THE STRUGGLE

My father was never a man with much great advice. But he did teach me one thing.

One year, I was bitching because I found out I owed taxes. He looked at me and said, “I don’t mind paying taxes.” I gave him the look, you know the one, like WTF.

Then he said, “Because it means I’m making money.”

I think today, right here and now, a lot of us are battling how little money we have.

Shit. I have friends with medical issues looking to get donations, and for the first time in my life, I don’t have the money to help.

But that’s not why I’m struggling. Nope.

I realized another thing my father taught me, and he never even knew it.

In 2008, when the bubble popped, my father lost everything. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

He used to cry and tell me how little of a man he felt himself to be.

He always said, “I’m not contributing to society.”

Yeah, that’s a huge open wound for me.

Money. The root of all evil and my biggest trigger.

Yes, I have accomplishments and honors. I will never, ever negate them.

I’ve heard from so many of you, and thank you for that.

But truth be told, I am struggling.

Like most of you.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul.

Since we moved, I haven’t been able to secure a steady income, and it’s finally taken its toll on me.

I’ve made some poor choices. I’ve learned from them. I’m healing too.

The problem is that they’ve taken their toll on me and my bank account.

The last almost three years have taken a toll on me.

The move. Starting over. A podcast I never got paid for, truth be told.

The choices I made now leave me questioning my own trust in myself and my decisions.

But there’s light. There’s hope.

I have resilience.

I have walked through some fires in my life.

I’m literally still here after almost ending it.

Let that sink in.

What’s next?

I don’t have a fucking clue.

But I know this.

It’s round 15. It’s time to come out swinging.