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Whatever You Believe

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  What spiritual power, if any, pulls the soul down to the lowest of lows? Some might say your sign is in retrograde, or that God Almighty is just teaching you another lesson, or that your chakras are out of alignment once again. Each one would entail that you as a person are weak and fell out of grace with whatever you believe. But after 27 years of being diagnosed with chronic depression, GAD, and a myriad of other mental illnesses, I choose to believe that it’s more than just another bad day. Or that somehow the gods are upset with me. Being the cognitive creatures that we are, we love to find a label for everything. But sometimes even the deeper sciences can’t explain the mental warfare going on in our heads. Is it environment or genetics that causes us to be bat shit crazy sometimes? But why can’t it be both. I feel the environment along with inherited physical traits have brought me to this point in my life. And before you start to pity me and say, “I’m glad my genes aren’t t...
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Pass Those Along

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  The sun takes flight above a sea of grey thunderous skies, while the tornado warning of the past few hours fades away. Opening the windows to my study I see the wind swirling in the branches, while birds come out to sing their songs. I’ve lived through tornados and hurricanes and the feeling the air presses on your chest and ain’t feeling any of that at the moment. So I guzzle down my witches brew and focus my ears on the sound of the field birds outside. Other than that it’s eerily quiet for a mid-week morning. The highway hardly makes a sound as my bride unloads the dish washer into the cabinets and drawers. Still an unfamiliar routine I have trouble wrapping my head around, considering the shotgun shack we lived in for ten years. But I do miss the openness and the backyard still, while the modern conveniences of hot running water more than compensate. It’s funny how life changes, yet often stays the same. My backyard now consists of a boundary fence overlooking a field of ...
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Need To Stop

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 I didn’t realize until this morning that we had two Friday the 13 th in a row this year. I knew something was wrong with this year; but that doesn’t matter, this morning it is sunny and chill and outside life is just humming along down the Golden Isles Parkway. Also with the light breeze I can smell the scents of Spring after the pollen got knocked loose. With its aroma of freshness  that Glade or Febreze can’t quite copy. I’m sitting here in my frumpy old baggy golf shirt and sweatpants. The obvious uniform of a retiree with little money for new clothes. But wearing these things brings me some joy in the fact that a mere 10 years ago, I stretched this shirt and these pants to their load bearing limit. And while I have gained a few pounds back, let’s say the digestive issues did their job. Other than that, I’m in a pretty good mood with the sun shining and the world not seeming to be too bad around here. But it’s easy to isolate yourself when you live in such a work-driv...
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I am Still Trying

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  I‘ve been writing a shit ton lately but none of it I’ve felt much like publishing. While I’m usually not afraid of exposing myself in word, lately I’ve been more inclined to just keep things to myself. I suppose most storytellers go through that, especially if you run out of things to say. But to be honest, it’s not like I’ve run out of thoughts. As much as those thoughts I’ve been thinking might be a bit disturbing to some people’s ears. So I’m doing what my Grandma Thornton taught me and just keeping my mouth shut.   Living in a world of psychobabble and instant answers, we tend to drift towards the easy answer. But sometimes smarts aren’t the answer to your pain. So what can you do? You could search for answers to the pain yourself, which is what I did. For years being the troubled person that I am, I kept all that pain to myself. Without even a companion to truly confide in. So I wondered the desert till I stumbled upon the teachings of a selfless little man. That taug...
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Dullest Of Colors

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  After drinking my witches brew from my World’s Greatest Grandpa coffee cup, I chewed my gummy vitamins and typed these words. While somewhere in the back of my mind, the dreams that awoke me early in the morning were still swirling   in my head. They were images of friends long ago, that gave me a place of refuge; still buried in my memory, but gone for me to see. But it’s those memories that shaped my future into the now, where I live today. Dressed in the dullest of colors, grey with just a splash of spring. I venture out into a world that no longer knows me. Typing out lines of self-defecation and woe to all that care to read. Just a lost man in a lost world of instant gratification and 10 second blips of fake charm. All chasing that almighty dollar so they can afford to make their own blips of self-gratification. I don’t mean to sound so angry, I’m just grieving over the losses in my dream. Now facing a world not nearly as innocent as I was back then. So what type of...
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When Sadness Comes

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  My mood of the morning pretty much matches the scene outside. All foggy and damp with all the stillness you’d imagine, after a good horror movie the night before. When you get troubling news, it hits you a certain way. Even though you are not the one affected. I took a shower and put on my stoic face staring intently at the frown lines I developed over the years. They’re the same ones my dad had along with most of that side of my family. Dressed up like it’s springtime with my secondhand   Izod shirt and Wal-Jacked shorts and t-shirt. Looking like I want to belong to the yacht club on Jekyll, knowing I ain’t worth the money of a dockhand. But it’s my fantasy and I’m sticking to it. No different than some Biker and Redneck want-a-be’s I know. But we all got to stay in our lane, don’t we? Or at least that’s what we are told. Like the stoic that has to be strong when on the inside they’re about to fall apart. So while my skin is way too pale to be a yachtsman and my bank ac...
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Every Morning

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  Every morning I take a total of 18 different medications that I have been prescribed by six or seven different specialist. Some of those medications I take three times a day, others I take twice a day, while a few I take only once a day. If your keeping count, that’s a total of 31 pills a day. Most all of them are pretty essential for keeping me upright and operating fairly normal. I suppose I could look at all this tragically and feel sorry for myself. While I sometimes do throw myself a pity party, for the most part I take it all in stride. Seeing it as the price I pay for making piss poor decisions during my life. But I was the one that chose to do all that stupid shit. So it’s 31 pills and several doctor visits a year, plain and simple. But since tiptoeing to the edge of death, I realized I’d much rather live. So I’ve made most of the necessary changes I needed to keep my ass going. Spiritually speaking, most of my family and friends think I’m going straight to hell. And amon...
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