Refill the Porous Shell With Words That Mean So Many Things.

I always write an entry at the end of each year where I look back and ask myself the same question that I asked myself one year earlier. “Am I better off than I was one year ago?” 2021 was a year. It happened. For the most part, I enjoyed it. There’s truly very little about the year that personally went too badly for me. Not all of it was perfect, but it didn’t suck.

I did have some health concerns earlier in the year, but after a few visits to some doctors, those concerns were alleviated. My gratitude for my health insurance has never been higher. I don’t know if I would have even asked any doctors about any issues if I thought things wouldn’t be covered by my insurance. And to be perfectly honest, I would not have been able to afford any of the tests that were done if I didn’t have my coverage. The first day alone would have financially broken me.

I managed to avoid COVID-19 for the entire year. Unfortunately, I know too many people that weren’t able to avoid it. I didn’t lose anyone to it, but I know some people that were pretty sick from it. I really hope to not have much to say about COVID-19 in my 2022 year-end blog entry.

At the end of last year, I spoke about how I didn’t run any 5k races in 2020 (for somewhat obvious reasons). I had hoped to get back on track (literally) in 2021, but that didn’t happen. Some races did happen in my area. But, I didn’t participate in any. I certainly wasn’t in good enough shape to compete in them. And while I’ve often said that finishing a race, regardless of my time, is an accomplishment to be proud of, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to have any finishes that wouldn’t upset me if I had competed. Which brings me to my next area of opportunity for 2022.

I’m ending 2021 at basically the same weight that I started it, which is heavier than I should be. I did get back to the gym a little bit during the year and I did workout a little bit, but I didn’t do enough. I know that. I am going to refocus my efforts to getting myself back into somewhat good shape in 2022 and hopefully, I’ll lose the weight that I wasn’t able to lose during 2021 (and 2020). I’m basically going to start at the beginning again of a workout program and go from there. I’m not able to start off where I was. I need to get myself back to that point and then beyond it.

And speaking of workouts, each and every year that I write this year-end entry, I lament my inability to have ever done a Black Crow pose during a DDP Yoga session. This year, I can proudly report that I did one well enough that I think I would be given credit for doing it successfully. Granted, it was only once, but I can no longer say that I’ve never done it.

Another goal that I miss every year is my goal of reading 12 books during the year. I got through 7 in 2021. I started 8. I’ll finish that 8th in a few days. I will try for 12 (or more) again in 2022. I really do enjoy reading, but I don’t seem to find the time to commit to it, which gets more and more difficult every year as I get more and more responsibilities and other things happening.

If there’s anything that is drastically different for me at the end of 2021 is that I now have 20/15 distance vision. I had LASIK done during the year and I no longer need glasses to see things far away. It’s made my driving, watching a baseball game in person, and attending movies experiences a bit different and better. I do need reading glasses now, which I’m wearing as I’m typing this. The LASIK basically reversed my vision. I no longer need help seeing things in the distance. But now, I can’t see things that are directly in front of me. That’s ironic, because some people have been accusing me of that for years.

Financially, whether I’m better off than I was one year ago is debatable. My bank account is about 1/3 of what it was at the end of 2020. However, I didn’t do much in 2020. I didn’t go on many long drives. I didn’t go to many concerts or events. I also didn’t start financing my LASIK surgery or my new laptop in 2020. In 2021, I did attend concerts and sporting events. I did go on a few long drives. I did start the aforementioned financings. I also had the pay for one of my job responsibilities get reduced due to the significant decrease in time needed to dedicate to the position. However, I also do make more now in my base salary than I did one year ago. So, there’s no complaining about my finances for 2021.

In some ways, I really feel that I became more comfortable with myself during the year. I’ve really started to appreciate a lot of things that I didn’t before. In many cases, those things are simple things that I like. And it really is simple. It bring me joy, I appreciate it. Those things are as simple as my social networking routines, my TV watching habits, or even the podcasts that I listen to. But, I also really do appreciate the relationships that I have. I’ve made a few new friends during the year, and I’m grateful for that.

In an early 2021 blog entry, I mentioned that there may be an “Easter Egg” hidden throughout all of my 2021 entries. I was able to pull that off. I’m not going to reveal what that is yet. There was one very specific thing that all of the entries has in common. I will offer the old-school Marvel Comics No-Prize to whoever figures it out.

My New Year’s Resolution is ALWAYS the same. It’s always “I want to make it better.” I want my 2022 to be better than my 2021. It’s simple, it’s to the point, it’s achievable. But, I think it’ll require a bit more effort than I put forth in 2021. I hope to be able to things during the year. I hope that the Pandemic ends. I want to not have to worry about that any more.

But, to answer the question that I asked at the beginning of this entry, “am I better off than I was one year ago?” Honestly, yes. I really think that I am. I hope that I’m able to say the same thing again next year.

A Kind of Anguish I Don’t Need…

As sarcastic and cynical as I can be, I really do take mental health seriously. It’s taken me a long time to understand it. It wouldn’t be accurate of me to say “fully understand it” because I don’t fully understand it, and I also know that I may never fully understand it. And while not understanding something can sometimes, or let’s face it, often cause me significant anxiety, in this case, I’m okay with not fully understanding things.

Just like it’s taken me a long time to understand things about my mental health, it’s also taken me just as long to arrive at a place where I’m content. This is where I would usually start to doubt all of what I’m saying here and question if me being content is really me being complacent, but at this very moment, I think it’s truly content. I truly do enjoy a lot of things in ways that I haven’t always been able to. I know that what I’m writing today may be repeating a lot of what I’ve said in other entries, but it’s stuff that needs to be repeated and it’s stuff that needs to be said within the context of this entry.

For much of my life, my interests were things that were mocked, belittled, insulted, and trashed by many. Classmates, co-workers, family members. People from all of those groups would find ways to pick apart things that I like. It caused me to be ashamed to like what I liked. It caused me to not want to talk about the things that I liked. It caused me to be afraid to discuss the things that I liked. And if you think that doesn’t plunge someone into the depths of depression, you’re quite wrong.

I’m so lucky now that I have outlets for myself. I’ve found friends that understand and share my interests. I belong to groups on various Social Media platforms that help me cultivate and enjoy my interests. It’s taken me a long time to find all of this and to be comfortable, but it happened.

I like older TV shows. I like old Hollywood stories. I like the larger than life personalities of TV commentators from the 1970s and 1980s. I like Professional Wrestling. I like Doctor Who, Star Wars, Star Trek, and other science fiction franchises. I like pretty specific musical acts that are usually not within the mainstream view. I have positive outlets to discuss all of my interests now. I certainly did not have that when I was younger.

Now I know what while I’m in such a good place at the moment, it could change at any time. My depression could be triggered very easily. I’m aware of that. Just look at my entries from month to month. My opinion of myself varies quite a bit from month to month. Hell, it sometimes varies week to week, day to day, minute to minute. But, right now, at this very moment, I like where I am. I’m not looking for my usual doubts to surface.

Ironically, one of the things that inspired this particular entry is a video that I just saw. This video had a few Professional Wrestlers sharing some of their own stories of their battles with Mental Health. I was so proud of them for sharing their stories. It’s so important for everyone to be able to find a way to properly, and positively express themselves. This is how I choose to express myself. It works for me.

I try my best to use Social Media in a positive way. I’ll use Twitter to express a random thought that popped into my head. I’ll vent a little bit on there. I’ll use other forums to attempt to spark a conversation about something of interest to me. Recently, I watched a pretty funny movie from the 1970s for the first time. I posted about it in a group and I just sat back and watched all of the replies. Something as simple as that is so good for someone like me. A simple validation like that can go A LONG way.

As we’re now closing in on two years since the COVID-19 Pandemic started and we had to deal with lockdowns and more isolation than some people were used to, I’ve been able to put a lot of things into perspective with it. My Mental Health issues are well known to my friends. I DO talk about them. I NEED to talk about them. And many of them reached out to me just to check on me when this was all starting last year. My appreciation for that is something that I can’t really put into words beyond saying that I can’t put it into words. But, when I told my friends that I was THRIVING during the Pandemic, I wasn’t joking.

I’ve talked about my social anxieties many times in these entries. Because there was not much available to do, my social anxieties were basically gone. I’m well aware that they weren’t destroyed and will return, but they were gone for a long time. I was very calm during the worst of the Pandemic time. I was able to work on me. I was able to find new appreciation for the simple things that I enjoy and that’s really when I figured out how good I have it, as long as I don’t let the negative voices get to me. And in this case, I’m talking about outside voices and not the voices in my head that cause me so much doubt. Although, the voices in my head are usually just repeating things that other people have said and I’ve come to believe/doubt about myself. I’ll probably write about that at some point (again).

Over the past few months, I’ve been social again. I’ve attended baseball games, concerts, Professional Wrestling shows. I’ve gone to see a few movies in theaters. I’ve watched A LOT of movies at my house. I’ve listened to podcasts. I’ve listened to a lot of albums. I’ve read some books. I’ve been going to the gym regularly. I’m doing things that I enjoy.

I know that my overall good mood can change instantly. This isn’t my doubt talking here. It’s just the reality of how things are. But, I also know that there’s a lot of things that I can do to get back to where I am right now. I have outlets. I have people that I can turn to. I have places that I can go (physical and virtual). And, you have those outlets too. There’s always some person that can help if you ask. There’s not shame in asking. You don’t need to specially say “I need help.” Sometimes just saying “I’m not doing well” or “I’m a bad place” can spark the conversation that you need to start the process.

I’ve written blog entries about my anxieties that cause my anxieties to spike as I’m writing them. This one is one that is actually making me smile as I’m writing it. It’s because of all that’s good right now, and also because I know that if I had written the one that I was planning to write, my anxieties would be through the roof. Maybe I’ll get around to that one at some point.

I know this entry is getting to be a bit long, so I’m going to wrap it up. I’m not finishing this one just because it’s getting too long, but I think it’s almost too much of recap of events and I always save that for my December entries. I need to save some material for that. And when I write that one, I really do hope that my mood is just as good as it is now. If I may indulge my cynicism and my doubts for just a moment, there’s still a long time between now and the end of next month. A LOT can happen between now and then.

The distant smile, banished denial, no more denial.

This entry was inspired by a few tragic stories that I’ve recently heard about. Some were about people that I personally knew and some that I didn’t know personally. But, they all got me thinking about how awful people can be to others and how easily that awful behavior can have devastating outcomes.

One of those stories was about someone that I knew that had been sexually abused as child. The person making that accusation also named the abuser in a post on social media. I started thinking about those two and what I remembered about their childhoods and their families. It brought up a lot of thoughts.

The first thing that I thought about was the alleged victim. He grew up in a troubled household. It wouldn’t be described as healthy for anyone. Then I thought about the alleged abuser. I didn’t know him personally, but I knew others in his family. I knew one member of his family pretty well. He was the first person that I knew to utter racial slurs. He was also the first person to ever “beat me up.” I’ve heard other stories about the abuser’s family too. I don’t know how true they are, but there’s enough stories.

What is my point about bringing up the home lives of the people in question? Well, very often, children of mentally and verbally abusive parents will bully other children. It’s an ego boost. They make themselves feel better by making others feel worse. Unfortunately, it’s a very common situation. And while I do feel some sympathy for the situation that the bullies came from, it doesn’t excuse anything.

As a kid in high school that was starting to get into heavy metal music, liked comic books, liked Professional Wrestling, liked science fiction, had long hair, and wore glasses, I was a big time target for bullies. Every single interest that I just mentioned had been mentioned in some sort of verbal (and sometimes physical) attack on me. Finding people that I was comfortable with that shared my interests was not easy for me. I was the quiet kid in the back of the room that sat there because I didn’t want my back to anyone. I didn’t trust people enough not to keep my eyes on all of them.

I probably had/have an undiagnosed attention deficit disorder. I often drifted into my own world because of my lack of ability to fit in. I don’t know if I felt a pressure to fit in or if I just looked forward to getting out of school to attempt to return to my own world. But, as bad as I had it, some people have it so much worse.

Nowadays, I often hear people say that kids needs in-person socialization to thrive. I think there’s some level of truth there, but I also think that in-person is most definitely not the be-all, end-all. One of the best things to ever happen to me was easily online chat rooms and social media. From my love of Professional Wrestling to my love of obscure Hollywood references, I have forums to discuss them with likeminded people from all over. I don’t personally know them, but it doesn’t matter. Our common interests are enough of a bond. There’s one particular group that I belong to online that I can’t wait to post in after I watch an older movie. I look forward to the opinions, reviews, and even criticism of that movie that I might see in that group. There’s never a malice. It’s just a good natured discussion. I didn’t have access to something like that in high school. I didn’t have that comfort zone. I didn’t have a place to go.

People should not be made to feel ashamed to be who they are. People should not be made to be afraid to like what they like. People should not be made to hide who they are. But, because of bullies, they often are ashamed, they often after afraid, and they often do hide. It’s not just peers that bully them thought. It’s parents, teachers, siblings, teammates, TV personalities. Bullying can come from anywhere. It has to stop.

This entry was partially inspired by a documentary that I recently watched about a Professional Wrestler that took his own life. He was gay, and did all that he could to hide it. He was made to be ashamed of who he was. I cannot imagine that struggle. in a world of alpha males, he always felt less than. He couldn’t let anyone know who he really was. He was afraid of the abuse that he may be subjected to. I was just into things that weren’t considered cool and mocked for that.

Being made to feel lesser than at all times can drive people to do drastic things. I can cause people to believe that they’re not worth anything. It can cause people to want their suffering to end and sometimes they only way that they know how to end the suffering is to end their lives. It’s a horribly sad thing any time that it happens. But it’s beyond preventable. WE CAN PREVENT this cycle from continuing. WE just have to be better.

I have never had any active thoughts in my head about hurting myself in any way, but I have had the “what if I wasn’t here” thought. Luckily for me, those thoughts were fleeting, never prominent, and led to any desire to do anything bad. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any thought like that at all. I’m in a comfortable place now. I think I’m where I should be now. It may not be where I thought I would be or could be, but where I am is good. I don’t want it to change, even though I know it can, very easily.

Part of what people with mental illness deal with is the constant worry that everything can crumble around them. And that can happen without warning, without a lot of prompting, and it can be very difficult to deal with. That’s why I urge anyone that reads this to do their part to be kinder to each other. Be on the lookout for friends that in trouble. Do something to let your friends know that you’re there for them. Warning signs may be hard to see sometimes. But, if you see anything that you think is a cry for help, or an attention seeking thing, pay attention to it. Do not dismiss what could be the last thing that you see from that person. Be there. If we just cared a bit more, if we were a bit kinder to “different” people, the world would be a much better place for all of it. It’s not that difficult of a path to take, and it’s much better than the alternatives.

Life is All the Pain We Endeavor.

We all deal with our own personal issues. Some of us deal with things better than others do. We all deal with our issues in a different way. Any comment that you make to someone may not get the same reaction if you make the same comment to someone else. No two experiences are ever exactly the same, no matter how similar they are. These are things that we all need to realize.

A few years ago, I was with some friends for a small gathering at their place. I don’t remember how we started discussing various mental health topics, but we did. Two of us, in particular, were going back and forth describing various things that have been said, or done, to us. It was almost a game of one-upmanship as we were trying to see who really had it worse. She and I could “go there” in our discussion because (I think it’s safe to say that) we’re comfortable with our individual stories to discuss them in that manner and have a bit of humor about them. However, some of the people in the room with us couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

But, while that one friend and I could do that, I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that not everyone else handles things remotely similarly. I have definitely made comments to people that seemed innocent or humorous enough to me, to others and had incredibly bad reactions. I’ve apologized for such things when necessary. I’m not proud of offending anyone that I consider a friend, but I do look back at those experiences as learning experiences and I’m glad that they happened, for the sake of my own personal growth.

Even though the friend that I talked about earlier and I were able to compare our experiences and pretty much joke about them, that doesn’t mean that it’s a good idea to compare your situation to others. I know that, by many definitions, a lot of people have had more more difficult lives and experiences than I have. That doesn’t mean that my own personal story is easy. It just makes it different from theirs. And from my own experiences, I would like to think that I’ve gained some perspective on life and from that perspective, I’m able to know (and maybe sometimes believe) how bad I haven’t had it. But, again, that doesn’t mean it’s always been good.

Just telling someone that something that’s been said to you makes you uncomfortable may not be enough though. I can tell you from my own personal experiences that I’ve done that. I’ve told someone that what they’ve said to me was cruel or mean and sometimes it’s been resolved. But, there’s also been times when I’ve been told “you should be glad that I didn’t tell you what I really think” or “that’s just the start of it.” It does wonders for someone’s already frail self-esteem when you’re being belittled and the person doing it is letting you know that they’re holding back on their real opinions. It’s even better when it’s a family member and you’re not in a position to break away from that scenario. It’s also better when that scenario repeats… often.

As I’ve looked back at some of the personal relationships that I’ve had, I do look at a lot of them differently than I did before. I may think about a particular situation where something was said or done and how I may not have realized it at the time, but it was pretty damaging to my ego. It could be something as simple being in a conversation with someone from my past and her asking me a question about someone that we both know. In my reply I said that he was a Professional Wrestler and I started mentioning specific things that I’ve seen him do, only to be told “yeah, I don’t care about wrestling.” To some of you, that comment is not a big deal. But, to others, it’s diminishing someone’s personal interests. Why something as seemingly simple as this matters is that it was part of a repeating behavior of comments and antics that belittled me. I just didn’t do anything about it, because, as I’ve noticed, I’m really too used to it happening to me.

The scenario that I just mentioned really goes back to the stuff that I talked about in my most recent entry. For so much of my life, I’ve always felt that the things that I like weren’t good enough and the fact that people who were close to me (often) let me know about it gave me (a few) complexes about publicly enjoying them. I really hope that I haven’t done anything similar to anyone. I know a lot of people that like many of the same things that I like. But, I don’t say “that’s stupid” when they bring up something that I don’t like. But, I also put serious effort into not making people feel the same pain that I’ve felt.

In the past few years, I’ve heard some stories about former classmates of mine that used to bully me (and others) a bit. I’ve heard about their home life during those days. A common theme there is emotional, mental, and (sometimes) physical abuse from parents and siblings. The kids that were the bullies were often bullied at home. How they dealt with it was to lash out other, seemingly easy, targets. I was often that target. I don’t want my anxiety levels to spike right now, so I’m not going to attempt to remember many specific incidents. But, of course, as I’m writing this, a few more things came to my mind.

One of the things about myself that I’ve never really been able to be completely sure about is if I really do enjoy the solitude that I often have or is it just that I’m comfortable in it. Is my comfort a defense or is it a true comfort? Am I by myself because I truly enjoy it or am I by myself to avoid further anguish? I have a strange dichotomous social life in which I actually do enjoy my friends and doing things, but I also really enjoy being by myself and doing nothing. I ponder reasons for this often and I may try to dig deeper into it in a future entry.

And while on the subject of future entries, I’m going to wrap this one up because I think if I keep going, I’m going to drift even further from the original concept that I have. And while I know that they say that time may heal all wounds, how long do those wounds need to stay open? Sometimes they do close, but something can very easily open them. In my case, I don’t know if I’m looking to heal my wounds or just live with them. I know that my yearning for a change will eventually lead me onward.

The Sharpest Point is Aimed at You.

When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to get home from school so I could watch weekday afternoon cartoons. GI Joe, Transformers, He-Man and the Master of the Universe, and Voltron were some of the ones that I looked forward to the most. Every day, I would sit in front of the TV in the living room and I would watch those shows. And very often, my mother would tell me how bad the animation was. She would tell me how it wasn’t nearly as good as the cartoons that she watched. This wasn’t a once or twice thing, it was very often.

I would watch Professional Wrestling shows on the weekends. I would read Star Wars and GI Joe comic books too. And since we spent many weekends cleaning out my grandparents’ house in the Bronx, much of my comic book reading was spent in a tree in the backyard there. Because those books were monthly ones, I would read the same issues for weeks at a time. And very often, my mother would tell me how much of a waste of time it was for me to read them.

When I started finding my own musical tastes in my teens, I would do what most teens do and play songs at very loud volumes. At this point, the bands that I was listening to weren’t as far from the mainstream as stuff that I listen to now. And no matter how popular a band was, how many Grammys they may have won, and no matter how much acclaim they may have received, I would be told that they weren’t as good as the bands that my mother listened to.

I was often told of the faults of all of my friends. Any girl that I was dating wasn’t any good. I wouldn’t want to make plans with anyone because I would hear about how much I was wasting my time with whomever I was attempting to make the plans with. I would find ways to not talk about my plans or just not make them. If I did make plans and no talk about them, I would be accused of “sneaking around” and lying.

While I was in school, my classmates, and even a few teachers (well, one in particular) would make fun of my interests. Star Wars, Professional Wrestling, Heavy Metal Music. Enjoying these things were often easy sources of ridicule by the “popular kids.”

I didn’t have a “safe space” to enjoy myself without judgment. I didn’t have a place to go where I felt comfortable. If was bullied in school (which was frequent), I would go to my house and not want to talk about it. I would go to my bedroom, which was the same room that I was sent to by my parents as a punishment. You know, the old “go to your room” thing. So, I’m my bedroom, the punishment room, and I’m watching inferior cartoons or listening to inferior music.

It’s very easy to feel like you’re “less than” when you’re constantly told that you are, and especially when it’s in various aspects of your life.

Cartoons, Wrestling, Comic Books, and Music have all been very important to me at one point or another in my life. And at various points in my life, I’ve been mocked for liking the things that I like. It’s not easy to dismiss the mocking or the taunts when they’re consistent. It’s not easy to dismiss them when they’re coming from parents, teachers, or other authority like figures. In reality, it’s a lot easier to have their words become permanently part of your thoughts, to the point where they’re subconscious thoughts.

Over the past few years as much of the stuff that I liked in the 1980s has become popular again, I would get excited when I found out something like that a DVD box set of the old Voltron cartoon was being released. I would make sure to buy it for myself, but there was always a voice in my head telling me that it wasn’t any good and that I was wasting my time and money with it.

I think part of what made me think about some of this recently is the COVID-19 Pandemic. In a previous entry, I talked about how I spent much of 2020 in my old comfort zone. But, my comfort zone also includes a lot of baggage. And there’s definitely a lot of baggage.

I’m sure that some people wonder how and why a 45 year old is worried about what people said to him 35 years and longer ago, but it’s because it’s all engrained in my psyche and my personality. I’m often afraid to like what I like. I know that the stigma attached to many of my interests has dissipated in recent years, and I have found people to share my interests with, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy for me.

I really do have a difficult time enjoying things to the fullest due what I’ve discussed here. It’s almost as if a ceiling was placed on my enjoyment levels. I don’t know if I’m capable of breaking through that ceiling and enjoying anything at 100%. There’s always something telling me that I’m doing is wrong, even if it’s not. That voice is always there. And, it’s not just one voice. It’s many.

To be completely honest, I’m not very comfortable talking about some of the stuff that I’ve said in this entry, but I’m going to publish it anyway. I think that I NEED to. I’ve always felt that if I put some of my stories out into the world, it’s very helpful to me. “Hiding behind a computer” and a screen name is good for me. It allows me to maintain my Mask of Sanity a bit. My anxiety levels have risen a little bit since I’ve started this paragraph. This is usually the part where I would scrap this entry and start a new one. But, the voices that are telling me not to publish this one are not going to win this battle. I’m scratching the surface of some stuff here and I think it’s time for me to dig a little deeper as I search for the elusive cure to my own concerns and worries.

I Become the One You Haven’t Seen For Years.

I always write an entry at the end of each year where I look back and ask myself the same question that I asked myself one year earlier. “Am I better off than I was one year ago?” 2020 has been a weird year. It’s been like nothing that we’ve ever experienced and I hope that none of us have to experience anything like it again. The COVID-19 Pandemic that hit us this year changed so much about how we go about our daily lives. I will usually look at my year-end entry from the year before to make comparisons. I want to remind myself of where I mentally was when I wrote whatever I wrote in the previous year. I want to know what I thought I may struggle with. I want to know what my goals were. I want to be able to accurately gauge my personal progress. But, in a year when I wasn’t able to do much, there’s a few things that I can’t compare. I also can’t get upset about it.

Because of the Pandemic, my social life pretty much came to a screeching halt in March. There were no concerts, no sporting events, no BBQs, and no parties. I have barely seen anybody on a social level, in any capacity since this started. I attended a concert (Mr. Bungle) on February 11th and I saw a comedy show (Daniel Sloss) a few days later. Since then, I haven’t done anything in any type of group setting. This is completely not like any year that I’ve had in recent memory. Concerts are what I do. I usually attend many shows in any given year, and I had some plans for a few in 2020. I had some road trips planned. None of that happened.

I was hoping to compete in more 5K races than I had done in previous years. I was looking to add one or two that I had never done before, but again, the Pandemic happened. I figured that training for the races would allow me to drop the extra weight that my doctor had recommended that I lose when I saw her in January. However, when the races started getting canceled, I pretty much stopped training and I ended up gaining weight. I am glad to say that I’m basically back to where I started and I’m making sure to do my DDP Yoga workouts daily. I’ve recently started doing some more intense and longer ones. And just like every single year-end entry that I’ve ever written since I’ve started doing DDP Yoga, I still end the year not being able to do the Black Crow pose. However, the last time that it came up during a session, I was closer than I’ve ever been before. Maybe it’ll finally happen in 2021.

I spend A LOT of time in my entries and social media talking about Mental Health. I know that 2020 has been very difficult for a lot of people. I ALMOST feel bad saying this, but my mental health is great. Social anxiety is a big thing for me. I’m not comfortable in group settings. Regardless of how often you may see at a party or with a few people, I can assure you that it’s not easy for me to be there. However, that really hasn’t been an issue for me for much of the year. All joking aside, I feel great. My social anxieties are more calm than I can think of at any point since I’ve become aware of them. However, I do fear that my re-integration to society could be difficult for me when things calm down and we can get back to “normal.” But, I’ll slowly cross that bridge when we get to it.

Another bright side to doing practically nothing in 2020 is that my bank account is doing better than ever. I am an “essential” employee. I didn’t lose a cent of pay during the year. I understand that not everyone that I know can say the same. I am beyond grateful that I have a job that made sure the employees are taken care of during this unprecedented time. There’s been so many points in my life where I was so worried about money. I would have to cancel plans with friends because I couldn’t afford to keep them. That isn’t a problem now. It hasn’t been for a while. It’s an amazing difference. There’s been a few times during the year where I had to replace something that broke or pay for something that would previously have financially ruined me. It’s not a concern for me right now. I have the financial “safety net” that I’ve never had before. I’m actually almost confused by the level of comfort that I have here. But, I’m not going to let it be a bad thing.

Much like the Black Crow Pose not being achieved in 2020, I also didn’t achieve my goal of reading 12 books in the year. Both of these things seem to be common issues in my year-end entry. But, as I said earlier, I got close to the Black Crow. But, I didn’t read nearly as much as I would liked. I spent more time watching old TV and movies than reading. I will try to make the 12 books (or more) goal happen in 2021.

I noticed that one of the things that I wrote in my 2019 end of year entry was that I had a hard time writing entries in 2019 because I had a good year and I felt that I didn’t have much to talk about. I had the same problem in 2020. And as weird as 2020 was, I don’t have much to complain about. I do know a few people that got sick with COVID, but I didn’t lose anyone to it. I’m lucky there. Too many people can’t say the same thing.

My New Year’s Resolution is ALWAYS the same. It’s always “I want to make it better.” I want my 2021 to be better than my 2020. But, in addition to my own personal efforts to improve things for myself in 2021, it’s my wish that everyone else does their part to get through the Pandemic, so we can put in behind us. I really do hope that the entry that I write on this day in 2021 will have a little bit more to talk about. But, as I wrap this up, I’m very glad that I have enough perspective to know just how good I have it right now. By no means is this how I thought my year would be, but I also cannot complain about it. I’m healthy. My friends are healthy. I may not see my friends in person, but I have plenty of ways to communicate with them, and I do. 2020 was weird for me, but it wasn’t bad for me.

But, to answer the question that I asked at the beginning of this entry, “am I better off than I was one year ago?” Honestly, yes. I really think that I am. I hope that I’m able to say the same thing again next year.

In Your Mind I’m Fed With Distrust.

I’ve spent the majority of 2020 inside. Not just inside my house, but inside my head, as I explained a bit last month. It’s been a weird year for all of us. I don’t need to get into that, and to be honest, I’m trying to save some of it for next month’s 2020 recap entry. But, as I continue to tell people that I’m doing fine, all it takes one is one thing to trigger a feeling, memory, or emotion that makes me question all of it.

A day or so ago, I saw a video online of someone acting out her relationship with her mother. It was a DEEP video. It was my trigger. I went from being content to “having lot of feels,” as the kids say. I am not capable of getting too deep inside my own thoughts enough to convey what exactly that video did to my psyche. Or at least, I’m not able to properly convey it.

As much as I’m capable of saying in this forum, there’s still A LOT that I’m not able to say. Maybe one day I will be able to, but today is not that time.

One of the things that I said immediately after seeing the video was that I was starting to “question everything.” I started to wonder if I’ve been honest with myself over the past few months. I’ve told people that I’m really doing emotionally and mentally well during the Pandemic. I mean, I think I am, but what if I’m not okay and I’ve just convinced myself that I am? Yes, a video about someone’s toxic relationship with her mother made my mind go there. It hit very close to home, literally and figuratively.

I have a lot of defense mechanisms. I make a lot of jokes at my own expense. I’ve told people that since I’m not doing much of any socializing during the Pandemic, my social anxiety levels have never been better. And, there’s definitely a level of truth to that. But, I’m now questioning how true that is and if I’m just making it up to convince myself that it’s true. This goes back to the self doubt that I often talk about in these entries. A LOT of that self doubt comes from things that were said to me by my parents.

I don’t want to use this entry to go down a dark path. I know it could easily go there. I’m NOT in a bad place. Well, I think I’m not. See, it’s happening. I’m not just putting the doubtful lines in here as humorous diversions. It’s really how I think. Am I fine now? Am I not?

My routines keep me sane throughout the days. I need the order. I’ve continued to find comfort in the things that I discussed in last month’s entry. But, am I looking for the comfort there to compensate for other things that are lacking? Isn’t that something that we all do? Am I different? There’s always more questions for me than answers.

Part of the reason that I’ve said that I’m doing well is that I’ve been isolated for so much of my life. So basically, I’ve been practicing for Pandemic Life.
I was not allowed to go out and do things with my friends as much as others were. When I was allowed, I would always have to check in multiple times, or else. Those patterns of behaviors and guidelines definitely set me on the path to social anxieties. I got to the point where I started to not ask to do things because the disappointment of missing out was easier to deal with than the denial of permission.

Like I said last month, I spent days and weeks in my house watching TV. It was there for more. I did that in my bedroom, where I’m typing this now. It’s my sanctuary. It’s where I’m safe. It’s where I was sent as a punishment when I was a child. I’ve become a prisoner in my own Stockholm Syndrome. Yet, I like it here… I think.

The restrictions, guidelines, and mandates that I spoke of earlier didn’t go away as I got to “legal age.” They continued. Even after I was no longer required to check in with anyone, I still feel the anticipation of problems if I don’t do it. And it’s been over a decade since I’ve needed to check. How does this tie-in with me spending time in my room now as an adult during a Pandemic?

I’m sitting here trying to figure that out. I’ve spent some time since the last paragraph ended attempting to put my thoughts together without going back and deleting much of this entry. Some of my friends have recently told me that they’re actually surprised when I say that I’m such an introvert and how uncomfortable I am in social settings. That gets me thinking if I’m really better at being in public than I think I am or I’m just good at faking it.

I really didn’t answer the question there, did I? I know this entry is jumbled. I know there’s somewhat of a vague common theme here, but it’s not going where it could. That’s probably because where it could go is a lot deeper inside of me than I realized it was when I started typing this.

About 20 minutes has passed since I ended the last paragraph. I’ve started browsing some of my older entries. I’ve seen some common themes. I’ve seen some common doubts. I’ve seen some common issues. I’ve seen some common pauses in my ability to express.

I want to believe that I’m doing okay right now. Even though, I’m a firm believer in “it’s okay to not be okay.” So, if I’m okay with not being okay, am I okay? Yeah, I had to ask that. Right now, I’m okay with not knowing the answer to that question or any others that I’ve asked here. And I’ll be okay revisiting these concepts and questions when the time is right. And it’ll only be right when it’s the right time.

But, until then, I’m going to retreat back to me mental and emotional safe space and continue with my current routines. Because, until I doubt them enough, it’s still comfortable there. And that’s where I need to be right now.

An Archaic Way of Thinking, So Monstrous and Absurd.

If I publish an entry that is blatantly political, I know that a vast majority of my few regular readers will just skip over the post. This entry is going to deal with some issues that are in the news and are linked to politics. I’m going to do my best to stay away from directly referencing political aspects of it, while attempting to make sense of things that, to me, don’t make sense. I’m also going to try to explain how I got to the point that I’m at with my own beliefs.

I’m a middle-aged white male. That means that there’s a lot of things that I don’t need to worry about. I don’t need to be concerned with whether or not I have access to birth control (pills, abortion, etc). I don’t need to worry about not being paid equally because of who I am. I don’t need to worry about being profiled and harassed based on the color of my skin. I am someone that has White Privilege.

White Privilege does not mean that I don’t need to work hard to advance in life. And it doesn’t mean that non-whites get by with hand-outs. It just means that I have a head start, based on who I am. White Privilege doesn’t mean that I won’t get pulled over for speeding. It means that I’m more likely to not be harassed for doing it. But, this post is not about my White Privilege.

Throughout the 40+ years that I’ve been alive, I’ve been picked on, made fun of, insulted, harassed, and even beaten up. I deserved none of that, but often I thought that I must have deserved it. Sometimes I felt scared to go to school. I didn’t want to tell my parents or my teachers about what was happening to me because I was afraid of retaliation. I never acted out or really fought back, because I was always afraid of consequences.

How many times have we heard stories about a high school kid that shoots his classmates? How many times have we heard stories about a high school kid that dies by suicide? In many cases, both of those horrible actions are the result of someone being treated like I was in school.

Beaten down. Figuratively, literally, emotionally, mentally. How much can one person take before there’s a breaking point? Imagine yourself in my shoes in high school. It wasn’t pleasant for me.

I was one person. I was afraid. I felt that I was nothing. I didn’t know what to do. I had a few bad experiences with some teachers and counselors. They made me feel that I was at fault. I was told that I was lazy. I was told that I didn’t work hard enough. They failed to address what my real problems were. They didn’t do anything to solve or even help me get past those problems and they certainly never held anyone accountable for what was done to me, even if they witnessed it.

Now imagine that an entire community of people that go through the same thing. Imagine that community is treated like they don’t belong with “the rest of us.” Imagine that people in that community are constantly threatened and harassed by the people in charge. Imagine that people that are supposed to protect that community are seen as threats instead of help. Imagine that when something goes wrong for that community that nobody assists them, and instead they’re constantly told that they’re at fault and deserve what’s happened to them.

What I vaguely described in the paragraph above is how I see issues facing the Black Community in the United States. It’s also why I empathize with them. I’ve been the person that’s felt how they feel. Just so it’s clear, I am by no means trying to make the comparison of my personal struggles with Blacks in America. I would diminishing them if I did that. I’m just trying to say that I understand.

In the past few months, we’ve seen more and more stories about Black Americans being shot, beaten, and harassed by authority figures. We’ve seen others in positions of power not step up to help, and in many cases, criticize them for being upset about what’s happened to them, and how they’re handling it.

Like the scenarios that I described earlier about the high school kids that snap and do somethings drastic, that’s where the Black Community in America is now. They’re that beaten down person that has had enough and is lashing out.

When your pleas for help are constantly ignored, you lash out. When you’ve always been treated like you don’t matter, you may not know what to do. When you have no way to improve your situation because there isn’t a system in place to help you, what can do you do?

I already know how some people will react to this post. I know how some people may criticize me for making the comparison that I’ve made. I know how some people believe that one side of the political aisle has done more damage (or more to help) to blacks than the other. To be honest, none of that really matters right now. To me, the issue is simple. The issue that we can say that all people have the same chances and opportunities in the United States, but that’s not true. It’s never been true. White males have always had an advantage and have made the rules. Those rules don’t benefit everyone else as much as they benefit themselves.

I’m doing my best to not turn this into an us vs. them post. I don’t want to get into politics here, but I know that what I’m going to say in the next few sentences is going to spark a certain response from some.

There was a time that I wouldn’t say “Black Lives Matter.” I felt it was silly to say that people are equal and then separate anyone, so I wrote someone on one of my social media pages about how we should all say “All Lives Matter.” I saw who was agreeing with me, and who wasn’t. The “Black Lives Matter” people were people whose opinions that I usually agree with and I thought I was agreeing them in my reasoning, but it looks like I didn’t get it yet.

Without publicly stating it, I did change my views on that. But it wasn’t until the George Floyd story happened when I first started publicly stating “Black Lives Matter.” I even wrote a retraction of my original post from a few years earlier. I really have no concept of time in 2020, so I don’t know exactly when I came to the realizations that I did, based on the comparisons that I spoke of in this entry, but I’m glad that I did.

I am an advocate for Mental Health Awareness. My experiences in that area over the past few years, and from what I’ve learned about myself and others, really has made me much more empathetic. I don’t want anyone to feel as bad about themselves as I have at times.

This entry isn’t as cohesive as maybe it should be. To be honest, even though this is something that I’ve given a lot of thought to, I didn’t plan to write this today. I didn’t come up with an outline for it. I actually had another entry half written before I even started this.

In my entries, I’ve often said that we need to do better. And we really do. “We” means all of us. Society continues to leave people behind. WE have to stop that. The people that believe and proudly say “All Lives Matter” need to do more to make that true. Because until Black Lives Matter, not All Lives Do.

The Scars that Bind Us.

Since I’ve started (somewhat) regularly writing entries here, I’ve often talked about how music has gotten me through so much of my troubles. I’ve spoken about the friendships that I’ve forged through concerts and message boards related to bands. This entry is going to be another one of those, and while it may repeat things that I’ve said before, it may also go a little deeper.

I’ve had a concept for this entry in my head for a long time. I pretty much knew that I would be writing it for this month’s entry. But, between the time the concept originally popped into my mind and now, a pandemic hit. I thought about putting this concept on hold and writing something else, but then I realized that what I’m going to say may be even more important now. So, please bear with me as I attempt to flesh out this idea.

Of all of the bands that I listen to that have lyrics that have impacted me the most, Katatonia and Life of Agony are at the top of the list. Their lyrics generally deal with depression, anxiety, despair, desperation, and other topics in the misery range. I’ve been listening them both since the 1990s. Their shows aren’t just concerts for me, they’re experiences.

What is the difference between just a concert and an “experience?” Well, the best way that I can sum it up is this. In 2016, I attended various days of a local music festival. Clutch played there on Friday, Life of Agony played there on Sunday. I ended up going to Radio City Music Hall on the Saturday in between to see Opeth, it was a long weekend. But anyway…
The person I was with at that festival on Friday and Sunday made a comment to me after Life of Agony’s performance. She asked me “What was that?” I didn’t quite understand her question, so I asked her to clarify. She said “I saw you watch Clutch on Friday and I saw you just now with Life of Agony, and you were totally different.” I told her that I go to see Clutch to have a good time. I go to see Life of Agony to “let it all out.” I don’t know if she understood the difference that much, but once I said that, a lot more things made sense to me about those experiences. Clutch shows have more of a “good times” and “party” vibe to them. Life of Agony, Katatonia, Paradise Lost, and other other bands’ shows are emotional experiences for me.

Going back a few years earlier, at another Life of Agony show, I had a moment that I can only really describe as an epiphany for me. This particular show took just a little more than a month after the death of Robin Williams. The reason that’s significant and sticks out in my mind is because of two people that were with me at the show. The day after his death, I wrote a blog entry. At the time, it may have been the most emotional entry that I had ever done. It was raw and unlike most of my entries, published without much editing.
Just minutes after hitting “post” on that entry, I received a text from a friend. She told me that she had just read the entry and started telling me about some of her own issues with depression and self harm. She asked me if she could reach out to me when things got bad. Minutes after that, someone else sent me a message letting me know about her own issues with depression and also asked if she could reach out to me. Of course, I told both of them yes.
How do these two people and Robin Williams tie in to a random Life of Agony show? Well, it’s simple. There was a moment when I was watching the concert when I was standing between the two of them at a bar in the venue. I was the only person that realized how strange that was, because up until a few minutes before that, those two had never met. I did not tell them about how they both texted me within minutes of each other, but I did enjoy hearing them both praise me for being a good friend.

During that show, Life of Agony played one of the songs that is usually in their set list, “Weeds.” For some reason, that song never really did much for me, until that day and that moment. The first line of the song is “If tomorrow never shows, I want you all to know that I loved you all, you’re beautiful and I had myself a ball.” Because of where I was mentally and emotionally at that point, as I sang along with that line, I got choked up.
The band ended the show with what was their (and still should be) traditional closing song, “Underground.” That song is about members of society being cast out, and coming together to positively express their emotions. I remember looking at the crowd during that song and realizing that the people in the crowd are MY people. There’s a good chance that I didn’t personally know 98% of the people in the crowd, but it didn’t matter. We were all there for the same thing.

The people at that show, the fans of the band, we come from different backgrounds. We’ve had different life experiences. We have differing views on life. But for the 90 or so minutes that Life of Agony was on stage, NONE OF THAT mattered. And at that particular show, at that particular moment, it started to sink in.

As the Coronavirus pandemic spread through the world, concerts and other events started to get postponed or canceled one by one. There were two Life of Agony shows that I was planning to attend that have been postponed. Of course, that bothered me, since it’s an outlet for me and because I’ve made some great friends from their shows, and at this point, those friends include band members and their families as well as the crew members of the band. But, as the virus spread, I was glad to see the shows not happen. I would rather not see the shows now and have everybody be healthy than have them happen and not ever be able to see some of those people again.

Katatonia, who I once drove from New Jersey to Cleveland to see, and then from Cleveland to Montreal to see, did an online concert a few weeks ago. I knew I would enjoy that show, but I had no idea how much I would enjoy it. I watched it from the comfort of my bedroom. I had the lights out in the room and the concert was being streamed on my TV. From the very first note, I got chills and tears were flowing as I was happily singing along to some of the most depressing songs that I’ve ever heard. I was also texting a few people that were also watching the show and having similar experiences. And the friends that I was talking to during that time live in various parts of the country. But, that wonderfully miserable band brought us together. Some of us even joked that it was “our first Katatonia show together” since we’ve never actually attended any of their shows together.

Now, how does all of this tie together? That’s simple. Sometimes, none of our differences matter. When we’re at those shows, we’re with friends. Some of those friends are more like family to us than our actual relatives. We’re all hurting. We’re all there with our own demons and issues. We’re there to forget that for a little while. We’re there to let our aggression out. We’re there to hear every voice scream. We’re there for the words and music. We’re there to see beyond our darkness. We’re there for the message in the music. We’re there because the scars that bind us brought us there.

It’s very possible that we won’t see any shows in person for a while. But, as I said before, I’m okay with that if it means we’re all healthy. If I go to a show and someone that I expect to be there is missing, I want to know that they’re not there just because they couldn’t get to the show. I don’t want their absence to be because they’re not with us anymore.

At some point, concerts will resume. I will see you again. This will all end, we will overcome and we will be able to scream those words, together. And for that brief time, just like the words of the Allman Brothers Band, we can “leave our blues at home.”

Still My Guitar Gently Weeps

I lost my mother 10 years ago today. That sentence is even harder for me to believe than it is to type. We’re all currently going through a time in which days and weeks blend together. Yet, I remember almost everything about that day 10 years ago. And as I’m sitting here right now, a lot of it is coming back to me. I know what was said in the morning before I went to work. I remember where I stopped for breakfast and what I had to eat. I remember where I was when phone calls started happening. I remember the exact look of the local highway as I was driving back to my house. I know that I can keep going, but I think the point was made. I remember that day very clearly.

I knew that I was going to write an entry today. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, probably months. I kept going back and forth in my head about what I should say, what I could say, and I would say. It’s a very complex topic. Not just my mom’s final days, but her life, and my relationship with her. There’s things that I’ve never publicly spoken about. Was this finally the time that I was going to do that? Well, the answer is no. It’s not just that I don’t want to say some things, but I really can’t. My anxiety is through the roof as I’m typing this.

My typical blog writing process starts with me coming up with the concept, when I have one. It’s usually two or three days later that I’ll finally publish the entry. But, that’s after a lot of edits and possibly entire re-writes. I purposely didn’t do any of that with this one. I’ve always wanted it to be raw and emotional. But, as I’ve already said, my anxiety levels are shooting up. They rose any time I thought about what I would write.

Yesterday, I logged in to my site and I re-read my entry from five years ago. I realized that entry said almost every thing that I wanted to say today. And, it included something that I wrote 10 years ago. And honestly, it’s really all that I need to say.

My mother was very complex. She did what she thought was the best things for her kids. Whether they were or not is open to interpretation. But, we are who we are because of her. Not just because of her, but partially in spite of her and despite her.

So much has changed over the last 10 years. There’s been more loss. There’s been some wonderful additions too, in particular my nephew and my niece. The world is different than it was 10 years ago. I’m different than I was 10 years ago. I would like to think that I’m in a better place than I was then, and I would like to think that my mother would approve of where I am now, but would I be where I am if she was still here? I’m going to do myself a favor and not think too much about that question right now.

What is posted below is my blog post from July 8, 2010. It was originally posted on MySpace. At the time it was published, it was the most personal and “real” blog entry I had ever written. Also, at the time it was written, I was not very comfortable talking about me. I had not ever seen a¬†therapist about myself and kept most of the my emotions to myself. And I certainly did not talk about my mother. The entry is a bit vague in detail, but it did what it needed to. As I’ve said, one day I may touch on certain subjects, but until I feel that I can (at least publicly), I believe this is the best way for me to handle it today.

Thanks for reading…

My Guitar Gently Weeps
July 8, 2010

Being that my birthday falls in the beginning of July, I see my year split into equal halves. I’ve discussed this in previous blogs. I’ve also discussed how I usually get very reflective during this time of year. I look back on the year and try to figure out where it’ss gone and then figure out where I need to go. For the past two months, I’ve been more reflective than ever. I’ve not just looked back on the last six months, but I’ve looked back on 34 years that I had with my mother.

I lost her at the end of April and it’s been a rough few months ever since. I’m not going to get into details about the circumstances, as I don’t feel the need to do so. As a generally private person, I feel there are certain things that should remain private, so that’s what I’m going to do here.

For almost 34 years, she was here with me. For almost 34 years, I had a meal waiting for me every day. For almost 34 years I knew what I was coming home to. And since the end of April, I don’t have any of that.

One of the things I’ve noticed about my memories of my mother is how perspective on them has changed. Many of the things that had negative thoughts associated with them have been pushed aside and positive thoughts are prevalent now.

My mom and I were both die-hard New York Yankees fans, but didn’t go to games. She spent a great deal of her childhood in the Bronx and went to countless games at the Old Yankee Stadium when it was in its original form. It tore her heart out when they renovated it in the 1970s. She often told me of the tears she shed while going past it on a train and seeing the walls being torn down. She was pregnant with me on April 15, 1976 when they had the grand opening of the new¬†Yankee Stadium. The changes were so severe that she never wanted to go back. While I was always a bit upset that she didn’t want to take me to games, her stance on the ballpark helped to create my old school baseball purist mentality. For those of you asking why my dad didn’t take me to games, well, he grew up in a National League/Yankee-hating household, so it wasn’t an option.

When old enough to go to games on my own, I finally did. I managed to see some good ones too, including David Cone’s Perfect Game in 1999. Ironically, my mom was originally going to go to that game with my sister, but the heat was too much for her that day and she backed out. Her not going allowed me to go.

2008 was the last year the Yankees played in that particular building and I told her she HAD TO go to a game with me at that place. There were no options. On April 6, 2008 we finally attended a game together. It was a chilly Sunday afternoon game. We saw the Yankees beat the Tampa Bay Rays, 2-0. The score of the game was not important to me, all that mattered to me was that I finally got to a game with my mother.

And a little side note, the Yankees have since moved to their new stadium, and I haven’t gone to it. I wonder where I get that from.

While we didn’t agree on many things musically, there was one artist that we always agreed on, Dion. She grew up in his neighborhood, and kind of knew him from the town. While she was more of a fan of his early doo-wop stuff, I liked his late 80s stuff and the blues albums he did over the last few years. We got to see Dion perform in 2009. I knew it was going to be a special time, but I had no idea how special it was going to be. The smile I saw on my mother’s face that night was amazing. She had been brought back to her childhood and the more simple things that go along with it. He played all of his classic songs and told stories of the neighborhood, and my mom was hooked on every word. It was seriously one of the best things I had ever seen, she was overwhelmed with joy.

Ironically, my mom often said I go to too many concerts and didn’t think I needed to see the same band over and over again. Dion was playing in our area again a day or so after the show we saw and she had thought about getting us tickets to that show as well, but unfortunately for us, it was sold out.

Obviously, there was a lot more to my mother’s life than the Yankees and Dion, but they played a huge part of her life. It’s all about her time in the Bronx, and one those two particular days I was able to bring her back to things from her childhood, and what I saw in her face those days was just magic to me.

I’ve had to learn a lot of things very quickly over the last few months. Things that I probably should have known earlier, but didn’t need to know, since she took care of them. Things like cooking and how to properly take care of our birds. I think I’m doing a decent job adjusting to that. The cooking part will take some work, but what I’ve done so far has been good.

Another thing I learned, and again, I probably should have realized this before is just how incredible my friends are.The support they’ve given me during this time has been downright amazing. They’ve greatly helped me get through my days and provided me with a great outlet when I need it. But should it surprise me? That’s what friends do. I just hope that I can be as good to them when it’s needed as they’ve been to me.