My girlfriend bought me a blue therapy light for Christmas.
I did a bunch of research on blue lights to see if they do, in fact, help to alleviate depression. Now, I don’t actually have depression. Well, not in the clinical sense. Sure I cry each morning when I awake, but that’s because the weight of the world is squarely resting on my shoulders! You know, normal thoughts. The blue light was appealing as it could help me to feel better and isn’t a destructive high.
Let’s talk sadness.
I know – I talk about sadness a LOT. It’s enough already. As such I’m not going to lament my currenttale of woe, although I will say that it may have involved running out of peach Fresca at my parent’s house yesterday which is total bullshit. I’m kidding. My problems are much worse than that. Like Africa bad.
I realized about three years ago when I started therapy that I’m actually a dark person.
I remember being drawn to comedy at a young age – sneaking downstairs to watch HBO comedy specials laughing hysterically at well-crafted jokes by Buddy Hackett and Rodney Dangerfield. Bill Cosby’s Himself remains one of my absolute favorite sets. These were heroes of mine.
My friend Jackée Harry (from 227) got married tonight.
I don’t know the real Jackée but out of respect I should probably change the bride’s name. (It’s Erin)
Three years ago I was invited by someone I knew in A.A. (I’m an alcoholic – thankfully sober) who was starting a group called The Experiment. The structure was very simple. Meet in a room once a week and tell the truth about what’s really going on in your life. The good and the bad. This is a safe place to bring your shit.
I came down to Peoria this past Friday with my mom – see, she just bought a new car, and in an incredible act of generosity, is giving me her old car. So, we had to go to the DMV, do one of the title transfer things, order license plates, you know, car stuff.
I have something to share. Something vulnerable, embarrassing, and difficult.
An issue of mine.
Now, in a world of real problems like famine, AIDS, sex-trafficking, and Bieber-fever, this does not chart in the top, oh, I’m guessing 100,000 of actual situations that would qualify as an “issue.”
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
