February 12, 2025

Notes From the “Other Side”

Well… Yesterday was sure “fun!”

I ended up leaving work early for a mental health break. I cloistered myself on my BF’s couch, pillow over my head, and listened to the muffled dialogue of Golden Girls while trying to sleep. As time wore on I started to feel better and was at least able to have a normal conversation that wasn’t laced with conspiracy theory or paranoia. It’s weird being an observer within my own mind. Sometimes the crazy person gets control and I just have to watch as all of this plays out, completely out of my control. (Sound vaguely familiar? Oh, the irony.)

At least I have my self-awareness to keep me humble. That was a gift my husband gave me. He asked me so many questions about my feelings and thoughts that it triggered this process in my brain. The only downside is that I question everything I do. Which is fine… as long as it doesn’t keep me from living life. This level of self-awareness can be crippling.

But… so can mania.

Luckily I have two people in my life that can act like Charlie. The BF even told me he started talking to him yesterday morning asking him what to do. That was really touching. Even if it was regarding my “episode.”

What stood out to me were two things that happened before and after this manic episode.

After I had already gone to the bank to get out money (Y’know… for when banking collapses because the government coup has already happened) I woke up my brother and told him how I thought I was having a psychotic episode. Right then, the Woody doll I have propped up next to my husband’s urn (and is a representation of him) talked of it’s own volition. In my mania I thought it was Charlie agreeing with me but I think it was him saying “calm down, dear.”

Then last night I dreamed of him, which hasn’t happened since he passed away. Tony has had more than a fair share, but his tend to be Charlie without his wheelchair and mine was him in it. So, I wonder if he doesn’t visit me because I put him in it… Anyway! In my dream, he and Tony were returning from a long road trip and I was so excited to see him that I ran to him and covered his face in kisses to annoy him.

It was wonderful… even if some parts of it were also stressful and totally unrelated to Charlie. I enjoyed having him back for a little bit. However brief it was.

Today is 10 months since he left. I thought it was 9 but I did my math wrong… as usual. In both instances, it feels like it was just yesterday and at the same time like it happened ages ago. Regardless my want of him has not diminished. In fact, it has just grown.

February 11, 2025

Ramblings of a Mad Man

Today is one of those days where I really, really, REALLY miss my husband. More than anything. If I could, I would give everything up just to be able to talk to him for one second; to hear his deep voice tell me: “…everything is going to be alright, dear.”

Last night I apparently watched enough TikTok that I went into a downward mental spiral. The thoughts racing through my head were very much “conspiracy theories,” and I was saying all the typical “phrases” one says when having a mental breakdown. “It’s like I’m awake for the first time…” Or “I know this sounds crazy…”

If Charlie was here he would fix me. I know it. He would ask his probing questions until I would work myself away from whatever metaphorical ledge I happened to be standing.

All I want is my husband’s voice telling me I’ll be okay. I crave it in my soul. I am so unbelievably lost without him. He was everything to/for me for, nearly, 21 years of my life. To just “not have him anymore” truly feels alien. He was always there. Always. Whether I wanted him or not.

Grief is such a wild experience. Compound that with self-preservation and a fear of the unknown has brought me to this “psychotic” reality. And I would very much like to leave it. My biggest fear is that something in my brain broke last night, and I can never go back to that “normal.”

February 5, 2025

Solo Cruise Retrospective

It is super humorous to me how I begin each of my posts (as of late) like I’m a fucking Carrie Bradshaw. Like some mega corporation is paying me to write about my adventures, pretending it’s not just me putting out my own fucking “brand.” (God that’s ridiculous: brand.) Each of these posts I start off as professional as I can, as if my editors want pizazz and intrigue to hook my readers. Like I have any…

I get about two paragraphs in and I feel so inauthentic. I don’t like how I sound or how I will be perceived. Then I delete whatever bullshit I typed out and drop this bizarre facade I don and then write how I truly feel; how it exists in my head.

Maybe this is just my technique? I need to broom out the cobwebs before I can get to my real “shine.”

Despite my prior post “waking up panicked,” the cruise was fantastic. I made some very fast friends (who I lovingly referred to as my Homo Homies) the first night on the ship at the LGBTQ meet-up/mixer. They accompanied me on my misadventures and I on theirs. I did lose my shit in one of the ports because I had reached my limit in regards to noise and being bothered. What I learned is I am not a “Vacation Port Town” person. I wish I could be like my cruise companion Christian. He gave zero fucks. His casual existence was so refreshing. He just went with the flow. As much as I tried, I have a point of being “over” whatever we may have been in the midst of doing.

I told my brother when I got home that I was at least proud of myself for knowing this and removing myself before my new pals got to see the ugly side of me; the spoiled only child that WILL throw a fit when he’s had enough. I like to think that is growth. Unfortunately for those who have been permanently adopted into my inner circle, I do not offer that luxury. They get me at my ugliest. Sorry, gals.

I would absolutely do another solo cruise. It was fun being by myself. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else. Just me. My own fun. Not like I don’t already do that. I seem to surround myself with those who cater to my every whim. It’s weird. Without them I didn’t have the worry/anxiety that I get that they’re just agreeing with me because they don’t want to upset me or give me what I want. Y’know, to avoid seeing the side only they get the “pleasure” of witnessing?

My only real regret was not recognizing my “friendly personality.” I genuinely thought I wasn’t going to make any friends, so I signed up for my favorite writing competition. As a result… I ended up stressed about competing and completing my assignment. I shouldn’t have, but I can never say no to the chance of flexing my skills. I love writing. (Clearly… ) What I don’t love is that this wasn’t my best. It was done for the sake of “getting it done.” Which means that it didn’t get the attention it deserved. If I place in the Top 15 it’ll be a fucking miracle.

One of the port towns I want to go back to is Puerto Vallarta. I’d love to spend a week there in the “gayborhood.” However… with the way shit is going I might not be able to. God… I hate this fucking place.

January 31, 2025

Early morning cup of panic

More than anything I want to tell you all about the cruise. It has genuinely been a wonderful experience. I was so worried about traveling by myself because the last time I was “on my own” I was a scared, insecure little boy. Never once has it occurred to me that in that time the people I have loved and lived with have changed me. I am not even close to that Josh anymore. This would not have occurred to me had I not taken this trip.

That said, I woke up this morning stressing and panicking so hard about the future and what that will look like. Moreso, what my finances will be.

As of right now I am steady in terms of getting by. My parents seemingly sacrificed themselves to make sure I could make it through the next few years after their passing. It was most certainly not intentional but it may as well have been the way everything fell into place.

However nothing is forever. Especially when my line of work has been hit so fucking hard post Covid. And the probability it will be fixed any time soon with the current ass hat in charge is slimmer than a sheet of paper.

Waking up panicking about finances, while actively spending money, is fucking hilarious. Especially since the experience taught me something I should have already been blatantly obvious. I guess this is my version of “student debt.” It served me just as well as a college education has for most of my generation.

More-so, I am very concerned about what I’m going to do once the inheritance runs out. Which means I’m going to have to find another job. That is so daunting since I have spent the last 20 years of my life in this line of work. Do I go back to retail? Do I go into food service? I’ve watched my brother try and find a job the past month, applying for everything but “health care,” and he hasn’t even received a single call. I have heard similar stories from friends on the internet. What the fuck am I going to do? My entire industry is fucked. I can’t even make a lateral move to something else.

Anyway… the fact that I am overwhelmed with all of this as I am on a cruise is quite ironic.