There was an idea that I wrote a long time ago which needs to be repeated. There are times when life is tough. This happens to everyone.
Everyone hits a rough patch. Everyone has “One of those days,” or weeks, or even months. Or, look at us now.
It is official that 2020 has not been the kindest year.
With all the concerns and quarantines and the recent tensions of riots and protests, safe to say that 2020 is a good year to learn from our mistakes. 

Just so you know . . .
the world is a better place because you’re in it.
If you ask me, you compliment the world.
You fit perfectly in spite of what you think sometimes.
Trust me on this one.

It is strange to think about the years I’ve spent in the working world. More than anything, it is crazy to think that I have been going to and from New York City for almost 30 years. In fairness, I don’t like the sound of this. I almost feel as though this somehow makes me an adult. And I cringe a little, just thinking about the idea.
30 years . . .

There are times when there is literally nothing else we can do except wait. There are times like now for example; there’s nothing we can do about the epidemic or the pandemic (if this is one) and monitor the facts until things change.
Most of all, there are times when there is nothing else we can do but implement our own model of self-care plan. We can do nothing else but settle in because for all we know, this ride could be short or long but either way, the best plan to have is a plan that serves us best.

If it were up to me, we would never grow old.
If it were up to me, everything would feel as good as the first time my Grandmother told me a bedtime story or fed me a meal. Nothing else in the world ever feels like grandma’s bedtime stories. Nothing tastes as good as when Grandma makes it.
If it were up to me, everything would be as easy as an afternoon I once spent in the autumn months. The air was neither too warm nor too cold. The sun was on its way down and the world was quiet. I could see the golden hue from the sunset reflecting against the trees in a field as I walked home from a moment that was (shall we say) less than comfortable. But yet, the afternoon was somehow by a beautiful moment before the sun went down. God, that was perfect.

More than it seems, there is no more use for the ideas of stigma. But either way, stigma still exists. Either way and on either side, good or bad, judgement is a natural process. Isn’t it?

I hate those words . . .

The problem is what if this is true? What if this is all in our head like everything else is? The fears and the doubts and especially insecurity are in hour head, which I get, and which is not to say that none of them are valid. Instead, I say everything is valid if we believe in it.
I say reality and belief is not always the same thing, which I get as well, which is why I ask the main question in the first place.
What if this is true?
What if all this is really in our head?

It’s not just the stigma. There is a reason why people don’t come forward and talk about their life. There’s a reason why people suffer in silence and struggle on their own, never daring to tell anyone else what they think or feel, because God forbid someone else knew. And it’s not just the social stigma. The problems run deeper than the marks of shame.