Fear and what it does to us.

I was talking to my wife the other night as we lay in bed.

We want to go to London and Edinburgh with our kids next summer and I said, “well if we go there at least we won’t get shot at.”

This is what we’ve come to.

My kids go back to school in two weeks and then it’s stress time.

Any time the sound of siren passes down the street we wonder. Is that going to their school?

It’s a horrible place to be in as a human and a parent to think this way, but it’s the only way I can think.

We’ve reached a point where we cower in fear at the sound of siren, a car backfiring, and fireworks going off.

It’s not normal to act this but unfortunately it’s the point we’ve reached.

I’ve talked to other parents who react the same way and it’s terrifying.

I don’t look at this as a political issue, it’s a human rights issue.

My kids and everyone else’s kids deserve to attend school without having lockdown drills.

Myself and other parents deserve to not worry about a shooting but whether their kid is enjoying school.

I’ve reached the point where I’d rather travel overseas with my family than in the country of my birth.

My family has roots going to the 1600’s in this country. It’s about what’s right and decent not about what’s politically popular.

Finding your path.

There are these paths that we take. They lead us through troubles waters, rough seas, and storms that wish to drown us.

They come at us in ways we’re not expecting.

Parents we once trusted, siblings we’d do anything for, and friends who were washed away with our dreams of a better life.

These paths meander, sometimes converge, but most often they lead us to where we’re supposed to be in our lives.

We follow this journey in the footprints of others. We see the light pouring through the clouds at times. It leads us, protects us, but most often it does not lead us astray.

We journey on this path, the footsteps feeling more like quicksand, our feet sinking. Struggling to keep ourselves above the fray of who and what we are.

The path takes us to a place we knew we had to go but didn’t want to because of a fear of losing people.

It is upon this path, in this sanctuary that we discover where we’re going, what we are supposed to do when we get there and it’s only in these moments when absolute clarity reaches us.

The clarity of mind, of life, and of a choice to follow the path presented is one that we must take alone. In it we’ll understand why other things never worked.

Our journey, our path, and the guide within takes us to exactly where we need to be at the point in our lives we should be there.

It’s taken too long for me to find this path. Now that I’ve reached it, I’ll continue down its shores, within its green forests, and find my way through the desert.

When writing things click.

A while ago, like ten years or something my cousins who is published traditionally, and who publishes independently gave me a book.

It’s John Truby’s Anatomy of Story.

At that point I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how to use the book, didn’t think I needed the book, and was determined to do it on my own.

Here’s a tip, when someone gets you something and they’re trying to help you, use it. Do whatever it takes to understand it .

If you don’t get it, ask for help. It’s really okay to ask for help.

Go to Reddit and ask. The people on R/writing are awesome.

But use whatever is at your disposal.

I never asked. I was stubborn and borderline asshole.

The belief that we can do something ourselves and ignore what people tell us is stupid.

You need help, ask.

Now that I’m trying to figure this out(ten years later)I’m struggling to do so.

I should’ve listened to her. Paid attention and not just read the book and not understood it. I should have done a lot of things differently.

Now that I am doing things different, I understand she was trying to help me.

She was trying to get me to understand writing on a different level.

It’s taken me a while but I’m getting there.

Exercise, Anxiety, and getting my mind right.

I reached a breaking point.

This happened for a number of reasons. The main on being I haven’t taken care of myself lately.

I stopped working out, I’m not sure why. I wasn’t burnt out. My muscles weren’t sore or my joints, I just stopped.

Exercise, mostly weight training, has always been in my life.

My biological father did bodybuilding when I was younger and when I turned 14 he got me in the weight room.

Initially I didn’t care for it, spending most of my gym time in the pool instead of the weight room. I’ve always loved the water. It’s a Pisces thing.

As long grew older I fell in love with being in the gym. I enjoyed the feeling of the weights, the pump in my muscles and attended the Olympia on a couple of occasions.

Until recently I never associated the gym with my mental wellbeing. It was just something I did.

Then I looked at where my life was when I spent the most time in the gym or my muscles grew the most.

Those were emotional times.

In high school I used my weight training class to deal with my teenage anxiety. Never understanding then what I was doing.

In my early twenties I used it to deal with loneliness and that I was an awkward shy person.

I found comfort in the weight room. It was something I could do where my effort determined the results.

In my late twenties I used it to deal with our first miscarriage. Then in my early thirties to deal with my daughter’s early birth and first month in the NICU.

As I moved up on age I never noticed this, until now.

Most recently, I used it to deal with the death of my big brother.

When I struggle most I return to the weight room. That’s what I’m beginning again.

It’s another way to deal with anxiety, my writing frustrations, and just with every day life issues.

It has never failed in getting my mind right. It never failed in adjusting my attitude or my mindset.

TM keeps my mind in good shape, but with the combination of TM and exercise everything fires on all cylinders.

I’m back in the gym because I realized it keeps my mind more focused when I do it.

I may not thank my biological father for much, but a love of the weight room will always be one of them.

Have a good weekend.

Get shit done, have some fun, and keep going.

What we become when we’re not paying attention.

Life moves pretty fast, right?

It moves faster when we’re not paying attention.

It comes at us like a demon. Striking with fast claws, snarling teeth, and the energy of a bunch of toddlers.

We sit in our comfy chair. Wait for the world to do something for us. The works owes us, isn’t that right?

Bullshit.

The world owes us nothing.

We owe the world a debt we can never repay just for being on this blue mudball, spinning through cosmos.

It took me a while to realize this. I know others who don’t understand what I wrote above.

They’ll never understand that this world is ours. This life is ours and we can do with it what we want. But we should do something that either improves the lives of those around us or the world.

I never used to think of my writing that way. Not until this week.

When I put my story on my Kindle, seeing it the way a reader would, it made pause. I’ve never thought about the reader. I’ve always thought about what I get out of writing.

I’m 50% in on the book and I have to say, it’s really good. I’ve barely touched it since December.

I read a lot of various genres and this one is grimdark fantasy. I love fantasy and this novel is a lot of fun to read. Of course it needs polishing, but for a first draft it’s my best work.

We become the person we feared when we’re not looking. I became the writer that doesn’t care about anything but getting the next story written for myself, when I should think about the endgame, the reader.