You’re not asking but I am telling, telling a tale of why I’ve been absent for the better part of the last five-ish months. I was posting consistently (read consistently as monthly, and read monthly as it lasted all of six months in a row) as a pseudo-New Year’s resolution. Had a check list above my desk, marker on whiteboard of things I would do monthly. Of course, “Blog Post” was stapled to a the top of this monolith, this would-be statute of things to make me a better me. I even have a picture. Among other things, I strived to do good things each month and I would say that is has all lasted until now, ten months later. Though I have become absolutely terrible at documenting said monthly goals, and even worse at keeping this one in particular. I also gave up on my monthly endeavor to add a whiskey/bourbon to my collection as I found myself internally battling about something so frivolous. And as it happens, I was right, the three bottles I bought over the first three months of the year remain unopened, collecting dust, staring down upon me from the top of my bookshelf. They weren’t even that expensive, but in my mind, they were expensive enough that I shouldn’t just open them for any old thing. So, they remain, in purgatory, safely encased, unopened, unspoiled, waiting for a celebratory moment that will never come as my anxiety outweighs my ability to enjoy any piece of life. Shout out to the “Myself” section of my To-Do list, it also remains ever empty.

Digression recognized, noted, and filed away.

Where was I? Right, where have I been since May 25th, 2023? Dedicating all of my free time, and personal freedom to an adorable, ever-growing, furry, little, asshole named Pierogi. Yes, after much waiting, and some small tragedy, my partner and I finally adopted a golden retriever puppy. It has been everything I could imagine and more. But I will say I did not expect it to be as hard as it is, the raising I mean. I’ve grown up with dogs my whole life, of all ages, sizes, and personalities. And I’m not sure if I was just wholly absent in the puppy stage but I don’t remember it being such a chore. At six months old and fifty-three pounds, Pierogi is a mess of fur, wonder, and teeth. Ignoring the pooping problems, and the constant eating things he shouldn’t, he is a perfect dog. A perfect dog that deserves every single second of time I can give him, every single waking (and let’s be honest sleeping) hour. He has fully co-opted my time, and I’m happier for it. Having him romping about the house has shaken my internal focus away from the frivolities of free time, I feel compelled to experience life’s smallest moments away from my desk, away from my phone, away from everything that could distract me. And this is wholly misguided. I am not allowing myself to enjoy things, or dedicate time to things because of… Because of.. Because of well I’m not really sure how to explain it. And it isn’t even Pierogi’s fault, he’s just the world’s greatest dog, and I want nothing more than to spend time with him, even when he’s gnawing on my partner. I don’t know how to explain that my hobbies, and how I spend my free time feel like I’m wasting my life. I’m perfectly happy, I’m content, and fulfilled. Financially stable for the first time in my life. Figured out my relationship issues, I’m married to the love of my life for god’s sake, and yet here I am punishing myself for doing anything that doesn’t move the needle forward.

(Just noting for context) – “I” in the sentence above refers to this little voice inside my head that tells me I’m worthless. They’ve gone by many names in the past. Anxiety, doubt, Seasonal depression before evolving into regular depression. But if therapy has taught me anything they’re a part of me whether I like it or not. It all boils down to a matter of who has their hands on the wheel at any given moment. Also “move the needle forward” is part of some fucked-up capitalistic mindset where if I’m not making money, building my network, furthering my wealth, or whatever I am wasting my time. So, shout out to the American Dream for installing that bit of software right above my medulla oblongata.

If I put Pierogi down for a nap, and head upstairs to write poetry or play Magic the Gathering, I cannot do so in peace. If I lie in bed with my partner, after 7:00 am on a particularly cold and rainy morning, I cannot do so in peace. Hell, if I’m working and I have anything on my to-do list unfinished, I cannot focus in peace. This constant need to be “always on” is absolutely ruining me in what I would call some of the “happiest times in my life.” The greatest tragedy in all of this is that I haven’t read a single page from a single book since April. I just can’t drown out that little voice, he devours my internal reading monologue.

This is obviously something I need to work on, but I just felt that putting it to paper (digital whatever) would be a good first step in solving it. And it may never go away but neither will I. (Ignoring untimely or timely death, get off my back.)

Speaking of poetry, I did get some pieces printed as gifts and let me tell you there is no greater feeling than watching someone have an emotional response to something you wrote. I could chase that high forever. They were gifts, people aren’t actually purchasing my work, and it was wonderful to experience a new facet to my writing. Notice that little piece ^^^, shout out internal voice. I’ve been active on my Instagram @herbs.words with weekly postings, and I’ve even begun to create reels in an attempt to grow myself on that platform. It’s been fun, didn’t think I’d ever really love poetry again after college but here I am years later, still kicking.

A piece I made for my partner.

A small work update as well. First year in my new role with a team that reports to me has been a blast. A lot of learning, and growing has resulted in feeling like a better me. But not all sunshine and roses. I will be brief on this, but some turmoil has struck the company I work at, and people are losing their jobs. It’s not great but I was lucky enough to remain unaffected. This specific event was the closest I got to writing something in a while. It would have been published in late September, early October and almost assuredly would have got me fired. Hence the silence. Still deciding on a course of action for this but as the days past so subsides my feelings towards it.

So where does this leave us? In the same weeds, and reed of the riverbank that we’ve always been in. This blog is a sounding board for me, and people read it. A win is a win. I will continue to write as I continue to battle the voice that tells me not to. Maybe I’m tangled in a knot here, my mindset and writing at odds. Perhaps I will develop a new thoroughfare for creativity, using a metaphorical machete, or maybe a real one. Reading that last bit makes me sound like a bit of a serial killer but no matter, I’m much too nervous to that. Maybe I’ll paint.