From the Dark Side --

I wanted to start this blog off with a snapshot of a personal memoir of my darkest days, and bring hope that there is light in the future:

Staring off into space is a part of my daily life.  I can envision myself being the one standing at the podium thanking my mother and father and god, and the next door neighbor who fed my fish while I was on vacation.  Reminding the room that everyone played a part in my success. 

Sadly, there was no podium, no people, and surely no success.  My vision for the world did not match my level of enthusiasm.  I often ask myself if I am just plain crazy insane or is depression a real thing that destroys lives?  Being the egotistical human being that I am, I most defiantly think that depression is to blame for every single malady that pops up in my life.  

I’m depressed; I drink. 

I’m depressed; I lie in bed all day

I’m depressed; I rot away

I’m depressed; I push loved ones away

I’m depressed; so its all okay

Looking back at my first known bout of depression it is clearly the single consistency I had in my life.  Life without depression was life with chaos and disaster.  At the point where things remain too calm, I gather up every grenade I have in my arsenal and toss them in the middle of my life, wipe the sweat off my face and sit back and relax because now, things have a ring to them.  Now things are normal again. 

Sometimes my arsenal runs dry, and then the real problems begin.  It was a hot summer, the sun shone with a billion rays of golden terror.  In my eyes the sun burned, and burned and burned every humanly instinct I had left.  I was playing roulette with a fully loaded pistol, and I didn’t have a care in the world.

I laid in bed for exactly 27 days with a burning stomach and a hopeful spirit that all would soon come crashing down around me.  Life halting and my ass hitting another bottom was the only thing that would ever get me out of bed.  So, like a shiny new convertible speeding straight for a crossing train and colliding at just the right moment, I waited.  But to my surprise, when my ass hit the bottom, it was catastrophic.  Little pieces of me lye all around the house shattered and unrecognizable.  Here it was, my savior.  My chance at starting over and finishing like a real functioning member of society.  This was my chance to once again pick up the pieces that shattered into tiny shreds and use them to build a newer, better self.

Self sabotage, as you will find out later is something I have mastered.  In this lifetime I have smashed enough goals for two lifetimes.  Chaos is nothing more to me than order. 

Sometimes I ask myself if I ultimately suffer from acute boredom.  Boredom seems to be a culprit and an easy one at that...