Tough love and getting my shit together
O, what a brave new year that has such dilemmas in it. So, I finally got the tough-love talk that I was seeking. Since last May, when I finished out a federal government contract, doing communications works, I have floundered. I’m a writer, so I have some skills, having penned a debut horror novel and published short stories and poetry and with over 15 years experiences as a stringer, or freelance journalist. But still, since my gainful full-time employment ended, I have had, well, let’s just say troubles for now. At first, I was pulled out in the tide of circumstances that comprise the pandemic. Feeling anxious, sensing looming depression, I have turned to crutches such as smoking pot and drinking, two of what I like to call the three ‘P’s (pints, pot and pornography). These habits have taken on a life of their own, developing their own habits, like bad-habit barnacles (BHB’s, for short). What I mean is they feed into one another. During an evening where I am seemingly only watchin