I’ve not blogged in a couple weeks, and I apologize, dear reader. I’m certain nobody is actually offended or even disappointed by my recent silence, but I pride myself in commitment. In keeping to a schedule. In doing what I say I’m going to do.
If I say I’m going to blog every Monday, dangit, I want to stick with that. Even if I am “too busy” to blog with other priorities also occupying my time like making YouTube videos or podcasts, or holding regular YOB calls with my supporters, or enjoying occasional visits with friends and family.
My standard for routine and productivity and health is why 2020 has been the most irritating year of all-time (among other choice adjectives).
2020 is unrelenting. I feel like I need to keep readjusting my schedule every couple weeks because of a new wrench in the turbines.
The autoimmune disease is obviously the big one for me personally. All of my physical, financial, and emotional cards have been undone by this summer’s diagnosis. Readjust.
And this disease keeps affecting me months later.
First the medication wakes me up bright and early; then it keeps me zonked out til noon. Readjust.
First I was hungry literally every hour of the day; now I skip dinner some nights. Readjust.
Last week my car broke down, conveniently right before I was about to take a much needed little trip. It needed an entire week to get fixed. Readjust.
Month after month, week after week this year, I feel like God keeps taking my delicate house of cards and blowing down the next layer I meticulously build. Not like a cat-5 hurricane or anything. But just enough of a subtle breath to tumble the whole thing down.
Can I just get a solid month or two under my belt? A month of progress? Growth? Momentum?
I feel a lot of tension in those words. I’m not angry with God. Truly, I’m not.
But am I frustrated with Him? Sure. Am I annoyed? Probably. If nothing else, I know all the constant roadblocks of 2020 are building an incredible amount of patience in me.
Like, if I’m not the most patient person I’ve ever been come 2021 — what a waste of a year.
So, there’s the tension I feel with the Almighty. My plans versus His. My ways, His.
And then I feel another sort of tension with other people. I’ve been so blessed through all my travails this year by people the world over. They’ve given me literally thousands of dollars, and yes, it’s been desperately needed. They’ve kept me afloat when I paid for $600 specialist visits and regular prescriptions to keep me from falling apart again.
But at the end of the day, I just want to be self-sufficient again. I don’t ever want to refuse other people’s kindness, but I also don’t want to feel so dependent on that next magical surprise check in the mail.
I’m so driven by independence and responsibility, I have this thing inside of me to provide entirely for myself, to not be lazy or a leech, to make the most of my talents and translate them into dollar bills that sustain me.
I’m not entirely “there” yet, wherever “there” even is now, and yet people are offering to help me in my lack. At times, it’s been really hard to accept.
I’ve gotten way better at accepting help. But it’s one of the worst feelings.
I still feel like a failure or some level of incompetent, less masculine man for needing all this financial help right now. I look backward and inevitably keep blaming myself.
I should’ve just had damn insurance like any other sensible human.
I should’ve known. I should’ve been wiser. I should’ve been able to properly take care of myself like a healthy adult.
I rarely share my self-blame, and I direct my frustrations inward, even after receiving that magical check or wired deposit with a smile. I don’t feel worthy of the gift, if I’m being honest.
I don’t want to deprive you of money that could go to your church or a charity that helps starving children or a new car or the plumbing bill.
Am I really worth your hard-earned dollars? Am I worth your kindness? You say I am, but am I really?
I don’t want to waste my money — your money. I don’t want to buy things I don’t “need.” But I also “need” some amount of pleasure and joy. Can I buy a milkshake with your money? What about a new lamp for my studio?
I want to make you proud of my journey, however much you’ve contributed to it. I want to be worthy of every cent.
I want to recover from my disease. I want to produce regular, honest content. I want to continue working back toward self-sufficiency and not needing your precious gifts as much as I do right now.
I just want to arrive already. I’ve started my online store, and I know I need to work on my next book. God, I want a book deal.
I’ve been building up my YouTube channel like never before, and I’m on the doorstep of a thousand followers on multiple social media outlets.
I’m getting somewhere. I think.
But arrival? Please, come soon — whatever, wherever arrival takes me beyond this god-forsaken year.
