When —
I have another “when” question, which I believe is an important question to share in this journal. I have lived my life for a very long time, obviously.
And I say this with the honest assessment that perhaps, at times, my view or my perception of self is wrong or inaccurate. Otherwise, my view or my perception of myself has been shaded by years of misperceptions and misguided ideas that led me astray.

When there is nowhere left to fall or when there is nowhere else to turn, and when there is no more room for excuses and no more time, no more energy, and when there is nothing left but the harsh reality of “what is,” at least now, we can grow from here.

Since I am calling this journal “The Book of When?” then it is important to talk about the moments when life is not what we wished it would be.
I think we need to answer the unanswerable questions, which is when does life get easier? Or does life get easier?
Or is life easy to begin with? Maybe life is only life and everything we see or think is more imaginary than we realize; hence, we create these monsters and demons, merciless as ever.
Maybe this is only me. Maybe this is only you.
Or maybe life is like it was told about a program that I am all too familiar with, in which it is commonly called “a simple program for complicated people.”

Maybe . . .

This entry is number eighteen. Come to think of it, I don’t remember much about when I was 18. I know where I was, which was not the typical norm for most 18-year-olds. I know that I was living on a farm with a bunch of kids and grownups who came with problems of their own.
I was learning about living life without the use of drugs or alcohol. At the same time, I was learning to live without being caught up in some image about who I was or about being tough.
And no, I wasn’t tough.
Not at all.

I always go back to that same question that asks, when is it your turn?
I believe this inspiration is more than just this journal.
I believe this is more than a simple question about when. Even more, I believe in the soul’s right to inquire, and the heart’s need to be fulfilled.

I believe in the degradation that comes when we settle for less and, yes, I believe in the victory of holding out. I believe in the redemption of holding on to what we want. Essentially, I believe in the full-circle miracle that comes when we see ourselves from the beginning and to the end.
As we note down the trials and times we slipped or fell, and as we acknowledge what went into the preparations to achieve and to exceed our limitations and, of course, as we recall the growing pains and all the aches and soreness of loss, I believe in the freedom of redemption. Therefore, I believe in the greatest gift of all which is the almighty breath that comes after we cross the so-called finish line.

The bottom line is everyone needs “a day.”
We all need a day when we can “cut class,” so-to-speak. What I mean is, we all need a time when we skip the daily routine and forget the grind and the responsibility of work or whatever the typical everyday routine is, and when at all possible, I say we need a day.
We need a day to enjoy the City. We need a day to sit outside of some restaurant and share food. We need to take a walk and people watch or enjoy the things that we used to love like finding a place to be a kid again and run around like we did when we were young.

I would assume by now that it’s clear. All of my journals have something to do with the way we think. Or perhaps I should say that all of my journals have something to do with the way I think.
But to be clear, my journals are the only way I can talk to you—so, when I say you or we, I suppose I mean us, or me, since all this is “me” in my make believe studio, talking to you, a figment, or a dream, or a sounding board which keeps me sane
(at least a little).
How we think can lead us to how we feel and how we feel can lead us to the brighter side of the dark side of our assumptions. Make no mistake, assumptions can be dangerous.
I know this all too well.
Assumptions can lead us down the rabbit hole and drive us crazy — and I mean literally crazy, which I am crazy, at least to some degree.

There is a time when loss happens to us all. And this is unavoidable. But, this doesn’t mean we have to lose all the time and if we pay attention, perhaps we don’t have to lose to the same things ever again.
Loss is real and maybe this isn’t something that should be taken lightly.
Maybe this is something that we need to remember. Maybe we owe it to ourselves to face the facts so that, of course, we never run into the same mistake twice.
To be clear, this is not to say that every loss is a mistake. At the same time, every loss comes with a lesson. Right?
So, perhaps we should learn from them.

I know there’s a place for me. And it’s nice and it’s warm and maybe it’s a small town, like, say, near a beach. This would be my spot away from the world. I assume the roads are quiet and the city is farther than distant and so is the life and the hassles of every day, or busy living.

I remember hearing my Mother and Father talking about retirement and moving to someplace where the sun shines and the air is kind to everyone. I remember their goal, which was to pack up and move away from the life that they would leave behind.
No more work. No more business troubles. No more inner-city drama or commutes or silly hassles of overpopulated circumstances.
People smile in places like this. They say the craziest things, too, like “hello!”

It is the end of July, which is unthinkable in some respects. I am considering the whereabouts and the wherewithal of what it took to get me from where I was to where I am, which is here. Then again, where else could I be, if not here?
However, I am thinking more about the depth and the concepts and the specific value of time and how time matters in more ways than we think.
I am thinking about how time can either create space or distance between us and our goals, or somehow time can move us closer together as people, or send us further apart.

So, I heard you want to understand the pains and the frustrations of anxiety.
Okay. Let me give this a shot . . .
Let me see if I can make this clear, at least from a subjective point of view.

I have chosen to address my ideas about my past as well as my future. I have been here before. In fact, I’m sure there will be times when I return and, of course, there will be times when I come back again for the same reasons.
Some people might say this is the benefits of journaling.
I agree.
However, I have come here to speak to you.
That’s all.