Above: Pictures taken along my My Healing Journey.
One Last Overshare
"Coulda Been Dead" by Shawn P Corbett copyright 2020
We get nowhere in this life without kindness. In a world of self-described "Rugged Individuals", deference often gets lost in a collective delusion.
Above is a song I wrote back in 2020. The composition and theme were subconscious musings at the time. This is common for me. I often reach an understanding of my lyrics long after they are written. The ideas derive organically, but the wisdom usually comes much later.
I can't recall the exact day I first met Shelly. We were in the same kindergarten class, but I know we were introduced before that. I don't have many memories of us not knowing each other. Shelly was later my high school sweetheart, my first love.
In 1991, as I battled Hodgkin's Lymphoma at age 17, Shelly was the light in my darkness, her presence illuminated what would've otherwise been pure despair and terror. She didn't treat me differently because I was sick. Most people did.
My parents were far too occupied with attention-seeking, complaining about the financial burdens my sickness imposed upon them, and throwing lavish self-pity parties to notice my rapidly declining emotional health. I am a Generation Xer. Maybe I was supposed to walk it off. My first cancer was clearly all about them and what they were going through. Nothing has changed since.
Friends fell off in droves, too. I learned a lot about people during that period—most of it unimpressive, at times disturbing. I was forced to become an adult at an already confusing age. A kid cannot navigate such occurrences without adequate support. I was onto something then, but I couldn't fully comprehend it. How could I have? I was still a child developmentally. Because of Shelly, I never felt completely alone back in 1991.
In September of 2023, after my arrest for felony DWI, I was ostracized and rejected by my family and pretty much everyone else I knew, but not Shelly. She took me into her home and literally kept me alive. I couldn't have done that for myself in psychosis.
None of the stories woven into the erratically constructed essays of this blog would have been written without the initial impact of Shelly's kindness. Regretfully, I repaid that kindness by being a dick to her. I willingly returned to the crushing mental brutality of my previous relationship. Shelly deserved better from me. I'm still unsure of how to settle that debt. This may be a start.
I dedicate this song to Shelly because it couldn't be about anyone else. Her existence will forever remind me that truly kind people still exist in this world. It's important to remember this on days when my thoughts vacillate between humanism and misanthropy.
Eyes Forward With Peripheral Vision
April 20th, 2025
Today is Easter for Christians. Demand avoidance made writing this final post difficult. My first attempts were in January, while I was staying with my girlfriend, Michelle. Bringing an unfolding story to a close was unnerving, so I put it down for a while. It's a better post because of the break, in my humble opinion.
Some may ask, "Why stop if it's an unfolding story?"
Fair question.
My Healing Journey has been rife with "wizard behind the curtain" revelations. I have consistently been required to face awful truths about myself, other people, and the world we live in. My earlier attempts veered off into a counterintuitive abyss of negativity, focusing on the heartaches, betrayals, abuse, and attempted sabotage I encountered along the way, rather than my own significant accomplishments. It's impossible to fully discount antagonizing events as a main theme, but bitterness and pain are not the parting messages I wish to convey. My premise is healing, not bitching, not vitriol.
Our human brains are hardwired to remember the bad stuff first; a practical element of evolution that is supposed to warn us of danger. Without it, the perpetuation of species would be chaotic and random, if not doomed entirely. This transcends humanity, down to seemingly insignificant microscopic organisms. I didn't have reliable instincts to draw from until recently.
I'm not a scientist, so I'll refrain from the evolutionary nerd stuff, too. Mine is a tale of serendipity. Yes, the misfortunes were painful to endure, but somehow I've managed to flip my many struggles into near-miraculous positive outcomes. It is that beauty I hope to share with the world. Besides, why give toxic, attention-seeking narcissists exactly what they crave? I'm smarter than that, usually. Social media is a better platform for venting about assholes. My blog has been confused with Facebook enough already.
I'm not a Christian, thankfully. Today is 420.
My blog has fulfilled its primary objective: catharsis. Now I feel like I'm letting all of you read my personal journal, which is creepy. Oversharing is a practice I am predisposed to. Increased awareness has revealed that a private life is more conducive to what I'm trying to accomplish—adapting to my current circumstances. My first post was published last April. Everything has changed since then, especially the way I move through the world.
I’ll avoid redundancy by recommending my older posts for back stories.
April 28th, 2025
My life today bears almost no resemblance to the one I was living last year at this time. Today is Monday. I'm typing this during my bus ride from work. I've mentioned the recovery center with fondness a few times in my writing. I work there as a recovery coach now. Obviously, I don't drive, so I commute by bus to work each day. It's an hour and a half one way to travel 35 miles. My commute requires walking 1.2 miles, both to and from the bus stops. I awaken at 5 AM and arrive home around 7 PM on work days. I still make music daily, too.
When the dust settled, I had to accept that I'm not Bukowski. I chose not to starve. At least I get to do work I'm passionate about, which makes a huge difference in my attitude regarding employment.
"I arrive home..."
I moved into my apartment on March 1st, 2 days before my first day of work. If you're wondering, yes, I live by myself. It’s what I need to do, for now. In order to show up the way I intend to in my relationship with Michelle, I first need to put more work into healing. My heart aches when we aren't together. It’s never lost on me. I believe it is a positive discomfort to miss someone in that manner. My focus in love is to bring the best version of myself to our partnership. For once, I am doing the heavy lifting on the front end of a relationship, shedding layer after layer of my calloused, codependent skin over time.
Last Thursday (April 24th), I had a liver ablation performed at University Hospital in Syracuse. After a year and a half of dropped balls and exhaustive diagnostic testing, the lesions on my liver were determined to be benign. The smaller of the two was diagnosed as an adenoma. My doctors in Syracuse are sometimes annoyingly proactive. They decided to perform the ablation as a preventative measure.
The original scheduled date for the liver procedure conflicted with another appointment, so I pushed it out for 3 weeks. Back in October, I scheduled a formal assessment for autism, 6 months in advance. No way I was going to miss that for anything, including a liver lesion that had been ambiguous in its level of severity since 2023.
The acceptance of my obvious neurodivergence came long before the formal assessment. Ever hyper-vigilant (for good reasons), I needed the validation of a professional diagnosis for my own peace of mind. The results were exactly what I expected them to be. I was diagnosed autistic at age 51.
*My assessment was conducted on April 9th, one week before our shitpile of a Secretary of Health and Human Services revealed his brain worm addled anti-vaxxer/eugenicist agenda for dealing with people with autism.
It was a relief to be officially diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder because it answered many baffling questions. I was also diagnosed with ADHD (second opinion) and CPTSD (third opinion). I'm only sharing a synopsis because self-disclosure is risky enough, unfortunately.
I am not, nor will I ever be, ashamed of who I am—the way I was born. In my life, I have rarely felt the comfort of safety or security. By necessity, I adapted to my realities and environments the best I could, which was often less than spectacular in execution.
The actions and policies of the current U.S. regime changed what I was willing to share publicly, which is another reason why I am shutting this blog down. The overall vibe in my local community solidified my apprehensions. Fascism has arrived in the North Country. Clearly, outer peace will never match my inner peace. I can only control what I do to protect myself and the people I love.
I was built for resistance, even in a weakened physical state. Unlike some, the world I leave behind for Ivy matters to me. That is what keeps me up at night.
Flipping the Script
"You don't have it any better, you don't have it any worse
You're an irreplaceable human soul
With your own understanding of what it means to suffer
And that's a huge bummer!"
AJJ, from the song, "People II 2: Still Peoplin':
When I quit drinking on October 2nd, 2023, I couldn’t comprehend the mess I had gotten myself into. Quickly, I learned that choosing to live wasn't going to be as easy as giving up. In my imagination, there was no one else in the world similar to me, which now seems ridiculous. "Broken" doesn't adequately describe my condition back then. Maybe it's for the best that I didn't understand the full extent of what I was facing in such a vulnerable state.
Unexpectedly, the year following my first blog post has been my most meaningful and enriching trip around the sun to date. I'm not going to further elaborate on my battles or how I overcame the obstacles in my path. My Healing Journey is not a "how to". Every person who struggles with addiction is unique, despite stereotypes. There is no right way, not mine, not anyone else's. Ultimately, each individual can and should choose their own methods, based on what works for them.
My path led to the exploration of root causes. I was fucked up for half a century, but why? As much as my writing bothered my psycho ex and self-aggrandising, attention addicted parents, my purpose was never to expose or blame them. But if the glass slipper fits, they should slide it on now.
I’ve been extremely kind in my depictions of those who made my life harder when it was already hard, pretending it was loving when it wasn't. Liars who could easily be destroyed by the truth should tread very lightly around me in the future. Another lesson I've learned during this journey is that grace and compassion have hard limits. Intentions don't matter, actions do.
I hope to be left alone and never forced to entertain the prospect of vengeance. That doesn't mean I am not capable of it. I'd just rather not partake in defensive actions if I don't have to. My time and energy could be better spent doing just about anything else. What others do is not on me.
Each negative circumstance has led to a greater joy. From my cancer battle to completing Drug Court, from the bad breakup to the incredible experience of being Ivy's grandfather, every hardship I endured was worth the pain. I wish I could say that the hurt doesn't linger, but I'm not a stone. Of course it does. That shit has left new scars.
And yet...
I'm happier and more grateful now than ever. If I were really "the problem", those who chose to alienate themselves from me are certainly better off because of my absence; not that I waste much of my time wondering. If they aren't better for it, their aggression was immature and weak. I hope they are all living the life they deserve without me in it.
The results of my personal decisions speak for themselves. No regrets. I now move with intention, agency, and a newfound confidence—still kind by default, but taking no shit. I understand that everything falls apart, but I'm hoping to hold onto this new life for many more years. As I've stated in past submissions, I know I don't get to choose my fate. I will continue to conquer the challenges that fall within my sphere of control. No worries there. Sometimes, though, I need to redefine the sphere for my own protection, which usually means narrowing it.
I love my life and the people in it. I'm doing great!
Self-Discovery and the Truth About Me
Consistency is important. From my first post onward, I've been transparent and honest about my own issues. My writing has been highly self-critical—much kinder to others than myself. I wrote an entire post about accountability, if you have questions. I own the shit that's mine.
I hold many strong, rigid convictions about personal responsibility. Nowhere in My Healing Journey will a denial of my mental issues be discovered. My first post made a couple of strong declarations. These are worth revisiting.
1) My 2006 diagnosis of Bipolar 1 Disorder was complete bullshit. The subsequent "treatment" was malpractice-level quackery. Medications offered no positive effects, but instead brought devastating consequences, including a brain injury. After 2 decades of being an unwilling science experiment, I stopped the insanity. By doing so, I eventually stabilized and made space for true healing.
It's been almost 2 years since I quit taking psych meds. I don't need validation from others to know it was a lifesaving decision, because I am still living the life. Anxiety and depression only exist in the past tense for me, at least at a level that would qualify as pathological.
2) Bipolar wasn't the ticket, but I was pretty fucked up regardless, right? But why? How? This is where the real work began and still continues—learning and unlearning (focus on the latter). I despise the word "disorder". CPTSD was caused by others mistreating me. Autism and ADHD are phenotypes, not diseases. The cash-corrupted D$M makes a better doorstop than a diagnostic manual.
Relentlessly, I have sought the answers, only to uncover more questions. I've been complimented for being tenacious and resilient. What were my other choices? I guess I can take a compliment better these days.
Knowing oneself is well worth fighting for, although I don't believe everyone faces existential crises the way I do (I don't recommend my methods). I welcomed the whole truth. No matter how awful the truth was, I committed to accepting it, using new information to improve my understanding, then growing from the place I found myself. Sometimes I still catastrophise. Perfection is not one of my goals.
Being receptive, fearless, and open-minded allowed me to learn a whole lot.
For those interested in what I unearthed, I compiled a playlist of videos by creators who vary from trained experts to individuals sharing their lived experience (also experts). I was both relieved and saddened to discover that I'm not all that unique, saddened by how common my particular brand of suffering really is. What made me unique, I suppose, was my childhood cancer history. I'm fortunate to have survived to this age, given the circumstances. I'm only 15 months removed from wishing myself dead.
Watching the following videos should leave no doubt as to why and how my life turned out the way it did before I embarked on this healing journey. The damaging interpersonal factors I endured throughout my life were setups for failure, possibly even death. It really was that serious and debilitating.
My factors are not open for debate, on or offline. The antagonists in my story have done far too much talking already, devoid of credibility and with obvious malicious intent. If you're curious, I hope you learn a few things from the content I've curated (shared below).
Shawn Being Shawn (Link)
"'Cause all my life I was told and taught I am not shitBy you whack fucking giant sacks of lying dog shit"
- Eminem, from the song "Legacy"
The Village That Raised This Idiot
During the past year and a half, I've been described by others using a variety of terms and adjectives. There have been speechless moments. Words such as resilient and tough are genuine compliments, so I learned to accept them graciously. My personal favorite was equinanimous (Michelle). Other descriptors have been opportunities for pause and self-reflection. Powerful? Interesting...
The most awe-inspiring name I have ever been called was spoken last Friday. Ivy looked at me with her sweet toddler eyes and said, "Hi Papa!"
This is truly the life I fought for. I will continue to fight for it.
I began my final post discussing the folly of rugged individualism. In today's world, it looks like being a huge asshole passes for ruggedness. My opinion aside, nobody is self-made. That's a fact. Being grateful to those who have quite literally saved my life by being present is not weak. It's a higher consciousness. My admissions are those of a realist. The difference between individuality and individualism is an entire topic on its own. Michelle once described me as "ruggedly handsome". I should take that and run with it.
This is the part where I acknowledge a small selection of extraordinary people who have made immense differences in my life over the past 18+ months. I began this post by thanking Shelly.
Jessie is the recovery coach I have referred to in previous posts. I can mention her by name now, because today she is my colleague, trusted friend, and an extremely qualified mentor. We work together at the recovery center.
When I first met her, I was in a very bad place. My Drug Court sentence had just began with the added highlight of kidney cancer. Even worse, my executive functioning was childlike, and my memory was deeply concerning. Jessie helped me navigate systems I couldn't comprehend. By doing so, she kept me from falling through the cracks and landing in society's eternal dustbin.
She has been there with me through it all. There are few people on this planet I admire, trust, and appreciate on the same level. Reading my stories would be redundant to her, though I believe she has read most of them anyway.
Everyone at the recovery center has played a positive role in my story. I admire each and every one of my coworkers and our director. They are truly inspiring human beings.
Sierra (my oldest daughter) and Andrew (my son-in-law) rescued me from homelessness in Watertown. Without their love, kindness, and generosity, everything would look much different for me today. Not in a good way.
I ended up staying at their house from June 2024 until March 1st, 2025 (almost 9 months). In that time, I was gifted the pleasure of really getting to know Sierra as an adult and Andrew more intimately as a person. I love and appreciate them both more than my haphazard writing could ever express. Spending 9 months interacting with Ivy every day was a beautiful experience, one I will hold close for the rest of my life.
Dawn is my first wife and the mother of my 3 children. We met in our early teens. I have no delusions left about what kind of husband I was to her, as I was unwell the entire time we were together. After we split, our co-parenting relationship had its peaks and valleys. Our commitment to loving our children unconditionally never wavered. We both did the best we could at the time.
I consider Dawn one of my closest friends now. That's what I believe we were meant to be. She helped me retrieve my belongings from my abusive ex's house, which is something she didn't owe me. A lot of my stuff took up space in her home for months. Dawn is a person I truly admire. My hope for her is that she gets everything she desires out of life. She deserves it.
Connor (my son) and Emma (my youngest daughter) also helped me get my stuff from the psycho shack. Our subsequent conversations have been deep and meaningful since my return to Lowville. I am often taken aback by how amazing our kids are. We've had a couple of dinners at my new apartment. I hope it becomes a regular occasion.
Such moments remind me of why I am still residing in a town that I have mixed feelings about. The Lowville community has obvious mixed feelings about me, too. As long as my children reside here, I will try to remain optimistic about this place.
Rhonda is someone I have known for a very long time. She is the property manager at the building I moved into at the beginning of March. I applied for a spot in August of 2024. Rhonda walked me through the entire application process, which was extensive and beyond my abilities. I'd be lying if I claimed patience during the waiting months.
Rhonda was a steady, calming voice while I struggled. Our conversations spanned many topics. She introduced me to the concept of "Let Them", which proved to be life-altering I am very grateful for the opportunity to get to know someone so authentic. I now consider Rhonda one of my most trusted friends. That list is extremely short.
As predictably disappointing as my family of origin has been since last September, there has been one outstanding exception: my youngest sister, Cristen. She is not in the "middle" of anything, which is a point I emphasized clearly, and early on in my separation from our parents. That same level of maturity has not been reciprocated by them.
When my ride to Syracuse for a biopsy fell through—a common occurrence with Medicaid Transportation—my sister was there for me. When I needed help moving into my place, Cristen came through again. Stating that I'm grateful for her support doesn't cover it sufficiently. I will cherish the recent conversations we've had as siblings for years to come. I feel like I'm just getting acquainted with my little sister. It is an invaluable experience.
In my last post, I explained the important role my friend Jasyn has played in my return to the live music stage after a 4+ year hiatus. Last weekend, we played a show together at Second Place Beer Company in Lowville. What a blast. I'm pleased to announce that I am now a member of the band, Kickstand, which also includes my good friends, Allison and "Bent" Kent.
Lee has been a close friend since we were kids in the Gifted and Talented program at school. We don't always keep in close contact, but even after communication gaps, we pick up right where we left off.
When I texted Lee after my ex left me on the side of the road and informed him I was at my parents' house, he didn't need to be asked. Lee arrived to pick me up within an hour, saving me from my father's inappropriate interrogations, unwanted and unwarranted criticism, and unsolicited advice. I definitely needed the rescue. Few people are friends for life. That's what I have in Lee.
Without these special individuals in my life, I doubt I would have made it to this point. There are many more to thank. I will stop short of attempting to list them all, due to the inevitable mistake of leaving important names off the list. It's astonishing and humbling when I think about how much love and support I have received while traversing the ever-twisting labyrinth of My Healing Journey.
I offer a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has been kind to me, some in major ways, many more in smaller ones. They probably don't even remember, but I do. Even smiles from strangers carried a lot of weight on my difficult days.
Love In A Failed State
Photo above: Michelle and I, outside of a canvas abode in parts unknown. This has been the setting of some of my most wonderful loving experiences ever. Taken in late March 2025.
My imagination is neither vivid nor sophisticated enough to have dreamed up Michelle before the day we met. She is a work of art.
I've been careful not to divulge much about our relationship in my posts. It hasn't been easy to uphold that level of discretion. I'm ecstatic about the love I've found and want to share my happiness with the world. It's better if I don't, though. People love to break beautiful things.
At age 50, it seemed like my personal love boat had sailed away. I was wrong. What we have between us is extraordinary. I never believed I'd experience this level of depth and connection with another human being, much less someone as intelligent, educated, kind, intuitive, and gorgeous as Michelle. Knowing and loving her has been wonderfully fulfilling. We're just getting started after 10 months. I look forward to our future as a couple.
The smiles below are the real deal. To be in love like this is amazing!
Above: Pictures of Michelle and me together from 2024.
"For the First Time" by Shawn P Corbett copyright 2024
"When I described you as stunning and fascinating
Well, I meant every word of that
When you told me you love my self-respect
I found myself on the right track
For the first time"
The End
“Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” — Zen Kōan.
When I began posting my stories, I was in a different place in life mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. On February 15th, 2024, I awoke from surgery a different person. I've come to the understanding that what I experienced was an ego death, which was followed by a spiritual awakening. Since that day, I have lived my life with great purpose. I promised myself that I would. Circumstances have changed dramatically, but my promise to myself is being honored.
I am proud of how I've handled my affairs since my first post. My days are much different now. When given autonomy, I have succeeded. But the most important element of this entire writing project is my support system. Screw individualism. I believe in interdependence now. In many ways, I have harnessed my experiential wisdom. There is so much left to learn.
At the start of my recovery, I was an overweight, mentally unbalanced, severely emotionally damaged, unemployable, accused felon with kidney cancer. I quite literally had nothing left to lose.
Today, my BMI is 20, I'm 19 months sober, I live independently in my apartment, and I work as a recovery coach. After completing drug court (something that less than half of the participants accomplish), my felony charges were reduced to one misdemeanor. I have wonderful people in my life, and I'm in love with an amazing woman.
I’m working on paying off my fines now.
Ivy's arrival gave me motivation, which continues to move me forward. Reconnecting with music helped me begin healing. I still lean heavily upon it. The rest of the story exceeded my own expectations of what is possible.
"Would you spend the rest of your life in the same roomUnlive your life so you don't have to feel or changeWould you spend the rest of your daysTurning reds and blues to greysMedicate your mind and makeEvery day the same?"
-Jon Statham, from the song, "In the Same Room".
*song link featured at the top of my very first post,
"Psychiatry Done Right (For Once)"
I Want Less
As I unpacked my personal effects at my new apartment, I learned something new about myself. All of this stuff I've been dragging around means less to me than I thought. The first items I moved in, with Michelle's help, were my instruments. They are my most valued possessions.
Much of the rest was traumatizing, even to look at. Michelle and I watched "The Minimalists" on Netflix the last time she visited. The concept really resonated with me. I've been getting rid of many items, especially those with negative memories attached to them. The pictures I hang are carefully selected, most of them less than a year old. I already feel lighter.
Retrieving my belongings from my ex was more emotionally charged than it was an urgent need, making me wish that I had left her with more than she stole from me. The most valuable thing she robbed from me was my time. I'll never get it back. It was a valuable learning experience and a lesson I will never need to be taught again.
As psychotic as her behavior was/is, she unintentionally provided me with practical wisdom in the process. I prioritize meaningful experiences, making art, and personal connections over material possessions. Besides, being free from her venom is its own reward.
I do plan to hire movers the next time I relocate. I'm too old for that shit.
Obligatory Cancer Update:
It's still too early to call. My October 2024 scans showed that my surgery appears to have been a success. No new kidney cancer growth. Soon, I will have an MRI to measure the efficacy my liver ablation. At no time have I heard the words remission, cancer-free, or cure from any medical professional. My battle is ongoing.
I intend to live life to the fullest while I still feel well enough. Other than chronic pain from arthritis, internal scarring, and (let's be real) the inevitable signs of aging, I feel pretty good. I'll attempt to make the upcoming summer my best ever. I believe that Ivy, Michelle, good friends, my sister, and my children will assist me in achieving that goal by continuing to be present.
Music will play a part, too. I'm not sure what that will involve. Last Summer showed me that I'm built more for busking than bar gigs. I'll do both in the future if the universe allows.
I do not live in fear of cancer, and I don't worry about dying.
My Life Now:
I work 4 days a week at the recovery center. Michelle and I continue to find ways to make memories, even when it's sometimes financially perilous for us both to do so. It goes to show that if 2 people really want to be together, they make it happen.
A few weeks ago, I watched Ivy by myself for the first time. I never forgot how to care for a toddler, changing diapers included. I love that little girl with my whole heart. Time with her is precious to me.
I am still incredibly active and energetic. These traits are often physically depleting. I've realized that I need to learn how to relax again. Basically, I go and go until I'm so tired that I crash out in a heap of exhaustion. I can change. It's been proven.
I know my way of living isn't sustainable, but don't worry. I'll ruminate on the subject until it's figured out. That's what a person with AuDHD does. It's how I'm wired. Neurodivergence has some advantages, many actually. Perfectionism isn't easy to quit. I still hope to do so perfectly.
My current interests include meal prepping, interior decorating, strategic consumerism, reading non-fiction, and listening to jazz. My headphones are still essential for maintaining balance, but I can sit in silence without issue now. Occasionally, I can focus on a full-length movie all the way through—a big improvement in cognition. I take supplements, use a Tens Unit, and wear knee braces when I go walking. I've been keeping my beard much shorter and getting regular hair trims. The other day, I was ecstatic when my new "nebula" area rug I purchased online arrived. Weird and awesome.
Despite the many improvements I have made, life for me will always present challenges. Being autistic is no small issue. One part of my clinical assessment really hit me like a punch to the gut. I’ll share the last sentence:
"PROGNOSIS
Good. Mr. Corbett’s ultimate success hinges upon how well support matches his needs."
Fuck.
The tears flowed for about 3 hours after I read that. What I have now—true support—is what has been missing for 50 years. Am I angry? Absolutely. Deeply saddened? How would you feel?
But knowledge is always powerful and useful. I'm human. Of course, my resentments toward my parents, my ex, and others intensified for a while, but you know what? Fuck them. All of them. Their absence is a gift to me.
Post-diagnosis, once my emotions self-regulated, my overwhelming sentiment was one of gratitude for the who choose me and treat me kindly. They are the difference makers. Alone, I couldn't survive, much less prosper. Neither could you, nor anyone, for that matter.
Maybe the next time you read a headline about someone getting arrested, or see a person struggling with addiction, homelessness, mental health afflictions, or another misfortune you don't understand, try empathy and compassion before judging. If you aren’t willing to help, shut up and step aside, so a decent person can.
Trust me, you don't know shit about what an individual you consider inferior is going through, or how they got to that place. You could easily be them under less privileged conditions. Privilege isn’t earned, recovery is.
I used to believe that Christians understood this concept. After five decades living in an area dominated by them, I see many Christians being religious but not spiritual. I'm spiritual, but will never be religious. I take pride in that.
"This is my misanthropic confessionHuman beings are a waste of breathAnd don't think I exclude myselfI'm an asshole just like you"
Days N Daze, from the song "Misanthropic Drunken Loner"
The end is my beginning. I doubt this project holds any intrinsic value outside of my inner circle, but it has been healing and affirming for me. My writing will continue, but this blog is complete. Thank you for reading! Seek peace.
"Would you spend the rest of your life in the same room
Unlive your life so you don't have to feel or change
Would you spend the rest of your days
Turning reds and blues to greys
Medicate your mind and make
Every day the same?"
-Jon Statham, from the song, "In the Same Room".
*song link featured at the top of my very first post,
"Psychiatry Done Right (For Once)"
"Psychiatry Done Right (For Once)"
"This is my misanthropic confession
Human beings are a waste of breath
And don't think I exclude myself
I'm an asshole just like you"
Days N Daze, from the song "Misanthropic Drunken Loner"
"It was my decision to get clean, I did it for me
Admittedly, I probably did it subliminally for you
So I could come back a brand new me, you helped see me through
And don't realize what you did, ('cause) believe me you
I been through the wringer, but they could do little to the middle finger
I think I got a tear in my eye, I feel like the king of
My world, haters can make like bees with no stingers and drop dead
No more beef lingers, no more drama from now on
I promise to focus solely on handlin' my responsibilities as a father
So I solemnly swear to always treat this roof like my daughters and raise it
You couldn't lift a single shingle on it, 'cause the way I feel
I'm strong enough to go to the club or the corner pub
And lift the whole liquor counter up 'cause I'm raising the bar
I'd shoot for the moon but I'm too busy gazin' at stars, I feel amazing and I'm not afraid"
Eminem, from the song, "Not Afraid"
