I remember being the “leader” and how it felt for the phone to never stop. I played a game of bouncing between emails, calls, and texts, and somewhere in between I didn’t drink water, use the restroom, or breathe. I’m not joking. I remember a job where, after 10 hours, my body was stuck in the same position. I was a robot created to serve a broken system. My health meant absolutely nothing to anyone else.

Right now, I write this as I wait on another doctor to do another thing, but for the last four hours the devices have rung and won’t stop. Constant demand for me to do things others could help with if they cared.

Everyone expects me to fix everything. Maybe not everyone.

Someone will be pissed that I even took a few minutes to post this, but I’m doing it because, in the middle of all this, I found something positive. I also found something I need to make sure I pay attention to.

I need this to be able to do the other stuff that’ll require me the next month or 6 of my life to do shit that isn’t for me. It’s not about what I built for myself. It will almost be because as much as I’ve begged for others to just take care of themselves, now I have to pick up ALL the fucking slack.

I recorded a call with my psychiatrist recently, and he pulled up my chart. He was going through the stupid check in questions. He stopped and said, “fuck it, you’re fucking doing great man. We don’t need this but you don’t follow the path that most people do. You find a way to get better when you could easily just go backwards or not move at all.”

He’s only here for me because the healthcare system fails. He opened his doors to me last year when things were really bad. He was scared for me. He spent a few months helping guide me through something that at times felt life-threatening. At times, it was.

He is honest. He doesn’t just say things. He doesn’t even get paid most of the time to see me. He’s the only reason I have the right medication that is helping me with what could be early onset dementia right now. We don’t know if that’s what it is but I am being treated as if it is. It’s the only prescription I take and it’s the difference between me functioning and not. I can’t function at all without medication. My day is dead. It’s a blur. My mind will not find ways to find words.

I’d just sleep. Communication is almost impossible.

When my insurance went away and hope could’ve diminished, I got stronger and more resilient. He made sure I had a check-in every month, even when it was free. He reached out by text. He checked in. He asked questions.

That wasn’t his responsibility. He cared. He did visits for $1, $0, and $25.

Let’s focus on the positive. Well, we actually are.

My body went through a lot last year. I don’t expect anyone around me to change because of who I am. At times, I just ask for understanding. I ask for room to figure out how to say words. I ask for room to process and not be put on the spot, but I know that isn’t always how life works. When I know something is wrong, usually something is wrong. That has never changed. I ask not to be part of anyone else’s mess. I have my own.

I’ll tell everyone why things are the way they are. I’ll give way too much info in hopes that they understand why I can’t always find the right words and why I can’t handle certain situations. I need explanation clearly. I can’t function with a question being another question. I’m very open and say the hardest things so that there isn’t confusion along the way. Unfortunately, that causes friction. I’ve lost many connections along the way because of this. I’m thankful for that because I can’t manage another situation that isn’t well defined.

This morning, I realized once again how much of everything going on in my life isn’t about me. That’s okay. I’m here to help, but at the same time, my health needs me right now.

Twice in the last few days, something has really lifted me up when I felt down and when I felt like I couldn’t move. I feel like I can’t even get to the point of planning the next part because I can’t sit here long enough to finish anything. I write this as I wait on three calls, plan a huge project I don’t have time for, figure out what my mom needs, and try to make sure someone else has what they need to survive.

How the fuck am I supposed to do this?

So anyway, he said, “Your growth through treatment is astonishing.”

Like a child, I smiled.

He talked about his fears last year that I wouldn’t make it this far, and that I wouldn’t make it the way I have. He has to ask me the “hard question” very clearly. When I mentioned how someone jokingly made fun of what I shared about having to use the suicide hotline here, he cried. Yeah, that happened. Not sure if they know I saw their jokes but it was some of the last bit of humor that I let myself see. I had to shut it out. I’m not a fan.

I have a lot to say about how that still feels but I’ll keep moving in a positive direction because that feeling still makes me feel uneasy about the people that I feel like I should trust in my life. And naturally it makes me want to shut down for the people that encourage me to share more.

I’m learning that not everyone gets access. I only write those things here for you all because I think it’s important that we don’t feel alone but sometimes people get a rush on telling people to shut the fuck up.

He told me some things that changed my life and changed my day. He gave me support I needed. Once again, I found a human underneath the most broken system we have here in the U.S.

As far as the ones who find it funny, I just hope they figure out what makes them feel that way. I always hope everyone finds whatever it is I’ve found that makes me feel strong, even when the gravity of this world presses me down, slumped and tired, carrying the weight of those pressing on me when I just want to keep moving.

I wanted to let this sit in Notes. The clear voices that give me warm love tell me I shouldn’t hide. I’m already hiding. I don’t want my words here. I want to bury everything in what I create. But if I get a few minutes to let it breathe, I might as well.

I wish I had something funny or light. I wish I had some art to share, but the day is young. I’m inspired but tired and pressed for time, so I’m investing in myself, my health, the people I love, and the people who don’t exist yet.

I don’t care how it reads or how simple I sound. I’m not afraid of letting this find light anymore, but I’m not comfortable with it either.

A spider bit my leg earlier.

This was all written over the course of hours. The sun was over there and the chickens were out, but now they’re gone. My left leg has a red rash. Luckily, I have some stuff with me, and the spider wasn’t one of the worst. Just an annoying fucker.

I’m hoping I can share a bit more of a brainstorm on the one project I’m deeply into right now.

I can’t wait to see this thing metamorphose into growth as I change with it. I’m still studying some words that found me at a time when I needed words I didn’t fully understand. I need words I can study that don’t lead me down dead ends, but into open exploration. Words that don’t shut doors on me while I’m trying to walk through them. Words that allow me to evolve and grow.

Make sense?

Let’s go do things for people and hope we have a few for us, okay?

Love ya, mean it.

I ate fresh eggs someone left for me on a green stretch of mountainside this morning. I’m sick — don’t know what’s wrong yet. A couple of appointments came up, and my family’s health took priority over mine for a minute. Just getting up to write this, to play music, took everything I had. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and my body has been constantly tired.

People are screaming at me through devices I’ve muted, across channels I’ve deleted. Sorry, I don’t have it in me right now. I choose to not know about anything right now.

This is me trying to keep it light around here.

Yesterday I woke up to a rat nudging my back. Someone asked, “nudging or nuzzling?” Honest answer — if I’d given the little fucker two more seconds before I jumped out of bed, I’d have gotten a little love nibble. It didn’t happen here, or anywhere I’d call home. Who knows where home is anyway?

I have a list too long to look at and no energy for a tenth of it. By the time I walk, eat, and exercise, I’m done. There’s an appointment tomorrow, scheduled a month ago, more tests — either way, I’m not really here for it. A friend reached out and asked why I stopped writing about myself. Another told me to stop being so vulnerable. Believe it or not, both of those people exist. And believe or not, I listened to both of them.

The only reason my phone didn’t end up in the abyss is that the right voice hit my ear at the right time. That’s the music I need right now. That’s the warmth I’m craving.

My brain just dripped out of my ear reading a piece of writing I can’t tell you about yet. Calling it “writing” cheapens it.

I don’t have a lot of time, but I’m making a few minutes to compose something because it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read, and I can’t wait to try to wrap it in sound and watch it transform. I’ve been waiting months for something to give me a reason to test my creative potential.

Exhaustion is a thing. It’s real. I’m in it. Something else is running through the veins — we’ll find it.

just need something beautiful in a voice, even if it’s only mine, even if it’s only the warmth of the friends who still leave the door open knowing the story I bring back will be weird as fuck.

If I could write across the side of this mountain, I would. It’d say: I fucking love you.

Last month my therapist asked me something I hated answering. I was told I was being selfish for even asking it. Why do I always have to be the one holding it together when I’m the one carrying the weight? Why is it too much to ask for a little kindness to find its way back to me?

It does. It did.

I’d get a God-sized Sharpie and write “I fucking love you” to everyone who noticed I wasn’t okay and helped anyway.

Mostly, I don’t like being looked after. But every once in a while, it’s fine to stop believing the other shit I start believing when I’m left to figure it ALL out alone.

I saw people I know — some from here, some from other lives — celebrating sobriety, and it got me thinking. In 2025 I knew substances were a bad call during hard times. I changed my life to not make bad decisions and change destructive patterns.

Then I realized the substances were never really the decision — they were placeholders for the decisions I was avoiding when I was left to sort it all out solo. At least that’s how it works for me.

I did find my self crazing old habits recently. I don’t like to drink unless I’m around others. I can tell you every time I’ve touched alcohol this past year and quite a few of those times aren’t attached to the best memories. Some are quite hard to think about.

I still miss cannabis. I think it does something that relieves my brain at times but it also creates other issues. I haven’t touched it but once since last June. I miss it. A lot.

Recently, everything came down like a meteor shower. Hold on. ☄️☄️ Anyway — I’d write too much if I tried to write about the storm.

I’m here to say I’m here. Still here. I don’t start over — I rebuild. I loved Legos as a kid. Never kept a set intact. Just liked building my own thing out of the pieces. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to play other people’s music either. I don’t know.

That might be all I have for a while. I’m doing all I can to stick around a little. I don’t want to disappear. I like a lot of the people here. It’s getting harder and harder to log in though.

Last night I wrote a lot before I fell asleep. I wrote about how my new life will exist in rooms that have walls. It’s happening but it’ll take a minute.

Love ya, mean it.