"The Music Didn't Die" (Part Four)

 

My Return To The Stage

Above: Photos from the Summer of 2024. These were taken at live performances- actual gigs! I am amazed, grateful, and deeply humbled by getting the opportunity to do this all again. Top Photo: Second Place Beer Company, Lowville, NY. Bottom Left: The Lowville Cream Cheese Festival. Bottom Right: The Bateman Draft House, Lowville.

January 4, 2024- From my Facebook Music Page:

I deleted this on December 8, 2024. It was the pinned post on my page until November. I left it there to remind myself how far I've come and to take accountability for making statements I'll either retract or disprove by my actions later on. It isn't my first such announcement. No, I wasn’t trying to create drama or generate suspense. It's embarrassing if you want the truth.

First of all, I'm not famous, so who cares? Second, How much of a fool am I, to willingly walk away from something I have loved my entire life, without putting up a respectable fight. Playing music is the best medium available to me for self-expression. 

Anhedonia opened a void in me that couldn’t be filled by anything else. My escape was hellish. In the future, I need to be more respectful of a love that only gives without taking. It needs to be nourished, not starved. My next retirement from music will be announced in my obituary, and not a day sooner. Hold me to it. 

5/4/2024: First Time Back On Stage: Benefit for Joey Griffin

1/3/2024

From: Shawn P Corbett Music on Facebook (please follow!)

"I was deeply saddened to learn of the passing of my dear friend, Joey. He fought a long and courageous battle. With love and sincerity, I offer my deepest condolences to his family and vast network of friends. Joey was one of the most genuine people I have ever met. Meeting him meant making a friend.

I know Joey's family well. Like him, they are the real deal; generous, kind-hearted, talented, authentic, and honest human beings. My heart is with them all today. Without these folks, I wouldn't be where I am today. I really mean it.

In May, I had the honor of playing music at a benefit for Joey at the Lowville Elks. When Jasyn invited me to play, I immediately wanted in. Truthfully, I wasn't sure what I'd be able to handle physically. A one-hour time slot seemed manageable. The recovery from my own cancer surgery in February was slow and painful. I also hadn't performed in front of people in over four years. No way I was missing that one.

Jasyn made performing easy for me. I only had to bring my guitar and a microphone. My original plan was to play sitting down. It didn't take me long to scrap that idea. I played standing up, as I've always done in the past. The energy in that room provided the strength I needed to reconnect to music in a way that had eluded me, up until that day. Jasyn has since been one of, if not the most supportive friend I've had in terms of returning to live music.

Later that Summer, I hopped on stage to play a song with Kickstand at the Lewis County Fair, then a few weeks later at "Music In The Park" in Lowville. Later, Jasyn booked me at the Lowville Cream Cheese Festival and recommended me for the show I played at Second Place Beer Co. He literally was the person who got me rolling again. My gratitude cannot be overstated. Jasyn Griffin, I love you and consider you family.

The performance at the benefit turned out much better than I imagined. I felt like me again, even better, actually. After my spot, I joined Jasyn and Gabe Shepherd for an extended jam session to wrap up. It was amazing! The best part of the day was yet to come though...

Jasyn and I surprised Joey outside of The Elks Lodge with an unplugged and personalized rendition of "Closing Time" by Semisonic (IYKYK). I'll never forget the smile on Joey's face. I have so many cherished memories of making music in 2024. That one was the absolute best, with no close second.

Joey has been one of the top fans of this page since that day, consistently. He watched me perform many times over the years and was always happy to see me out. I hope that the music I posted this year brought him more smiles. And now the tears...

RIP Joey, my friend. You'll be missed by so many. Thank you for sharing your beautiful soul with all of us who had the privilege of knowing you."

Some highlights from the performance:

Joe Griffin Benefit- Shawn P Corbett

(Please subscribe to my YouTube channel.)

6/1/2024: "A Day Of Hope"

I ended up playing this event after conversations with some of my friends in recovery, those who are also employed by human services agencies in Watertown. It would be an unplugged (not amplified) performance at Peanut Park, at the center of Public Square.

Ryan Hardy had to cancel, so I played the entire time, taking only a couple of short breaks. For me, it was another big step forward. Despite being physically exhausted that evening, I felt inspired and highly motivated to do more with music going forward.

I split my time between guitar and ukulele. Without amplification, projecting was a challenge. I decided to move around the park to engage more people. It was just like my normal day of busking but with a decent-sized crowd. I didn't get paid to play "A Day of Hope". It was voluntary. The picture below was my reward, which was outstanding. 

8/23/2024: "Community Night Out"

"Community Night Out" is a national event. Basically, its purpose is to improve relations between police and the community. Admittedly, being asked to play this one was a surprise. Not my usual gig, right? I had a great time just the same. This was the first show that required me to carry and set up my own gear since...well, I don't really remember when. It was quite a few years ago. I'm glad my equipment was still operational. 

I learned a lot about my physical capabilities that evening. To my surprise, my body felt amazing before, during, and after performing. I was shocked by how much I had healed since May. My recovery from kidney cancer surgery plateaued for a while, but it took a giant leap forward between late June and August.

So...

A friendly probation officer connected me to the event planner. She works for the Department of Social Services in Lowville. I mentioned playing music to the probation officer during a random urine screening for Drug Court. No, I'm not making any of it up.

Probation, cops, and DSS? Not very “anarchist”, is it? But you know what…

I truly believe in community partnerships, especially at the local level. Open communication can create pathways for community improvement, which is very anarchic if you look at it right. Rome wasn’t burned in a day. Practical anarchism involves working to improve the current state of humanity while believing that a better world is possible. 

Hopefully, I will get to do this again in 2025. It was my first paid performance since February of 2020. 

8/30/2024: Watertown Overdose Awareness Day

What an honor it was to play music to bring awareness to such an important cause. I am grateful to ACR Health for hiring me to perform. There are so many great people doing the healing work of recovery in Watertown. We support each other when it matters.

I set up in the gazebo at Peanut Park. The rain relented just long enough for the event go off without a hitch. It poured heavily, right up until start time.

It was the first time my girlfriend, Michelle, watched me play live. After the show:

Her: "I'll help you carry gear and watch you play, but I'm not going to be a fangirl for you."

Me: So, that means you really are into me as a person, and not because I play music? That's actually weirder."

#HarmReductionSavesLives

9/21/2024: "Double Booked"

2024 Lowville Cream Cheese Festival

Michelle is from Pennsylvania. When I first mentioned the "Lowville Cream Cheese Festival", she paused and asked for clarification. It never occurred to me that there is anything bizarre about celebrating cream cheese, Philadelphia Cream Cheese at that.

I was obliged to explain the inner workings of the festival to Michelle, but by doing so, I also had to inform her that Philadelphia Cream Cheese is produced exclusively in Lowville, NY. That’s the equivalent of discovering that Croghan Bologna is made in Des Moines, Iowa. Luckily, it is not. I'm sure it was a lot to unpack.

I've mentioned playing at the festival in some of my previous posts. I was scheduled to perform in 2023. Then I got arrested a week prior. My name and arrest details were trumpeted by the local radio station, repeatedly, for a full 24-hour news cycle. The press release was publicly posted on Facebook and elsewhere. It was “small-town scandalous”.

I don't exactly remember why I booked the 2023 show initially. Maybe it was aspirational thinking. Canceling was the best choice available to me at the time. Showing my face in public would have invited a level of shame I couldn't force myself to endure back then. I was completely broken as a person.

Although I had played at the festival many times in the past (probably as much as anyone), I wasn’t actively practicing in preparation for it. Arrest and humiliation aside, I was in no shape to perform live back then. I would have sucked and I knew it.

My friend and fellow musician, Jasyn (mentioned previously) informed me that another music act had canceled their upcoming performance at the festival. He is tasked with booking, scheduling, and virtually anything else to do with live music at the event. After our conversation at the Lewis County Fair in July, he asked me if I wanted to take the vacant slot on the Veterans' Stage behind the American Legion in September. I didn't hesitate to accept. Hell yeah, I wanted to play!

In addition to Michelle, I had many friends in attendance that day. My daughters, their mother, and my granddaughter all came out, too. One of my oldest and best friends, Lee (Pete Townsend) surprised me by coming to hang out and show his support. It all meant more to me than I can describe adequately. From 2023 to 2024...Wow, what a difference. 

Minutes before I hit the stage, the scene got a little strange. As mentioned, I was there with Michelle (my girlfriend). Dawn (my first wife and the mother of my children), was also at the show, holding our granddaughter while I sang. I was grateful that they were all there. My second wife and my most recent ex-girlfriend...not so much.

I expected to see wife #2, though we haven't spoken in many years. The Legion is on her stomping grounds. Our paths cross often, but just in passing. The ex-girlfriend, however, was conspicuous in her presence. She just happened to stroll through, right next to the stage, 10 minutes before my start time. Nothing stupid ensued, but that was some Twilight Zone shit for me. My performance proceeded without incident.

"I really need to fucking move away from here", I said to Lee, rolling my eyes. He just laughed.

It was blistering hot that afternoon. My timeslot was from 2:45 to 3:45. The stage was unshaded, but it didn't matter because I was so happy to be on it. I wrapped up my hour with "Rockin' In The Free World" by Neil Young. I seldom play that song anymore, but I was joined by my good friends, Jasyn and Allison from the group Kickstand. It was a song we all knew. What an absolute blast!

Debut @ The Bateman Draft House

I had a second show booked that day. After finishing up at the Cream Cheese Festival, I had just enough time to pack my guitar and walk over to the Bateman Draft House. I had dropped off my sound system the night before with Michelle's help. A large section of State Street in Lowville shuts down for the festival and the surrounding parking is non-existent. Besides, it's impossible to set up for a 4:30 show in less than 45 minutes. It is for me anyway. 

The Bateman Draft House gig was just as significant as my return to playing at the festival. It was my first full-length, “All Originals" show ever. The songs I played spanned my entire songwriting career, from my early 20s to the present. It lasted 3 hours. The crowd was enthusiastic and attentive. Megan and Brandon, the proprietors, were incredible hosts.

I decided to sit in a chair while performing. It wasn’t a physical accommodation. Supposedly, I was going for that "storyteller" vibe. My between-song banter was unrehearsed, and therefore, quite dorkish. Michelle offered some constructive feedback concerning my interactions with the audience later on, which I appreciated. Crowd engagement is definitely my weakest area.

In the past, I would only speak sparingly at live venues, but my original songs have backstories. I did my best to convey those appropriately, but there is always room for improvement. I am forever committed to growth. Hopefully, I'll become more proficient at speaking on stage with practice. Maybe if I just imagine myself busking?

It was an amazing experience to share my original music publicly. Honestly, it was like a boyhood dream come true. I’d say the show was a hit, as I was invited to play a second one. 

Here is a video Michelle took that evening:

9/28/2024 Second Place Beer Company

My first show at Second Place Beer Company in Lowville was a last-minute booking. Jasyn called me that morning to gauge my interest. Of course, I was down. I made him aware of my transportation woes, which he offered to help with. The brewery had just opened a week earlier. I agreed to play from 5-8:00. 

All of my performances in 2024 were special. This gig was no exception. The business owners were friendly and accommodating. Basically, it was a cover music show, but I mixed a few of my own songs in, too. My last performance of this kind was at the Coachlight Inn in Brantingham, NY on February 21st, 2020, right before the Covid shutdown.  

It has never been my style to play the expected repertoire of generic cover songs since I’ve been a solo act. I only play songs I like listening to, which I believe surprises people sometimes. My song list (if I remember to bring one) crosses many genres and is a mixture of both mainstream and obscure material. It is always my hope to expand the playlists of the audience members. Cliches aren't my thing.

Being away from the game for so long and having such an eclectic style brought some unexpected nervous energy to the stage that night. What if I was too weird?

The 28th was a very warm September day. The building which is now retrofitted for a craft brewery, once housed a car dealership and repair shop. Its large overhead garage doors were open. People sat outside and played cornhole during the daylight hours. There was a substantial crowd, both inside and out.

I ran into many people I once knew but hadn't seen in many years. Overall, it was a warm reception, even though I played a fair amount of folk punk covers. I guess I mixed in enough popular stuff to keep the audience engaged.

My daughter, Sierra, drove me and my gear to the venue, which is just down the street from her home. I have been staying since my June breakup. She lives in Lowville with her husband (my son-in-law, Andrew), and my baby granddaughter, Ivy June. Sierra made me a tip cup out of an empty Mason jar for the show. That proved to be an excellent idea.

Jasyn designed that poster (above) using a Facebook photo from my profile. I was 36 years old in the picture. I joked about it with the establishment's owner, telling him it was false advertising. I'm looking forward to playing more gigs at Second Place. 

Oh yeah…my “closer” was an acoustic version of Freebird. 

(Above) Sierra's tip jar at the end of the night.

October Malaise

October began with musical momentum and renewed confidence. It would be short-lived. A string of misfortunes seemed to hit me all at once. My unemployment insurance ran out, idiotic personal conflicts raged, and uncertainties about my health and cancer status cast an ominous shadow over my previously unshakeable optimism.

Truthfully, I started to doubt myself and my purpose, which came through in my writing in October. I wasn't able to book any shows that month either, which didn't help. Due to cold and rainy weather, it was the end of my regular busking routine, too. I wrote about that in Part 3.

Playing music had become part of my daily regimen. When the seasons changed, I struggled to get any practice time in. The house where I reside is home to a beautiful baby girl, making a quiet environment essential.

It was then that I realized how important playing music was to me again. October was rough. I felt like my upward spiral had reversed course and right on cue, I considered abandoning my dream once more, which is to be a professional artist. 

With the love and encouragement of my true friends, my very caring youngest sister, the incredible adult children I am so proud to call mine, and the lovely Michelle, I moved tentatively through the new hardships. My people carried me through, just by being present in my life and supporting me emotionally when I needed it most.

I intend to show my eternal gratitude by living a positive, and with any luck, an inspiring life with the time I have left; many more years if the universe allows. Setbacks are an inevitable part of the process. Perhaps I got a little too comfortable with winning for a spell.

Despite my negative circumstances, a phenomenal new musical venture also began for me in October. That will be the subject of Part 5...

November 30th (Thanksgiving Storm)

Hard times continued into November, as the cancer screening process accelerated and my money continued to dwindle. So naturally, I was ecstatic when Megan from the Bateman Draft House contacted me to play another show featuring my original songs. We booked it for November 30th, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. 

Michelle and I had planned our holiday together for months. We reserved an Airbnb in the foothills of the Adirondacks. The plan was to cook dinner together, spend a few days and nights in the quiet of the wilderness, and then check out on Sunday morning after my scheduled evening show the night before. Most of it worked out spectacularly. The show part didn't happen though.

There was a major snowstorm that weekend. We were stuck in the woods. Over 2 feet of fresh snow fell upon the region from Thursday night through Saturday afternoon. Our electrical service was intermittent, and there wasn't any cell service to speak of (there isn't on a clear day). The WiFi had stopped working, even when the power was live.

With a growing sense of urgency, I asked the hosts if they could assist me in finding a signal somewhere nearby. Luckily, their neighbor was running a generator, so his WiFi was operational. When I contacted Megan about the show, we both agreed it was best to cancel and reschedule. 

Michelle and I were able to travel safely the following Monday. I wonder if the old me would have dwelled on the disappointment of a canceled gig and not embraced our circumstances as they presented. This current version of me didn't do that. Being stranded with Michelle was a wonderful opportunity that I am grateful to have been given. In a small space with sketchy amenities, we collaborated as a couple and made beautiful new memories. 

We'll reschedule that show when the time is right. 

Reflections

"And well, I've been thinking things

Thinking things I just hope aren't true

Like maybe you don't choose punk rock

Because punk rock chooses you"

Pat The Bunny

It wasn't the number of shows, the frequency of bookings, or even the money that mattered most to me in 2024. My January retirement announcement was sincere. I had just turned 50 and already I knew I had kidney cancer, which would require major surgery. Additionally, I was facing felony DWI charges, and I had just signed a plea deal for Drug Court a few weeks earlier in an effort to avoid incarceration. I'd say my decision to call it quits was reasonable and practical at the time. The trouble is, I am neither of those things. 

"Refuse to quit, fuse is lit, can't defuse the wick

I don't do this music shit, I lose my shit"

Eminem

Barriers remain. My Driver's License is revoked, probably permanently, and for good reason. Relying on others for transportation makes booking gigs precarious, especially while living in the North Country. Venues usually schedule live entertainment many months in advance. I didn't seek out any of my paid gigs in 2024. I just played the shows that were offered. Transportation wasn't my only obstacle.

Being on Drug Court meant that I needed to ask permission to perform at bars and all other locations that serve alcohol. Consistently being granted that permission says an awful lot about how I conducted myself in the program. I graduated from Drug Court on 12/9/2024. My charge was reduced to a misdemeanor. By graduating, my availability to play traditional venues became a lot more flexible. I’m officially open for business now. 

And no, I'm not at all worried about being around alcohol or the people drinking it. I was never a bar drinker. What worries me most is the possibility of being forced to take some shitty 9 to 5, inevitably becoming incurably miserable, and ultimately succumbing to the temptation of self-medication in a doomed effort to numb the hopelessness and loathing that accompanies that dystopian way of life. I’m not built for that. Decades of suffering and instability serve as undeniable proof. 

My cancer status is still unknown, but I’m feeling quite physically capable for the most part. Regardless of the diagnosis, I am moving forward with my plans, both in music and in life overall. I don't get to decide or even influence the outcome, so I can only live for today. So far, there isn't any reason for me to believe there will be no tomorrow. 

Being back on stage after such a long and miserable hiatus, with all of the above-mentioned roadblocks in place, and having had numerous near-death experiences the previous year is an unlikely story. Going through a catastrophic breakup that left me broke and unhoused in June made it even less probable. I persevered. I’m back and I’m staying for a while. 

2024 was maybe the most ridiculous, significant, painful, and joyous year of my existence. It was, without question, the most rewarding cycle of my long musical career. That statement has nothing to do with money, although I am in desperate need of more of that right now.

Money has never been my main motivation for creativity. I don’t concern myself with attention seeking, collecting accolades, or pursuing prestige. I don’t care about bragging rights or competing with anyone else. 

And for the record:

Despite popular opinion, playing music has never just been an absurd attempt by me to get laid (that's what this blog is for).

When I lost music, I lost the spiritual frequency connected to my soul. Eventually, all was lost, including my identity. Foolishly, I decided not to quit. A new life began that day.

The 5th and final installment of "The Music Didn't Die, coming next...

 

“The Music Didn’t Die” (Part Three)

 

What is busking? Overview at the link below:

https://www.musicgateway.com/blog/how-to/what-is-busking-how-can-you-benefit-from-doing-it

Busking

During the Summer months of the 2010s, I would sometimes busk on the “Five Corners” in Old Forge, NY.  My performances were born out of boredom. My ex-wife (#2) occasionally worked the sales counter at a now-defunct storefront called “The Starving Artist Gallery,” a consignment shop selling creative works by area artists, artisans, and crafters. She made wire-wrapped jewelry. Her earrings were a top seller. 

Enchanted Forest Water Safari (an amusement park) draws thousands of visitors to the tiny village of Old Forge in the Summer. My partner used to take us at least once a year when I was a kid. My children grew up vacationing there, too. My oldest daughter and son worked at the park when they were teenagers. 

The town is one of several tourist traps nestled in the Adirondack Park. Outdoor recreation (hiking, kayaking, camping, skiing, etc.) also draws crowds to the mountains. The 1980 Winter Olympic Games were held in Lake Placid. I graduated from North Country Community College in Saranac Lake back in 1995. The Adirondacks are an integral part of my history. 

When relations were copacetic between us, my ex-wife and I enjoyed staying in Old Forge. She volunteered at the gallery, which was considered a cooperative, in lieu of paying rent for the space. The business was considered a cooperative. While she ran the register and conversed about her wares, I played my acoustic guitar and sang on a bench outside by the sidewalk. 

I’d lay my open guitar case down in front of me for tips. Tourists would stop and listen to a song or two, often tossing a few bucks in the case. Sometimes, it would be 5s, 10s, and even 20s. Usually, the money piled up rather quickly. 

There wasn't any particular structure to what I was doing back then. I played vanilla, mainstream cover songs for the yuppies passing by with their sunburnt, sweaty children trailing behind. Street performing brought in enough donations to catch a respectable beer buzz while eating some delicious, greasy bar food at Tony Harpers Pizza and Clam Shack across the street. 

Watertown 2024

Watertown, NY isn’t so touristy. After semi-recovering from my cancer surgery in February, I really just wanted to play music for enjoyment. I lost my driver's license after a felony DWI arrest in September 2023. 

My Drug Court sentence meant that I had many obligations to fulfill. It was that or jail. Monday through Friday mornings, I’d call a number to find out if I had to submit a piss test that day. I was additionally required to attend at least 2 self-help groups a week. 

Early on in my sentence, I started going to the recovery center near Public Square as an alternative to 12-step groups. I attended and barely suffered through a few AA meetings first before changing direction. The recovery center was a much better fit, because it offered secular support groups. Dogma repetition is an ineffective method for me in recovery. I create my own slogans. 

In addition, I was ordered to complete an outpatient addiction treatment program, which mandated 1 addiction counseling session and 1 clinical support group per week. All of my appointments took place in the city. 

I'd catch rides to Watertown with my now ex-girlfriend, who worked near the recovery center. In between self-help groups, outpatient appointments, and (of course) pissing in cups while being visually observed, I would play an assortment of stringed instruments and sing while sitting on park benches on and around the Square.

I started out with my ukulele because it was light enough for hauling. It was a sticker adorned, tenor ukulele that I purchased at a pawn shop for $40 around 10 years ago. The weight of the items I carried around town with me mattered a lot back then. I began busking in April. If the temperature reached 50 degrees and it wasn’t raining, I was outside playing music, usually to no audience. 

To be honest, I wasn’t physically well enough to be out there doing any of it. Drug Court had its demands and so did my ex. I pushed through the many aches and pains, which were sometimes relentless and debilitating. There were days when I was quite concerned for my well-being. I didn’t have much, if any, autonomy back then. 

The endorphin release from playing music carried me through this period. I learned to enjoy my days in Watertown. My emotional and spiritual skin thickened with experience. So did the callouses on my fret hand. 

Being in public so frequently helped me develop better communication skills. Personal growth in that area proved to be a great asset. My lack of social skills had always been a glaring liability; stifling my overall functioning in all aspects of life. Improvements have been made in this area, but I’d stop short of referring to myself as a conversationalist or an extrovert. I was once a misanthrope. I’m more of a humanist now. 

Music made me somewhat of a fixture on the Square. Motorists would often honk and wave. People on the sidewalks stopped to chat. While not monetarily beneficial, it was (in my estimation) a successful social experiment. I'll remember the experience fondly. 

As mentioned, busking in Watertown wasn’t a lucrative venture, but one day in April, a younger man handed me a $100 bill after listening to me play my original song, “Transformer” at Peanut Park. Obviously, that transaction didn’t become a trend. Not even close. It didn’t bother me at all. My motivation wasn’t focused on making money.

I shot this video under a pavilion at a park in Felts Mills (about 15 miles outside of Watertown). I wasn’t yet cleared for full physical activity after my surgery. I walked there from my ex’s house. It was an unseasonably warm day in late March. 

Sensory interpretations of my surroundings had peaks and valleys throughout the warmer months of 2024. My own life circumstances changed drastically at the beginning of Summer. A combination of co-occurring factors changed the way I look at the world around me, hopefully forever. 

Watertown is a minuscule city. While Public Square poorly masquerades as a hub for local businesses, it has become better known for its unhoused population in recent years. I spent a fair amount of my time conversing with many of these fine people. In the end, we’re all just human beings. None better. None worse. Far too often, this is either forgotten, or brazenly ignored in favor of selfishness, greed, and willful ignorance.

Watertown is a rough place to be poor, not that anywhere is a comfortable environment for surviving extreme poverty. In a functioning society, these conditions would not exist for anyone. 

Bitter cold weather combined with the general populace's increasing indifference to human suffering makes Watertown somewhat more “interesting”, often in the worst of ways. It's big enough to be called a city, but small enough to be controlled by "good ol' boy" politicians and sycophants with snobby, backward-ass, small-town sensibilities.

You can tell a lot about a culture by observing how its most vulnerable populations are treated by those with greater means. We live in a society where punching down is the norm…a consensus ambivalence, edging on collective cruelty. 

"This is probably the favorite thing of mine, at least to me, that I've written. And um, it's about a small town upstate New York, called Watertown, New York. That's more than it deserves. I spent a week there one afternoon."-Harry Chapin, from the intro to the song, "A Better Place To Be".

Homecoming

I moved back to Lowville, NY in June after breaking up with my ex-girlfriend. There, I continued busking. Different environments provide (withhold) different stimuli. The sociology of Watertown is far more diverse and intriguing.

Lowville is a stereotypical small town. It's where I'm from...well, sort of. Lowvillians would never allow me to claim native status, even after living there for 10 years previously. I'm from Glenfield (approximately 7 miles south), basically nowhere.

For correct pronunciation, think "Cowville". The town could aptly be renamed. I'm not going to trash my roots, though. The greater Lewis County region is exactly what an outsider would expect it to be while driving through, which is what most people do. It does have its charms.

There are elements of my personality that will always remain "country". However, 51 years in, I realize I will never belong there and never did. I tried to blend in for decades, which was a huge mistake and an act of self-betrayal. Maybe I don’t belong anywhere. To be discovered…

Relevance

Performing outdoors was the catalyst for everything positive that occurred for me in 2024. It was/is my foundation. If I waited around for convenience or comfort, I would have perished from ingesting a lethal cocktail of boredom and coerced inertia by Summer’s end. I seized the available opportunities. I’m building a new life now.

I’ve written new songs along the way, some indicative of hardship. There are also a few about new love and resurgent hope in the mix. Along the treacherous and winding path of self-discovery, I've managed to form new, enriching networks and bonds. Eventually, I started playing more traditional venues again, but my practice time was still spent out in the open air. 

Street performing became difficult in late October, due to the change in seasons. Life has been consistently challenging throughout this journey. There have been setbacks, disappointments, and frustrations. I'm finding my way through the maze and am grateful for the gifts that each day offers.

Music still is, and will forever be an enduring component of my human experience- my chosen medium for self-expression. Actually, it chose me. 

I consider observing and interacting with people equally important to practicing my craft. It’s no exaggeration for me to claim that I never developed consistent, basic interpersonal skills until this past year. Had I put any significant effort into that venture, it would have been a continuation of meaningless fakery on my end…Masking. 

Finally, I just decided to be my true self and unburden my mind of concerns over the reactions of others to my authenticity and newfound self-respect. I refuse to live as some fragmented depiction, ripped from poorly written pages of someone else’s biased narrative. 

My focus remains on understanding who I am better and evolving in the direction of my own choosing. The deeper I dig, the more confused I become. I have learned to appreciate upheaval as necessary. The truths I've uncovered have often been emotionally excruciating to accept, but I don't believe the truth is meant to rise or fall to meet anyone's moral aesthetic. I doubt my ideal world bears any resemblance to yours anyway. 

Watertown taught me to appreciate humanity in its current state, ugliness and all. However, my convictions concerning true freedom, social justice, and equity have embedded themselves much deeper into my heart along the way. I've attempted to convey these "radicalizations" through the new music I've written this year. Maybe kindness and empathy are considered revolutionary now. It matters not to me how I am perceived by most. There are a few exceptions. 

My own personal balancing act is an ongoing feud between a middle-aged ideologue and an ever-inquisitive teenage boy. These two extremes wage a non-stop turf war for control over my beleaguered subconscious. What an adventure it has been. Life and humanity continue to fascinate. 

One day a girl approached me on Court Street in Watertown and asked, "Hey Instrument Jesus, how does my makeup look?". I told her it was on point. 

Part Four coming sometime...

Please consider following and supporting my creative ventures:

https://linktr.ee/shawnpcorbett

“A Tale of Two Summers (Part 3)”

 

"But if we can stay one inch this side of dying,
the most terrible things we can imagine can happen.
And our breath will carry us forward
when we don't have the strength to carry ourselves.
And we'll get another chance at not spreading misery,
at least for today.
And if I have to tell you that we are beautiful,
maybe you're in the right place..."

Pat the Bunny, from the song, "Run From What's Comfortable"

I had plans to wrap up this series while it was still summer. I wrote a draft of Part 3 but didn't publish it. Life has a habit of throwing me (and everyone) unexpected curveballs. The post carried a positive message. They all do, depending on perspective. Part 2 was about triumph. So much needed to be conquered for me to be able to share that story. My previous post, "I Shouldn't Be Here: The Collapsed Lung Incident of July 2023" makes a clear statement. That was my life last year. It got even worse. My DWI arrest was also addressed in Part 2. 

Today I feel strong, as I should. My original draft of Part 3 is unfit for publishing. It isn't due to a quality problem. When has that stopped me? What’s quality?

For me, August 2024 was outstanding. My writing is sometimes too "in the moment" for even my comfort. I'm an oversharer by nature, especially now. I live a clean, authentic, and honest life. I'm learning that these things are not appreciated by all (or many). Not everyone wants to see me heal. Not everyone wants to see me happy. It's just the truth. Should it be? I don't believe so, but people are people.

I’m not in a position to pass judgment, but it is my responsibility to manage my own stress level and limit exposure to negativity. Self-respect, prioritization, and frankly, self-love are minimum standards for a healthy lifestyle. All of these are new to me.

I have chosen to keep the details of our new relationship between my girlfriend and me. We formed a deep, loving bond in August. It's one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Sometimes, I have to remind myself she is real. We live two hours apart. Things between us became romantic on a fishing/camping trip. I alluded to that in the last post, which is why I mentioned it. 

Our relationship is healthy and beautiful. She is insanely gorgeous, super intelligent, and has shown me a depth of kindness I have never known before. Our inner workings are not going to be publicized. She will not be a "character" in my writing because she’s very special to me. I’ll be protective of what we have. I am deeply in love with this woman.

"The Journey" is about me. That statement should not be required. Still, I find myself repeating it regularly. Do not private message me with petty "content" complaints. There has been only one exception to the private message rule. I edited a post because it was the right thing to do. I unintentionally came across in a way that was hurtful to someone I care about. 

The other messages I’ve received have been nothing but whiny nonsense. From now on, I'll post childish complaints publicly and dissect them in posts. This will piss me off because I have better topics in mind. Please, just don’t. 

My blog is not a letter to anyone, a social media post, or a column in the town gazette. I don't name names. I wouldn't suggest provoking me into reconsidering this practice. I prefer to address conflicts face-to-face. Final warning. 

I didn't die last year. I should have, but I’m still kicking, so I may as well be writing. I have dreams, aspirations, goals, and motivations now. I haven't had those in decades. In my current life, I have leveled up exponentially. That is what should be taken away from my stories. My ascension was unlikely; some would say impossible. That mentality doesn't apply to me. I’ve been doing the impossible for a very long time. 

The biggest change in me has been my decision-making process. I started healing because I chose to trust myself. It's understandable why others may have seen this as a poor choice. I’m best known for my fuck ups. 

People shouldn't think that way about me now though. I don’t care about proving shit to anyone. Changing perceptions will never be my goal. Authentic people don't give a damn about their image. Fake people do that.

The change has paid off. People who remain in my life understand. I have zero patience left for those who can’t see and appreciate me as I am. It’s not a “me” problem, and therefore, it's not my responsibility to fix it.

I am still stubborn and defiant. Guess what? I love that about myself. I'd be dead if I wasn't. I'm sure many of you thought I'd list sobriety as my biggest change. Sobriety is extremely important, but I've been sober before. That by itself didn't change much in my life. Now, I'm in recovery. There is a big difference between sobriety and recovery. 

Recovery is all-encompassing. 

Recovering requires more effort than just abstaining from a substance. I don't use 12-step cliches. There are some useful suggestions buried within the dogmatic, cult-like, repetitious chants and slogans I’ve heard in those rooms. There are some applicable suggestions and parables in the Bible, too. I don't subscribe to that ideology either. I work my own program. 

As I've grown as a human being, my purpose has evolved with me. Evolution is something I am forever committed to. To stop growing is to start dying. Many people die slow, boring, uneventful deaths. For some, this begins in adolescence. I feel bad for those unfortunate souls. They seem to have reached their pinnacle in high school. Sad.

I'm living for the first time now. I mean truly living. Like my purpose, my boundaries are perpetually in flux. I've softened in some areas and stiffened in others. 

For the most part, I don't have any regrets from this past year. I don't see much value in regret in most instances. We get to work with the knowledge and wisdom that are present at the time. If I dwelled upon regrets, I could interpret most of my life as wasted years. I refuse to sit in that space. It’s pointless and self-defeating.

I formed and strengthened bonds this summer. All of this was accelerated by my cancer diagnosis last November. Basically, I no longer feel I have time or energy to fuck around. I don't waste my time and I don't allow others to abuse their access to me. I cannot afford to have toxic people around me or to put myself in negative situations. 

Oh…you all probably thought the "people, places, and things" trope (12-step jargon) referred to friends/family who use alcohol and drugs. Not in my case. I drank in solitude. I don't have party friends and I haven't "partied" in decades. The "people" part of that cliche has nothing to do with substance use.  It refers to abusers, backstabbers, liars, and ignoramuses. I’ve been forced to cut many ties this summer. I tried boundaries first. When that failed, I made cuts. My peace is my responsibility. 

In summary, “A Tale of Two Summers” is a story of perseverance, strength, pain, overcoming, and most of all: unlearning. I became myself during the summer of 2024. I should not have survived 2023. That season ended in arrest, disgrace, abandonment, and suicidal drinking. Without the kindness shown by one person, I’d be deceased. That’s as real as it gets. 

June began with a devastating breakup, forced homelessness, and moments of deep despair. I fought through it, rebuilt better, and with a lot of support, found peace and happiness in the chaos. Busking led to paid gigs. Heartache brought me closer to my children and granddaughter. 

My new mindset kept me on a positive track and strengthened my already deep commitment to growth. Ultimately, I discovered what true friendship is, what the word “family” really means, and how healthy relationships should grow. I became my true, badass self. I’m still evolving and don’t plan on stopping. 

Shawn being Shawn

I first heard the phrase, “Shawn being Shawn” from a friend, shortly after I was informed via phone call about my current cancer status. He and I were having breakfast at a local diner. Our conversation turned to family. He told me what was said to him by one of my family members when he asked them about me. 

Those words, “Shawn is being Shawn”, were uttered behind my back as an insult. I can laugh about it now because the statement is as clueless as it is demeaning. Nobody wants to hear about backhanded family bullshit while processing difficult news (cancer)…or anytime, really. I’ve completely run out of patience for that. 

Shawn is being Shawn…it’s true. I am being me, but it’s not a putdown. I’m proud of who I am. I’m a pretty dope person, so I’ll keep doing that shit. I appreciate the catchphrase though. Maybe I’ll copyright it. 

So, that’s my “Tale of Two Summers”. I took ownership of my life and my story. I’m dating a smoking hot woman and  I have wonderful friends. My recovery is rock solid and my little family is beautiful. My music ventures are beginning to thrive and I walk around town with my head held high, holding eye contact. Finally, I’m realizing my true potential. I have always had this in me. Cancer or not, nobody can take that away.  

Just Shawn being Shawn…

The End

“I want something more than an apology to say when I look the world in the eye.”- Ramshackle Glory, from the song, “From Here to Utopia (Song for the Desperate)”

One of my new songs from this year:

"A Tale of Two Summers (Part 1)"

 

"And I welcome writer's block with wide open arms because if I'm not writing, I'm happy.
Writing is just an escape from the day-to-day tragedies I find surround me."- from the song, "Wholesale Failure" by Days N' Daze.

That's a great line. Days N' Daze has become one of my favorite folk-punk acts. I recently edited some of my previous posts that I had unpublished. They are back online. I had my reasons for putting them on the shelf for a while. Looking back at those posts, I realize that I was writing for the cathartic release it offered. I wasn't happy, but my healing process had begun.

As days pass, my understanding of myself and the growth mindset I've adopted become more refined and focused. Even as I wrote about one of the darkest experiences of my life in the last entry, "I Shouldn't Be Here: The Collapsed Lung Incident of 2023", I had different emotional responses to the writing than in previous posts. 

Life is never going to be perfect. I accepted that long ago.  That doesn't mean that happiness and contentment are unattainable. I found myself constructing the last story as if it were about someone else. More attention was paid to the style and delivery than the content itself. It's still uncomfortable recalling those events, but there is a noticeable separation from them now. It happened to me, but I don't identify with the main character as much as I once did. 

I'm a completely different person than the one who blacked out and inexplicably walked into the forest in the middle of a July night in 2023. No, life isn't perfect. It is beautiful though. My shit is far from together (I’ll get back to that), but I have manifested a new state of being. Damn...I'm actually happy and still writing. The song is great. Those lyrics don’t apply to me anymore. 

"But there are standards I expect our breaking up to measure up to when you fall in love as hard and recklessly as you and I do. It seems the final act should have the same intensity as the first scene. If I don’t lose a couple teeth, then it just won't feel real to me." - from the song, "Like a Staring Contest" by The Future Kings of Nowhere.

This is how the summer began for me. For better context, I'd suggest reading one of my previous posts, "The Journey's New Destination". I don't want to dwell on this subject. A six-year relationship ended for me in June. Great start to the summer, right? Honestly, it was. 

I've learned a lot of new terms since, including love bombing, reverse discard, smear campaign, and flying monkeys; to name a few. Our relationship dynamic makes better sense because it. 

The song I referenced above is quite lyrically impressive, in my opinion. Listening to it would provide all the backstory you might need without me going off on a tangent about a topic I’m sick of writing about. To follow up on “The Journey’s New Destination” post; I did get my belongings out. It was far from drama-free, but it could have been worse. 

I am still staying with my daughter, son-in-law, and baby granddaughter. My gratitude for their generosity is tremendous. I’ve gotten to see that beautiful baby girl learn and grow. It has been a privilege to form such a unique and special bond with her. I will cherish the experience forever. There are many people to thank. This change was a group effort. There is beauty in interdependence. 

*Here is my latest song release, “Ivy June”. It was written for my granddaughter, born 11/7/2024, and released this summer.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=9bzNERrtQj0&si=wI7IfWdK1tCs5KwS

I'll be filling out an application for my own subsidized apartment this week. I have a friend helping me with it. My current life is possible because of the relationships I've cultivated. For most of my adult life, I believed I didn't have any people skills. Perhaps I didn’t, but now I do, and what a difference it has made. These new abilities helped to limit the damage caused by the smear campaign, too. 

•There are several poetry blog entries between the two aforementioned essay posts. These tell more of a tale about the breakup than I'm comfortable, or even motivated to share in the form of prose. Does anyone really give a shit about reading poetry anymore? Maybe those of us nerds who still write it, I guess.

A Spiritual Awakening

The breakup occurred in June, but my new life began before that, while my ex and I were still together. That doesn’t mean anything other than that I was improving despite the circumstances. It's probably a big reason why we broke up. The healthier I became, the harder it was for us to coexist as a couple. I am content with my effort to make things work. People break up.  It’s mundane life stuff.

I started writing again in January. This blog was created in April, 6 weeks after my cancer surgery. I hadn’t written much since college, other than songs. There were things I needed to say; and axes to grind. My earlier posts reflect that. I now write for the love of it. Journaling has become a ritual. Some of that lands here. Most of it doesn’t. 

Since surgery, I have developed a keen appreciation for the value of time. Wasting time bothers me, whether it’s me or someone else doing it. In the interest of making each day count, I started busking in Watertown, NY back in April, as soon as I was cleared to resume “regular physical activities” by my surgeon. If the temperature exceeded 50 degrees, I was playing music on the streets. It was practical. I needed to practice and I wasn’t afforded the time to do it any other way. The experience has been valuable. I’m still busking, sometimes in Lowville now. I still go to Watertown often.

My ex wasn't big on transporting me (see previous posts for the reasons I don't drive) around, even as a client of the agency she worked for and while being paid to do so. Her workday was also mine. I made the best of it. My insistence on continuous growth meant creating positive and meaningful experiences out of otherwise shitty circumstances. Perception is powerful. 

When I woke from anesthesia on February 15th, the first thought I had was that I would live a life of great purpose from that moment on. I didn’t know what that meant then. My second thought was that I wanted to see my ex. So, my ideas were a mixed bag, at best. Kidding aside, it was a profound moment…a spiritual awakening. 

I hope this blog reaches people in many different locations; people who don’t know me personally. Most of my readers are probably friends and family (haters too). I appreciate them all. People who know me will be shocked at my use of the word “spiritual” about my beliefs. My atheism is well-known and has been stated clearly and often. 

No, I haven’t become a Christian or a theist of any stripe. I’m not even a deist. I can’t explain my newfound spirituality adequately, because I don’t completely understand it myself. It’s something I feel deep inside that wasn’t there before. Understanding, to me, is less important than acknowledging the existence of spirituality in my life. I don’t subscribe to the efficacy of 12-step programs either. This is something very different. 

Religious people believe they have answers. I have only uncovered more questions along the road of my own self-exploration. If this is an existential crisis, I hope it’s never-ending. I’m still an atheist and will never entertain the shortsighted “God in the gaps”, apologist narrative to explain anything. 

My mind has become more open to phenomena that can’t be fully explained by science or logic. I probably alienate myself from other atheists with that statement. Fitting in has stopped mattering to me. If I’m fitting, I’m slipping. 

“Science fails to recognize the single most potent element of human existence. Letting the reigns go to the unfolding is faith.”, from the song, “Science” by System of a Down.

This is a song I used to skip on the "Toxicity " CD while driving. I'm a big fan of SOAD. They brought a unique style to metal (some would say "Nu Metal". I disagree.). I didn't understand it in the early 2000s. Life would have been different if I had. 

Rejecting the idea of spirituality led me down other, more damaging paths. I couldn't handle life without numbing. I don't need to rehash what psych meds and substance use did to me. Unfortunately, my struggles spilled onto those around me, especially my children. 

“Science” is a personal favorite song of mine now. I'm still searching, seeking, and sometimes asking for guidance while navigating my spiritual awakening. Enlightenment is not instantaneous. Guidance is good, but my journey has been more internal and personal. There really isn't a manual for this. Becoming one's true self can be lonely at times. Growth has occurred more rapidly in the moments when I don’t feel alone. I'll leave it there for now.

"Just do the dirt and walk away and don't say shit. My momma didn't raise no snitch. If anybody asks, well then I've never heard your name...", from the song "A Glorious Shipwreck" by Pat the Bunny.

As always, I keep the names of characters out of my writing. The exception is when I'm praising someone. 

There are some great people I don't reveal by name out of courtesy (either personal or professional). If my depictions are critical, I won't name names. That could have legal/civil consequences. That's only one reason why I don't do it. "The Journey" is about me. It's not a platform to trash others. If people identify as a character in my stories and are bothered by it, guess what? That's an obvious admission of guilt and/or culpability. 

To whom it may concern: feel free to write your own blog in rebuttal. Flame wars are great fun…sometimes. Ask the admins of r/bipolar. They tried to get me banned from Reddit but failed. 

“A Tale of Two Summers” will be a series. I couldn't possibly capture the many layers of this story in one post. Thank you for reading! Part 2 coming soon...

Self-promotion of my creative ventures below:

https://linktr.ee/shawnpcorbett

 

"Jefferson County Mental Health Awareness Walk 2024" [Edited and republished 12/30/2024]

 

This photo is from "A Day of Hope" in Watertown, NY. I was asked to perform at this event, which took place on 6/1/2024. I met some very cool people who connected me to live performances at recovery-based events. As Mental Health Awareness Month ended, I became more active within the recovery community. This is a great photo. I truly enjoy it when children show an interest in my music.Great stuff!

I spent a great deal of time earlier today writing a post only to scrap the whole thing. It's not gone forever. I copy/pasted what I wrote into a Word document and saved it in my "Memoir" folder. Those hours were not wasted. What I wrote will serve as a prompt, maybe even a rough draft when I feel ready to tackle the monumental task of writing a book about my life. I meant this post to be short and to the point. It evolved into a chapter. My decision to start from scratch came after walking away from my computer and rethinking the message I wanted to convey. 

Mental Health Awareness Month meant something different to me this year. With current goals and present realities prioritized, I decided to save the back stories and emotional tangents for a project in the future. For now, I'll focus on the positive things I accomplished.

The Jefferson County Mental Health Awareness Walk was on May, 15th 2024. Writing about this brought emotions out of me that I didn't expect, a mixture of positives and negatives. I have past ties to the event. I used to chair the committee that planned it. It was a work thing. I strongly considered not attending for that reason. 

I've committed the remainder of my life to specific causes and to activism. Sitting it out wouldn't have aligned with my sensibilities or aspirations. Feelings about the past, the employer, or the people involved couldn't be allowed to interfere. A lot of that was based on pride. I attended on my own terms.

Representing the #prescribedharm community was my only objective, even if I did so in silence. I originally wanted to be considered as the keynote speaker for the opening ceremony. I scrapped the idea after speaking to a couple of committee members about it. Let's just say the reception was a little less than lukewarm. It was a lofty perch to aspire to. I'm probably better off for backing out.

My standing within the not-for/non-profit industrial complex of Watertown wasn't exactly stellar. My catastrophic burnout, which led to my exit, was the stuff of local folklore. I can own that without acknowledging the sentiment as valid. Some of the stories about me are true. All are told without context. 

As expected, I was uncomfortable on arrival that morning. So many familiar faces...yeah, "familiar" is the correct word. I smiled and offered salutations, repeating in my head that the opinions of others don’t matter. Their opinions aren't even known to me. Projection isn't healthy. I am working on my propensity for catastrophizing.

I made my way to the auditorium and settled in. I listened to proclamations and keynote speakers. I was annoyed by much of the content and subject matter of those speeches, but I didn't regret my decision to be present. It wasn't so bad, but someone like me should always expect the unexpected. 

Without warning, one of the committee members asked me if I wanted to give a testimonial. I froze for a moment. I couldn't turn down such an opportunity and simultaneously call myself an activist. Activism isn't meant to be comfortable or even to feel safe. If it does, it's probably not effective. I couldn't waste an opportunity to speak to an auditorium full of people. There were roughly 200 in the audience, many of them clinical professionals. I knew I had to accept the invitation, not just for myself, but for the non-clinical people who receive mental health services. People like me.

I listened to many testimonials before giving my own. They were all similar, mostly stories of perseverance, hope, and triumphant metamorphoses while living with chronic mental illnesses. Every other speaker self-disclosed their respective diagnoses. I had no plans to do that.

A few of them were also in recovery from substance use disorder. I can check both boxes. The speakers thanked the agencies that helped them along their mental health journey. It didn't go unnoticed that they were all far more prepared to speak than I was. Their testimonials were either written or typed out. There I was, frantically preparing to shoot from the hip (usually not a good plan for me).

I don't often feel high anxiety levels anymore. At that moment, I was trembling. I don't speak publicly as a rule. That’s another reason I didn't sign up to be the keynote speaker. I hadn't fully considered my aversion beforehand, and there I was. I let another speaker cut ahead of me in line. The adrenalin was pumping. I felt intimidated, totally unprepared, and very aware that what I wanted to say would be controversial. 

I was ruminating when I heard my name called. I put one foot in front of the other and grabbed the microphone. I took a moment to scan the crowd before introducing myself.

"Good morning, my name is Shawn and I feel great today!" Applause. It was on.

What followed was cautiously improvised. I spoke about the increased funding the County had recently been awarded by the State to increase the availability of mental health services in the area. This was previously announced to an ovation in the opening remarks. My anarchism kicked in. I praised the increase in access but made a strong statement about the importance of quality over quantity in mental health care. I absolutely meant to step on some toes by saying that.

Other topics included:

-Active participation in one’s own treatment plan and setting your own goals as a recipient of services.

-Insistence upon person-centered treatment methods.

-Informed consent! I know that was an uncomfortable term for practitioners to hear. I sure hope it was. Informed consent is almost non-existent in mental health treatment. I went a step further. I urged patients to ask for counseling from a pharmacist before ingesting psychiatric medications, to discuss potential side effects and drug interactions up front, and to initiate a detailed conversation about comorbidities pre-prescription. 

My improvised testimonial was interrupted several times by rounds of applause. I talked about my cancer battle and my addiction recovery status. Those were hits. I knew they would be. I said "um" a lot, so I made a joke about it. People laughed. I don't recall everything else I said, but those are the key points. My nerves were on edge throughout.

"You know yourself better than anyone else does." That was my favorite line in my speech 

I said most of what I wanted to and then wrapped it up. I don't really remember what I closed with. Something meant to inspire, I'm sure. Afterward, I was proud of my message. Some people who know me well told me I held back. Of course, I did. I knew my audience. I hope to partner with some of those professionals in the future, in the interest of implementing positive changes to a broken system. I suppose I could have indulged my own selfish urges and verbally bashed the hell out of mental health treatment practices and practitioners, but I didn't make it just about me for specific reasons. I put the cause first. No regrets.

With the difficult part behind me, I happily participated in the walk and the picnic that followed. Many strangers approached me and complimented my testimonial. Some thanked me. Others shook my hand, mostly patients. My people. 

Some of my former colleagues spoke to me at the picnic. I received some hugs. It was a little weird, but less awkward than I predicted. I'm assertive as fuck these days. When it felt weird around others, I made things even weirder. That seems to be one of my superpowers now. I used to believe my weirdness was a detriment. It isn't. I just needed better people in my circle. Weird people, like me.

A hotdog lunch, a drum circle, and some more conversations followed. It was a good day. I introduced the "new me" to the mental health awareness community. I'm just getting started. I hope to demonstrate more activism. I unexpectedly became a public speaker that day and welcome future opportunities to speak. Lookout world...I have shit to say.  

This is not the concise post I planned on writing. I have a lot more to say on the subject of mental health, with its draconian, profit-obsessed methods of treatment, sketchy diagnostics, and propensity for iatrogenic harm. So many stories to tell...