I got up feeling alright, but as the day wore on my body’s been finding new ways to bite back. I avoided eating for as long as I could to keep the digestive system at bay. But once I ate all hell broke loose. Which has left me here for hours with a heating pad on my belly and an ice pack on my head. 

It’s not like I’m complaining, I mean it’s been like this for over two years. But hopefully within a couple of weeks we’ll finally get a handle on this little mystery is and finally get some definitive treatment. Emotions, fear, and disappointment are aftereffects of a troubled soul. Rather by your own hand or some outside forces, we are all slaves to our conditioning. 
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For a few of us, breaking the cycle of abuse is a daily thing. No different than addiction each day is a struggle and a victory. There are some days when the victories come easy. But then there are days when victory seems a million miles away. Like I told a dear friend this morning, sometimes all you can do is your best. Well this is my best today. Broken down and struggling just to even make it the bathroom. But it’s okay, because this is the best I got today. 

Yesterday morning I had to go through a series of protocols just to step into the hospital for my test. Once inside it looked nearly deserted with only nurses and techs suited up occasionally walking by. Just a few chairs remained in the lobby, while the Fox News Pandemic Deniers Network droned on across the TV screens. There were a few of us spread out across the vast lobby waiting for our appointments.
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But even as all the propaganda was pouring out across the screens, reality could plainly be seen around me. People old, young, sick, healthy, all afraid. But then through all this dread came an enchanting sound. A quiet lullaby playing over the intercom. It’s a sound I knew all too well having heard it several times during my stays here. It’s the tune they play announcing the birth of a baby. Beneath my mask I had to smile. Because it reminded me of the times that tune played for my grandkids.

Even though all the panic and fear, life simply moves on. As humans we label things with such question and emotion. Often asking why, and how unfair. And I ort to know, I do it all the damn time. But you know what, life continues to move on. Listen, our emotions have value; our pain has value. But to live in fear or completely denial is stupid. Life continues on and so should you. Don’t let one emotion completely overtake another. Find your balance and just do the best you can.

Apparently, I’m paying for my sins this morning. Over the weekend I treated myself to some fresh boiled peanuts. I know, but I have so few vices left, that the ones I do have can get a little out of control. The logical side of my brain would tell me, you are just compensating for something missing in your life. But my less rational side says, but they are soooo good!
 
Listen, we all have appetites that are not good for us. Some we proudly admit to and some we would rather not. Life is about finding that happy balance, somewhere between contentment and let’s not go that far. I suppose recently I’ve been heading towards the “let’s not go that far” side. I mean I meditate as much as I can, but the heat and illness have keep me away from my temple. So I’m left listening to the shit coming out of my own head. 
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The thing is, we all hit bumps in the road. The first step is to recognize what those bumps are. The next thing is to offer ourselves a little forgiveness. But that still doesn’t make you unaccountable for your sins. Listen right now I realize I was stupid gorging down whole bag of boiled beauties. But no one put a gun to my head and forced me to eat them. Understand we all have our faults, learn to forgive yourself, but hold yourself accountable and do better. 

Another 3 AM wake up call. Another get up out of the blue for no good reason. Oh, sometimes it’s because of an upset stomach, or a panic attack; hell, even a few times it’s been an actual heart attack. Whatever the reason, here I am just me and the cat and a head full of shit. Tension and stress are my consist companions. Rather they are screaming out loud or being keep to a quiet roar, they’re never far away. 

But like most anything you get used to it. Like the consent grinding I do with my teeth. In a way I’m a little like this cat, always on standby. Never far from the panic button. The irony is if you hit that damn button enough, it just gets stuck. For the last several years, every time I’m close to that button, it does a little more and a little more damage. Used too I could recover fairly quickly from a panic attack. But with each passing day, it gets a little harder to turn the volume down. 
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Oh I have my mediation, my breathing, and my medication. But at some point, the damage is done. Considering all the health issues I’m facing; I’d think one of my medical doctors would have figured this out; and had me checked out by a therapist. But I’ve come to the simple conclusion, that doctors are only human and can only see as far as their training. So what’s the moral of this tale, you ask? How about breathe in and breathe out. Also to be aware. But remember with awareness there needs to be a certain amount of compassion and forgiveness for yourself. For healing is often nothing more than finding peace within yourself. 

After a day of fighting with my insides, I return to my outdoor sanctuary. The gnats aren’t too bad today and there’s a slight breeze blowing from the West. Along the way I smell the petunias near the garden. My neighbors at the EMC are particularly quiet this afternoon. Unlike the usual chaos you see from them getting ready for the next day’s work.
  
Even with the clouds overhead, my skin is hot and dry. Just another unpleasant side effect of my daily medications. But I suffer through for the sake of survival, even in a world gone crazier than a bedbug. While my outward mask presents itself as satirical and calm. My insides often churn like a cauldron of fear and disbelief. 
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But I have the evening breeze and the call of a distant barn owl to comfort me. I have my personal and virtual friends to rest upon for words of comfort and truth. But what good is any of this if the house is on fire. Can one source of positive energy ever be enough? Still if just one person would reach out to another or better yet ten. How much sweeter would the world be? So, what kind of outlook do you carry? One of selfish survival or one of sanity and a positive voice? Because right now, the world needs you. 

It’s after 4 in the afternoon, and I just got outside. Me and Lisa have been running around helping our daughter get their new house set-up. But at least I got out of the moving part, but I will miss out on the drinking beer while moving someone. You see, I’m retired, at least from beer drinking, dope smokin', and chasin' ugly women after the bars close.
 
I’ve spent 30+ years being a good youngin, raisin’ a family and working hard to pay Uncle Sam. But I did get four pretty decent youngin’s out of the deal. And an old woman that ain’t killed me…at least not yet. But there ain’t no point in her trying, I’ve been doing a pretty good job of that myself for a long time now. That’s because no man is always a saint, and most man aren’t always sinners.
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I just do the best I can. Learning from my f*ck-ups and having to live with the consequences. Hopefully I’ve been honest, and at least once I’ll take someone at their word. Now I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but I sure as hell can speak for myself. I’m hell bound and spirit filled, I’m a prophet and a whore, I’m all those things and more. If you don’t like me saying that, well then cast the first stone. 

The twists and turns of mental health, complicated by physical limitations. Can cloud ones thinking, elevate already high stress levels, and frankly cripple your soul. Years of self-abuse, as well as, abuse at the hands of my peers. Took a heart and mind more than capable of doing the job and break them into a thousand tiny pieces.
 
In the quiet and reasonable calm of the night, I listen to what my soul is telling me. That things are not okay. That beneath this veneer of calm lies a terrorized child, afraid of living through the stresses of the day. I am afraid and it shows, in my actions, my speech, and in my isolation. 
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There are no easy answers to any of this. I’ve spent the better part of 20 years meandering between medication, therapy, and enlightenment to solve this riddle.  But through these moments of struggle and literal pain, at least I’m trying. That in itself can be a comforting fact. So as you, I, and millions of others move through this life broken and hidden. The least we can do is try. 

Another breeze is blowing from the East, while cotton ball clouds circle above my head. Behind them sits pale blue sky, as the scent of fresh mowed grass fills the air. Last night was sort of a confessional for me, in that I felt the purging of some hidden truths. Hoping no one would feel any less of me, to my surprise the reaction to my words has been positive. I suppose words are all in the eye of the reader. Their interpretations differ from mine or even yours. 

I do my best to plant good seed, but despite the sainthood often bestowed on me; I am very much the jackass. Given to fits of verbal rage and indifference to those I’m around. That’s why my preferred medium is the written word. It gives me time to pause, to let words marinate into one another. Instead of hastily being stewing around in a mess of emotion. 
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For what benefit are kind words if the vessel is untrue. I am not in total control of reactions. I am often impatient and even cruel. But at least I acknowledge that fact, which hopefully will lead to my redemption. So don’t take your words so lightly. The sharpest of blades leave the most lasting scares. Think before you strike. Don’t let your anger ruin your heart. All have of us have emotion baggage and all of us carry emotional scares. 

​I sit here telling stories that no one really ever reads. Asking questions that no one can answer. Spinning truth into whatever justification I can make. You hear me from a distance, crying the same tears. Hiding behind the same make-up I apply every day.  

But where is the justice? When do my good deeds mean something? How much longer must my soul toil beneath these chains? For I want to be selfish. I want to break free. Yet the moments of pain that would inflect are simply too much to bear.  

So I keep telling stories, I keep living the lies. For what do I want more than to be true. To build a perfect life, out of shear imperfection. For I am nothing more than that innocent child, that lost boy. Stumbling through love like a bull in a china shop.  

I can no more predict tomorrow, then I have predicted today. To ask what I think is just conjecture. Nothing more than a random set of thoughts swirling in a sea of ideas. I used to be so controlling, now I just see life as what happens. I was a planner and an organizer by trade. Now I find the whole business nothing more than a chore. Centering myself on just breathing from one minute to the next. Remaining grateful for each moment I’m given. 

I allow the words I write to speak for me. For the words I say are often clouded by self-preservation. For nothing is more freeing than letting go of perdition and embracing the quiet order of nature. Made up rules and moral code may bring order, but often they bog down ideas that otherwise free the soul. 
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Therefore, I ask no more of you than I ask of myself. To take things as they come. For hiding in the shadows is usually an agenda that’s far beyond our control. We live in unpredictable times. For the hearts of men grow desperate and unforgiving. But if you look into the trees and see the light of the sun reflect upon their leaves. You begin to understand that there is an order to things. An order that apparently men do not understand.