Forgiveness

October 23, 2024October 23, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

Forgiveness- The action or process of forgiving or being forgiven. God’s forgiveness-washing us white as snow. (Isaiah 1:18) God’s promise not to count our sins against us…but requires repentance on our part.

I had a powerful session today and this word kept coming up, both out loud and inside of my head. Through the years, I’ve struggled to let things go. To allow others to possibly do harm to me, and render them forgiven. My view was more of the “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.” In some cases, I sought to bring harm before the other person had a chance. “I will hurt you before you can hurt me.” When I read this now, it makes me sad. Sad that I spent so many years of my life in such turmoil. That I was not capable of turning the other cheek, or just walking away. Times, they are a changing.

We’ve all been there, and I’m sure on so many levels. Pain caused by others. Whether it’s from a close family member, your best friend, co-worker, or just a random person on the street. People have a way of being mean. This then forces us to wall up, put on the armor and take no prisoners. To become an impenetrable force. A wall of blackness. If I become the monster, no one can harm me. Where does it go from there? How do we ever take that armor off, and if we do, will we be harmed again?

I’ll take a few of my own examples and we’ll see how this goes. I’ve been married twice prior to finding Karla. Each of my prior marriages ended in some form of sadness, regret, and even anger. The sadness of feeling as though you’ve wasted years of your life with someone that had no business crossing your path, and the regret that you made a mistake and chose poorly. The anger part came about more so with my second marriage. Because both of these women had substance issues, alcohol being the prime issue. I found myself hating my wife at the time, alcohol and the damage it was causing to my family. It seemed as though I was trapped, with no escape in sight. The promises of staying sober, or clean were made and broken. The tears of pain that flowed because a thief was stealing my children’s smiles. The amount of rage and desire to seek revenge were building. Even after she had moved out, I loathed her very presence. I’d reached my breaking point, and decided to visit an Al-anon group.

The rooms (as they’re referred to) are a safe haven. Filled with others that walk in the same type situations that you might. They have loved ones, friends or co-workers that have brought them to this place. Not in a physical sense, but a spiritual. Each of us had reached our bottom and needed to find a way to live. My first few visits had me thinking that I might be in the wrong place. They spoke of things like “working your program”, studying books with quick references about how to move through the day based on what you were feeling. They also spoke of forgiveness. That was something that was not at all on my radar. I didn’t want to forgive her, I wanted to forget her, and perhaps serve up some karma that I felt was taking too long on its own to get to her. A member of this group approached me after one of the meetings. She stated that she’d listened to my story and thought perhaps she could give some advice. As time went on, she became my sponsor and many of the knowledge nuggets she gave to me, I share on here. She told me after a meeting this; “there will come a day when you’ll be grateful that you had this alcoholic in your life.” What was this madness? Grateful, for her? For all that she’d done? There was no fucking way!

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As time went on, I kept to studying my books, thinking things through and accepting that people are truly flawed. That some are predisposed to being alcoholics or drug addicts. That leaves the door open to believe that some of their actions are not necessarily by choice. (Stay with me, this is where it gets hard) I’ve always felt and still struggle with the idea that someone can be sober, know that if they have a drink or do a drug, things will go all the way off the rails. It makes you feel as though they get a pass for all their bad behavior, while you’re left holding the check! Yeah, it’s safe to say that I still struggle with that one, but I’ve remained open to the idea. I think about my father and the hell on earth that he, my uncle and my grandmother went through living with a seriously abusive alcoholic. It caused my father to never drink as an adult. He did still harbor the same demons that you see in an alcoholic, even being dry. My first wife just felt that it was the way of it. She kept it hidden at home, but as time went, became sloppier about it. She too had a mother that was never sober when we’d visit. I can’t think of a single time that she didn’t reek of alcohol, and what impression that had on everyone around her. To my wife at the time, it was just “normal.” That’s just the way “mom” is.

I could go on and on with many different relationships throughout my life where things didn’t go as planned. The question to all of this still remains, how do we find forgiveness? I’ll get into one more scenario. My past has haunted me for many years now. This was part of the discussion again today at my session with my counselor. I’ve had to take the mirror to myself on numerous occasions, and didn’t care for what I was seeing. This makes my counselor question why? What is it that makes you think you’re so bad, so not worthy. Not worthy of love, compassion, forgiveness. Each of the times that my counselor has asked me “when will Robert be forgiven?” It’s brought me to tears. The idea that someone like me still has value has been hard. I know that I’m a better man, and that I’ve done much to turn my life around. I see the fruits of my labor at every turn. Yet for some reason I still harbor this ill will towards myself. Perhaps from many of life’s events, I gave up on myself.

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I will tell you all now that I’m making strides, truly. The world that I lived in as a child, and teen is no longer there. I’m turning the corner and just down the way is forgiveness. I can see it now and it’s like a beacon of light. I’m tired, and no longer want to hold onto the darkness that holds me back. I want to be alright with being me. There’s nothing that any one person can say to any of us when we feel lost, hurt, betrayed that’ll make everything alright. You just need to keep moving on. “Let go and let God.” That was another saying in the rooms. Even if you don’t believe in God, it was explained to me that you can just believe in a higher power. Whatever that higher power might be, turn everything over to it. I’ve had moments that I didn’t think I could keep going. I closed my eyes and said to myself that it was all too much, please take it away…and it was gone. Forgiveness stepped in and took the load. Be it forgiving that loved one that’s wronged you, or forgiving yourself for being that crazy mixed up kid that just didn’t seem to do all the right things. Allow yourself to be the hero of the story, and never look back. I will forgive myself, today.

Thank you so much for reading.

~Robert~

Life’s walk-Dread and Hope

October 21, 2024October 21, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I have to be honest. I really don’t know how to be anything else. When I’m out doing my walks, there are days that I’m out there to kind of unload the stress of the day, or workweek. I take the time to breathe and see the beauty of the world. There is so much out there that is wonderful. Yet, on certain trips around, it’s as though I’m tuned into a different channel. I feel dread, and see the ugliness. I’ll touch on these for a moment and let’s see where it goes.

Recently, I went out on my usual walks about the city. I started out pretty much the same on both of these adventures, so I had no predetermined agenda. I wasn’t in a bad mood, or particularly stressed, but found myself going in two very different directions. On the day I felt darkness, it seemed as though there was a strange haze around the city. The weather has been pretty good, yet it just didn’t look the same. I found myself paying attention to odd things, garbage, broken down cars, burnt out houses, drug induced humans, all those things. When I start seeing this, it makes me start to wonder, how did things get this way? Why doesn’t anyone else see this? Why doesn’t anyone seem to care, about anything? It frustrates me. This then turns into, why doesn’t anyone pick things up? What is wrong with this world? I see people wandering about without a care in the world, kicking trash, breaking windows, stealing things, it just becomes overwhelming. My mind will move to how they were raised, or the lack of guidance. What kind of home did they come from? Will they ever break their cycle? Seriously, this goes on mile after mile. I’m grateful that as the miles go, I eventually find at least a small amount of peace, even after everything I’ve experienced.

I’ve always tried to explain to my wife that I don’t “choose” to be negative, or see the bad, I’m just wired differently. I find that we have a good trade off at times. She sees things like through the eyes of a child, and that gives me hope. She speaks of the good in others when I see anger and despair. When I’m angry about something, she’s a master of showing me a different view, or allowing me to see her perspective. I’m grateful for that. If left to my own, I’d probably hide myself away. When we walk together, on most of our trips, I’m able to stay on her vibe. There are still those times when I’m seeing things, evaluating threats and being ever watchful. I don’t share all of this with her for a couple of reasons. I don’t want her to be scared or fearful. I also don’t want her to look at me as though there’s something wrong with me, or that I’m being paranoid. I fear being judged by my own wife, probably more than anyone on this planet.

Now, when I’m seeing all of the positive, I still process threats and safety, but I’m very open to the beauty of the world. There is so much to see in our small city. The tiniest of details can make me smile. I love the rebuilding of the river front area and all through downtown. There’s a feeling of hope in areas that have been plagued for years with blight and filth. There’s a new spirit in areas like the farmer’s market, or the new park on the East side! I’ve watched that turn from an abandoned field to one of the crown jewels in the area. Even walking up Main street on the East side. It’s starting to see newness and change happening. Being that I come from that side of the river, I’m hopeful that it will see better days in the future.

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If you’ve ever taken a long walk with me, you’d likely never know that I’m processing threats, or watching out. I’m not vocal about it. I can only tell you that I’ll chat and enjoy your company. Just know that I’ve evaluated everything around us, and I can say with clarity that you’re safe, and protected. As for the why this all happens, I really don’t know. I feel like my brain is directing me and I don’t have a say in it. I’ve touched on this before. I feel like I’m to be a witness to whatever it is that I’m seeing. That it’s required to be acknowledged by someone. If not me, then who?

I think this is why I do so much better with someone walking along with me. It tends to bring a calmness to the runaway train within me. I’ve had discussions with my counselor on numerous occasions about “always being on.” I’ve not figured out how to shut things down or stop doing my “threat assessments.” As you can probably imagine, it can be exhausting. There are days that I just wish I could hit a button and not be going full speed in my head. While I have my different channels, there’s still a lot going on. I prefer the softer side yet I know the other still exist.

I was having a conversation with a friend the other day and we touched on our pasts. Some of the things that we went through and experienced. I knew that this person had a bit of trauma in there, yet they didn’t seem to care about it anymore. Stated that they chose to just move forward. It was at that moment that I felt myself falling internally. Why was I still struggling then? How come I can’t just see things as in my past and move on? Why do I need to analyze things so much? Once those words came out, I didn’t speak about the subject any longer. I’d heard lines like that before and it just makes me feel lesser. I don’t want to be judged. I had to remember what I always tell my wife. It’s not a choice, if it was that easy, I’d choose happiness to rain down on me for the rest of my days! I’m working very hard to set things on one channel. To see things that are beautiful rather than ugly. To bask in the sunshine rather than the dark. I’m painfully aware that I’m damaged goods. I’ve made the choice to try to correct that, but I know that it’ll take time. My case is one of many out there, so I know that I’m not alone. “This too shall pass.”

I’ll continue to take my walks and enjoy the company of whomever decides to walk along. I’ll keep working on getting things right, or at least find some kind of peace with who and what I am. I know that I’m not alone and that there is beauty in this world. That’s a start. I know that there are those that love me, and that helps to keep me whole. I also know that there are many that find things that they need themselves in my writing. That centers me. I’m humbled when people tell me that they enjoy reading my blog entries. I’m already a much better version of myself than I was years ago, so I can be fixed. Please know that I don’t choose to be this way. The choice that I made years ago was to walk away from demons and attempt to live a better life. I always joke and say that I never thought I’d make it past 30 years old, and here we are. I turned 58 last month. You all stick around and I will as well. I’ll get this thing right and find what it is that I seek.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

~Robert~

Beautifully Broken

October 18, 2024October 18, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

“Everyone could use a little counseling.” Words that I often share when having discussions with friends or co-workers. Might sound cliché but it’s true. Being human means that we’re flawed, and raised by others that were also flawed themselves. It’s a strange kind of merry-go-round that we can’t seem to ever get off. The best that we can hope for, is to get a better understanding of who we are and what has hurt us. Come along with me and we’ll take a look back.

The past life. This is a reference that I’ve used in many of my blogs. During my upbringing, I crossed paths with another human that took me under wing to show me how to have a “better life.” That was the way it was billed. A better life sounded great! I was a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, raised by parents that did their best at the time to provide a decent life. We unfortunately struggled with the necessities to get by. Keeping a place to stay was the main focus, and that was troublesome at points throughout my life. Food, heat, clothing were luxuries. When things were going good for my father with work, we ate pretty good. During those times, it’s almost like we couldn’t stop eating because we were worried that we’d be without again. Hiding snacks was a thing in the home. I’d keep small bags of food hidden away in my bedroom so that when the food was not as plentiful, I’d still have something. The heat and lights would get turned off on occasion because a bill didn’t get paid, but we found ways to get by. Let me point out that I’m not trying to put my parents down, they were just not well equipped to handle many of life’s struggles. Going back through this just gives you a better picture as to why I strayed into the Lion’s den.

The human that wanted to give me a better life was a friend of my fathers. My father knew nothing of the arrangement that I’d make with this man, and I’d hoped that he’d never find out. The idea of getting ahead and making some money sounded like an ideal situation. It started out slowly. I was being taught how to see the world. I refer to this at times as being “groomed.” I was paid to sit at one of his establishments and watch everything going on. He’d occasionally walk by me and ask a question about something going on in the bar. “Do you see that guy over there, what’s he wearing?” “What brand cigarettes is the girl at the bar smoking?” Small things that would turn into bigger things. He was all about being an expert voyeur. He would tell me all the time that it was good to be quiet. Quiet breeds strength and power. At the time it made little sense, but as I aged, it meant everything. The steps that followed would be much darker, and would involve harming others. I will say this. I learned quickly that drugs in our community are by far the darkest, ugliest vice. People will say, or do anything to reach whatever high they’re seeking. These eyes have seen much and I have no way to erase it.

Dipping my toe back into these stories always makes me nervous. I feel as though there’s always someone lurking, watching, studying me and my habits. It’s because of this time in my life that I became such a light sleeper. I’ve also struggled with insomnia for many years. That, accompanied with reoccurring nightmares that would always be the same. I knew the story line by heart. It was as if I was watching it on a television or from above while it was going on. The sound of a hissing female voice in my ear telling me that they were in my house and wanted to know where all of my “stuff” was at. It gives me goose bumps just talking about it now. It was as if Medusa herself was speaking to me. I’d usually wake myself up about this time and realize that I’d been having “my dream”, but always felt very unsettled. Enough so that I’d have to get up out of bed and check all of the doors and windows in the house. If I felt bad enough, I’d go outside and do a full perimeter check of the property. Yes, it was always that bad, or at least it felt that way to me. These are the kinds of things that stay with you. The damage that comes from years of paying attention to every detail. Being the professional voyeur.

There are so many stories yet to tell and I’m doing my best to get them all out before I expire! While there are things I’d like to share, I’m not at a level of comfort to just blurt all of it out yet. Many of these things happened in my home town. They happened while going to school, being a kid, trying to fit into groups of society. Trying to be normal and yet, keeping secrets that could never be shared with even my closest of friends or family members. Sharing secrets is crossing the line, and crossing the line means you don’t go home again. I see things as black and white, life or death. There is no other way to view it in my eyes. This is damage, this is trauma and I’m working on getting that squared away.

I share my blogs with family and friends pretty regularly. One person in particular gets what I’m saying. My cousin suffers from PTSD as well. He too is a work in progress and struggles at times. He has moments of clarity and then can be triggered and has to find his way back. One of the things we talked about recently was the fact that we both struggle in much the same way, but never knew it. Our family has all kinds of history, some of which I’ve discussed in my writing. We were kept apart for much of our lives growing up. As adults, it just seemed odd to even attempt to make a relationship with people you didn’t even know or were told incorrect things about. We’ve been working on our relationship now and going over our new found similarities. Another small tidbit with this, he comes from the law enforcement field. That’s where a good part of his trauma stems from. Oddly enough, mine comes from the underworld. Cop and Criminal united in a cause. We both speak openly now about PTSD and the stigma that follows mental health. It’s something that means much to both of us. I feel at ease being around him. While we both have our insecurities, we have the understanding of what it’s like to be broken, and broken badly.

So, could we all use a counselor in our lives? Absolutely! While I’ve been going back over my stories and clearing out my brain. I’ve found that I share so much more with so many. While there’s a sadness to that, it’s also a very good thing. I want to reach people that sit in the darkness and wonder where they’re going to turn to. The ones that have been questioning whether to make a phone call to a counselor or speak to a family member about how they’re feeling. There’s a level of brokenness in all of us. There’s no room for judgment in that. If someone speaks with me now, I don’t try to tell them that my trauma is worse than theirs. It’s not my place to evaluate someone else’s feelings. If you’re hurting, that’s what matters. My cousin and I can both tell you that there were so many times that we felt alone, alienated from the world. No one should have to go through that. Self isolation is the absolute worst thing you can ever do…period! You can have your moments of silent reflection, or mediation. Isolating yourself and everything you have all into one compartment is a very bad way to walk this earth.

I’m going to keep working on myself, and I’ll keep trying to write as much of my story as I can get out. There are spots that I’ll probably leave redacted for my own health and safety. I want all of you to think of your story. If you ever want to share with me, I’ll listen. No judgment ever. If you ever feel that you want your story told and would like me to add it onto this blog, I’d be honored to do so. I can leave everything very anonymous and just tell the story as the voyeur that I am. You never know, you just might catch someone’s attention and make a difference in their life.

I was telling a co-worker the other night that I try to write in such a way that I don’t harm anyone. I’ve harmed enough in my life. I’m trying to be a better version of myself moving forward. The idea now is to tell the stories, make myself feel better, and hopefully reach others so that they too can find light in all the darkness. We’re all Beautifully Broken creatures after all.

As always, thank you for reading and following my work.

~Robert~

From Darkness to Light: Overcoming Internal Struggles

October 10, 2024October 10, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

Being that we’re in the month of October, and everyone is prepping for their scary season. I thought I’d ask, what scares you? I mean what is so unsettling to you that it feels as though it grabs your soul? I have phobias for sure. I’m unsettled by tight spaces, heights, and even basements. (Thanks to my sisters) When we lived in our house on Nevada, it had a pretty good sized basement. A set of stairs that went down and stopped midway where there was a small landing and a side door to the home. The stairs then continued on into the basement. There was a main room, and then split off from that were a couple more rooms. One had the washer and dryer, there was a shower room in the corner of that and then there was another smaller room that was off of that. Of course the usual furnace, water heater and such were down there. To most, it would appear to be pretty normal stuff. The space under the stairs was always creepy to me and I didn’t care for it. My sisters knew about this, and one day decided to run up the stairs together and lock the basement door. From there they began telling me all of the creatures that were underneath the stairs that were going to come out and get me. Once I was finally let out, I screamed all the way to the living room where I attempted to get under the sofa. I was absolutely petrified. Needless to say, nightmares ensued. I’ve never been a fan of a basement to this very day! I’m in my 50’s now and still look over my shoulder when walking up the basement stairs. In the back of my mind, the kid from so many years ago is still in there and he’s still terrified. It never goes away.

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When it comes to people, there are literally a handful that have scared me in my life. A couple of the darkest moments will probably soon be revealed in counseling. The last session really dug into something. Amy said that it’s the first time that I showed fear. I felt it when we were talking. It took me to a place that made me want to scream like that kid running from the basement. I wanted to dig my way underneath a sofa in the worst way and never be found. The very idea of facing your fears can be trauma in itself. Staring at something that you really don’t want to. I’ll ask you to think about that for a second. Is there an event in your life that makes you feel this way? Something that makes you feel like a kid that wants to hide underneath something in order to make the feelings stop? Hold onto that for a moment.

I’ve found while doing these blogs that there are others that have fears, and have lived through events that haunt them to this day. While I tell the story about the basement, it’s just to give you perspective. Everyone has been scared by something like that as a child. While I still have my feelings about basements, I walk up and down in mine all of the time. My biggest fear in my life is facing my own thoughts. Yep, it’s true. That’s where all of the blackest things reside. Events that I thought I put to bed years ago, loss of persons in my life, hunger, struggle, all of it’s there. Let’s go back to the words of my sponsor, “stay out of your head, it’s a bad neighborhood.” Yes, it’s a bad neighborhood. The question is, do I want to leave it as such, or do I want to try to turn it around?

Here’s a free piece of advice for anyone that suffers from darkness. It doesn’t go away on it’s own. You can’t bury it, you can’t will it away, it needs to come out from whatever basement that you’ve left it in. Once you dig it out, face it head on. Will it be scary, hell yes! I know that the next time I go to see Amy we’ll be doing just that. The reason why I will follow through with this is because I want to feel better, I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to have the darkness reside in my head and fester. If left unchecked, it only manifest into much uglier things. This I promise you.

You may have noticed on my last blog entry that I used my given name “Robert”. This is something that was also discussed with Amy. You see, Zombie it’s been decided is the darker side of Robert. While I’ve held onto the title and used it many times, and even in a fun way. It’s almost like it’s an alter ego. Zombie is who holds the secrets. The fears, the things that scare me. The eyes of Zombie have seen much and we believe that it’s time for me to step away from that. I won’t be changing my blog name, as it’s still fitting for what I do and what I write about. The Zombie File is the files of the many things that have been witnessed, both good and bad. I’ll continue to step back into those times, gently, because there are still stories that need to be told. With each blog entry I feel relief. So, I’ll just keep doing this until there’s nothing left to say.

Tonight, while I’m asking you to visit the darkness, I’m also letting you know that there’s hope. (I know Amy, here’s the sprinkles–inside joke). Ask yourself what scares you and think about visiting those spaces. I don’t want you to do it alone, but I’d ask that you work towards that. If we clear out the ugliness, then perhaps we can enjoy the darkness the way it should be. “Without darkness you can’t see stars”.

I’ll be taking my steps in a little over a week, and facing what broke me. What made tears come to my eyes, tightness to my throat, shaking of my hands. That’s the level of scared that I feel. I know that with the help of Amy, I will no longer want to run and hide under that sofa. I won’t have to be scared anymore.

Thanks for reading

~Robert~

The Intersection of Mental Health and Truth: My Journey

October 8, 2024October 8, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I totally understand why anyone that struggles with any kind of mental illness doesn’t want to talk about it. Why they don’t want “others” to know. Once you do, once the genie is out of the bottle, you can’t put it back in. That leaves you vulnerable to judgment by those that don’t understand, or just don’t care to understand. It’s taken years to get to the point that I’m at now, but don’t think that because I blog about my issues that it makes everything o.k.

Some might think that what I write about is brave, or that it gives them a better perspective on the rest of the world outside of their own. There are some that think the topics I touch on are too taboo. They feel that what I speak about is “too much”. That perhaps I’d be better served keeping this to myself, or dialing it down. The very reason I started touching on the topic of mental health is because it does reach everyone. There are just some that refuse to believe that they might struggle themselves. That perhaps they have their own secrets.

Since I’ve started this direction of writing. I’ve had some very positive responses, and have found it’s opened a door for others to explore their own world. That is thrilling to me! I love that perhaps the pain I’ve carried can somehow be of service in the long run. Then there’s the uneasy feeling that when I’ve written something that I’m looked upon differently. A certain sympathy look, or perhaps a look of being dismissed because they know that “you’re not well”. I feel it, trust me.

One of the things that is the most bothersome to me, is when my word is questioned. Growing up with nothing made me painfully aware that the only thing that I do have is my voice. Along with my voice is my memory and the ability to recall anything. As I’ve stated before, I’ve been “trained” to pay attention to details. Why? Because details matter. This is something that I’ve lived by for the better part of my life. Recently I went through an event that challenged all of this. I felt for a minute like I was truly going crazy, that everything I knew to be right, was now wrong.

“How important is it to be right.” This question was posed to me years ago by my sponsor. My answer at that time was, it’s everything. While I may not always voice my opposition, in my brain I know what’s right. I may not challenge the person, or persons at the time, but I’ve already begun my process into evaluating the situation. I also begin to evaluate the person, or persons that are involved. This again, is something that I’ve done for so long, that it’s second nature. In different circumstances, with less savory people, evaluating improperly can cost you everything.

This all then brings trust into question. My evaluation process lets me know what level I can trust a person. If some are willing to blindly follow and never question, I look at them as a “mark”. I align myself with those that have proven to be strong, question things and seek truth. There’s an intersection between the speaking about mental health and truth. I pass through this intersection on a daily basis. I work in an environment that is painful to who and what I am. I feel alone and singled out at times. I’ve been working on making peace with that, but it’s truly a struggle. When you use your voice and know your truth, and it falls on deaf ears, or is discarded, you’re left to question your place in the world. I’m not one for folding up and walking away, so it usually brings about hostility. My anger and hostility is, and will continue to be my main focus with my counselor. I don’t want to feel this way, yet find myself falling into this comfort trap.

Here’s what I’m looking for with this blog. I want everyone to understand that I may be broken, yes, I have damage that needs care. It doesn’t make me less than. It doesn’t mean that I can’t function within society. I don’t want pity. All that I want is what everyone should want, to be heard, to be seen. The other thing is that there are those of us out there that have experienced trauma that perhaps has made us keenly aware of things that others wouldn’t bother to pay attention to. We see the things that others don’t. I was trying to explain this to a co-worker recently. I stated that it’s a curse, and a blessing at the same time. I wish that I’d never gone through the things that I did, but I can’t change that. I can however take the strengths that it has given me and use them appropriately. The positive that came from the negative. I also want to be clear that I’m not perfect, but a truth seeker.

When you’re around me, when you’re speaking with me, know that I’m very genuine. I speak truth, always. The only thing that I have to offer in this world is my voice. The question is, are you willing to hear my voice?

Thanks so much for reading.

~Robert~

Breaking the Male Psyche: A Call for Change

October 3, 2024October 3, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I’ve been in need of purging numerous things from my system. One that I truly feel doesn’t get enough attention, and really needs to is the male psyche. I’ll speak of my own personal experience with this, both of myself, and others around me over the years. The manner in which males have been raised, and many continue to be raised is failing our society. Yes, failing our society. Follow along and I’ll explain some of the deep secrets.

I’ve talked about my childhood, and the relationship that I had with my Father. I’ve also given a glimpse into life that my Father endured. I use the word endured because it’s fitting. He was raised by an “Alpha” male that was an alcoholic. He viewed the world through an angry lens, and took his own frustrations out on those around him. His wife, my Grandmother was the first target. Once children came into the picture, they also suffered his wrath. My Uncle was shown no love or affection by this man. He was so hardened towards his kids that when my Uncle joined the Army and was ready to leave for boot-camp, my Grandfather gave him a ride to the bus station, and proceeded to unload and leave him there. Not well wishes of “please be safe”, or I love you son, no tears, he was dropped off and left with not even a glance in the review mirror. That was the level of anger that this man carried.

Alcohol and rage stayed within the confines of their home. My Grandfather was not a social drinker, he kept everything under wraps. An unspoken dirty secret. One that I’m sure was going on in so many other homes as well. Beatings were a regular thing, and order was to be kept. My Father learned to hide his emotions and maintain order as did my Uncle. My Grandmother did what she could to protect the boys, but had little hope of fending off the attacks. My Father spoke to me about these things at different times throughout my life. You could feel the contempt that he had for his Father. The anger and lack of emotion had carried over into my Father. While he kept from drinking, he had many of the same traits that my Grandfather before him had. He was triggered easily and rage would ensue. There was a touch of softness there thankfully. He had made an agreement with my Mother to keep hands off of myself and my sisters. The more violent beatings that he’d encountered were not a regular thing in our home. I can say that a couple of times he became very unhinged and did some damage to me. As I’ve wrote about in other blogs, I’ve forgiven my Father for things that I, and my sisters went through. He did what he could with what he had. He too was broken and never shown how to behave with empathy, sympathy or feelings in general.

These characteristics of course fell into me. The son that would be “trained” to behave in a certain manner. My job was to never show feelings, feelings equal weakness. Weakness is not acceptable in the male dominated world. You must show that you are the “Alpha” or you’ll be eaten alive. When carrying on in what I refer to as my “past life”. The training continued and became more of a grooming by another strong and angry male. This man ran multiple “businesses” that ran below the law. I found myself in a world of darkness with nothing to grasp onto. This was a pivotal age in my life and the only thing that I understood was that feelings of love and caring are to be discarded, or stuffed away. The proper response to others was to stand tall, be silent, watch and study. Find and exploit weaknesses.

It’s safe to say that there were so many males that I encountered that were broken as well. I became such a good study that I found it easy to spot those that were hiding true feelings. Those that didn’t want to be the “Alpha”, but were doing what they could to survive. I can truly say that even in the hardest of males, there was only a small few that I was truly scared of. You can see death in a person’s eyes if you look close enough. You’ll know when they’ve seen the things that no one should ever see, or in many cases, do things that should never be done. These are the true, and darkest fallen angels. There were times in discussions with some that I found such sadness, it made me wonder what had happened to them in their life to make them this way. They were very closed off and shared very little with me. Enough that I knew, there was true darkness on the other side. The man that groomed me was one of those men.

If you’re wondering about now where this is going and what does it have to do with the male psyche. We as a society raise males to be this way, sometimes without even realizing it. How many times have you heard things like “get up, you’re fine”, “don’t cry or I’ll give you something to cry about”, “wipe those tears away, no one needs to see that”. These are some of the things that were in my early life. With each comment, tight grip and hissing of words in your face, you become more damaged. While you may be compliant, you still harbor feelings. I didn’t realize that I was allowed to be sensitive, caring, empathetic until much later in life. This is something that should be taught from the moment any child comes into this world. Building a soldier with a protective exterior does not make a man. It creates a broken soul. This needs to stop.

I see so many around now that feel the need to put on the show of what they feel is expected of them in society. We have a disconnect somewhere. I’ve also witnessed people looking at some males with disgust because they don’t want to partake in these alpha type rituals. Say perhaps you have a son that has no interest in any kind of sports. Does that make him less of a person? What if he gets picked on or bullied and doesn’t want to fight back? What then? What is it that we feel makes up a man? Do they need to grow as much facial hair as possible and drive the biggest 4-wheel drive truck? Do they have to lift the heaviest weights at the gym? These are some of the small things that go on. Why can’t it just be o.k. to just be? Whatever it is that a boy, young man, or man feels they want to do, or be should be alright, yes? We need to allow men to show feelings, to be confident in themselves regardless of what others might think.

I say all this because I want to see changes in our future. I don’t want to see more damaged people growing up angry. This anger only carries over into their families, whether it’s their girlfriends, wives, kids etc. It’s a cycle that needs to be broken. It’s taken me many years to be alright with actually crying. That is so seriously fucked up that I’ve felt that way for so long. Tears can fall from any human’s eyes, and it should be alright. If we don’t stop this madness, more will suffer.

If you know someone that suffers, that feels that no one understands, talk to them, get them some help. Let them know that it’s alright to show the softer side of a male. In fact doing so could change a relationship entirely. I grew up with all sisters, worked most of my life around women, and I can tell you that they’d prefer to spend time with someone that is confident in who they are, not how manly they act. A man that can show love, sadness, and be vulnerable.

I’m here, sharing all of this in order to find a path to those that have felt the same as myself. To reach loved ones that know a man in their life that needs to find their way. I show my pain in my writing so that others can learn from it. I don’t want anyone to ever feel as I have. To be misguided by the “Alphas”. It’s the wrong path. Truth, forgiveness and vulnerability are now part of my make up. I’m slowly changing what I was, to who I am. I’m still learning to be alright with myself and I think that if I can help others, it could maybe, just maybe help me in return.

Thanks for reading.

~Zombie~

Letting Go: Parenting Beyond Control

September 30, 2024September 30, 2024 / Zombie / 1 Comment

Let’s have a chat about people in our lives that we have no control over. Yes, that’s pretty much everyone. As parents we feel that our duties are never ending, and in many cases that’s a true statement. Where do we draw the line on things? When does it need to be removed from our plate? I’ll share more of my own life and struggles and let you all decide from there.

I was in a previous marriage that came with two children. I have no biological children of my own, but I felt that I had good wisdom and life experiences that I could pass onto kids. The sharing of a bloodline really meant nothing to me, they’re kids and kids need love and attention. That was something I was willing to do.

I hit the ground running with one closing in on tween years and the other still very much in diapers. I learned quickly that my life was no longer my own and I’d have to make adjustments in all areas in order to be the best father possible. I found it challenging, but rewarding at the same time. Kids after awhile start to act, or sound like you. Mimic your facial expressions, or say silly sayings that you probably repeated while working around the house. Perhaps even singing the songs that were popular in your home. Music was a regular thing in my house, and still is to this day. So, I’m not surprised that my Son is still a music and movie enthusiast. We shared lots of times watching shows, or movies together, and having discussions about them. We didn’t always agree on whether or not it was a good movie, but it was the time spent that mattered. Music was much the same. Different kinds of heavy metal are still something that he holds onto. He plays guitar, and very well. He does this in his free time and continues to teach himself by listening to songs.

My daughter was very much a girly girl. She liked her pink and purple colors. Found amusement in programs such as Dora the explorer (Swiper no swiping) If you watched the cartoon, you understand…lol! Rugrats were a big hit and Barney. Dear Lord that program made me half crazy! Anyway, she enjoyed listening to music as well. Sang all of the time, talked and sang to her “posse” of stuffed animals. It was all good stuff. I was a very hands on Dad and wanted good things for both of these kids. Worked hard to provide them with a good home, food to eat, safety and security. All things that I desired for myself as a child. If they did something wrong, I wanted to explain what it was they did wrong and why I was not happy. I didn’t believe in screaming at them. I know that I hate when someone yells at me I tend to wall up and hear absolutely nothing. If I was going to get through to them, I had to take a different approach.

With age brought all of the usual issues. Nothing earth shattering, kids stuff. Sneaking food late night, playing games in their bedroom until all hours, you know, things we’d do ourselves. The turn of events came when I parted ways with their Mother. There was a lot of not understanding why things were changing and why their parents would be living in separate homes. I was concerned that they’d take ownership of the problem and blame themselves. I had long conversations with them before the split and it continued afterwards. I never spoke poorly about their mother in front of them as I felt it would just cause more damage. She was still mom, even with the feelings that I harbored towards her. It was not their fault.

As luck would have it, the kids spent a good portion of their time with me in my home. That felt right and I enjoyed having them there. I’d grown accustom to them being in my life and wanted to continue to guide them through their lives. I was very protective of them, and when they were away, I worried about what might happen to them. I didn’t feel that the environment they were being exposed to was proper or healthy. It ate at me on a daily basis, but I had to remember something I was told. “You cannot control what happens outside of your home.” A wise woman told me that once, and I’ve held onto it. Another knowledge nugget is this, the three C’s. (Cause, Cure & Control) Use them in a sentence such as I didn’t cause this problem. I can’t cure this problem. I can’t control this problem. Powerful when you sit back and take that in. I had no control of anything outside of my door. I’d learn that that comes even closer, and will include inside my own home.

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

My son and I reached a point where I felt he needed to find direction. To decide what he needed to do with himself. By this time I had remarried and he was living in our home, working part time jobs and playing video games…lol! I felt that he isolated too much and should share time, space and energy with the group more often. I also am a big believer that if you live under the roof provided, you partake in work around the house. Do things without having to be told. Small stuff, but important, at least in my eyes. We had a parting of ways once he was over 18 and I asked that if he didn’t want to follow my rules, that he find somewhere else to stay. Was that harsh? Some might think so, but again, the person that I am and what I’ve gone through, I felt it was necessary. If there’s always a safety net waiting for a child, they’ll never step up and learn on their own. You’ll just become a codependent and they’ll learn nothing. I will tell you that after some time apart, my son is part of my life again. We speak about life more now as adults and work through whatever is going on in either of our worlds. He’s taken that leap, and stands on his own two feet now. Was it hard for me to do this? Absolutely! Don’t think for a minute that it didn’t hurt inside, but if I’d left him to just keep going along as he was, I don’t think he would be the man he is today. He works hard, pays his rent, loves his dogs, plays his guitar and listens to his music. He’s capable of living on his own. I could not be more proud.

My daughter had a harder time. She was constantly seeking the attention and approval of her mother. Something that would never come. It was heartbreaking to see her chase after smoke in the air, but I had no words that would make her feel better. As a teen she became more destructive, both to herself and others. Poor life choices started to stack up. We talked about all of this and decided to get her to a counselor to try to work through all of her feelings. It felt like progress was being made, but the demons were always there for her. The ever patient, harmful demons called to her and made her into someone that I wouldn’t know. The cute little girl that I’d shared so much with reached a point that I had to take a step back.

The counselor that I’d been taking her to recognized so many things in me. That’s where the bridge began. I picked up going to the very counselor that I’d been taking my daughter to in order to figure life out. It started with all of the guilt I was feeling about the kids. How could this have happened? What had I done wrong? How could I fix it? I had to learn then that the actions of others was something that was beyond my control. My children were not off limits to this rule. They were actually the ones that I needed to hold these rules in place for the most. They were the closest to me, dear to my heart and I loved them both! The three C’s come back into play here. (Cause, Cure & Control) The demons that my daughter has were not something that I caused. I did my best and offered numerous years of counseling, love and support, so I couldn’t Cure her. Her life choices are her life choices, so I have no control over them. By the time they reach adulthood, those choice can have severe consequences.

There are many that didn’t understand how I could “just walk away”, or “how can you do that to your child?” From the outside looking in, it’s easy to make calls like that, cast judgment on someone for being so “heartless.” My heart is full and has been for these kids from the minute they came into my life. There are some that would have you believe that because you don’t share bloodline, you don’t really understand what it feels like to be a parent. Yes, people have said that, out loud to me. Biological mothers and fathers all over the planet can be some of the worst humans around, so I’d say that I’ve done a pretty damn good job as a “Step-Parent”.

Life is messy sometimes, we all know this. If you follow this blog, you know first hand just how messy my life has been, and how I’ve managed to hold on all these years. Not everything works out the way I’d like it to, and that is the case with my daughter to this day. We’ve parted ways and don’t speak at all. I did everything in my power to help, or assist her in her life. Each time I was met with resistance, and just lack of common decency. The line has to be drawn in the sand. She was told that if she wanted me to be a part of her life, it would have to be on my terms this time. Think about that. It’s powerful. I took my power back and still let her know that I was willing to be in her life. Manipulation is a tool, and a weapon. I see it wheeled all too often in relationships around me. What is it in a person that makes them think, or feel that you yourself owes them something? In this particular case, I did what I was to do. I raised children with everything I had. All the tools that had been passed on, or learned. I supported any adventures they wanted to pursue, but made clear that their choices, their burdens were not mine to carry. There are some things in life that are just too heavy, and that’s one of them.

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

If you have someone in your life that challenges your dedication to them. Perhaps questions your decisions you make about your relationship with them. Stop and use those three C’s. (Cause, Cure & Control) Ask yourself how that fits into the situation. I believe in stepping back when someone feels that I’m not giving enough. Relationships, all of them require work from everyone involved. There has to be effort made by all parties in order to find common ground. If one party is unwilling or challenges this, perhaps it’s time to step away. You have permission to do so. Sometimes the focus has to be on yourself. In the end, focusing on yourself will help you to see things in a much clearer way. The weight caused by guilt will be lifted and you’ll find balance.

If you ask me today if I’m alright with how I raised my children, I’d tell you that I’ve loved them with everything I am. That is something that has never changed. Regardless of how things have turned out, I have made all my decisions with love.

Thanks for reading,

~Zombie~

Gini Feller (Neeley): A Life of Compassion and Strength

August 26, 2024August 26, 2024 / Zombie / 1 Comment

I don’t think I’ve ever really taken the time to talk about my sister Gini. She was taken from us far too early and it’s something that I’ve struggled to process. An amazing human that spent her entire life in service of helping others. I always felt a bit insecure around her because she possessed intelligence, strength and caring that I didn’t see within myself. She, like my eldest sister Leanna was gifted. They were blessed with a focus at a young age. The desire to become nurses, healers and caregivers was always something they’d planned to do. Gini touched both the people that she worked with and those that she came in contact with at her hospital. She had the “it” factor.

The relationship between us was strained at times, but I never saw her as anything but amazing. I feel at times that I didn’t tell her enough just how special she was. At a younger age we had our petty bickering that any siblings would have, but we always looked out for one another. She took the lead on many occasions and I’d gaze upon her and followed willingly. Almost a mother figure when we were young. She led the way to the local pool during the Summer months. She’d walk with you to the bus stop to get to school. When she became of age to drive, she’d give me a lift. It may not have been her favorite thing since having a little brother in your car certainly wasn’t exciting. She did it anyway and made sure that I was where I needed to be. She’d already started being a caretaker.

I think I’ve shared this before, but it’s so worth going back through again. My fondest memories with my sister Gini came about during a summer of prepping to do a marathon together. I’d completed the Dayton Air Force marathon with my other two sisters a few years prior and Gini decided that it was something she wanted to do. She’d set a goal for herself to accomplish a full 26.2 mile marathon. She came to me at the beginning of a year and said that she wanted to do this and asked that I train her to be able to complete the task. I was overjoyed! The idea of sharing miles with someone that meant so much to me was a must.

We began the training in late Spring/early Summer and decided to get together regularly to build up mileage. Small walks turned into longer walks and conversations flowed. We’d spend hours out on the roads in Oregon and Genoa (her home town). Gazing at homes, talking to animals and just having conversations about life. I feel now as though it was just yesterday which makes me smile, but through tears. I miss her.

The goal was to able to go back to Dayton and do the same marathon that I’d completed with my other sisters. She wanted that because it was something that had been shared with them, so she wanted to make her own memories, just the two of us. There were times during the training that she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to get through it. She picked my brain on all of the things she might experience and how to get through mental road blocks. It felt nice and different to have someone that I’d always looked up to asking me what I thought and how I’d do things. I felt that I owed her that, and then some for all the times I’d called her and picked her brain for medical advice about whatever my latest injury or illness was. Damn she was smart!

The day of the marathon was full of nerves. I kept telling her to just trust the training and we’d be fine. Remember, it’s just another walk. We’d trained up to 20 miles together, so I knew she was ready, I just had to make sure she felt as confident as I was. Once the gun went off, everything fell into place just like all the afternoons we’d shared on the road. We were in our element and the miles clicked off just as I knew they would. The day was almost perfect, not too warm and full of sunshine. A few clouds here and there which were very welcome. Once we reached the 20 mile marker (the Wall as it’s called). I knew that we were in the home stretch to get there and we started sharing the excitement. The last miles went off without a hitch and before you knew it, we crossed that finish line together! It was such a great moment in time. Her excitement for completing the race only built my excitement. I looked her in the eyes and said; “Congrats Sis, you are a marathon finisher.” It was a beautiful moment and it runs through my brain all the time.

My sister had struggles doing walks as time went on. She didn’t understand what was happening but said that she was just too tired to get out and keep walking. We continued to meet up here and there as time passed to do walks together. Eventually, she’d reached the point where she just couldn’t go anymore. She was soon diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis. She had some other underlying issues as well, but the fibrosis seemed to be aggressive. Her ability to breathe continued to go downhill. I still remember the day we all sat together and she said that she was on a list for a lung transplant. I didn’t even know what to say or how to process it. She’d always been the strong one and it continued even when she was faced with her own mortality. Her strength never wavered. She was going to tackle this head on and do what she felt was necessary. The transplant was not a cure, it just buys you more time. Time that she was quickly losing due to her illness. She even talked of that in a very clinical fashion and was straight up about it. She said, “If I don’t do this, I’m going to die soon, if I get the lungs, it’ll give me another 5-7 years.” She wanted more time to be with everyone she loved and of course, to continue her work as a caregiver.

I have to say that my sister worked every day until she received the call that lungs had arrived at the Cleveland Clinic, and she needed to get there right away. This is who she was. The person that continued to put others first, even when she was faced with death. The surgery was a success and she had been given a new set of lungs to breathe with. I so wish that I had happy things to say about this whole process, but there were so many complications afterwards. She seemed to struggle at every turn. Family events were missed due to illness or hospital trips. All of which were upsetting to Gini. She wanted the time to spend with her family, and was feeling cheated.

We had get togethers at my home, weekend brunch was usually the set up. Fun foods, coffee and conversations were had. Love was shared and time was cherished. I’d sit there and look at her and wonder where she found the strength to do all of this. We discussed end of life and what we all still wanted to accomplish. She made the conversations easy even though they’re such tough things to be talked about. Still the caregiver, even then. Talking about wanting to go back to work, or in what manner she could be of use.

I have discussions with her still while I’m out walking on the roads. Telling her how I miss her so and asking her at times to give me strength. There’s something that feels very wrong to have lost a sibling, especially at such a young age. Someone that was just special, gifted, and loved. Her love and talents still thrive in her family. Her daughter took up the profession that she’d loved for her entire life, a nurse. Probably Gini’s proudest moment was to see her daughter working at the same hospital as her.

A life spent in service of others. That’s who Virginia (Gini) Feller (Neeley) was. She was a champion of many and loved dearly. I owe it to her to continue to strive for better. To make good in my life. I owe her that. She led me at a young age and always looked out for me. She never expected anything from it, just wanted me to reach my highest potential. For so many years I felt that I was a disappointment to her, and hid. I didn’t want her to feel my failures. Spending a summer together changed much of that. We really got to know one another as adults. I was no longer that failing child. I was her equal, if only for a moment. We shared greatness together and that can never be taken away.

I’d ask that anyone who reads this to please take time to work through any petty grievances. Find common ground that you can share. Tell those close to you that you love them, that they are special to you. Hug more, complain less. I continue to work on my feelings and go through the struggles that have damaged my life. I also celebrate the moments that meant the most to me. The smiles and tears of victory I was able to witness first hand when my sister reached a goal she set out to accomplish. They’re forever etched into my brain. Gini, today and always I will celebrate your life. My sister, my protector and my friend. I’ll meet you at the finish line again one day.

Thank you all for taking the time to share in my journey and celebrate the life of my beautiful sister Gini.

~Zombie~

Embracing the Night: A Journey of Solace and Connection

August 13, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

What is it about the dark that calls to me? Why do I feel so alive during the hours when virtually no one is around? While I was out on a morning walk/run, this was running through my head. I feel so at ease, safe and dare I say, happy.

I’ve always been drawn to the darker side of things. In this case, it’s a good thing, or at least it feels like a good thing. I walk along and gaze at shadows, lose myself in the stars that flow across the sky. At times when the moon is full and bright, it brings a new sensation to the darkness. A powerful glow that has an energy of its own. It teases you with a glimpse of what things might look like during the daytime hours but remains shadowed and mysterious.

I get excited when we have clear skies and the hour strikes that I roll out the door. My start of the day is always a bit slow. I don’t wake up quickly. When working on a day shift, I have to be in place by 6:30 a.m. My alarm goes off at 3:00 a.m., and I wander out to the living room to begin my rituals. This usually requires a beverage full of caffeine, a dog or two surrounding me, and perhaps some music in the background. Once I feel ready, I grab my chosen pair of shoes for the day and head for the door.

Once outside, it’s like magic! I come alive inside! I never fear for my safety and love to just wander and take everything in that the dark morning sky has to offer. It’s a strange bond, or relationship that I have with this darkness. We understand one another, something that I don’t often find in humans. I can just be and allow the darkness to swallow me up. It’s almost as if I’m walking through time.

I see nocturnal creatures such as skunks, racoons, and even a coyote at one point. We’re no threat to one another, and we all understand that. We’re sharing the darkness, each in our own way. I guess the best way to describe it is kind of a picture show, or movie. I can see everything, yet I’m just a visitor, a voyeur of life on the dark side of things.

I’ve felt this way for the better part of my life. I still carry the nickname “Zombie” to this day and for good reason. Don’t get me wrong, the sun can be wonderful and all, but the night sky, well it’s kind of special. As a young kid, I’d sneak out sometimes and wander the neighborhood with a friend or two. We’d go through neighborhoods, or ride bikes to another side of town, all under the cover of blackness. Even then I felt an attachment to the darkness. I’d talk about living in a world that was like this all of the time. That usually didn’t go over well with some of the guys, but I knew I was different, even then.

Through unsavory times in my life, I still found solace in the darkness. My world had become dark, both figuratively and literally. During this time, I found that others would use the darkness to their advantage. They didn’t respect it the way I did. I felt as though they were using what the darkness offered and exploiting its power. While I understood what was going on and why, inside I felt shame for not honoring the bond I forged.

Moving forward, I’ve answered the call of the darkness and as I stated, we have a bond once again. I will never allow anyone on my watch to take advantage of such a wonderful gift. I see the darkness for what it is: quiet, uplifting, mysterious and forever changing. I’ll hold fast everything that it shows me each day, and tell others, so that they too can see what my eyes see. All through the eyes of Zombie.

Thanks for reading

~Zombie~

Embracing the Unknown: Conquering Childhood Demons and Pursuing New Challenges

August 6, 2024August 6, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

Where does it all come from and when will the well dry up? That’s a question that I keep asking myself. My brain is ultra busy, and on so many levels. It’s as though there are sections, or departments broken up and each functions to handle different forms of chaos. The work section that handles all of my thoughts, feeling and stresses for anything work related. There’s my relationship section that deals with feelings, emotions, love and hurt that have to do with those that I consider closest to me. Then there’s the part that deals with my yesterdays, my past. This section is super busy at times, then silent. Lately, this area has been hogging a bunch of energy and processing it has been draining. I’ve even gone to having nightmares again. I’m grateful it’s not my reoccurring one, that one signals serious trouble.

I was asked to do a “free writing” session with a time cut off of 4 minutes. Homework if you will. For whatever reason I was hesitant to sit still and do this. I’ve done free writing before in a creative writing class that I took in college. It intrigued me and brought about a surprising start of a story that I wrote during this class. The idea is to take pen to paper, set a timer and just let your hand start to move. Clear the mind and let things flow. The object is to tap into the other side of your brain and bring out what could be sitting there. That’s probably why I was so hesitant to do it. I know that I have damage just below the surface and unsure how I’ll process it when it boils over. The 4 minutes that I did happened today. It brought mostly just random words, no complete sentences. I kept my hand moving and just did lines or squiggled lines until something popped into my head. Just for kicks, I’ll list the words: Don’t, I, Quit, Now, Live, Paper, Go, Bad, Where, Fit, Now, Why, Who, Food, Quick, Deep.

I’ll discuss these words and the writing with my counselor during the next appointment. I don’t know what to make of them. I felt uneasy afterwards and was sweating. I was told to keep the writing at 4 minutes only and not to continue to do it, as it could cause harm. I can understand that statement. It was a “strange” feeling indeed. Whatever is hovering under the surface seems to have many faces, yet they seem related.

So, where does it all come from and will this run out one day? I’ve been on a streak with my writing and it seems as though there’s so much to say. I wrote my last two back to back and still felt as though there was a ton just waiting. Like I’m backlogged and just can’t keep up. I’ll continue to sit at my keyboard and hammer away until the brain says, enough! Right now it’s just saying yes, keep going, we have things to get out, and it needs to get out now! I always write these with no intention of anyone caring or reading. I love to share it and if it touches someone, even better. I’d like to be able to help others. Just know that my first desire is to get it out. Whether it’s on paper or sitting at the computer, things just need to be said.

The other homework assignment was to go back to the house that we spent the most time growing up in. Stand before the house and see what feelings come up. I’ve still not been able to do this yet. Odd really, that I’m scared of the house. Like it’s some kind of evil creature. It’s just a house that we spent a portion of our childhood growing up in. Just writing about it again makes me uneasy. I took a picture and posted it to social media recently with a short story. In order to actually take the picture, I just glanced at my phone and kept walking, caught the photo on an angle. I couldn’t actually stop and look directly at the home. Something about it haunts me, and I hope to clear that out at some point. Find out what is buried, dig it up, and process it. For now, it remains a dark mystery.

I’ve been off for a few days now and kept myself busy with walking, working out, doing house chores and watching the Olympics. I won’t lie, I love watching the Olympics! So many feel good stories. Thinking of how much sacrifice had to be traded in order to reach the level that these athletes get to. The thought of the human body doing such amazing things, constantly improving, breaking records, it’s all just spectacular. I feel happy, and kind of supercharged when I watch. Get’s me thinking of what I might challenge myself to do next. What level of fuckery can I take things to? I still love taking the body right to the edge. I’m actively seeking out another Ultra-marathon. I feel like I left something behind when I didn’t move to attempt the 50 miler. It’s still in my brain, can I do it? Will I break? This has been a good training Summer thus far and that makes me think I can still get it done. Stay tuned on that one, it’s on the radar.

I’ll continue to write because it helps me. I feel better every time I do this, and that’s really what matters. My blog, my way. The world according to Zombie…lol! I’ll check back in once I find my way over to the old house from childhood. I’ll share whatever darkness is waiting and it’ll get processed right here. Is there something that you fear? Is there a place you can’t go past for fear of something unknow, or known? Puzzling really, the things that can bother us our entire life. I’ll leave it here for now, let your brain, and all the departments do their work. Hey, perhaps sit down in front of a computer and blog it all out! Whatever it is you choose to do, I hope it heals you. Until we meet again.

Thanks for reading.

~Zombie~

The zombie file

Life seen through the eyes of Zombie

#digdeep #neverquite #nevergiveup #runzombierun #run #running

Forgiveness

Life’s walk-Dread and Hope

Beautifully Broken

From Darkness to Light: Overcoming Internal Struggles

The Intersection of Mental Health and Truth: My Journey

Breaking the Male Psyche: A Call for Change

Letting Go: Parenting Beyond Control

Gini Feller (Neeley): A Life of Compassion and Strength

Embracing the Night: A Journey of Solace and Connection

Embracing the Unknown: Conquering Childhood Demons and Pursuing New Challenges