It’s been about three weeks since I last posted anything here and 7 weeks or more since I posted anything that I actually cared about writing, and even that is debatable.
Wifey asks why I don’t post, and I usually say something like, “I think maybe I have nothing left to say.” She nods and smiles and says something that causes me to roll my eyes, like, “I like reading your blog because it gives me a clue on what’s going on inside you beyond what you share with me.”
The irony of all that is that despite writing this shit show for over 16 years, I probably never really had anything of value to say, and on the good days, nothing is going on inside my head other than my love and responsibilities to Wifey and B, and vapidly thinking about beer, boobs, photography, bikes, and football (soccer). And on the bad days, my 50-year-old mind is jammed with memories of resurrected childhood traumas, a lack of education beyond a now useless art school degree, raging body dysmorphia, the lack of a “real” job, self-loathing, and the overwhelming desire for a change in my life, even though I don’t know what I want that change to be.
“Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.” – Steven McCroskey,
I know that a lot of what I wrote above sounds like some sort of drama-bomb, suicide-watch bullshit. Especially since I am now off of anti-depressants for the longest time in about 12 years. Have no fear/sorry to disappoint; it’s not that at all. However, it contributes to endless internal debates about whether I made the right decision to stop. Then I remember that I thought all this stuff and more while on the stuff, and I felt worse about myself because of the weight gain they caused. Not saying they didn’t get me through some tough times, but therapy has helped way more.
I really do have to give thanks to the O.G. Mindbender for her help. I’ve been seeing her since 2017-ish and have no plans of stopping anytime soon, especially being off of meds. Sessions aren’t always easy, and I sometimes have to talk about past events and experiences that I wish I could just leave behind, but getting it out and learning to heal and deal with the mental wounds that I’ve been carrying with me for roughly 40 of my 50 years on the planet has been eye-opening and worth it. It’s also been refreshing to share past traumas without judgment or guilt, just compassion. And be helped to mentally connect the dots a bit and learn how to repair the damage. Better late than never!
Beyond my brain and personal issues, seeing the O.G. set me on a path to improving as a husband and to be the best parent I can be to B. And that is what it’s really all about.
The past couple of years have been rough on everybody; there is no doubt about that. There have been some really fucked up things that happened, and everybody is dealing with it in their own way, good and bad. When you add the shit-show in my brain’s past to the even shittier show of our modern world, the result is I often find that I have nothing to say that needs to be—or should be—said! All you need to do is read some of my posts through 2020. I left Twitter and Facebook ages ago for that reason, and I think that not posting here as often is the next natural progression. A big part of me wants to ditch Instagram too, but as someone with an amateur photography habit, I’ve yet to find a better place to share images that reaches more than the 5 to 10 people that visit this blog.
Who knows? I mean, I only planned on posting some photos here and unleashed this page of brain diarrhea. For all I know, I’ll post every day from now until Doom’s Day, which given the state of the world, could be next week. *crosses fingers*
The photos here were taken during the past few weeks.
Later.