Sometimes you gotta just suck it up

Right now I have every right to be freaking the fuck out. I can’t go into the details and those of you who have been a fan for a while know, if I can’t write about it, it’s bad. I’d love to say that everything is going to be fine but, I’m not so sure about that.

The details don’t matter. 

We all go through the same thing at some point. You’re chilling one minute and all a sudden you’re faced with an epic shit storm that threatens every aspect of your life. My shit, your shit, the particulars of the situation are irrelevant. What matters is how you weather the storm. 

I don’t want to deal with any of this. 

Despite years of searching for a real home and a Kitchen, my life has been anything but boring. In just the past year I’ve lived in Wyoming, Oregon, a week in a hotel in Nevada, three weeks in New Orleans and now I’m living in one of the worst neighborhoods in the country in East Oakland. 

The fact is that, as of right now, I have no idea what’s going to happen over the next week let alone the next few months. Things in my own life are scary and the rest of the world is on the brink of a revolution. 

PTSD fucking sucks. 

It’s bad enough that I have to deal with this shit head on. What makes it worse is that my head is, as a lot of you know, fucked up fucked up. This means that not only am I facing major odds, I’m also having to somehow stay calm and counterbalance my own neurotic tendencies. 

The best way to describe it is, imagine being in a very large confusing building with a toddler throwing a fit. The toddler is my mind that refuses to shut the fuck up and let me think straight. Oh, and now the building is on fire and the toddler is freaking out, kicking, punching and biting and the little bastard is way stronger than he looks. 

Not only am I trying to get to safety myself, I’m trying to put out the fire. Let me tell you, it’s not an easy task. The fact that I haven’t put my fist through a wall or had a drink is a miracle. 

Sometimes you have to say fuck it. 

You can’t control your feelings. I can’t control if I find something funny or if I think a girl is pretty, or if I get a bad vibe from someone. I do have a choice in how I respond to the impulse. Yeah, I might feel a certain way but sometimes, you have to practice some good old fashioned toxic masculinity and bottle your shit. 

I don’t have time to panic and freak out. I’ve had to mentally slap the fuck outta the toddler and let him know who’s boss. I have to zone out everything, every emotion and feeling and stay focused on the solution, or at the very least, keeping the damages to a minimum. 

Don’t ever think I was stoic or anything like that. Fuck no, I’m a mess. But in the moment, when it matters, I’m handling my shit. Nope, not easy at all but whatever, I’ll deal with this and then go spend a weekend in hotel on a bender with some chick from Tinder and I’ll be fine 

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