It’s been a while…

Life’s kinda weird…

By Joshua Blake

So, I don’t post here much these days, but I’m still proud that I’ve kept this blog running.

When I first decided to make it, it was for a journalism class I took at my community college back in 2014. Though, I think I always intended this blog to be a place where – if anyone happened to find it – it would help others if they were experiencing some of the doubts and fears I was.

Many of those doubts and fears I’ve expressed over the years on this site, still plague me today – while others have dissipated.

Anxiety and depression still find new ways of tackling even my most happiest or eventful of days, and I’m forced to think of a new way out of the mazes they create in my tormented mind.

So many things have happened over the last year…I’m not really sure where to begin.

My family and I moved to a new house after 13-and-a-half-years, I’ve been engaged since December of last year – I visited my fianc├ęs home country of Norway this summer – and my last year of college starts in four days.

Yikes!

I believe that last point is one of true revelation for me in many aspects: I’m getting older and I’m a step closer towards a supposed career in journalism. I have no idea what this life will bring me – so, I try to remain optimistic.

I try to see the forest for the tress in regards to journalism, but I can’t just yet.

I try to remind myself that I’ll find a way in life – generally speaking. But that’s been difficult for me to grasp since I was a young boy. Maybe it’s related to my worries about having cerebral palsy, maybe it’s just anxiety about things possibly going wrong with no way to fix them – cause anxiety is stupid – or maybe it’s both of those things.

I don’t know, and I doubt you do, either.

But life is kinda weird like that. From a very basic point-of-view, life is to be figured out each day in order to live at all. And even though that sounds nihilistic, I do know that there’s more to life than that – just figuring out stuff in order to keeping living. That’s not very fun.

No. Life is so much more than a nihilist’s wet dream – or nightmare, depending on how you wish to look at it.

Life is also about the people who occupy our spaces, which is probably the most important part about human life: connections.

I guess why I’m rambling about all of this, is because I’ve found it difficult to connect with myself at so many points during my life. This has been the case lately, too.

There may be no greater internal conflict than not understanding what you’re going through and how to “fix it,” when you can’t pinpoint what needs to be fixed in the first place.

I think this is where anxiety is at its best. By forcing you to overanalyze and worry about the most minute of issues, you can’t even think of logical steps to solve your problems.

And for me, this is the case, because I have so many things that I worry about. Which one do I address first? Do I address some and not others? Am I stupid for worrying about this? Gee, I wonder if there’s a way that I could not worry about this!

Geez, I’m exhausted from just typing that out. And that’s me on a good day.

On a bad day, depression stops by and knocks on my door, only to come in and moan about how awful its life is. And then anxiety starts to worry if those awful things will happen to them, too.

If there is another friend in my brain that stops by every now and then, it’d be resolve – always stopping by at the right time, to remind me that I’ll be okay, that I’ll figure it out.

Because we all do. Or, at the very least, because we have to.

Self Expression

image

By Joshua Blake

The picture you see above you was taken just ten days after tragedy struck my feigning soul.

I was heartbroken, distraught, confused, lost, lonely, and most importantly, scared. What felt like an eternity to acknowledge and realize – which really consumed 6 to 8 months – has made it’s way into a song I wrote encompassing about that same amount of time to figure out.

January 3rd, 2014 was the day – or night – of many things to come for me. I caught her stare and my fears were enveloped. I didn’t know what to do. Do I risk it all? What am I risking? You’re not with anyone and knowing you, you won’t look for someone anytime soon.

No! This is wrong. You’ve always wanted this to be with someone you loved – dare you say the love of your life so that you don’t lose yourself to her again. But then again, will she doubt me if I back away? Will she judge me for saying “No”? How much longer will you wait for this opportunity again?

Fuck it, you’re doing this. Oh, shit, okay, just, just be safe. You still have a chance to end this. What’s this? I’m flooded with intoxication. She’s pulling the hair on the back of my head as she kisses my neck so caressingly – so soothingly.

Wow, my first taste of desire – I think – yes! This is what I’ve been searching for: acceptance. She wants me for what I am. I feel confident. “Follow me,” I say to my kiniving vixen.

End this, now! No, you’ve come this far. You want this don’t you, yes? Just use protection. Shit, neither of you have it. Fuck.

I guess I’m doing this now even though you’re head screams “No!” as she’s straddled on top of me. Stop her now! What are you doing? Passion’s overtook my rationale, I can’t go back. I fucked up. This is my fault.

Afterwards I say “I’m sorry.” She asks why, and I tell her I felt like I took advantage. We go back from whence we came to a sort-of cuddle which is when I realized my loneliness. She’s not the one – clearly – wait, what’s that?

“You’re great, you know that?” She says to me. I pause my thoughts, holding her hand, as I look into her eyes and ponder her remark. I let go of her grip as I think more. I’m great? Like I’ve heard from everyone in my life since my birth?

Even you sensed it, you devishly, lovely person. Is it my Achilles heel with everyone I attract? I’ve sensed it my entire life. I have this charm about me that I can’t even fathom. Is my first impression greater than I originally thought? Do people see right through my fucked up exterior we call a physical body?

Am I too real for reality or too fake for daydreams? Maybe that’s the beauty I possess. Mystery.

Self love was always a lost concept to me. But seeking validation in others only brings on confusion and pain. Then again, perhaps I’m the exception. However I believe I’m past the seeking phase. I’m not seeking validation, I’m in need of normalcy – and I – am far from the word. I always will be the exception. I wasn’t supposed to be able to write, read, walk, dress myself – basic everyday functions. I do it all, and my beautiful disasterous mind convinces me that I’m undesirable and undeserving of love.

Why’s that? Because I’m not like “you?” I’m not normal? Well that’s awfully sad, but I believe most people with Cerebral Palsy are predisposed to that line of thought. The I-can-do-whatever-I-want generational parenting advice we’ve [Gen-Y] gotten is completely asinine, and doesn’t apply to people like me at all.

At the same time, I’ve pushed every boundary – I’ve gotten what I’ve wanted in life – except contentness within myself. I laugh at sad, traumatic things that’ve happened to me, because I’d rather not breakdown in tears.

Listening to the new song I’ve written made me cry – out of pride, shame and love. I can finally leave all of the pain behind, and possibly help someone in need of a message that they’re dying to hear.

I’ve always believed music was about the artist, but it’s not. Music’s about the things we’re all afraid to acknowledge and say out loud, so we listen, and listen we will, until one of us decides to speak to the rest of the audience.