I guess for my first real entry here since returning I want to apoloigize to so many of you. I felt like we made genuine connections during my previous time in the community. Emails and texts and such that I received after I left the Neocities community certainly solidified that feeling. I kept some connections open and conversations going for a while, but ultimately just fell entirely off from even opening my email - let alone responding to or even reading them.

Looong story short-ish: Me leaving this community, entirely nuking my website that I spent so much time working on, ignoring incredible connections made during the process of both building and destroying it, vastly minimizing the support network that far too many of you were and tried to remain, my falling entirely off the side of the globe for a spell, all of it... It should have been a sign to me and those closest to me that something was wrong. No blame placed and none felt, internally or externally. But it really should have set off some red flags or warning signs or alarms or something, for me personally. If nothing else.

It didn't.

I found myself calling the suicide prevention line after tearing my home apart looking for any number of pills I thought I could take to get the job done. I couldn't find anything that I thought would get 'er done and I was not about to leave a bloody mess for my kids, family, friends, coroner, whoever. It was a weird few morning hours, awaking in that fevered frenzy and going on that hunt and pivoting to asking for help. I called several of my bestest friends at the time. Or so I thought. Half of them I will never talk to, see, or speak of ever again - entirely unrelated to this particular experience. The others answered and supported when and how they could in each of those moments and I wouldn't be here without them. But I needed something else. Outside of my circle. I wish I could remember his name. He stayed on the voice and text line with me over a nearly two hour bus ride from my home to the psych ward. Absolute legend. I remember you, if you ever happen to stumble upon this and think I'm talking about you. Thank you, eternally.

I came out the other side with a pretty gnarly mental health diagnosis that I intend to make a page or something more specific for to discuss and educate on and learn from and grow through.

I've also been more pro-active about my healthcare, which is saying almost nothing because I don't go in to see a doctor these days until there's an acute type situation happening. Which led me to the emergency room recently. I've been living a pretty sedintary lifestyle for a minute but decided one random day that I was gonna walk all over this godforsaken town to take care of a great deal of business - professional/important and personal/pleasure alike. I ended up putting on close to 50k steps over a 36 hour period of time. My foot was unhappy. The foot I had 2000 pounds of concrete dropped on (thank you steal toes for saving my foot!). The foot I stubbed so hard during a winter walk, it took four times as long to walk home due to the limp and inability to reach someone that could give me a ride - and which later ballooned to nearly three times its size.

Anyways. I have high blood pressure. I am presumed to have gout and/or pseudo-gout - "chronic crystal inflammatory arthritis" and "calcium pyrophosphate dihydrate crystal deposition" sound so much sexier lol (I don't personally believe this to be true, I believe I have something going on with tendons or hella amount of stress fractures). I have two bloodclots in my leg - too small for the doctors to be terribly concerned about right now, but will require regular monitoring. I have severe joint degeneration in multiple locations. And I have several nodules on my lungs that doctors are now beginning to be concerned about and want to biopsy. Ummm... I think that's everything we discovered. Wee.

All of this to say, yo, my new mission is to be a voice championing mental health awareness - with specific regard to men, and with even more specific regard to aging or middle-aged men. Not enough of us are having these conversations, far too few of us want to even admit we are struggling - and when we do admit it, we almost never know what it is we are looking for in that moment because we never had that moment where the chaos made sense, where the noises added up, where the looks were inviting.

I want to discuss this scenario and these dynamics. As an "older" and/or "aging" motherfucker. But just infuckingeneral, as well. Holler?