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~

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.

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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.

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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~

It’s not you, it’s me

September 11, 2024September 11, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

These very words run through my head on a regular basis. When I’m thinking about relationships in my life, whether it’s with family, friends, co-workers or my spouse. These people have become part of your world. Some by choice, others are just stuck with you. Navigating someone that struggles with their emotions can be tricky, and I’m sure at times, painful. The best piece of advice that I can give to those around me is to try to remember; “it’s not you, it’s me.”

Relationships throughout my life have been both influential, and cumbersome. Sprinkle in with that moments of happiness and love. I take the development of a relationship seriously. This is mostly because of my inability to trust. Trust, itself is not something that I take lightly, it has to be earned in my world. I don’t just hand it over without taking the time to look you over and through you. It may sound harsh, but it’s a reality that I had to maintain for survival. If you give trust, you’re handing over power to another. That power can then be exploited, and used for harm. Harm that can be both mental and physical. As a survivor, I’ve always been cautious and remain so to this day.

When I talk about trust and relationships, a flurry of emotions start to pulse within my body. I become immediately hardened. When someone wants to enter my “circle of trust”, what is it that they bring to it? “What’s the angle?” I’m sure while you’re reading this you’re thinking, wow, just be friends with someone, it can’t be that hard. I beg to differ. If you struggle with mental illness, if you’ve seen people do and say horrible things, or you’ve witnessed what can happen when the wrong person is let in, you’d get it. We’ll call it damage control, or threat assessment.

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Let me tell you about when I first met my wife Karla. We chatted on the computer for awhile before we actually met in person. Even then, I met up with her at a park, somewhere I felt safe, comfortable. In fact, it’s the very same park that I turned my life around in. When I was at my lowest point and had no direction, I went to this park to walk and that turned into some 39 years of running, as well as a purpose to keep going. Karla and I met there for a run and got caught in a rain storm. We finished the run, both soaked from head to toe. It was an amazing moment and I felt something then for her, but I remained guarded. We continued dating for some time and even then, I would sit at a distance from her, in my own home! I was reluctant to get close to her even though she seemed wonderful. We talk and joke some about all of this now, but she can also tell you that it’s not been an easy road with me. We married and started our life together, I was thrilled that I’d met someone that seemed so good, so different from others. A part of my wall stayed in place even then. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Years have gone by and once finally seeking counseling, I was able to sit down and tell Karla everything about my past. Who I was, what I know, what I’ve seen. I was terrified to do this, but with the help of my counselor, I’d gained enough strength to finally truly bring Karla into my “circle of trust.” I’d already played out everything in my head a thousand times. How I’d tell her everything and she’d withdraw and run away. Surprisingly, that never happened. She sat and listened intently to everything. Perhaps even shared tears with me. She never walked away, she didn’t judge, and I was shocked. Her words were “this is not who you are now, you are not that same person and have grown into an amazing man.”

Her words stay with me daily. I need that reinforcement in my brain so that I don’t slide backwards. Because as I stated at the beginning, it’s not you/her, it’s me. Karla was not the one with all of the insecurities, it’s me. She’s not the one that has caused harm to me, those people are gone now. Yet I struggle. The good days far outnumber the bad, but I know now that I can get through the bad days. They won’t keep piling up to become an infinitely high wall.

To tell this now feels right. I want people to know that you can be yourself and maneuver around someone that has been broken, or still remains so. I would only ask that you be patient, don’t judge and actively listen when the person wants to talk. I’m a prime example of someone that usually doesn’t want to talk, although I’ve gotten better. My co-workers can all share stories of what it’s like to be around me when things aren’t right in my world. I close up, stay away and don’t feel the need to talk much at all. This can bring about feelings in them that they’ve done something wrong. That perhaps they weren’t doing some task that has made me angry, or not performed as I would expect them to. When really, it’s just me. It’s just me hanging on at that moment to some kind of sanity. Holding onto the belief that I can feel good again, that my day will improve.

“It’s not you, it’s me” is a powerful message I’m sending to the world. I can care for others, I can love like anyone else, but I have been hurt, and broken. I tell this because if you’re like me and feel at times that you’re sitting on the edge, holding people back, get the help that can make things right again. Please don’t take it out on those around you. It can only become more damaging to everyone involved. Think of it like a child that is a witness to violence or hostility. While some think that some kids are too young to understand these events, it does stay with them. My illness cannot be the cause of someone else’s downfall. I don’t want myself or anyone else that struggles to have to carry the burden of harming. Seek the help and turn the page.

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In my closing I want to say that for the first time in my life I’ve been able to say aloud that I struggle with mental illness. Taking ownership of that was important. I’ve come to realize that it’s my health and is no different than getting the flu. There are treatments and there is hope! Getting others to understand that is important to me now. For those that suffer themselves, and for those that love us. Breaking barriers and stigmas, one blog entry at a time.

Huge thanks to my wife Karla for always being a guiding light when the world feels so very dark and cold.

Thank you all for reading and listening.

~Zombie~

I’m compelled to write

August 2, 2024August 2, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I never thought of myself as much of a writer. This all came about by chance, and some motivation provided by my cousin Marilyn who had already been doing her own blogging. I fell into the world of blogging by deciding one year to raise money for Mobile Meals of Toledo.

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My wife had been a long time volunteer who delivered meals to folks who were in need of regular healthy meals but struggled to get this done on their own. I went along with my wife a few times to assist and quickly understood why she was doing this and that this was an amazing organization! They’re great people working on a very tight budget, trying to make sure the most vulnerable would be fed, regardless of income. This touched my soul as I remember as a child what it felt like to be hungry, and longed for regular home cooked meals. I decided I had to do something. I had to find a way to bring attention to Mobile Meals and assist in getting them more funds to keep doing their great work, but what? What could I do?

Being a long time road runner, I decided to challenge myself to run 30 races in a single year. Why 30? Well, it was to celebrate my 30th year of running. I wanted to take something that had saved me personally and turn it into a year long charity event! All the proceeds, donations from everything that I did would be given directly to Mobile Meals of Toledo. So, we got with the folks at Mobile Meals and I pitched my idea. They were all in! I needed to broaden my social medial footprint and perhaps start a blog. The blogging seemed kind of odd to me and I was never very good at talking about myself. Things needed to change so that I could make this a success.

2015 was the year that I took on this challenge and found myself having one of the best running years of my life! The reason it was so great? Because the running was not all about me. It was for others. I felt all of the people that were in need and it just made me run more, faster, happier! I began to sit in front of the computer and try to describe all the details of my races, how I was feeling, how far I had run, where I had traveled to, everything. Each blog entry seemed to get a little easier. I felt at home at the keyboard. I found that I suddenly enjoyed being a story teller and sharing these details began to inspire others. Some would show up at the races and cheer for me, while others would read my blogs and begin their own fitness journey. Positive strives were beginning to happen on all fronts. This was amazing!

My love for running was just easy for me to talk about. It was my home and my comfort zone. I love to tell people about running in different races, the sights that I’d seen along the way, the people cheering, the sounds and smells. It was just a year that I’ll never forget. I will tell you that I did finish all 30 races that I set out to run that year. Some of my best times ever also came during that stretch. Most importantly, I was able to raise thousands of dollars for Mobile Meals of Toledo and that was the greatest part of it all.

I stayed with the blogging after the that year faded. I began looking for other ways to help groups with my running. After awhile, the body started to be uncooperative and I wasn’t sure that I could keep putting myself through so many races. Interest in charities started to fade out a little as well. So, rather than fade away into obscurity, I chose to just stop for awhile and take a break. The call of my blog would remain this constant voice, beckoning me to sit down and do something again.

I truly love to write now. The subjects nowadays have been both positive/uplifting, and dark. I write about my mental health, and the struggles I’ve encountered throughout my life. I also have more plans to write about my vision or feelings of the world as a whole. Life as seen through the eyes of Zombie. For anyone that’s not aware, I’m Zombie. The name I’ve carried now for many a year. Earned by lack of sleep due to odd working hours, night terrors, reoccurring dreams, and fear of what might happen if I close my eyes. These hazel eyes have seen much and now it’s time to share how they view everything.

The idea of writing a book has crossed my mind and I’ve started throwing some things on here, saved for another day. I write mostly by my mood, what I’m feeling, or just something that catches one of my senses. I can hear something, perhaps Spring time birds, or smell a food. The sound of music is always the closest to my soul and can bring about so much. That’s actually what sat me down here tonight, music.

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At this point in my life I feel like I have so much to say and not enough time to say it all. I’m unsure why I feel like this, but I’m driven, and inspired. I pour my feelings out onto this keyboard in hopes that it touches someone, anyone. I write for myself, but also for others. Maybe my feelings of never being heard throughout my life are what make me sit here. I feel as though I actually have an audience that hears me. Feels some of the things that I feel and for a moment, we connect.

Writing has become therapy. It helps to unload some of the heavy weight that I’ve carried for far too long. It seems to smooth out the rough edges, and helps me to breathe. I’ve wondered before why this didn’t come about earlier, why now. I feel that it’s my time now, it’s just that simple. I wasn’t in the right space to open up and put things down on paper, or computer screen. I’d locked so much away that now seems to be shaking loose. I’m compelled to write. Compelled to say the things that just maybe make someone smile, or even cry. I tell my sister often that when I sit here and type my blogs, if I cry at the end, I know it’s good. True story.

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I’ll keep writing until I feel that all the dark corners are cleared out. I’ll keep writing until I feel that my heart is full. I will keep writing because I’m compelled to do so. I want you all to share this journey with me. There is oh so much more to come! So, sit back, grab your phone, or get in front of your computer, and get ready to view life through the eyes of Zombie.

Thank you so very much for reading.

~Zombie~

Not all days are bad.

July 29, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

If you’ve been reading and following my journey lately, you may feel as though I’m sliding downward, or things are out of control. Let me reassure you that I’m a work in progress and yes, there will be tough days, but not all days are bad.

Understand that mental health is an ebb and flow kind of thing. You can ride the highs of great events, time spent with loved ones and just being alive. There’s also the challenges of stress brought about by work, family life, relationships, or brought about by triggers. (In general, when a person is “triggered,” they’re being provoked by a stimulus that awakens or worsens the symptoms of a traumatic event or mental health condition.) I felt the need to add that so that everyone understands when I say triggered, you have some kind of baseline definition. Triggered events are the toughest for me. I don’t know what can bring them on. Sometimes I have no idea why something is upsetting me so much. When this happens, and I have a moment of feeling lost, alone or worst of all rage, I reach out and ask for guidance. While I’m lucky enough to have someone in my “corner” that is a trained professional. There are other avenues that I’d highly recommend to others. Al Anon is a wonderful organization and they hold meetings on a regular basis pretty much in all communities. They’re free and even if you don’t have issues related to alcohol, you’ll find good information in those rooms. This too can help you from feeling all alone.

“Healing begins at the end of resistance and the beginning of surrender.” I found this today on social media and wow did it grab me! When we take the initiative to lower our guard and stop resisting, to surrender, we can find peace. I’ve experienced this on so many levels, that I really felt this quote. Sometimes it’s the simplest sayings, memes, quotes that can make the biggest difference in your mood. It can boost you up and make you feel “normal” again.

The power of writing, reading and music. These things are truly my safeguards. Being able to sit in front of the computer and just pound away on my keyboard is so therapeutic. I’ve found that my brain works in such a way that I need the keyboard to be able to keep up with my thoughts. Yes, I’m a skilled typist. (Thank you Waite High School). I can throw things down and purge them from my brain, good, bad or indifferent. I also recommend writing or journaling things. You can keep them all to yourself, share with others, or write them out and then burn them. I know of many that find that as a way of closure. Reading self help books and poetry can do wonders. Add some great music to any of the above and just wow! I’m currently sitting in front of the computer and listening to scores from movies, one of my most favorite types of music. I bet you’d never guess that!

I want my post to always be thought provoking and hopefully not to much for people to handle. I don’t want to hurt anyone. My time for doing that is behind me now, it’s time for a new chapter in my life. One of forgiveness and healing. I find tears start just by saying this out loud. It takes me right back to a moment sitting with my counselor and her asking me “Robert, when are you going to forgive yourself?” I exploded into tears when she asked me because that was a question I’ve never been able to answer. I’ve held myself accountable for so many things for so long, it just became a part of me. I never thought that I was worthy of being forgiven. Like I said, I’m a work in progress.

I hope that you have a better understanding of humans by reading through my blogs. As a studier of humans in general, I seek to point out things that are both good and rewarding. As I stated at the start and with my title, Not all days are bad. I’ll add to that, not all people are bad. There is a path forward, just seek it. I’ve always been jealous of my wife’s ability to see things from a different perspective. I can be in the throws of rage and she’ll say something that sparks a different thought, which carries into a different reaction, and slows me back down. I don’t think that I thank her enough for talking me off so many ledges over the years. It takes a special kind of person to handle me. Thank you Karla Jean.

In closing; I just want to say that today is a better day. I’ll keep writing, reading and listening to my music. I’ll keep seeing my counselor until we both feel that I’m back on the right track and able to go it alone. When I say alone, I don’t really mean it. I know that there are those out there that will always have my back and my best interest in mind. While I remain slightly broken, I’m good today, and sometimes that’s good enough.

As always, thanks for reading, I’m honored that you all take the time.

I’ll see you on the road.

~Zombie~

Silence and Secrets

July 27, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I went on walkabout today through some of my usual areas, added a few new ones along the way to keep my brain entertained. My sister by my side and a beautiful day on tap, it looked to be great! We chat about all aspects of our lives along with some of the nuggets we caught on the news. Being that I’d gone to see my counselor the other day, we kind of go over what was discussed and of course any “homework” that I may have to complete.

If I’ve not mentioned this before, going to see someone and talking through things also means that you need to do “the work.” You can’t just stroll into an office, sit on a couch and tell all your tails, and then expect for them to pull out the magic wand and make everything wonderful. It’s just not like that. While I have sat down on a very comfortable couch and unloaded all kinds of “stuff”, I’m challenged. It’s a good thing. The idea of seeing someone is to retrain your brain to stop thinking the same way. To alter the route of your internal GPS! In my case, it also means that you need to find out the reasons for behaviors, or things that cause you mental pain. I’ve learned, it’s not always what I’ve thought was the cause. There are many layers and some take time to bring to the surface.

I want to take this moment and just say that I do these blogs #1 because I’m finding that putting it out here seems to be a form of cleansing. Some might think that it’s “too much information”, or they feel it’s not appropriate to discuss. Yes, I’ve run into that kind of feedback for things I’ve shared. I also do this hoping that it reaches someone else. Maybe someone that’s gone through similar life stories, or perhaps even worse. I’ve certainly heard my share of horror stories from others that in a way, has helped me to. Sharing of painful events with others makes you feel less alone. At one point in my life I thought it best to keep everything to myself and never discuss my life. Someone would judge me and that would of course make my rage even worse. We have a problem in the country with casting people aside just because they’re hurt or broken, and it’s not right.

Secrets and Silence. This is truly something that comes to mind when I think of how I was raised. We weren’t meant to speak our minds or share our feelings, that’s dirty. Secrets were meant to be kept among only a select few. “Why would you want to put your dirty laundry out there for all to know?” I’m betting there’s a few of you right now that have heard that phrase, or one much the same. Some of the most awful things can happen and yet, we’re meant to never speak a word.

In my “past life” I was trained to be a watcher, to not speak, but to listen. I would see things that would disgust me, yet I was to keep it a secret. Never tell, never snitch, or pay the price. I tend to dance around this part of my life still. I’m working on bringing all of it out and sharing it with more than just my closest pack. There are parts of my life that I’m not proud of, but I survived. It took years to finally discuss openly with family members some of the things that went on in my world. Secrets run deep and they change you. It’s as though it’s a form of rot that just builds up inside of your body. Talking about it, while painful, is the way to cleanse the rot. To purge the system.

I’m learning that my story is unfortunately not rare. That others walking about have much worse things still left unkept inside of them. It’s as though I can almost hear the pain when they talk, or feel what they’re feeling when they too dance around the truth. Silence and Secrets is everywhere, and it needs to change. The hurt that people hold takes away from their true self. The inner beauty that was meant to be shared from the start. It’s as if the soul is gone and their eyes show the emptiness that’s been left behind. I wish that I wasn’t able to see or hear these things. I wish others would look for ways to find themselves again. We can’t turn back time, we can’t make all of the bad people that have floated in and out of our lives disappear. We can however claim our soul back! Don’t let the demons win here.

I’ve started this topic, this particular subject on so many occasions and could never finish. I’ve walked away from this computer so many times, unable to really put down what I felt, what I see, how I feel. It’s raw, it’s real, and there’s no shame in feeling the way I do. This I know. I’m again hoping that right now someone reads through this and says I do feel this way and I don’t want to hold onto the Silence and Secrets any longer. I want to have my light, and my soul again. It’s not crazy, none of us are crazy. We’re just damaged and that to is alright. To say that “it’s o.k. to not be o.k.” should be understood in society and embraced. It doesn’t make you bad, it just means that you hurt right now. I’d like to dig deeper into where everything went wrong on mental health. Perhaps I’ll touch on that in another blog.

I’ll close this out by saying thank you for all that read these. I love it when people want to discuss things I write about, or share their insight. Conversation is a good thing and getting to know people like myself that are damaged, you’ll find we still have value. I have the saying on my latest Road I.D. that I wear on my Garmin every day. It says “Broken crayons still color.” I love that. I may be broken but I still have so much to offer. If you’re willing to let go of the Silence, or finally share the Secrets, I promise you there will be relief. You may be broken, but you can still color, and color you will!

Thank you again for being a part of the Zombie File.

I’ll see you on the road

~Zombie~

You are enough, your voice matters

July 5, 2024 / Zombie / 1 Comment

You are enough. Your voice matters. This is something that I need to remind myself on a daily basis. I’ve found myself in kind of an old familiar place of late. Numerous events in my life brought about feelings of old, and along with those feelings, the desire to handle events in a darker fashion. The world that I grew up in was just that way. There is a certain “comfort” to maintaining a way of doing things. Routines are comfortable for most of us. The problem with this particular routine is that it’s not healthy, nor is it good for my future.

Lately it’s been the “Perfect Storm” for me. A combination of work stresses, dealings with contractors, and the arrival of an unwelcome person outside of my core “family” members all seemed to show up at the same time. I’ve worked long and hard to handle all of these kinds of situations, but suddenly found myself drowning in self-doubt, anxiety, and worst of all, hostility. Hostility in my mind turns to violence. That has been my comfort zone for a good part of my life. No, this is not a thing that I’m proud of, it’s just a fact and a part of who I am. If someone wronged me, they were handled. It seemed clean and quiet. I had no feelings for the other person(s) involved. It was business.

At this point in my life, I’ve grown much and, again, work hard to see things from a different perspective. I surround myself with more positive people, remind myself of everything that is good in my life and do the best I can to be a good human. Everything seemed to be going along almost as if I was on cruise control. Work life, home life – I was good. Then the beginning of the storm came.

Work stress. We all have it. Some things seem simple enough and I truly believe in going in, doing my job and leaving. I want nothing more. I do however believe that if you show up at work, you work. This standard is for everyone involved from the very top to the last person on the list. When that doesn’t happen, it doesn’t sit well with me. I’ll leave that there.

Contractors. We recently had a large company send out a team to mark up everyone’s yards in our neighborhood so that they could prepare to put new wires underground. The lead up to it was less than coordinated. One day we had like 30 trucks just converge on our streets and guys going all over spray painting everyone’s grass and throwing flags down. Most of the workers were reluctant to give information as to what they were setting up for, so it made everyone in the neighborhood a touch edgy. It turns out they were the first part of several groups that would come into the area to begin a project of burying cables underground. Once the spray painting was completed, the next group arrived with shovels and machinery. Now I was getting nervous. By the second day, there was a group in my backyard digging 3 holes that were up to their shoulders deep. O.K., now I’m ready to flip out! I asked the guys digging what was going on and none of them spoke English. I’m pretty handy with my Google translator, but didn’t have my phone on me and to be honest, I was too worked up to even think of it. I finally found what appeared to be a supervisor. I began asking questions as to why they were digging up my yard and why I wasn’t advised. This conversation went south in a hurry. He was dismissive, rude and mildly confrontational. (Here comes the old me!) In a quiet voice, I explained that no one steps foot onto my property without some form of invitation, period. I won’t go into everything that was said, (legal reasons) but when I was through, he never came close to my home again. I contacted the city after this episode and was told it was AT&T putting new cables in and they had easement rights. The layout of my neighborhood was sent to me and basically my entire backyard is an easement! This is where the feelings of being voided out, looked past, ignored, all of it come rushing to the surface. I was on fire, an out of control fire! It became so bad that I couldn’t talk, and if I did it was to mutter a few incoherent words or cussing. I needed help and fast!

On the same day that this was all happening, my wife shared that a “relative” was coming into town. This particular individual sets off pretty much every sensor that I have. He reeks of people I’ve seen and dealt with for the better part of my life, and I wasn’t ready for this. Not now, not with everything happening.

I have a very protective nature towards people in my circle. I look at them as though they’re an extension of myself. If I feel that someone in this circle is at risk, I want to eliminate the risk, quickly and quietly. This “relative” was definitely on my radar and, in my mind, viewed as a threat. I had several discussions with other family members and stated my concerns and asked that we all band together to maintain a frontline of protection for those I felt could be harmed. By this time I was just reeling. I’d reached a point that I was in full shut down for fear I was going to lose control. I had to reach out and ask for help. I needed to get things back under control and find out how this happened to me.

I was able to get in to see my counselor and it was decided that the overwhelming number of “triggers” hit me at the same time. “The Perfect Storm”. The bigger question was where did all of this anger come from? What is it within me that was causing so much damage? That is the big question, for which at the time of this writing, I don’t have an answer. More digging into my stored memories/events will surely bring about the reasons for this happening. I’m always a little nervous looking back on things. There are some memories that you don’t want to revisit. Painful things that have formed me into who I am. I just keep telling myself that I’m worth it, I want feel good again.

“You are enough, your voice matters”. It’s important to me to hold this. It’s important to all of us to feel like we’re enough and that our voice matters. Often times we can be dismissed by even the closest people to us. Maybe not intentionally, but it can happen. If you carry things or harbor darkness, it can turn into something even uglier, quickly. Trust me on this.

My counselor knows me well and how to deal with me when I’m hypervigilant. The most calming thing that she said was, “Robert, look at me, you are going to be alright”. I believe her because she’s helped me get there before. I am enough and my voice matters.

I stated before that not all of my blog postings would be warm and fuzzy. Life is messy, and some of us out there carry things that at times are just too heavy. It’s alright to say that. It’s alright to reach out to someone and say “I need help. I can’t do this by myself”. Isolation, while it may seem like a good response for these kind of events, is totally the wrong answer. I’ll quote a good friend here, “Stay out of your head, it’s a bad neighborhood.” True story. Some neighborhoods are so bad we need to be guided through them, and that too is alright.

If you suffer from any kind of trauma, or have “unkept” items rolling around inside of you. Do me a favor, reach out, ask for help. Seek the assistance from someone that has the knowledge and wisdom to guide you through that bad neighborhood. It will work out better in the end. I know, I’ve been to that dark edge and it’s not a good place to be. Remember, You are enough, your voice matters.

I’ll see you on the road…

~Zombie~

Let’s talk about Mental Health

June 10, 2024June 10, 2024 / Zombie / 1 Comment

Hey there all. I talk all the time about my running, walking, working out etc. I’ve touched on things that move, or drive me to do these things. Let’s dive deeper into mental health. This always seem to be a taboo topic and people cringe when it’s brought up. I can’t think of anything more important than the very things floating around inside of your head. This is where you live, every day! It can be good at times and also very toxic. There are many factors that make up what goes on inside the brain. Let’s start there. This is my story.

Your upbringing and social environment develop boundaries inside of you, or lack thereof. I was raised by parents that were very loving at times, yet also emotionally distant. I don’t fault them for this, they did the best they could with what they were dealt in life. My Father was a true tough guy. He was quiet most of the time and never raised his voice, however, he had a way about him that would strike fear straight to your very soul. When he spoke to me, it was up close to my face, and quiet. The whole time he would have one hand on me. That hand would squeeze into my trap/shoulder area based on how mad he was at the time. I learned early that in order to keep the pain level down, you shouldn’t upset him. I had a great deal of respect and fear for the man my entire life. He also raised me to not show emotions. Crying was not an accepted practice, and showing emotions was being weak. This, along with the “take no shit from anyone” mentality formed me into a quiet monster of sorts.

My Mother was very passive and quiet. She had her own demons, but was intelligent and much softer than my Father. There were times we had great conversations, then moments with long periods of not speaking at all. Confusion between the two styles of parenting brought about the need for something else, something more that was missing. This fueled years of misguided anger and poor life choices.

God, when I reflect back now, I wonder how I’ve made it this far. I keep saying that I’ll write a book about all of the different destructive ways I wandered to ease my restless soul. Along with way of life, you have to add my environment that I grew up in. Poor area, with mixed middle class families and areas of poverty. Hunger was something that I speak of often when discussing my past. The feeling of not having enough food, or being cold brought about the desire to just survive. By any means possible.

“You are a reflection of your environment.” I attached to this idea and wore it with pride. Fighting the system and looking for ways to make my life better. Attaching to people that were professionals at “grooming” impressionable kids. I’ll just say that I learned from some very hardened criminals how to view the world. I became a voyeur of humans. My job was to study, to pay attention and exploit weakness. Reflecting back to what I was told by my Father, show no emotions, never cry.

Moving forward, I reached a crossroads of sorts. There was something in my make-up that didn’t want to continue down the path I was on, something didn’t feel right. Yet there was comfort in all of it, familiarity. I decided to break away. I still had the twisted thoughts and hardness, but had reached a point that I felt I could move on and become healthy. I was wrong. While I started to do better in my life, mostly brought about by my running, I still had those built in demons. The demons were strong enough that they caused me to have reoccurring nightmares for a good portion of my adult life. What else could I do, I was living better, working hard, making a good living. Something was still missing and I found myself seeking yet again.

The start of the turn around came by way of going to Al-Anon. I’d had several run ins through life with alcoholics. This drove me to find refuge in rooms with people that experienced similar things as myself. Once I was there, I felt at ease. I felt the kinship of others that understood. It was a good start, but there was still deeply rooted things that required more. I reached out to a good friend that had become a counselor. She gave me the tools to search for someone local. What to look for in a counselor/therapist and gave me the courage to make the step into looking through my past with guidance.

I’ve been with this counselor for numerous years now and it’s safe to say that she’s helped me to work through things that I never thought would be possible. Trust me when I say it’s not a magic pill, or a one and done session. This required work, hard work, facing things that I really didn’t want to ever face again. To discuss hard topics and learn to adjust the very way I view the world as a whole. Never judging, and always careful with where she’d take me mentally. There were times that after a session I would go home and just collapse in exhaustion. This gave me a new perspective on how important our mental health is. Prior to getting help, it changed my sleep patterns, my ability to form relationships, everything! Literally everything began to change with time and my overall health improved, I was now alive!

I’ve struggled for a very long time and kept so much of this from everyone. Something else I learned was very wrong. Some of the hardest conversations were with the person that I love the most in this world, my wife Karla. I was so terrified that once I told her who and what I was, what I’d been through, she’d never want to be with me. I was wrong. She too understands the importance of mental health and reminded me that “the man you are today is who I love, not the boy that struggled”. She’s proud of what I’ve become and that in turn has made me want to reach out to others. To let them know that there is a way out. There can be a brighter tomorrow. You don’t have to struggle or hide your feelings. Share them, work through them, be seen and heard. Isn’t that what we all really want in this world? To be seen, to be heard. When I think back to my childhood, it’s all that I was ever really looking for from my parents. To be seen and heard. To have my feelings validated. I’m good now, and I hold no ill feelings towards my parents at all. They tried their best. If anything, I feel sad that they didn’t have the opportunity to make things right with their mental health. Somewhere they lost their validation in the world.

So please, take the time to take care of you. Don’t perpetuate a cycle that can be corrected. I see you, and I hear you.

Thanks for reading,

~Zombie~

The zombie file

Life seen through the eyes of Zombie

mental-health

Beautifully Broken

The Intersection of Mental Health and Truth: My Journey

Breaking the Male Psyche: A Call for Change

Letting Go: Parenting Beyond Control

It’s not you, it’s me

I’m compelled to write

Not all days are bad.

Silence and Secrets

You are enough, your voice matters

Let’s talk about Mental Health