Stories - FD Thornton

Image By: Sandra Saxon Burnsed   It’s almost cliché the way I get up every morning. As I get older the tasks are more predictable and routine. Unlike my younger years where there was no responsibility, or as a father and adult when I had a family to take care of. Today everything’s more routine and, shall I say, predictable? Still, I spend every first of the month paying bills and making sure money's moved around. Then I fill the Kia with fuel and hope it lasts for the month, as well as groceries and other things. I have to keep up with prescription refills and the ever-present doctor appointments, of which I have at least one or two every week. But such as it is for an office manager, secretary, accountant, chef, housekeeper, crisis manager, husband, father, grandfather, and friend (AKA…Caregiver). But in-between all that work, I do find time to feel sorry for myself I suppose. In-between all the other decisions I have to make during any given day. It’s really not a big deal a...

 It’s a bright, sunny 80°F outside this morning with a few thinly veiled clouds high in the sky. I woke up late to a shout from the new ice maker we had installed in our fridge. Last night was not my best work when it came to sleep. I woke up several times to all kinds of haunts going on inside my head. Many of you who read my words see me as stoic and even-headed when it comes to life. But what many of you may not realize is that deep in my memory, I am still haunted by a past filled with fear and mental torment. I understand the overuse of psychological terms today. Concepts like trauma and PTSD are thrown around way more than they should be. I’m one of the last generation that was told to “suck it up, buttercup” during a crisis. But living for decades under the “physician, heal thyself” mentality, the skills I often use sometimes just don’t work. So right now, I’m going through a moment of anxiety and clinical depression, masking it all with that same old stoic face I’ve use...

  Some days are diamonds and some days are stone—that’s what I’ve heard my whole life. My parents were often too busy building for tomorrow or for themselves to really shape who I was. That job ended up being finished by my Grandma, my friends, and even my supposed enemies. The last few weeks have been a trial for me, between the stress of the surgery, the adventure with the fridge, and the malfunctioning of the fire alarm. Life seems to have handed me one stressor after another. My oldest child and I often just recognize it as our run of luck, where a few good things come our way only to be snatched up by an even longer run of bad luck. But inside, I still try to keep in mind that despite how much life mistreats you, you should never mistreat it. For years now, I’ve kept online relationships with a randomly chosen few people. It’s not like we have anything in common; it usually started with me or them admiring the work of the other. Recently, one of those friends was strugglin...

  To understand love, first you must learn to understand yourself. Looking back at my earliest memories I remember the emotions of joy and laughter. As I dig deeper though, I find emotions of being tolerated and ignored. Most of us I’m sure were given a little bit of both, much like a blended cotton shirt. A sturdy 80/20 blend with strong roots in faith and a little mental neglect sprinkled in for stretch. I suppose the main thing is, what parts stand out the most in your mind? Now I’m not making light of mental health struggles, cause Lord knows I’ve had my share. For nearly 30 years I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, GAD, PD, and a host of other letters. I’ve spent nearly half my life focused on the causes and trying to get better. Funny thing is even with all that planning; I only made baby steps in my recovery. The one thing I now realize through all my searching is that, without taking a compassionate look at yourself, I never found peace. When understanding love, we first hav...

  Right now my head is a jumbled mess of “what if’s” and “when’s it going to be over”. I mean I look perfectly together this morning after a shower and a shave. But last night and this morning my head is a jumble of insane messages my fractured mind wants to scream at me. In days past, I would simply sweep all that noise under a rug and go about my day working on some new half-finished project. Now that I have pretty much learned to embrace the silence, I allow those voices of panic to have their say. to most that might sound totally unproductive, but hear me out. I’ve learned by giving those parts of me (the panic, the fear) their say. I can then through mindfulness practice of living in the here and now, embrace those voices and acknowledge them and let them go. Now you might say to yourself, “All that kumbaya shit sounds great, if I was able to sit around and smell daisies all day. But hell! I got work to do and still have to stare at the damn problem all day”. Hey. I tota...

 Staring in the mirror I don’t take too long to think. Because if I do, I’ll reflect too long on the wrinkles and grey hair that now cover that once youthful smile. Still I laugh at the thought of all the time I spent just being busy and not appreciating the moments as they came. But for the last 30 years, I’ve been forced to think and appreciate such things. But still the mask remains secure, holding in the thoughts of stillness and calm. Only displaying the wit and the showmanship that has been my life. ​So I sit here with the curtains drawn to the afternoon sun. Debating with myself about the words I wish to say. Knowing dreams are but subconscious emotion playing out in my head, wishing for more but getting less. So I leave myself asking this question, which one of me is truly me? The joking, wisecracking, happy-go-lucky fellow you see? Or the reflective man you read about behind these drawn curtains? I dare not answer that question, at least not out loud. For each of us is n...

The Old Sycamore Trees  Maybe it’s a little too soon to start another life post, but for the better part of the morning I’m going to be arguing with two pharmacies over who gets my prescriptions. So while I’m in a hopeful frame of mind I thought I would at least start this story. This morning began like most stories, only this time I slept through the night, and my bride was the one that kept waking up. I told her I hadn’t noticed her getting up, in which she replied with a snarky, “I know!”, and thus began my peaceful morning. The neighborhood cat is hanging outside the neighbors window this morning. Apparently ignoring my mental pleads of “Good Morning”. But I shrugged it off as just another cat picking and choosing their victim for the moment. But isn’t that how most of us deal with who we want to deal with, and who we don’t. For a moment I caught the smell of wild honeysuckles across my nose. As if to remind me of my old yard and the scents I caught on the old park trail. Spe...

  Well let’s see how this mornings going to turn out. Woke up about normal time, I slept through the night, did my normal morning business, and took my pills. Then I got my glucose meter ready by pulling it out of the bag and assembling the lancet and pulling out a test strip. I inserted the test strip into the meter, then shot the lancet into my finger, and yes I wiped with an alcohol pad. Then put the meter to the blood droplet and within a few seconds got my reading. I know all this is old school tech considering all the new fancy wearable meters out there. But when your Medicaid won’t pay for a fancy new meter you get what you can afford. So before you moan and cry about it, I’ve been doing it this way for well over 30 years, so I don’t even feel it anymore. But these are the sacrifices we make for good health. For 30 years I haven’t had to go on the insulin shots like my parents. I still take a combo of metformin and another product, and my GP is happy with my A1C, so why ch...

  With the taste of my two gummy vitamins fresh in my mouth, I notice how the temperature this morning is creeping up. So with a cup of decaf and a bottle of water I prepare my body for another hot and sunny spring day. My young buddy on the sidewalk waiting for his ride and the one lone cat hanging around his feet are my only entertainment as the morning sun casts its shadow on the 100 Building next door. I go through my normal itching and nose blowing in-between typing out nonsense until my point is made. But what is the point? Writing without any set goal or reason other than to hear myself think makes for a pretty dull morning sometimes. So as it is for today, as the young man catches his ride and it’s only me and the black and white cat lying on the lawn. With no purpose, no focus, and in a way no home. Another sip of decaf through the straw tells me there’s a story to tell in that. Of how we focus on things, and obsess about things we cannot control. Like other people’s att...

George the Duck   Had another hard night sleeping till I woke up around 4:30 this morning. Then around 6:00 the phone kept pinging repeatedly by my “Waljacked Shopper” asking about substitutes on my order. Other than that, I’m not the snotty mess I was yesterday, I think the replenishing of lost fluids did the trick. While part of me thinks it’s way too early to be doing any high functioning thinking this morning, the more cynical side of me reminds me there’s never too much high functioning going on anyway. So with all my Southern Baptist charm, let me extend to you a “Good Morning, Ya’ll!”. I can’t seem to get my mind out of the future tense. Meaning my mind is focused on things that are to take place down the road and not right now. I doubt I have to tell you how that can create mistakes in the moment, much less anxiety about the future. But with my already hyped up brain planning as it does. I can’t help but worry about the logistics of an upcoming medical procedure I am goin...

  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...

  I can hear what I can only describe as the theme to the Lion King bleeding through my study walls, as I was about to touch the keys of this keyboard. I don’t know if it’s a sign from God, or if Good Morning America is just trying to fleece another Grandma to buy Broadway tickets or both. But the sun is shining   just as bright as when that old baboon held up the lion cub. So who am I to say? I took a picture of myself this morning, than easily picked out every flaw I saw on my saggy face. My skin looks like loose fitting clothing on a skinny man. Although I’d much prefer being a skinny man with plenty of wrinkles. Then this once   fat old man wearing a loose fitting skin suit that still makes me look fat. But enough about me, how about you? Got any features you care to tear apart this morning? It’s funny how the ego and wounded self-respect turns most of us into our own worst critic. But such as it is with humankind, always comparing notes. Falling in love with some...

FD Thornton   With trembling hands and a flare for the dramatic, I take my meds. Looking out the window at the clouds that had descended to the treetops. I wait for the morning sun to erase the dew and give me my promised sunny sky. Sounds pretty dramatic, don’t it? Kinda lovely in the way the words form a picture you can almost see in your mind. As an observer of life I guess that’s what I’m suppose to do. Dream up words that paint descriptions in the imagination that only words can do. But today in a world of expanding visual media, we’ve all gotten a little lazy, with our words and our descriptions of the things we see. Settling instead for half-truths we take as Gospel. Never seeing how the other half lives. It’s sad in a way to see lazy writing, where arguments become insults and ignorance is praised instead of frowned upon. There’s much to be said for simple country living, but when you exchange simplicity for ignorance and spite. Well that’s another matter altogether. I ...

Mr. Whipple   I just got through writing a pretty little poem (if I do say so myself). And the very next thought I had was, “Two-Ply Toilet Paper”. Needless to say, I had to chuckle to myself at the thought. But I guess inspiration often works in mysterious ways. So as a write, in the loosest sense of the word, I often find inspiration in interesting places. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not very polished with my work. I mean I read other people’s work and think, Damn! Why can’t I write like that? I was trained in the world of analytics. I started my work life wanting to be an architect and trained as a draftsmen. I worked in multi-color printing, then went through a 4 or 5 year phase of just existing. Then that turned into fatherhood and forced labor at whatever I could find. Until another 15 year phase of just existing, till the last 10 or so years where I tried to rebuild myself. Till I became this. The broken down wrecked hull of a man you see today. But that’s ok...

  After an evening of heavy priestly confessions and a late night of deep sleep, I woke up a bit dazed and confused. For one I ain’t completely woke up yet, even after a hot shower and shave. But the curtains and windows are open, and the crisp cool air is filling my study. My poor old candle has about seen its better days while the sun slowly creeps toward the first windowpane. Then I had to stop writing for a moment to go rescue my stranded adult child that locked their keys in their car.       Anyway I’m about woke up now after listening to my youngin go on about a mile a minute about them and their spouses five-year-plan. It’s kinda funny to me to hear that sort of thing now considering I’m doing good to make moment by moment plans. If there’s one thing I’ve learn in over 60+ years of breathing, it’s that nothing is guaranteed. Ten years ago if you were to tell me that I would be sitting here reasonably healthy. When I had five IVs going at once in the Pulmon...

 You know I’m one of them people that no matter how much I achieve in overcoming troubles. There’s always that one little trigger that will set me back at least ten steps. Last night I got into a knee deep conversation with an AI Language Program about death and my personal philosophy on the matter. While I thought I was teaching that little thing about the human condition. At the same time I was allowing seeds to be watered within myself that focused me on my current physical condition. Hence the image you see above. Last night I had a strong dream about a situation involving my son and wife. Where so-called government officials were judging us about our lifestyle and current living situation. Rather or not that was fueled by my earlier conversation with Gemini, whose to say. I just know that my focus this morning has been on having a slight shortness of breath and being a bit dizzy. Then I look in the mirror and found that blood blister on my forearm. But I’m not writing this t...