fluid. That first ambulance ride like the several afterwards were very uncomfortable for the cost. So the last seven of the past ten years has mostly been me hopefully doing better, while at the same time fading slowly. So now I got a fire alarm, a defibrillator that’s wired to my heart, ready at its beckon call to shock me back into existence. So while business attire has long outgrown me, I live for the purpose of living. No longer valued just for the things I could do. But for the enrichment and joy I can give to myself and pass along to the people around me.

All That Fair?

5/20/2025

Story Inspired By The Music Of John Mellencamp

Trying to fall asleep last night I must have written at least ten poems and several stories in my head. So I thought it just be best to write something down so I could at least fall asleep. Justice seems to be a long set of rules, that for the few don’t mean a damn thing. The house seems to be especially rigged when your poor and working class. Living your lives dependent on the charity of others. That set the minimum wage for your sweat and pain just doesn’t seem fair. But what can you do when everyone else accepts it, like pigs fighting for a place at the trough or cattle blindly walking into the slaughterhouse.

We all think it’s fair, till it’s our ideas that are taken away. Used and violated like some unfortunate girl by the flash and desires of the privileged. Only to be left tormented and abused, then discarded like so much garbage. So what is fair? In a life where your left stacked like cord wood to be thrown into the fire. To warm another man’s bones. I’ve lived so passively taking the crumbs I was given. Rather it was love, attention, or wealth. But many will say, “But did you work hard enough?” All while they’re being waited on with a silver cup.

Who knows what it is I’m trying to say. When all I see are our leaders and elites sipping fine wine, while children are buried with bulldozers and shot down by drones. What makes their lives more important than ours? Religious fervor perverted over a millennia ago? I may not have a gun, but my leaders sure do. Bought with the money I made. Maybe I’m just rambling like an idiot that needs to be silenced. So load your guns you selfish few. Cause I’m more than certain there are more lined up behind me, that don’t think things are all that fair.

Honesty

5/19/2025

Sandra Saxon Burnsed

Staring at a new morning, with summer bleeding through the double paned windows. The motion of time is unrelenting as the seasons blur one into another. My wife sits quietly at her easel working on yet another piece of art. Switching back and forth between “Live with Kelly and Mark” and “The Bubble Guppies”. The sound of both blare through the door and the wall that separate us. But there’s no point in arguing or trying to drown out each other. After raising four doorstep kids, I’ve gotten pretty good at drowning out noise.

The wind twist calmly outside the windowpanes, I made a conscience decision not to head to the park today. My energy level has been pretty low for the last few days. With my anxious side simply waiting on the news about my apparent lost rent check. I ran a trace on it nearly a week ago and I’m still waiting to see what has happened. I suppose it’s kinda silly worrying about things that I cannot control. But still the strain it puts on me physically is definitely a drain.

But isn’t it how it is with most everything in life? From living in a world just trying to survive. To hoping that somehow you’re making some small difference in others lives, when in fact you feel so all alone. Selflessness I guess is it’s own reward, that the key to recognition is to expect no glory. So I type away and worry about the things I cannot control. Trying not to be selfish about any likes or passing along honest wisdom. Praying that the demons running around in my head will get tried and finally let me be. While these words may not display any positive light at least they display an honesty I don’t often see in the words posted on the breakroom wall “Just Hang In There”.

Know What I Mean

5/16/2025

Image By: Sandra Saxon Burnsed

Why do some of us grow up feeling like we don’t deserve love? Was it a lack of attention or intimacy we received as children? Or was our sense of love twisted by physical or mental abuse? It is an interesting and troubling question, for sure. In my case I think it come from the mixed signals I received as a kid. From a dad who could at times be distant and verbally abusive. To a mom who was a mother and a needy sister, at the same time. My main abusers were the schoolyard bullies. The confident ones that took pleasure in pointing out every fault and every flaw.

Now before you start accusing me of being a snowflake or bleeding heart liberal (by the way I am). I can dish it out and take a good ribbing from the best. What I’m talking about are the abusive words and actions that can scar you for life. You know what I mean. Anyway it has been a long process of listening and giving my pain a voice to heal from my troubles. Not that by any means that I’m completely healed, but I continue to try.

I think of a dear friend whom I love very much. One of the few lifelong friends I still have from my past. And while the words, “I love you”, fall so easily from their lips. I often wonder, “Do they really feel it for themselves”? So often words fail to express the emotion you really want to give. But at the given moment a hug simply isn’t in the cards. I suppose my point here is to say I understand. I understand the pain and doubt you may feel. I understand the piss poor substitution that worldly riches and acclaim can offer. So to each of you, including myself. I am truly sorry.

A Little Pride

5/15/2025

After finally getting back from the urologist office I took a few hours to rest my back with the heating pad. I thought seriously about taking a nap, but instead I run the broom over the floor and swept. Then I figured since I’m already up I might as well clean the ceiling fan blades and the air vents. Then I took the grill off the central air and heating unit and gave it a good cleaning. Considering the shanty house we lived in for the last ten years, it’s nice to finally have a place I can take a little pride in.

Still it disheartens me to see how some of our neighbors discard cigarette butts and trash around the common areas. Even with a new maintenance person that tries to stay on top of grounds maintenance, you’d think tenants would be a little more mindful. But I am neither judge nor juror of how others' take pride in their homes. But like so many of them, at one time we were no better ourselves for the way we lived.

So I make no excuse for my past crimes against cleanliness. My grandparents were really no better off then I am now. Living on a fixed income especially during the recession that plagued the 1970’s. But there was a certain pride in your place and in yourself. Nothing self-inflated, but there was a certain dignity in holding your head up during tough times.

Sitting here under the really comfortable ceiling fan in my office, I watch the limbs on the pecan trees sway in the gentle wind. It reminds me how fortunate I am to finally have a place the kids don’t mind visiting. We don’t have a lot of furniture or any pictures or artwork on the wall. I don’t even have a backyard like I used to. But it feels like I’m living in a palace compared to our last few rentals. I guess the point I’m trying to make is, approach life with a bit of gratitude, remembering that things could be far worst then they are now. Take pride in yourself and live doing your best.