Category Archives: Mental Health

What I’m Afraid Of.

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I’ve had this topic on my mind for the last couple of weeks. I think about it while I’m alone in my car, in the shower, and when I’m playing video games.

My parents divorced when I was in third grade. I’ve worried about this since the birth of my son. While we’ve had our ups and downs, our ups are strong right now.

I entered boot camp almost thirty years ago and when it got to it, I was scared. I was afraid of starting my life and doing all of the details of it. I got an honorable discharge for my bad eyes a few days after arriving at boot. I was thankful at the time, but also worried what my family would say. That is one thing in my life I would change. I’ve worked to overcome it but it’s always there.

The others are a relationship with my son and daughter. I don’t have one with my biological father and I don’t want that for my kids. I work hard to make amends with them for my past failings.

My other fear is that I’m wasting my time with my writing and that I should spend more time helping my wife financially. This is a bigger one since I haven’t worked an event in almost three months. If you know of a bar in Utah that’s hiring bartenders I have 24 years experience.

There is also the fear of spending too much time doing other things, gaming, reading…etc, and that is impacting my writing career. This is the one at forefront lately. I enjoy playing video games with my wife but I wonder if I spend more time doing that than I should.

The fear of falling off the wagon is big one too. I’ve worked hard for my sobriety. It’s one of my biggest accomplishments. I know it’s there waiting to take control. That’s the way it is as an alcoholic.

I’m sure other fears escape me, but these are on my mind daily. It’s one of the reasons I’m on antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication.

I come to this blog three days a week to talk about my issues. I’m sure it’s hard to read for some people but honesty has been at the forefront of my life for years. I attribute this to the reasons I no longer have a relationship with my biological father.

But enough of me. Have a good couple of days and I’ll see you back here on Friday, same bat time, same bat channel.

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Renewed focus

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I’m sitting in my favorite reading chair, staring at bits from Twitter, and waiting for my mind to adjust from the pills I can’t take anymore.

It’s not the writing. It’s the constant nightmares. Every night, more than a couple of times I’ll wake up breathless. I don’t remember them or I’d write them down. I only know I’m scared. I’m tired of being scared.

I pulled my collection from Amazon yesterday. I’m working on getting Disunion off of Ingramspark, and I’m reevaluating where to go from here.

Today, as I read, log into World of Warcraft, and figure out the next steps I’ll keep you updated here as well as on my Substack.

Know that I’ll continue to write though I may go absent for a while on social media but this is where you can find me.

Have a pleasant, whatever…B

Getting better…

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I’ve fought with my stomach, my mind, and my temper over the last week. I’m winning the battles, but the war continues.

I started writing a new story today. I don’t know where it came from, as I often never do, but it’s words, and I’m grateful for them. I’ve barely written since my time in the hospital and while I’m working to get better I’m also struggling to maintain my writing.

I took a hit to my mind, my body, and a bit of fear crept in. I’ve never spent time in the hospital. It was a new experience for me and I didn’t much care for it. I’ve always been relatively healthy and spending 48 hours in the hospital, mostly alone, did some damage. You can only watch so much bullshit TV without wanting to pluck your eyes from you school. I’m just glad they gave my plastic spoons for my meals.

Writing post-hospital is difficult. I’m on some new medication for depression and anxiety. It’s something I’ve needed to do for a while, but held off. I reached a point of needing that help while in the hospital. It wasn’t an epiphany, but a realization of sorts.

I’ve struggled with depression most of life and getting better is part of our journey as humans. I have to get better for me. That started with taking something for my anxiety and depression. I’m moving onto the next part, stay with me.

Writing horror is challenging for me. I grew up watching horror. I read a little bit growing up, but I mostly read Tom Clancy style thrillers. Which is why my most recent novel is a thriller in that vein.

Horror feels difficult to me. Maybe it’s because I watched more than I read growing up. I’ve worked to fix that as I grew older. I’m working on a few projects and I’ll put them up in the next couple of months.

I hope you’ll follow along as I make my way and get better.

Boy, do I have a story for you all

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I’ve dealt with stomach issues for the last year. It was preceded by a colonoscopy.

I didn’t think anything of it. I started having back issues a few months later. I didn’t think anything of it and went to a chiropractor. I dealt with severe migraines while working in Las Vegas, and adjustments helped.

I’ve gone to my chiropractor since March, but over the last month or so, I wondered if the back issues were something else. My back pain was consistent, and the chiropractor didn’t alleviate it. It did help with my neck issues, however.

Last week something was different. My stomach issues stayed throughout the day. By Friday night, it hurt, but I went to work at my new job bartending at a local bar.

Throughout the night, I’d get bits of warmth, moments where I’d have to stop and take a few minutes to catch my breath. When I finished that night, I was ready for bed.

I got home, almost falling into bed, and my stomach killed me.

Saturday morning was a whole other ballgame. I felt like I’d been punched. Every movement hurt. I was supposed to bartend a Halloween party that night, but I called off. I told my boss I was headed for the doctor as my stomach hurt too bad to move.

Once at the clinic, I was told it may be my appendix, and I should go to the emergency room. My wife drove me to the emergency room. It was a visit I didn’t want as I believed my appendix would burst.

I received a CT scan around 11:30. A hour later, I was in room told I had possible sepsis. If you don’t know, I linked to the Mayo Clinic’s definition and details. Needless to say, my wife and I were freaking out a bit. They admitted me to the hospital and started me on antibiotics.

Over the next 48 hours, my pain subsided, but my anxiety skyrocketed. I’d just been told something was in my body that could kill me.

I’ve never been sick enough for the hospital. At 46, it’s something I was proud of.

My diagnosis was diverticulitis. I linked again to the Mayo Clinic as their explanation is better than my own.

By Monday, Halloween, I felt better. My white cells returned to normal. My blood work no longer worried my doctor. They released me. Since Monday, I’ve eaten a low-fiber diet. I still have a bit of uncomfortableness in my stomach, but not the pain I dealt with Saturday.

I learned from this. Never believe your back pain is from your spine. Always get it checked for other things before going to a chiropractor. I will have diverticulitis forever and will watch for flare-ups.

All of this happened the week before my book launch. I know bills will roll in as I live in the States, so please buy my book. It will help my wife and I when these bills do come in.

I wanted to start NaNo this month, but that’s on hold as I navigate this.

The Fear Of Pushing Too Hard

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I have this fear. It rouses its ugly head every so often. I’m working on whatever project, then I think about how much harder I could be working on my writing, on my life, and other things.

This fear becomes complicit in my not pushing my projects when they come out. On not trying hard enough to edit. Each and every one of them deserves my attention, but then there’s this fear.

It tells me that if I work too hard, I’ll alienate those I care about. That they’ll not like me as much. That I’ll break those relationships. I’ve dealt with abandonment issues since childhood. It’s one of my overarching issues.

Within this fear is the worry that if I don’t work harder, what I write won’t go anywhere. I don’t care anymore if it makes money. I care someone gets something out of it. I don’t write for anyone but myself. Some people won’t care about you’re writing. Others will. I stopped worrying about those who won’t. I focus on those who will.

Writing Disunion By Force took me to a few places I hadn’t dared tread since my teenage years. I wrote this book for my teenage self. He read a lot of these kinds of books. Most of them to keep him sane, others to keep him from killing himself.

I found solace and a bit of peace writing this book. I’ve come a long way from the kid afraid of screwing up. He continues to pop up, but I’ve shoved him down a little. I know he’d enjoy this book. I know there were times he was done. Times when it was just him in an apartment reading, watching horror movies, and trying to keep his head above water.

I live through the fear of pushing too hard, but it comes out right. I write for us.