You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than a year of conversation. — Plato 

The LoA Project is on temporary hiatus for now. I’ve embarked on this to outline what was monumental throughout all of my 6-week LoA trip. It is a means for me to balance out the harshest self-criticism, whilst balancing out all of the people suggesting I should stick around for a while. I have been taking a little bit of ‘ME-time’ just relaxing, sleeping in, and chatting with people. Due to me taking a plethora of pictures, and the mobile phone being smart enough to outline WHEN pictures were taken and where I was at the time, I will be able to piece together the bulk of my trip once I re-commence with the rest of this project.   

I took on this project to help shed light on how ONE person used their time off from work to process the hard realities of life. None of it has been to snub my nose at other peoples’ lives or to make a mockery of the Federal law that protects people, sometimes, from themselves. Again, I will resume, most likely when I get home. I really want to do this for me, but others as well. Again, this is to help highlight how I was able to allow certain distractions to reseat my mind, in a manner of speaking.   

I’ve used this time to go hiking in so many amazing places, that have been distant dreams. I have seen parts of the country I knew existed but didn’t feel I had adequate time to visit. I broke away from my traditional west coast visits by seeing so many things, experiencing so many new accomplishments with Ellie. While I still feel the vortex of pain from the demise of a relationship, I also feel meagerly invigorated.   

I have hoped to inspire others also struggling with their daily lives. Wishing to release that pressure nozzle that keeps the litany of emotions pent up. I am the last person in the world to ever suggest, it will all work out. The only thing I can do is reflect on my own life, and the lives, other people have shared, where they reflected on shit working itself out. Pain is real. Depression seems real. Wishing to end life, is ever so real.   

The constant battle to want to trudge through another dull day is painful. Listening to dipshits who suggest there isn’t anything to be sad about because life is a gift, are mumbling morons. Maybe their stories have led them to the pervasive optimism that, in my estimation, is overselling life. If they would step down off their pulpit and share the incriminating evidence as to what led them to believe this crock of horseshit, it might be more palatable.   

This whole trip has been nothing more than self-reflection. Barely any words have been uttered about the break-up, which triggered the cataclysm of events leading to ‘the wilderness.’ More words have been typed out in blog articles than spoken. I did the bulk of my depressive conversations while at home, reaching out to my friends out west. I am not sure it’s completely healthy, but the distractions have made it bearable.   

I am stressed out, feeling like running away from my problems. I am given an option to possibly escape the pressure from the torment of being back home. I’ve given it serious consideration and still think that being home is the best choice. I will have to continually fight the demons.   

Oddly enough, what I reflect on is this: I lived in the Pacific Northwest, in and out of Seattle, Washington. This place is known nationally as the Suicide Capital. Somehow, I weathered this tumultuous storm with relative ease when I lived out here. Yet, I’ve attempted suicide far more times in my home state than I ever tried out here in Seattle. I contemplated suicide every fucking day of my life, as a sentient being at home, than I ever gave into while living here in Seattle.   

These are the things I reflect on. This trip, while distracting, enjoyable, and amazing while Ellie has been with me most of the way, still doesn’t suppress my suicidal mind. As the dear friend, who has been so benevolent, in allowing Ellie and I to stay with him told me while I was at home: “If you need me, just call and ask for help. I cannot read your mind, I cannot see into your mind. Just reach out to me if you need help.” He said something along those lines, and that is distinctly what I heard. My advice to you, if I learned anything valuable here is: If you need help, REACH OUT and ASK for it! If you fear retribution by some people who may very well not understand your plight or position, then at least try – or bare minimum, reach out to the Suicide Hotline (USA: call — 1-800-273-8255 or you can CHAT). If anyone from outside the U.S.A would care to share their respective country’s equivalent in the comments, I am willing to be that temporary vessel of hope for those that could use the encouragement.   

Again, I am painfully aware of how much of a hypocrite I am for even recommending this shit. I feel hopeless much of the time. I have moments that distract me from the daily pangs of failure, but as my friend shared, I NEED to take the first step and ask for help. Those struggling, the advice applies to you as well. Be well, be safe, BE YOU, but more importantly, be UNDERSTANDING and COMPASSIONATE of yourself, first and foremost.  

As always, I welcome any constructive criticism, or complementary theories, analogies, anecdotes. I would love to hear if you find these edicts of challenge useful or utter horseshit. Similar to the ’90s when the catchphrase, ‘Be Kind, Rewind’ was hailed as a marketing genius. I need to come up with one that invites you to either subscribe, via WordPress or email, like posts, or even comment on posts. Immediate feedback is useful for anyone. Thank you very much for reading through all of this drivel. Be well, stay safe, AND stay sane!