*This photo was taken by Chayse Griffin on September 21st of this year. I performed at the Lowville Cream Cheese Festival after canceling in disgrace last year. Those were different, darker days. I've played this event many times in the past. Music wasn't really a part of my life last year. It hadn't been for a while. Out of all of my performances at the Cream Cheese Festival, this one will remembered as the most significant. This isn't a comeback. It's a rebirth. Chayse also ran sound for the Veterans' Stage behind the Lowville American Legion.
My last couple of posts were overly focused on some personal conflicts that were going on in my life at the time. Admittedly, those posts are not my best material. I'm at place of peace now. If I write about those subjects in greater detail (I probably will), it will be on another blogging platform, possibly under a pseudonym.
As for the conflicts themselves, they are all over for me. I know those people read my blog and that's a problem. The only conflict I'm now concerned with is the battle with my own subconscious. I don't have the time, energy, or patience for more nonsense. It doesn't serve me to partake in childishness. When I’m done, I’m done.
In my last post, I foolishly wrote about quitting music. That isn't going to happen now, or ever. I'll quit when I'm physically unable to perform. That will take a lot. Despite medical uncertainty, I generally feel healthy and strong.
On December 10th, I will have a liver biopsy performed at the Cancer Center in Syracuse. I'm not afraid. This was my expectation. There are both positive and ambiguous factors concerning the two masses being examined on my liver. I've shared this news publicly on social media and in person when it was pertinent.
I will add the following: if the lesions on my liver prove to be malignant, it is metastatic spread from the kidney masses I had surgery to remove back in February. The cause of my kidney cancer is still (and forever will be) unknown.
I don't have liver cancer. There is no evidence of liver diseases that would have been precursors; no cirrhosis or fatty liver disease. For those wondering, the answer is "no". My cancer was not caused by any "lifestyle" factors (drinking).
I'm not going to post anything more about this on "The Journey". I’ve known about the rumors misinformed people have been spreading for a while now. Not that the causes of cancer should be used for rationing empathy. That’s just nasty.
What doesn't kill you, doesn't.
I started posting to "The Journey" for the enjoyment of it. The purpose was never anything more than to share some stories, and maybe in the process, improve my writing skills. I'm not sure where I'm at with that. I just have an interest in writing. As far as potential monetization is concerned, I doubt that will ever come to fruition. It's very uncommon to get paid to write, even for great writers, which I am not. I’m a realist about that.
Those same sentiments don’t apply to making music though. I've been getting paid to perform for many years. It's not a hobby. When I published my last post, I was feeling dejected- like an abject failure. I wasn't in an emotional state to express what I was feeling articulately. Instead, I was processing a lot of rough news at once and doing my best to cope. I don’t regret writing about it.
I hold myself to impossible standards sometimes. I didn't quit on life and I won't quit on music. Being a musician is an essential element of my identity. I can't live without it, at least not fully. It has saved me more times than my so-called support systems in the past.
Life is so much better now. I have a robust circle of positive influences in place these days. I’m eternally grateful for the presence of these people.
I hit a wall in October. I began to resent existing, again. My thinking became myopic and I questioned the veracity of my spiritual awakening. I even fell into depression for a while.
Depression hadn’t been a problem since February. I've written about my experiences at length. None of those events caused me to sink into dysphoria. I welcomed the challenges of an existential crisis. I was emotionally unprepared for existential dread.
I regretfully expressed my frustrations to my amazing, beautiful girlfriend, Michelle.
"I'm in the same place I was in last year. This isn't the life I fought for."
Seriously? What a load of insensitive bullshit on my part. A poor choice of words that I immediately (and rightfully) apologized for. Neurodivergent individuals are great at identifying patterns. I fucked that one up badly. The fact that I have an amazing, beautiful girlfriend negates the statement. Mine is a life worth fighting for, and I know it.
Some circumstances are, in fact, similar to last year. My SSDI claim was denied. I'm facing another cancer scare. Honestly, I had a lot more money back then.
Uncertainty engulfed my subconscious thoughts and shook my confidence. I started to slip into hopelessness. The weight of the previously mentioned personal conflicts loomed over me, too. It was the last thing I needed. I've forgiven the people (to a point) but I'll never forget what it felt like being kicked when I was down. It wasn’t the first time. It will be the last.
I'll be all right no matter what, mostly because of the people I surround myself with in the present. I am a universe away from the place I was in last year. It's just another challenge that I’ll someday be better off for facing. Metamorphosis is frustrating and painful. It's also the most magnificent endeavor I've ever focused my attention on. Michelle introduced me to the concept of interdependence. It’s slow going, but my stubbornness is softening. Baby steps.
The voices of the people I've cut out of my life (for good reasons), spoke through me at times, in the form of self-doubt. They are silent voices now…well, maybe intrusive whispers. The scars of my past traumas will remain forever. I will never be better off for what I've endured, although I am better for making difficult, but shrewd decisions. I’ve held onto hope, even when it seemed stupid to.
Never trust anyone who suggests that hardship makes you stronger. They're lying, usually to protect themselves from being held accountable for their actions, or lack thereof.
"Your heart is a muscle the size of your fist."- Ramshackle Glory, from the song by the same title.
I've complained too much in the last month. I believed I would move into my own apartment by December 1st. That ended up not being true. Memories of past shortfalls needled at my self-confidence. I felt stuck. The people who truly care about me were subjected to my negative self-talk, spoken out loud and through messages. It was a messy process, but necessary for me to continue growing.
I really just needed people listen to me. They did listen. I could feel their frustration, not because I was being unreasonable, but because they couldn’t offer up any solutions. My misfortunes weren’t their problems to fix. They still wanted to help and they did so by listening.
I didn't fail at music. Being broke and displaced had me believing false narratives. Hopelessness occurs when basic needs are left unfulfilled. Adequate shelter and personal space are basic needs. I'm safe, warm, and loved. There’s plenty to eat, but I'm still crashing on my daughter and son-in-law's couch. I didn't expect to be there this long. I'm sure they didn't expect me to be either. My restlessness is unproductive. I appreciate what I do have. It will all work out.
Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs:
https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html
Life’s current struggles are the result of my positive decisions. What a difficult pill to swallow! Still, I wouldn't do anything differently, so I'll accept the consequences of self-improvement. My current state is more positive than negative. That's a gross understatement because my life is pretty damn amazing. I needed to reconnect with my version of spirituality. I'm back on the right path. This is a real life hero's journey*, indeed.
*https://www.grammarly.com/blog/literary-devices/heros-journey/
One of my most trusted friends wrote in a text message, "Now is the time for you to be selfish."
She was exactly right. It's long overdue.
The Reconnection
When I first picked up my guitar in January, it felt awkward in my hands. The strings were approximately four years old (best guess). I fumbled through the first few chords. The unforgiving, bronze wound strings strained my soft fingertips. The callouses of regular practice had long since eroded. Mine were beginner’s hands again.
I hadn't played in over three years. I've written about that time period at length in other posts, too. I forced myself to pick up that guitar. Anhedonia is a vicious, unrelenting beast to slay. Many never conquer it. I did. It was the second-best decision I made in early recovery. The first was to stop drinking.
Before taking my neglected acoustic out of its case, my self-esteem was in the toilet. I’d been attending mandatory self-help groups. I quickly noticed I was only speaking about my "glory days". It seemed like my best years were behind me. Eventually, I stopped sharing so much in the groups. It was better to reflect and ultimately, adjust and adapt. Living in the past is pathetic and boring. I didn’t want to be that guy.
Something miraculous occurred as I strummed that guitar. I reconnected to a part of myself I feared was long dead. But it wasn’t death, it was dormancy. Before I realized what was happening, I was playing and singing entire songs from start to finish…from memory! It's the only way I know how.
Since then, I've remembered the lyrics and chords to over one hundred songs, which I now play without cheat sheets or a tablet live. I've learned dozens of new songs, too. I'm referring to cover songs, not even taking into account the new songs I've written or older material I’ve adapted for live performance.
I (re)discovered my identity through music. It was only the beginning of something phenomenal.
I wrote the song “Ivy June” (video above) this year. It is a gift to my sweet granddaughter, born 11/7/2023. I can’t describe how much that baby girl means to me. For reference, I suggest playing the video.
