I knew if I waited around long enough the damn gnats would show up. I slept in till about 9:30 this morning. I had a little trouble sleeping last night due to the dry weather. It seems the humidifier on my new CPAP machine dries out after about 6 hours. But it’s good that misery loves company because Lisa was having a rough night herself after her long doctor’s appointment yesterday.

It seems to be wakeup day for the neighborhood. The EMC crews are bobbing in and out of the parts warehouse. A bunch of log and container trucks are rolling up and down the highway. And I’ve seen enough golf carts roll by the house to cover a golf course. As for me, well I’m just licking my wounds from a rough and exhausting day. Not planning on doing much more than what I’m doing.
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But a little innocent flirtation did brighten my mood this morning. It’s seems that after so much drama and physical exhaustion, the back and forth banter with a secret love does the heart good. Now I won’t expect many of my close friends or  family to understand. Living under the dogma of an oppressive doctrine does that to you. Fortunately I live by my own rebellious rules. Which allows me the freedom to be honest with myself and the choices I have made. So while life’s never perfect, at least I allow myself enough wiggle room to find a few a pockets of joy. 

Well I’m out in the yard again. My time out here will be based on the wind direction, the amount of gnats I have to swat, and the humidity. Right now everything’s looking fine, but the wind has died down and I hear a gnat buzzing around my ear. It’s been a crappy week for me mentally. Old fears have been popping up in my head, and Lisa and I have a total of two doctor appointments and an MRI next week.

But honestly that’s really not what’s got me stressed out. I guess it’s more a combination of things like finances, family worries, and downright fatigue. My insurance won’t cover any additional iron infusions right now and my already compromised digestive system cannot handle iron supplements. So I’m trying to just take it easy. But as you all well know, the world won’t allow any of us to do that.
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So I’m left here worrying. I’m sure it would be easy for me to just “chat some affirmations” to myself to get out of this funk. But I was hard wired a long time ago to just “bite the bullet” and carry on. So I just sit here and listen to my moodiness; compassionately listening to every scenario, every worry, every fear. After a while I’ll climb out from beneath this blanket of depression and carry on. Kinda like today. With the sun dodging in and out from behind the clouds. With the distant cry of a mockingbird and just enough breeze to say it’s alright. 

What a view, right? I don’t know, I  guess the old sycamore tree looked kinda interesting this morning. So I figured I’d just sit in front of it. It’s a partly cloudy day, just got back from grocery shopping. Lisa’s got supper going in the slow cooker and I’m just sitting out here waiting to get hungry. I’m a bit of a pitiful sight compared to how I looked a few years back. Of course I was a bit swoll up back then, pushing a good 350+ pounds.

I like to think I had something to do with my weight loss. But it was more my bad habits that got the ball rolling. In the mirror I look like a slimmer, sadder version of my old man. We apparently traveled down the same health road. With me veering off into a different direction it seems. I don’t want to think of him as a quitter. I believe his will to survive was overruled by his generational attitude towards mental, physical, and spiritual health.
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But that’s okay, I definitely understand. For so long I carried the same attitudes till the fear of death eventually saved me. Along this journey I’ve learned a lot about myself. About how my mental health broke down my physical health. And that eventually I had to save my mind in order to save myself physically. So now while staring at the peeling bark on this old sycamore tree I’m reminded. The whole journey of life begins with letting go. Letting go of past pain, bad habits, old grudges, and hateful attitudes. 

Social media protocol states that you should post content every 24 to 48 hours in order to remain relative with your audience. And for the most part I’ve gone above and beyond that quota. I often wonder why I feel the need to do this. But beyond my need to be embraced or accepted, I assume my posting has something to do with my need to express myself creatively. It also seems to be important in today’s society to maintain a brand. A label that shows the world just how put together and desirable you are.

This is especially true in the corporate world, where image and desirability are the number one goal. With personal brands though one can show a little chink in the armor. If for no other reason then to be more relatable. Fallibility, is a word I thrive under. My cynical side, which is deeply entrenched in my abusive past and low self-esteem. Forces me at times to be too damn honest, something which my family often dreads. But to justify my honesty I will say it brings me peace.
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For a very long time I swept my pain, my anger, and my fear under a rug. Hoping that by ignoring it, it would magically go away. But it didn’t go away, it only got worse. After decades of torment, it was mindfulness, compassionate listening, and writing; that finally taught me how to forgive myself and those who had hurt me. I use the silence of meditation to quiet my heart and focus my mind on the here and now. I learned that for me bearing my soul creates a calmness that is hard to describe. My writing may not have created a world of perfection. But it certainly gives me a sanctuary to rest my troubled soul. 

​Rusted tools left shattered across the shop floor; part of the roof peeled away. Memories of projects and tinkering hands, are now nothing more than mold creeping up the walls. He passed away slowly ignoring the signs. Fading away without a fight. I thought I knew him, but I  guess I didn’t, no more than he knew himself. Each of us take little moments of history and digest them as best we can. Till the hands of time fade away the edges leaving them smooth to the touch.
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I can’t fake my emotions; I loved him but was mad at him most of the time. I only had a few years to get to know him. But in those years who did I get to know. A man deep in thought with so many conflicting opinions. Or a man driven by a culture that never seemed to satisfy. Questions get locked beneath that slab of concrete, when the vault is finally lowered into the ground. So I’m left standing here, having to draw your own conclusions. On rather to fault the man for everything or just leave him alone. 

After times of stress have always feel drained. In the beginning it just caused me to isolate myself mentally, but physically I was usually okay. But over the past few years, stress has worked harder on me physically. Damn near to the point where I can now manage things mentally much better than I can physically. Needless to say, it’s been an awkward adjustment. Having to step back from situations solely because of the fatigue it causes me.  
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Even after our little storm, I found myself exhausted and quite fatigued. After years of mindfulness practice I still find myself rushing ahead and worrying about the future. It’s nothing for me to count the days till my next paycheck check. Fearing that we’ll run out of food or gas, even when things are okay. Even after going to numerous doctors appointments over the years. I still find myself worrying about what the next diagnosis will be. Still I play the part of the laissez-faire fella without a care in the world. But just beneath the surface stress chips away at my fragility.
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So is it time for another pep talk or more self motivation? Or do I just wait out the fear and paste on yet another fake smile. Do I stand here battered and bruised and still continue showing off my scars? Or is that story getting a little old? I mean there’s only so much gore one can display before the audience starts to go numb. So I lay here picking away at these tiny keys dreaming up words no deeper than the end of my finger. Feeling like I’m impressing no one other than myself, because I’ve learned nothing. So take from my words what you can, while I fade into the past tense.