Mid-December hit me pretty hard, like a sledgehammer to the chest. I contracted COVID-19 at the beginning of the month. My girlfriend and I were quarantining together since we both tested positive. I had my children quarantining with me as well since they were with me the week I tested positive and I didn’t want them going to their mother’s house and risk passing it on.

Things were going ok, mild cold symptoms and nothing more, we went on walks, I did some light kettlebell workouts every other day, no more than twenty minutes each session, we played games and just hunkered down. Near the end of the quarantine, I got worse, but it wasn’t physically. I suffered mentally and I’m still rebuilding from what happened. I’m not going to fully write about it here, but Covid related delirium, hallucinations and the other mental issues that doctors are seeing more reports of are real.

All I will say is this, as it’s the best way to relate how things felt in my mind:

Out here in the west, we often see Pacific Railroad trains pulling a very, very long line of railroad cars. Imagine the mind was the train engine out in front, cruising along at a good steady pace. The cars? Well, the cars are everything else that races around in one’s heart and mind: baggage, wounds, trauma, issues, doubts, depression and what have you, you get the picture.

And then imagine the engine out in front immediately comes to a dead stop on the tracks, no slow down.

Full stop.

On the tracks.

The inertia is still there in the other cars and so the cars just come barreling forward and off the tracks.

That’s kind of how it felt. Kind of.

I’m not sure how to even process what happened and it’s still a bit shaky, but I’m not going to go into the details here. I’m seeking out a therapist to help sift through the wreckage. Because, Damn. But I wrote something near the end when I was coming back to some semblance of myself and I wanted to share that. Maybe it will help someone out there, like me, who carries way to much stuff on their shoulders and back, who has tried to look towards Archetypes and Story and Myth but internalized things the “wrong way”, I dont know.

It may be a bunch of gibberish to some, it means something to me obviously and, well, I guess I don’t need to explain it further.

This is Me

I’m not perfect.

I’m not Thor.
I’m not Odin.
I’m not a Viking.
I’m not Superman, Batman, Captain America.
I’m not any Jedi or Mandalorian.
I’m not James Spader’s Red Reddington or Mads Mikkelsen’s Hannibal Lecter.
I’m not the Savior of Men, women or children.
I’m not any sort of Uber Alpha Male.
I’m not Leonidas.
I’m not John Rambo.
I’m not the ultimate hunter or outdoorsman.
I’m no John Wick gunslinger operator.
I’m not any hero, anti-hero or villain.
I’m not anyone in literature or the big and small silver screen that stirs something inside of me.
I’m done pretending.
I’m done projecting.
I’m done with the continual “improvement” – when is it enough? Am I not enough?
I think too much.
I’ve taken too much on.
I’ve taken myself too seriously in all the wrong places.
I’ve created unhealthy attachments and haven’t let go long after it was time.
I’m a natural encourager but I’ve tried to be the hero and carry others when it’s not my place.
And I take their failures as my own.
I am just a man.
This is me.
I am going to be enough. Day by day.
I’m taking off all the masks.
I’m done pretending. I’m done acting as others think I “ought” or “should”.
I have to.
I choose to.
I enjoy writing but I’m no published author or big shot blogger.
I enjoy Jiu Jitsu but I’m no world class champion.
I love working out, but I’m not Mr Olympia. I need to be ok with being healthy even if I have a little fat.
I’m fully a nerd and geek about Star Wars, I have been since I was a kid.
I don’t care.
I’m 41, so what.
Broadway and other Musicals stir me to the bone, I get emotional and stirred at the story, the song, the dance.
I wish I could sing and dance with them, the performers are beautiful.
I cried when Tony Stark died. I cried when Cap reunited with his best girl.
I love stupid Romantic movies.
This is Me.
I love Jesus. I love his message of Love.
I’m neither Republican or Democrat.
I don’t care anymore.
If you want my opinion I’ll tell you. But I’m nobody important, so it doesn’t matter and I’m done trying to prove myself to others.
This is me.
I’m cleaning the inside of my cup.
There is no “back”, only moving forward.
This is me.
I’m a big glorious mess.
Those who love me, love Me.
Those who don’t, or can’t, that’s fine. You have my respect and love.
It’s okay.
This is me.
Glorious. Messy. Not together.
ME.
And I’m going to be more Me, every day.
One day at a time.

Have a Happy New Year. I wish you all the best.