Content Warning!

This blog on occasion addresses depression, death, suicide and other sensitive themes. Continue at your own discretion in reading the content.

Saturday, May 28, 2022


This post is a rant. After a long week at work, and many months of thinking about it, I have come to the conclusion that I don't want to be here. The interesting thing about not wanting to be here, there are no thoughts of killing myself. Makes me wonder what kind of scheme my inner saboteur is up to and why haven't I figured it out.

I am tired, exhausted, burnt out, drained from 30 years since my last attempt and dealing with life, dealing with my dysthymia and battling every day to not go to the dark place where suicide takes over my life and plunges me into extreme darkness. I vowed I'd never go back to the days of wanting to kill myself and yet I am at a crossroad inflicted upon me by the back-to-back deaths of my parents, leaving a home I lived in nearly my whole life, the damn pandemic and adjusting to a world where the only person who seems to give a shit about me I have people who care about me, I think.  I make an effort to reach out and stay connected, but the response is crickets a lot of the time.

In a really wacked out world, if Tony Hawk or Bucky Lasek or any skateboarder for that matter said, "I care, you matter to me." I'd probably laugh but at the same time a part of me would welcome it. At least, I'd know I was seen, that even a damn stranger thought me worthy enough to acknowledge my existence. The chances of Tony or Bucky knowing of my existence is zilch but maybe that's okay. I don't need their validation but maybe I do. 

What contributions have I made to society? Not a whole lot I suppose.  As much as I've tried to make a difference, I probably haven't. For all the donations I've made over the years to various organizations has my kindness made a difference? Has it??

No wonder I'm grumpy.

No wonder I'm tired.

No wonder I don't want to be here.

Don't worry folks, I have no intention of offing myself. I simply don't want to be here. I'm tired of being tired. I'm exhausted from trying to do good things to feed my inner self and the external world and not seeing it help.

There is no proof that my existence has made a difference. If I died right now, not a big deal, no one would care. Life goes on.

If there is an afterlife, one thing is certain, I wouldn't want to be there either.

Your music treat for today is Shinedown - How Did You Love. Enjoy!

Rock on!


Sunday, May 15, 2022


 As a writer, I often delve into my mind and the world around me for ideas. I have hit a bit of a dry spell as my muse seems to be on vacation. Admittedly, it's well-earned. My daily journal writing has been non-existent as well. This blog has been my only outlet and at times, my brain pops an idea on what to write but then the moment my fingers hit the keyboard that idea vanishes. 

Between my dysthymia and my exploration of understanding it and my inner self, I travel to dark destinations and work through the stuff people fear to admit or see when they look in the mirror. I've done this so much in my life that I can't hide. I cannot ignore or pretend I didn't think a certain thought or dark idea. 

Moments of happiness are very fleeting for me. As much I would like to be happy, it's a chore for me to be that way. Sure, I can watch a comedy special or a movie and laugh for an hour or two but after it's done, I'm back to my baseline of my normal life, my normal world of feeling lost and uncertain of what my exact purpose is on this planet.

The place I am right now, is a place that people would numb themselves with drugs or alcohol. I have been fortunate to not fall that way. Each step is painful but not in the physical sense. There are moments where I am okay and then in a moment, a wave falls hard over me, drowning me in darkness and as quick as it came in, it frees me, allowing me to breathe again. 

With the death of my parents, moving out of the only place I knew as home, the pandemic and working from home, I feel...broken. I am broken and don't know how to fix this feeling. I'm doing my best to keep writing, to find moments of laughter, to delve into new crafts, writing letters and sending cards to friends, doing good deeds from my laptop, sending all the good I can out into the world even though I don't feel good inside. I am broken.

I have been broken for a long, long time but had found a place where I was at peace with my broken self.  We lived amicably for years. These days, I struggle to find the common ground I once had with this part of myself.

What is my purpose? Why am I even here? I feel lost. I lack motivation. I don't really care about much these days. Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like? If so, it sucks.

I have to think, not necessarily believe, that a mid-life crisis might come later, but I do have to think that my issue with feeling broken and lost, will resolve itself. Until I figure it out, not knowing if I actually will, I'll continue to send cards to my friends, do my crafts and continue to watch Jonny Giger skate videos, and any other videos or movies that put a smile on my face. 

I will end this post with a song from Jonthan Roy, I'm not familiar with his music but found this video traveling down the YT rabbit hole. Take care of yourselves and indulge in something fun. You owe it to yourself. 

Rock on!