Life Report April 1st, 2022


No, I don't have an April Fools bit to getcha with. Sorry. I'm just writing here for myself.

Things are okay, they're good. It's not like things have been particularly difficult or anything—I've had a mixture of ugh, meh, and cool and I'm okay with all of that these days. I'm in a good spot.

Life changes. I pondered whether I would maintain my curiosity as I get older. I don't know why I worry about it as much as I do. I keep telling myself to worry less than I already do. I never listen. I worry that as I continue to get older I will become more rigid in what I know. I don't think that will happen but when I'm Seventy, why would I want to change anything? I will be who I will be. Contrasting that with my present day, I'm becoming who I will be. I don't think there's ever a point or destination that we suddenly become this static-state person and yet that's the concept I worry about. Maybe it's bad? Maybe it's not. I think maintaining a healthy curiosity about the world and openness to the unfamiliar aids a person to avoid stern rigidity of thoughts and feelings. But what do I know? I eat the heads off of fish all day.

I've always learned things late in life. I was born late; I taught myself to ride a bike at Eight or Nine when all the other neighborhood kids were wheeling around my neighborhood; I lost my virginity… late-ish?. I was generally naive and overly cautious, protective, of myself. Learning things late isn't a problem, per see. Learning to have compassion for myself, understanding my patterns of behavior, and coming to grips with it all is something I've learned to do, also rather late at the ripe old age of Forty-Five. And when I think about that, it makes me sad and I had a difficult time understanding why. The conclusion that I landed on, that made the most sense, was that I was mourning a version of myself that could've been, who was better adjusted, that didn't think he deserved the bad things (abuse) that happened to him, I mourned someone that didn't have all that baggage with nowhere to put it. For better or worse, baggage and all I'm here.

It's part self-pity and part self-realization and, yes, part mourning a version of myself that couldn've been. I can't change that now. With time, reflection, and gobs of therapy, I've been able to lighten the load of my baggage and I realized that not too long ago. Also, I did shrooms. That's neither here nor there but it was my first real trip (if not attempt) and I was into it.

I've long had this internal dialogue where I have ideas, things I want to do, and I'll tell myself there's no way you're ever going to do that. Currently, the mental battle that's going on is whether or not I'll ever create a graphic novel. There's a voice telling me you have so much to learn, you'll never get it done. That same voice told me I'd never run a marathon. I've run two of them now. That voice is a liar, it's a mechanism, it's protecting me from change, it's tripped me up so many times and I've usually listened to it. Not always but a lot of times. The voice is a lie, let me tell you.

Work is going well; I lost a big client recently, which is a bummer. But it provides time to reflect as I wrap things up with them. I've changed how I work so often in the last several months, for the better. I'm proud of what I've been able to do and my team that helped get us here. I'm lucky. I'm grateful to have what I have. I really am. I have a lot to think about. I really want to simplify my operations and offerings for clients and I think I'll start with that. The upcoming downtime will allow me to focus on shifting focus and simplifying my business.

I'm going to South Carolina to see family and then to NYC to see some friends in April/May. Looking forward to getting out of town for a couple of weeks.

All in all, I'm doing decent. I hope you're all swell and well, peeps.

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