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.

This is not going to be an easy read, however, this was not something that was easy to write.
But either way, here it goes.
There was a time when I saw myself differently than how I see myself now. At the same time, I can still see myself in the reflections of glimpses past.
Of course, it is safe to assume that as I grow or as I move along on this great big conveyor belt that I often refer to as Project Earth, and the more rotations I take around the sun, the more I’ll see, and the more I’ll learn (at least I hope so).
And yes, the more I do and the further I extend myself into the atmosphere of life in my post 50’s, and the more I travel and the farther I go—I have to say that I find it laughable when I realize that all of my searches have led me back to my beginning.
This means I have always had what I needed. This also means that I failed to take notice of the truest value of their beauty, which is how we lose things, which is why butterflies fly away or the birth of a white feather turns to gray.

I remember when I landed my first suit and tie job. I swore this was going to make me a different person.
I was moving up. I was a man with a job, at least to me.
However, I was nothing more than a kid in a suit with a briefcase and folders filled with samples of woven labels for garment manufacturers.
I had no idea what I was doing. I had less of an idea how to sell an item that was literally viewed as the least important item on the garment.
But that was fine.
I was alive and working in The Big City. I was on my way, or so I thought.
I was about to embark on a new journey with the potential to live well and earn what I considered to be a grown man’s salary.

I remember back when the summers used to mean something. I remember back when the kids from the neighborhood were still the kids from the neighborhood and yes, I remember the wild times and the bad times and, of course, I remember the troubled times.
I remember the wild nights and crazy days. Without question, I remember thinking that this was going to be my life—always.

I never thought time would step in, at least not like this.

This is from the heart of me. This is from the deepest south of my soul and from this point onward, I plan to offer myself in the most honest sense of the word. In the most truthful ways possible, I will detail the faults and flaws and the good and the bad and more, I will own up and atone. However, this is also to move beyond and improve.
Then again, this is the basis of all my journals. However, my journals are not for everyone. At the same time, none of this is written for everyone, or anyone else for that matter. No, this is just between us, as in you and me, and going forward, I am going to remove all of my decoration or the so-called coverings and the masks which I have hid behind for the last, say, 51.75 years.