Yep, I know.  I missed a day.  That is what stress and depression does to me.  My admission of having trouble with my brain is real, and my confession of intent to daily blog was real.  I am afraid part of what I have done is exasperate my depression.

Tonight’s main picture, or the one on top, is me feeding Ben a bottle, just a few months before my stroke.  It is how I remember me.  The picture that I have yet to pick out while I type is me now.  The two, for me at least, are a stark contrast.   In my thoughts, I see myself as the thin, in shape, guy with it all together.  I am not sure those thoughts are rational.  In truth, I am the guy in the second picture, some 80 pounds heavier, battling stress, depression, anxiety, and abandonment.  It is really not all that pretty (as much as guys can be pretty) a picture.

Of course I made a ton of life changes in order to address this disparity, but they no longer materialize in recognizable traction.  I truly feel disconnected with most people I was once close to, and I find that both sad and tragic.  I do not need to air dirty laundry, as I have too much of it, but only to find some sort of deeply buried motivation, like the kind I used to rely on, that would tell me to get up and get moving.  What is it in the now that makes me let life just have its way?

You know, deep down I know I am a good guy, and I know that I do not deserve all that I have been dealt.  But I also know that if you have been dealt an awful hand, in order to stay in the game, you still have to play your hand.  My self-pity and loathing are tiresome, mostly to me.  I know it, and I see it and feel it, yet allow paralyzation to have its way.  I know the frog in the pot analogy is a myth, but I have become that myth.  I have allowed myself to be victimized in my life all around me, what I do not need it to martyr myself by myself.

No, I am not falling apart, not am I am any level of risk personally, unless of course I say to myself, “Just keep doing what you are doing Tom, you are doing fine.”  At some point the scales need to fall off my eyes and my vision and will to fight need restoration.  I honestly believe I am, and hopefully believe I am, entering this stage.

Damn the torpedoes, I need a kick in the butt.  Full steam ahead.

Tommy+