Christmas Blues

First, I want to point out that the thumbnail I used has nothing to do with this blog post. I just really like the picture of a daddy Santa. I’m gay all year round. Sue me. Second, I’ve been thinking about what another crazy year this has been. We’re just now wrapping up season 2 of the pandemic, and honestly get Netflix to handle this because they seem to be able to cancel everything just before shit starts to get good. All my emotions can be captured by the song below. Give it a listen!

As I sit here and write on my stupid keyboard and type my stupid thoughts and create stupid content, I want to take this opportunity to reflect back on the year and what I want to look forward to. This year alone I got a promotion for which little to no training was provided to me, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, found out my dad has kidney failure, found out my mom wants to give my dad her kidney, saw that my friend got diagnosed with stage 1 colorectal cancer, both the Delta and the “Maricon” variants have shaken the world, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder, required 3 types of mental health medications still under trial and error as I type this while I battle some mind-fucking side effects, had to admit myself to the ER for suicidal ideation, and went on disability just to get a fucking break. Had enough yet?

As sung by the wonderful Sabrina Claudio in the above video, “It’s been a long year. The toughest of my life so far.” To call this year rough would be an understatement. This has been a Brillo Pad of a year. It has been the steel wool of my years. If this year was sand, I would go to the sand store and…I don’t know if they grade it, but…coarse. This year has taken a lot out of me, and I find myself falling back in to my vices. I spent thousands of dollars on escorts, binge drinking, eating like a garbage disposal (which is probably not good for a diabetic), and just generally unable to take care of myself because I care about others more than me. I’m currently unpacking my sense of worthlessness in therapy constantly asking myself why I’m not able to give myself the love and care that I’m so readily able to give to others in their time of need. I feel like shit, my body’s not what it used to be, I’m overwhelmed by the sense of loneliness brought on by this next wave of variants, people around me are dying, and I really just don’t want to keep living anymore.

So why do I feel hopeful?

I’m positive that I’m not the only one feeling this way. I’m pretty sure that you, dear reader, have felt this in one way or another recently. This feeling of dread, as if the world hangs in the balance and the load is entirely on your shoulders. You are the mythological Atlas burdened with the entire world’s weight and you feel that you are no longer able to carry on. Yes, things look grim and I fully believe that they will continue to look grim for a long time. If not the pandemic, then it would be something else like war or climate change or the impending chlamydia infection that is bound to show up positive from all the barebacking I’ve been doing. The future looks real fucking bleak right now, but if there’s one thing I learned from my almost three decades on this planet, it’s that everything in life is only for now.

I develop a sense of comfort in the knowledge that nothing lasts forever. Not even a pandemic can stand the test of time. I know this will be over at some point. Will it be in my lifetime? Who knows? But I know there’s a finality to this. I was able to heal trauma from a sexual assault. I was able to find help for my first bout with mental health issues. I know for a fact that I will be able to get through these next few challenges. It’s hard to remind myself of this fact especially under my serotonin-deprived brain. But I know that there is light at the end of the tunnel even though I can’t see even so much as a low dim. I know that whatever you’re going through, you’ll get through it too. Empty words from a random sex educator, but I hope that the thought of impermanence gives you some comfort that even suffering and agony will eventually come to an end.

I’m still struggling with this idea. What? You mean to tell me that I don’t have to be in constant pain forever? Liar! Yeah. I find it hard to believe that not everything in life is going to turn to shit. Looking back at this year, I would be remiss if I didn’t appreciate and give gratitude to the good things that have happened. I started my podcast and this website with a small and humble but loyal following, I made new connections from around the world because of my work as a sex educator, I was able to go see some friends when case counts reached low numbers even for a brief moment, I got to nail some new pole tricks that I’ve been battling even before COVID, and I’m grateful that I have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on every night. Yeah, that last part is really fucking corny. But it’s true! I’m so glad that I’m able to have a space to call my own and I can fuck in it. I’m grateful to have a chosen few friends in my life that I’m proud to call my besties. Without them, I’m pretty sure getting through this pandemic and the mental health nonsense would be more difficult than it currently is. Amidst all of the chaos and the mess, I think what I’m taking away from this year is the power of gratefulness.

There’s something so special in those little moments in the middle of the mess that make them more significant than they appear. That’s what makes them so special, right? It’s that moment when you get home from a long work day being surrounded by anti-maskers and people who refuse to get vaccinated but come home and order your Uber Eats and it comes earlier than expected. It’s the moment when you find an extra pair of clean underwear when you thought you forgot to do laundry. It’s that moment when that guy you slept with actually calls you back in a decent amount of time. Okay, that last one might be a stretch, but you get it. In the context of a pandemic and all of life’s obstacles, these little moments of joy seem to make the disarray a little more tolerable. I’m going to choose to focus on these special moments going in to season three of the pandemic. Because if I didn’t, I think I would lose my fucking mind. I hope you do too. Remember these tiny, happy moments. Hold on to these memories for as long as you can. Thank them for happening and for being in your life. It’s the only thing that we can hold on to that nobody can take away from us. Not even a virus can touch it.