0. Introduction

I find myself often frustrated at not having an outlet to express the things I'm feeling. I know I could, and I have, just write a journal. But it feels empty somehow to write things that no eyes but my own will ever see. Maybe that's egocentric; No one's ever accused me of humility except sarcastically, but there it is. At the same time, the things I want to write are raw and personal, and I could never make myself show them to people I know. Part of that is fear that I will hurt, confuse or worry... but a bigger part is because I am terrified that no one will care. 

So here we are; a weird no-man's-land between the two possibilities, a blog I will never tell anyone about, but which could potentially be found. Some part of me worries about that too, remembering the sneering assholes who found my emo LiveJournal back in the day, but then a larger part remembers all of the blog entries I have made over the years, including many that I've shared elsewhere, and how seldom anyone ever cared to read or comment. I guess the idea that maybe it'll be found will need to be enough, because keeping all this shit inside isn't helping.

Who am I? I'll be sparing on the details, but in broad strokes I'm a guy. 40s, married, kids from teen to child. Former military, currently working in IT, neither satisfied nor truly dissatisfied with my life. I'm a geek, creative, over-thinker. I'm probably autistic and definitely ADHD, but lacking a formal diagnosis with either. I wonder how long I will be able to keep up my half-hearted anonymity policy? I guess we'll see. Probably won't matter since I didn't create a new name for myself when I published this, but fuck it; we'll continue as we've begun, at least for now.

So why do I feel compelled to pour my heart, guts and mind out onto the digital page? Lots of reasons, I guess. As above, I'm neither satisfied nor truly dissatisfied with my life, but if I'm being honest, I'm probably closer to the dissatisfied end of the spectrum. I kinda feel like I'm ungrateful for being almost-dissatisfied, though. I have a job I mostly like, and where I feel valued. I have a family that I love, a great house, and most of my needs are met. 

But... every single one of those has a but. I feel like I am always working, and never getting ahead. I'm not getting paid enough; not necessarily for the work I do, just not enough to cover all of my expenses. I do love my family, but often times I'm not sure how much they love me back. My wife and my kids are significant sources of stress and frustration. The house is great, but it's... well, not exactly falling apart, but again, not exactly not falling apart. There are so many things that need to be done before we can be truly satisfied. A fence, a new deck, proper cooling, better use of space... the list goes on. Most of my needs are met... but are they? I mean, I have enough to eat, shelter, entertainment, love... But I feel lonely, stressed, worried that the precarious balance we're striking will tumble down and we'll lose it all, and it will be all my fault.

I get sad with no clear reason. I mean, there are reasons, but they're all amorphous, and none of them are solely to blame. There's nothing I can fix to make it better, and all the things I know would help are things I can't seem to fix. I've seen real depression, and I don't think I have that; but who has time to talk to anyone to find out? More, who can afford to talk to someone? Even if I could get care for me through the VA or whatever, I'd feel terrible that my family, who clearly needs it more than me, can't get it. Plus, again, who has the time? If I had spare time, I've got a laundry list of things I'd much rather spend it on than therapy; even if I need it, I'd resent it.

How fucking stupid is that? But here it is. My brain is a mess of fighting impulses. As I type this, I'm exhausted, and I know my youngest will likely wake up well before dawn since she went to sleep early, but I still loathe the idea of going to bed this early (almost midnight) on a Friday night, because when else do I have time for myself? This very blog; I yearn to connect with people, but I fear the outcomes of trying. 

I dunno. For now at least, I think fatigue is winning. There will be plenty of thought and sadness and frustration and anger for later. If you are a real, non-me human who reads this... I don't know what I expect. All I ask is that you remember the human, and either go about your way, or be kind. It can be funny to be cruel, but while I'm not that old yet, I have learned that no one's ever been better for it. If you can find no kind words, just move on; I will not respond to cruelty, I will simply delete it. That's it for now.

Ta ta my freaky darlings.