(I was inspired to write this just now at 11:34pm 8/27/24)
In the past, society has deemed mental health as a crisis or a “stigma” and if women showed any form of mental health issues, we were sanctioned to an asylum to live out the rest of our days. Some men as well. But, in 2024, mental health is still frowned upon. “Oh, what, in your life is so bad?” “No one will believe you.” “Your depression is just you being lazy.” etc…I have had the immense pleasure of working in the mental health field off and on for a very long time and I fall in love more every time I go back. It is not wrong to ask for help with your mental health. Forget about what your friends and family will say. Forget about what social media and film and television say about it. Just do not think for one moment that you do not deserve to be here. And every time you think you will end it all, remember, I am here for you, as are hundreds of others and think to yourself: “just one more chapter.”

Loneliness slithers in
Like an unsuspecting snake
Coiled around my neck
Struggling to breathe
With nobody around
To save me
In a crowded room
I feel so alone
Everyone has someone
But no one has got me
Each night I come closer
To a planned death
Because loneliness kills
I don’t belong anywhere
I’m not needed nor wanted
So why even bother
I’ll drift away peacefully
Forgotten easily
And never remembered

I am a building contractor in Central Virginia. During my fifty-plus years working in the construction industry, I have probably worked on close to a thousand projects. I have built, remodeled and renovated homes. My work includes new office buildings, new and renovated retail spaces, historic restorations, many restaurants, and three veterinarian clinics. I have renovated log homes and even added an addition onto a bus.

One reason I decided to follow a career in construction is the variety of projects out there. The nature of what I have a chance to work on challenges me in different ways every day. The one constant is constant change. The moving parts involve product, customers, technology, workforce, weather, and even locations. The goal on all our projects is to find the best combination of function, aesthetics and budget for our customers.

Another characteristic of the construction industry that attracted me was the huge and wildly diverse cast of characters I get to work around. Some of these projects take hundreds of sets of hands joining together to create something. It involves finding ways to work with people from all over the spectrum relative to construction skills, formal education, social skills, personal beliefs, political leanings, family backgrounds and financial status. We have to look past our different backgrounds and histories to create things that hopefully will last for generations. The beautiful piece of working with such a diverse group of people is that I never know what lessons I might learn from or about one of them at any moment. The key is to make sure you are paying attention because you never know not only what you might learn but also how you might be changed.

If I wasn’t paying attention, I might not know that one of the concrete truck drivers is an amazing gospel singer. If I wasn’t paying attention, I may never have learned one of my subcontractors is a minister. If I wasn’t paying attention, I may never have learned that one of our cabinetmakers is a really good bass player in a Grateful Dead tribute band. And if I wasn’t paying attention at an historic courthouse and museum renovation job we are doing, I would not have experienced one of the most powerful and moving moments of my life.

As I was accepting a delivery at this historic museum job, I shared a moment with a young black man probably in his mid-twenties that I will never forget. He was assisting the driver with the delivery when he noticed an artifact in the side yard of the museum. In the side yard of this museum there is a 16”x 16” x 24” high block of stone sticking out of the ground. A small sign identifies this stone as a Slave Auction Block. I can not wrap my head around the fact that slaves once stood on top of this stone as people bid to purchase them. I had seen this piece of pre-civil war history many times before, but little did I know that on the day of this delivery my view of the auction block would change dramatically.

Right before getting back on the truck, this young black man walked over to the auction block and bowed his head in prayer. I didn’t invade his space but I stood close by and bowed my head as well. As we stood there in silence for a minute that seemed like an eternity, I could only think what his prayer might be. I tried to picture what took place on that block. The reality of it made my heart sink. In these times of such racial strife and division, I wish more people could have shared that moment with me. As he raised his head and I raised mine, I simply said “Amen”. Nothing more was said. He just nodded and walked back to the truck.

What is the point in hating one another?
For do we not all share the same mother?
Do we not all come from the same origin?
So why then do we divide ourselves by the color of our skin?
Why have we allowed ourselves to buy into this insanity,
Of thinking there are multiple races, instead of just humanity?
And then turn it around and use it as a means to cause calamity
For nothing more than to feed our own vanity…
Yet there’s thousands of sick and poor
Who are left picking scraps up off the floor
Families who are torn asunder
Suffering the sound of gun shots as they echo like thunder
So many hearts that have been broken
Over hurtful words which have been spoken
Are we unable see that solving hatred with wrath only continues to feed the bloodbath?
Why is it so hard for us to love one another?
To look at our neighbor as tho he is our brother?
Why are we so concerned with who is better, and who is best?
Should our value not begin with the fact that there’s a heart beating within our chest?
Why do we cling to a dividing love that is traditional,
Instead of clinging to a holy love that is unconditional?
For is that not the meaning of agape?
Is that not the beauty of the Way?
In order to love someone, do we really need a reason?
And why should our love change as quickly as the seasons?
Is life itself not a precious gift?
Why then do we seek to further the rift?
Why then do we seek to further the divide?
For nothing more than our own foolish pride?

Behind the mask, no face to find,
A trick of mind, ‘neath sun that’s kind,
Yet rain pours down within the soul,
Where hidden truths take their toll.

“Get up, get on, you’ll be alright,”
The lies they tell ease the plight.
A crown once worn, now tipped and slanted.
Society’s stigma, harsh and untrue.

“Go out, be free,” they say, unaware,
That solitude’s chosen over despair.
In sorrow’s depth, alone you wallow,
While unseen, in code, for help you call.

Attention sought? Not even a hand to hold,
A listening ear, as your story’s told.
Over and over, being told “You’ll be okay,”
But will they listen, or just turn away?

Until the end, when all is read,
And in the paper, your name is led.
Will they see then, what they missed before,
Or just a picture, nothing more?

Healing can feel 2 paths
The one with all the rocks
And the one with the steps to the mountain
The flowers that bloom for every little accomplishment
Finding the things that work for me
The constant therapy appointments
The constant doing things alone
Finding the peace with the sun
The peace with the birds and the breeze
The walking up on another chance
Another day
Closer to where I want to be
Closer to the northern lights
Closer to the place where nature is the most beautiful
Where the leaves stop falling
Where your so at peace
That nothing or nobody takes that away from you again

I grew up in a world where you were to be seen, but not heard.

I grew up in a world of “do as I say, not as I do”.

I grew up in a world where it was unacceptable to cry lest you be ostracized for being weak or girlish. Unless, of course, you were being beaten, as crying was encouraged.

I grew up in a world where blue is for boys and pink is for girls, or everything is either black or white. There is no color spectrum in between.

I grew up in a world where presenting habits, preferences, mannerisms, speech, and style that is not in line with masculine stereotypes meant you are less than a man.

I grew up in a world of preselected choices and rejection of uniqueness. Rebellion was disrespect. How dare I be different?

I grew up in a world where you could be a doctor, a lawyer, an accountant, an engineer, or a banker. You could not choose to be an artist or a musician…those were hobbies, not careers.

I grew up in a world of obligations and not choice.

I grew up in a world where I learned to survive by hiding in plain sight though conformance, silence, and camouflage.

I was not of that world, but I complied and conformed to avoid the shame and stigma of being different.

I grew up cold.

And one day I realized I escaped that world physically, but never mentally.

How could I unlearn survival? How would I shed the things that protected and kept me safe all those hidden years.

How would I drown out shame when it has the loudest voice in my head? How could I escape the prison of my mind?

How could any small, tenuous steps of liberation become a full hearted sprint toward happiness when I am weighted down by so much baggage? When would the wings of freedom sprout strong enough to carry me away?

And thus time passed as I struggled to unlearn my upbringing. I tried to suppress these teaching while raising my own children. I succeeded in some ways and failed in many others.

I now grow old knowing that what I was taught is as wrong today as it was back then.

I now grow old allowing myself to be the person I always was, from the beginning.

I now grow old and have to account to no one but myself and those I love.

I now grow old learning to forgive myself and to humbly ask for forgiveness from those I have hurt.

I now grow old understanding that to fully demonstrate love to others, I must first have learned to love and accept myself.

I now grow old endeavoring to live a better, more authentic life.

I now grow old realizing I have been reborn as my true self, loving art and music, being gentle and caring, crying when I want to cry, wearing what I want to wear, loving black and white and all the colors in between, and understanding that being different is not something to be hidden or ashamed of…

And this alone has warmed my once young, cold heart.❤️

No pain, no gain

Still holds true

For biceps and exes

To name just a few

How does it feel

When pain leaves the heart?

A weight off your shoulders,

A race ‘bout to start?

But pain is evidence of life

And why should you be spared?

I know it’s easier to go numb

Than feeling lonely, feeling scared

But let pain come and let it go

For only growth comes after

And transformation can begin

When bitter tears turn into laughter