A Letter to My Loved Ones


I’m sorry I have not expressed my needs, wants, and wishes. I often feel selfish and believe I shouldn’t voice my concerns, but I’m learning that the path to healing requires me to be a little selfish. In the past, when I’ve attempted many different things, I didn’t succeed and believed I just wasn’t good enough. With this attitude, I stopped trying and would get upset when no one did something for me. How could they? I never communicated what I wanted; what I needed. I’ve been angry for so long never realizing I’m the one deserving of that anger.

I learn something new about Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder every day and am reminded that everything I hate about myself is a symptom. These are symptoms I may have the rest of my life. One of those symptoms is the failure to express one’s needs, wants, and wishes. Not everyone can get what they want, but there is a kind of power that comes with vocalizing them. It’s similar to writing down one’s goals. Something about that process makes them real. I won’t list everything I want, but I will try to communicate them more often. That alone will be a struggle.

The purpose of this letter is to make you all aware of the problem. This is my problem that I must deal with, but I need you all to be aware. I hope you will support me in this. I hope in some ways you will help me with this. My goal for the remainder of the year is to express my needs more often. Hopefully, it will not be in a burst of anger, but please take this with a grain of salt and remember that even if I’m shouting, what’s important is that I’m communicating. I most certainly need your patience and understanding as I work through my personal issues.

This is only step one in a journey that will take several years. I don’t expect to be good at it in the beginning. I expect to forget about it now and then, but I hope you’ll remind me. The future looks terrifying, but I’m determined to win this battle as well as the oncoming war. I’ve found that ever when I’m in a good mood I still have an underlying bad attitude so maybe this will help with that. I must say one thing. I don’t think some of you know me as well as you think you do, and I think some of you will not take this letter seriously. If you want to say something you think is funny, don’t say it to me.

Men Are Garbage


My newest collection of poetry is available on Amazon. As the title suggests, I examine masculinity in our society as well as my own personal battles with past trauma and current events. I would argue that this is my best poetic work to date and I’m proud of the results. If you have little interest in poetry, I recommend you read it anyway. For those of you who love poetry, I believe you will find this collection enlightening. There is a certain amount of vulnerability in this collection that you will never see from me in person.

In other news, I have three stories making the rounds to potential publishers and they’ve been rejected by many others already. I will continue to submit them to online magazines until I get fed up and decide to self-publish. I have several other stories in the works. Many of them need revision and a couple others need to be finished. Once this are finished and revised, I will begin making the rounds to submit them to the many online magazines. I am also awaiting a response from a literary agent about a novella I sent them. I should get the rejection from that in the next couple weeks.

I thankfully am no longer unemployed which means I will have to stretch my time management skills if I want to complete my stories and promote my current self-published works. I never spent much time with friends anyway. I’ll have more details as we get closer to the date, but I will have a special kindle sale on September 3, Labor Day for all my eBooks. They will all be offered for a free download that day and I hope you tell all your friends about the cool sale.

You can learn more about my newest collection of poetry on my Instagram. I have a highlighted story with a preview of the first five poems along with the front and back cover. Many of my posts also include some of my poetry. You can find the collection for sale on Amazon as both an eBook and Paperback. A review would be greatly appreciated. And, of course, please tell your friends all about me and my writing. The more the merrier. I will have giveaways of my paperback books in the coming months. I’ll provide more details on that once I’ve confirmed everything.

Some Panic Attacks Just Happen


You sit there, reading, minding your own business. To everyone else you look normal. They all think you’re a normal person having a coffee reading a book. Most of them don’t notice you. You blend into the crowd. You hide in plain sight. None of them could know what you think and feel, and you dare not tell anyone. You’re afraid it will scare them because it does scare you.

You sit, invisible to everyone; with your chest pounding, your thoughts racing, your hands shaking. You’re reacting to something. Something triggered you. Sometimes you know exactly why you were triggered. This is not one of those times. You don’t understand. You can’t explain it. You pick at your fingernails and cuticles. You twirl a pen or pencil in your fingers. You refill your coffee. Was it the coffee? Should you stop drinking coffee? The coffee didn’t bother you yesterday.

You survey the coffee shop. No one knows what’s happening to you. Even if they knew, they wouldn’t understand or care. Why should they care about you? They have their own problems. They’d think you were just some jackass craving attention. You know that’s what they’d think because that’s what you would think. But no one cares what you think just like no one cares what you’re feeling or what you’re doing. You’re the most insignificant person in existence.

You’ve pulled one of your cuticles too much and now you bleed. This distraction only works for a minute. Your thoughts stop racing, but your chest never stops pounding. You want to runaway but don’t know where. What you run from will follow you. How do you get away? Your thoughts are racing back, and your bloody finger doesn’t hurt anymore. You can’t even hurt yourself properly. There are never enough distractions.

You leave. You walk. You burn energy. It distracts you some and makes you tired. You need to feel tired. Keep running away until you’re tired; until your thoughts are tired.