A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
Couting Crows

In 1993 I hated the Counting Crows like it was my job. Adam Duritz’ whiny ass haunted my dreams as Mr. Jones was everywhere and this hippie band was shoehorned in with everything else I liked. This seemed to be completely out of place. Turns out that it wasn't out of place. It was just the weird adjacency of 90's alternative rock. Smashing Pumpkins followed by Spin Doctors (barf), next to Soundgarden, followed by 311 and the Counting Crows. It made no sense, but also perfect sense, the 90’s were your bipolar grandma that either slid a $20 into your hand or screamed at you for being an unappreciative little turd. Alternative was where a lot of things that we now accept as mainstream, landed in 1993. You took the good with the bad.

I blame Rob Harvilla, he of my favorite podcast, 60 Songs That Explain the 90’s for this overly cliched entry to this New Year's Eve post. He covered this song in his last episode and since, this song has been on repeat, both in my car and in my mind. So much so that I had a dream last night that my best friend and I took his son and his friend to a Twin Peaks (somewhere I’ve only been to once) for lunch somewhere on NYE and his son was singing the first line as he got out of the car. I shit you negative. This song is after me. Also in this dream, Twin Peaks had zero IPA’s on their wall of 29 degree draft, because of course they don’t.

What may surprise you is it's not haunting me due to its seemingly cliched relevance to today's date, a rough year, and yet another COVID inconvenience. It haunts me because young Harvilla put my focus on the lyrics. On the first lines especially. They are in a word, colossal and if nothing else, are driving me to try and write better. First lines and otherwise. This is good. 

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I have in this year, written a mere 20% of what I did in 2020. One could argue that it was due to having  all that extra time. One would be wrong. 

If you are a consumer of this blog/Instagram thing I've been doing for the past few years, you may have noticed an underlying theme of my depression in the posts, a battle so to speak of me against my mind (dramatic much!?). This year the battle has intensified and not had the  seemingly predictable 90 day ebb and flow of previous years, where I have 60-80 decent days followed by a 30 day crash and burn that slowly smolders out and is brought to brightness again. No, the fog set in around February, and has pushed forward through the rest of the year, likely the longest of such bouts that I've had. A bigger symptom this go around has been an incredible struggle to get things done. Work, working out, writing, relationships, fun stuff, it's all suffered mightily.

I used to be passionate.  Well, I think I still am, but it just feels different.  For almost a year it’s felt fraudulent.

I used to be a triathlete.  I used to revel in the mornings, get up, get it done, suffer.  Now I have a bike. Goggles. Running shoes.  Things that brought some fun, no longer do.  Yes, depression, blah, blah, blah.  I recognize what it is, it doesn’t make it change.

What I’ve found recently is how difficult it is to describe to what it’s like living this way.  People have recognized and asked if I need help.  I probably do.  What’s interesting is the disconnect between recognizing that I am depressed, and the inability to recognize that all my actions are dictated by it.  That the two are intertwined and my actions aren't from a lack of caring. You know what you should be doing. You just sometimes can’t bring yourself too. Most days this sounds like excuse making. Also, most days this year, I've just wanted to lie down. Wherever.

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This is likely not what you thought you'd get this morning but alas it's what you get. I've started 15-20 posts in the past months and all of them are depression related. I chose not to push them out.

I started another 15-20 with the same old "I bet you wonder why I haven't been writing" bs I used regurgitate every month or so to try and spark something to write. I chose not to push them out. 

I decided back in February on some arbitrary word count for every one of these posts (1000!) as some sort of attempt to make them "more important". This caused me not to push a lot of shorter ones out. 

Next year I'm removing the parameters and trying to go back to what gave me and others joy through this. If it comes off as short and silly, so be it. If it’s about depression and having a bad fucking day, so be it. The act of writing is the goal. The confidence to share it builds more positive in my life and if I look back at 2020, it was the thing I did differently that yielded more positive in my life. And so, like so many of us this time of year.  I'll start again. If you're waiting until tomorrow to start something, just know I'm one day ahead of you .

If you’re the type of person who's struggling, feel free to reach out (I know you won’t), or try and find some help.

That's a 2022 goal for me.

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After all that, I'd be remiss to not point out all the good in my life. My wife. My kids. My mom. My brothers, sister and their kids, my friendships, businesses. Strangers like you who support the things I do. I truly am grateful and aware of how lucky I do have it.  I'm doing my best to get back to that place where I'm mostly great most of the time and am thankful for everyone who endures the bad times to get some of the good. 

I still mostly hate the Counting Crows as 90's music hate dies hard, but I have been listening to A Long December, on repeat, and wondering, if this year will be better than the last. 

I wish yours would. 

#hugsandhi5s