A struggling man picks a quiet spot in town, to sit with his thoughts.

A thread.

I'm not writing this for pity. Shove your pity right up your ass. That being said, why am I sharing it? I don't honestly know. But if someone resonates with it, I suppose it will have been worth it. So here we go.

It's hard not to blame everything on your mental illness. What the hell am I without the depression? The anxiety? The post-traumatic stress? Where do these things end and I begin?

I used to make friends all on my own. In person. Intentionally. I mean, I was always pretty anxious, socially. But, somewhere along the way, I broke. I think it was around the time my mom died of a pill overdose. It's been almost ten years.

I used to run marathons. I'm talking 26.2 mile races. I'd also do a few half marathons every year. I used to box. Used to run a health & fitness blog. I even had some of my recipes published in local magazines.

Even though childhood was tough and traumatic, I got through college. Started the career I always wanted. Married my best friend. Finished grad school. Bought a house. Became a dad to a gorgeous, brilliant, strong-willed girl.

I have nothing to be sad about anymore. Nothing. I've published my work, and it's only just begun. Life is simple and good.

I live in a gorgeous isolated mountain village surrounded by protected national forests.

I've had a cool life, too. As a classical musician I've been in symphonies, bands, choirs. I've performed music at venues big and small.

And yet, I'm fucked up. All the time.

I'm either fighting a bout of depression, having an anxiety attack, or worried about my health.

When was the last time I slept before midnight? I don't even fucking know. And the spinning thoughts...my god. It never ends.

My health is going to shit. I feel so bad when I eat that I don't even want to eat anymore. When the fuck did this start?

All I want to do is write and make art, but first I have to feel something. So, I try to manufacture the feelings. Try to create moments where the creative juice can flow. It's all so exhausting and short-lived too. Doesn't come naturally like it once did, back in some lost time.

I sit and listen to music until it hurts me just so I can write.

Every now and then, a little anger creeps up inside of me. It takes me outside of myself for just a moment. It says "look at you." And I do.

I look on at myself in utter dismay. Who is this defeated, deflated fuck?

If only I could capture that little spirit inside of me. Bottle him up. But I can't. He's wild. Shows up when he wants to. Today, he showed up.

My little anger spirit showed up. He said, "look at you." And I did. I saw myself laying in bed until noon every day. Letting myself rot in bed. Smelling like literal decay. My fucking teeth rotting out of my mouth.

Letting my dreams and aspirations die like plants that need watering. Just watching them sit on the window sill. Watching their petals fall off and their stems begin to kneel at the altar of time and neglect. I saw this.

I saw a kid growing up without a dad because he couldn't fucking take care of himself. He couldn't fight hard enough to win. So all she had of him were a few memories, some photos, some videos, and some poems.

I saw a house going into disrepair. A career fading because the man had been so beaten that even the things he was best at are now resigned to mediocre efforts and whims.

So I got angry. That little spirit became a big spirit. I scheduled a doctor's appointment. Normal healthy people might read this and think it sounds stupid...but...pulling my phone out and calling a number took everything I had. I couldn't fucking breathe while it rang.

"So what are you wanting to come in for?" I knew this was the moment. Sometimes saying the words is a fucking battle. But I said them. Everything. I am not fucking done yet. There is a spark inside of me. It's there.

Yours is there too. Look for that little spirit within.

Here's the spot where I said "enough." Maybe one of you are standing in that spot right now. Fucking do something about it! Do not ever give up! Whoever you are, I hope this finds you.

War and peace, motherfuckers.