From Where I Stand

Tag: mental health

  • Care? Or think you SHOULD care?

    So, I was watching the news the other day—like a responsible adult who pretends they’ve got a handle on the world—and in true chaotic fashion, a political clip flashed across the screen. You know the kind: stern faces, firm declarations.

    My brain lights up: “this matters a lot!”

    Is this good?

    Is this bad?

    Is it secretly both?

    Is the media spinning it? Am I being spun? Who really is informed?

    And just like that, I was off—launched into a 25-minute internal monologue that involved four hypothetical scenarios, five imaginary conversations, and me mentally arguing with some “representative” I’m not even sure what they do.

    But let’s skip the 600-word descent into that madness and cut to the punchline:

    I didn’t really care.

    I thought I cared.

    I believed I should care.

    But deep down, beneath the mental gymnastics and obligatory sighs of concern… I didn’t.

    Not really.

    And you know how I knew that? It became extremely boring to try to care. I cared more about caring than the topic I was SUPPOSED to care about.

    Now before you report me to your local “Citizen Who Should Care” hotline, let me clarify.

    I do care. I care about people.

    I just didn’t care about whatever thing was being discussed by angry man in a suit.

    There’s a difference. A big one, actually.

    When you truly care about something, it moves you—it compels you to act, to reflect, to engage.

    When you think you should care, it’s usually because someone else told you it’s important. Or because X did. Or because the anchor on the news got Very Serious™ with his voice.

    So there I sat, mildly stressed, semi-guilty, sipping coffee and wondering why I was so mentally invested in something I had no intention of doing anything about.

    And then it hit me: I was borrowing someone else’s care. Like a care-on-loan program and I have a horrible emotional credit score. The cost of the interest would floor me if I took that on.

    But here’s the strange and glorious twist: admitting I didn’t care, it gave me peace to be that honest.

    Because what I do care about is how people respond to news like that. My heart isn’t in the headlines—it’s with the person who’s afraid because of them, who’s confused, or angry, or overwhelmed.

    Even when I don’t agree with people’s perspective it’s nice to hear their conviction and walk alongside them.

    So instead of funneling all my energy into a political opinion I didn’t even want, I redirected it to empathy.

    And now, the real punchline—maybe the only part you need to hear:

    You only have so much energy every day.

    Which means it’s a precious resource. Like toilet paper during a panic (or eggs these days).

    So ask yourself:

    Do I actually care?

    Or do I just think I should?

    Practicing that tiny bit of honesty can save you hours of mental spiraling (refer back to my loan and interest metaphors, I was proud of that one).

    Because maybe you don’t care about that thing.

    But there is something else you care about a lot. And living in alignment with that thing makes you rational, grounded, and a lot less likely to throw your remote at the news.

    So go ahead—care less, on purpose.

    And care where it matters.

    Thank you for attending my TED Talk slash coffee-fueled ramble.

    A pic of me doing anything other than watching the news…..maybe she’ll braid it.

  • Iphone and Emotional Intelligence

    So, I put my car in drive. Again. I’ve driven to the same destination about five times now. Maybe more. I don’t know—who’s counting?

    Well, My iPhone is.

    I start moving, and then I back up—because I’m just a thrill-seeker like that—and BAM: the familiar little chime goes off.

    “Gym is nine minutes away.”

    Every. Single. Weekday.

    (Ok, not EVERY day? But you get it)

    It’s like my iPhone gaslights me.

    “Im not following your every move, you’re just paranoid.” It knows. It knows when I leave the house. Worse yet, I think it knows I know. (But I also know it knows I know).

    Sundays it whispers, “Church, 13 minutes”, like it’s trying to gently nudge me toward salvation. Other days it nudges me toward capitalism:

    “Office, 11 minutes.”

    And if I’m feeling in need of overpriced snacks:

    “Gas station, four minutes.”

    So what does this say about the iPhone? More importantly, what does this say about me, a supposedly evolved and deeply complex human being with a fully developed prefrontal cortex (let’s hope)?

    It says… my phone learns faster than I do.

    My iPhone doesn’t need a life coach, a therapist, or a hundred repetitions of the same bad idea before it goes, “Hey, this is a pattern.”

    Meanwhile, I’m over here needing a divine intervention and disabling guilt to acknowledge, “Oh, maybe I do this a lot.”

    But here’s the thing: the iPhone doesn’t have feelings. It doesn’t wake up and re-think, “I don’t feel like going to the gym. Maybe today’s a bakery day.”

    Nope. It doesn’t negotiate. Doesn’t justify. Doesn’t self-sabotage.

    It doesn’t wonder if the treadmill is judging it or if the shirt it’s wearing was actually washed (clean and dirty clothes getting awfully close to one another).

    It just sees routine, data, habits. Predicts and then Executes.

    So again, why don’t I learn like an iPhone? Why do I need the same lesson 30, 40, 184 times before it even occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, this is a bad idea?

    Here’s where I stand: good habits are boring, and bad habits are spicy.

    Take doughnuts, for instance. I didn’t need 40 tries to decide I liked doughnuts. That lesson was locked in immediately.

    Ask my mother—she has the smashed-cake baby photos to prove it.

    My daughter? My nephew? One doughnut and they’re in a committed relationship.

    But that same reward system? It works a little too well with gossip. Or swearing. Or skipping leg day.

    Somewhere, somehow, there’s a reward hiding in these less-than-ideal behaviors. A tiny hit of dopamine, a splash of excitement, rebellion even.

    So maybe the real issue isn’t just stopping the bad—it’s finding something good instead.

    Because if “gym” is less rewarding than “bakery,” well then, I can’t exactly trust my feelings, can I?

    My internal compass is calibrated to pleasure, but maybe the compass is a little… off.

    Which brings me to the haunting question:

    How many tiny, subpar decisions am I making every day that are driven by the lower, pleasurable me, versus the ideal gym-goer my iPhone might think I am. (Or at least, think that I think I am).

    Not the huge, dramatic habits—the little ones. The ones that snowball. The ones that come with a side of guilt.

    How many times does it take to change a behavior?

    Thirty?

    Forty?

    Or do I just need to become more like my iPhone?

    Because honestly… my iPhone figured it out in five.

  • This Book Changed My Life

    This Book Changed My Life

    I asked AI to summarize my book, Castle- Broken: When appearance are everything, here’s what I got:

    The document “Castle: Broken” by L.A. Meier is a deeply personal and emotionally raw exploration of muscle dysmorphia (also known as bigorexia)—a lesser-discussed body image disorder primarily affecting men. The author weaves clinical insight with autobiographical storytelling to shed light on how societal ideals, masculinity, and personal trauma fuel obsessive body concerns and destructive behaviors.

    🔍 Core Themes:

    • Body Image and Masculinity: The narrative highlights how cultural ideals pressure men to embody physical strength and dominance, often at the cost of emotional health and balance.
    • Muscle Dysmorphia Defined: Drawing on DSM-V criteria, it explains muscle dysmorphia as a subtype of body dysmorphic disorder marked by obsessive focus on muscularity, leading to impaired functioning and distress.
    • Steroid and Supplement Use: The author describes his personal descent into anabolic steroid and supplement use, not as vanity, but as an effort to gain control and self-worth through physique.
    • Mental Health and Masculine Identity: The story reflects on how unspoken emotional struggles, societal expectations, and the refusal to show vulnerability amplify the severity of disorders like bigorexia.
    • Childhood and Early Influences: The author recounts formative years shaped by isolation, a desire for approval, and early experiences with emotional sensitivity, body shame, and perfectionism.

    📚 Purpose of the Book:

    This is not just a memoir—it’s an advocacy piece calling for recognition of muscle dysmorphia as a real, dangerous mental health issue. It critiques the lack of tailored treatment for men and emphasizes the need for gender-specific approaches in mental health care.

    💬 Key Messages:

    • “We are the castles”—a metaphor for traditional male roles of strength—yet these castles can be hollow, crumbling under unrealistic expectations.
    • Emotional suppression in men is culturally reinforced, yet it’s this very suppression that leads to internal collapse.
    • Obsession with physique often masks deeper emotional wounds and a lack of self-worth.

    ✨ Overall:

    Castle: Broken is part confession, part analysis, and part call-to-action. It speaks to those suffering silently under the weight of appearance ideals and invites them—and society at large—to reconsider how we define strength, health, and masculinity.

    Available on Amazon and 10th Street Press

  • Attention Deficit Hyper-something Di…..did you see that one movie?

    Attention Deficit Hyper-something Di…..did you see that one movie?

    The Case of the Disappearing Keys

    It was a bright and somewhat sunny Tuesday morning, and I was on a mission: get to work on time and maybe get my kid to school on time too. Sounds simple enough.

    But in the realm of ADHD, that’s a high-stakes game.

    I patted down my pockets, feeling the familiar smoothness of my phone and a strangely pack of gum from the last time I wore the pants. But where are my keys? I could swear I left them right on the kitchen counter. Poof! Like an unintentional magic trick, they had vanished.

    With the precision of a dog looking for his lost bone, I began my investigation. The first suspect: The little backpack I take to the gym. I check, but non he’s innocent. Second culprit: Oh, I must have left them in my gym shorts. Strike Two. OK, for my last and final witness, they must be in my sweater pocket, again from the gym. But wait, I didn’t wear my gym sweatshirt back from the gym.

    Also, should I wash that sweatshirt because I did workout a little in it. I am going to set it on the counter and get to that decision later.

    Time is ticking by…but I am unaware.

    I check my watch.

    Ahhh, 5 minutes have passed and is all I did was look in two places?

    The Odyssey Continues

    After an embarrassing struggle, I found my keys nestled in the middle console of my car. Praise Jesus! Fueled by triumph and adrenaline, I tell my daughter abruptly, “we are going to be late.”

    This one is my fault, but this does not negate the “we” here. After all, WE will be late…the fault? Well, that goes to my mind’s love of chaos.

    I decided to grab my coffee before we leave. So that I can have enough caffeine in my system before the first therapy session, which starts in, well, it already started technically. The ADHD fairy sprinkled her magical ‘let’s-distract-you-with-everything-in-sight’ dust on me.

    I decide the coffee needs some half and half.

    But should I add the fats to the coffee so close to my post-workout routine? Should I just be a man and drink the black coffee?

    Decision making with ADHD is like going into a labyrinth filled with shiny objects. First, I think about my daily caloric intake, specifically from fats. Next, I think about how I don’t drink enough “unaltered” coffee and always need to do something else to it, you know, be “extra,” aka “doing the most.” Also, should I add some sweetener to it? Or is that just another thing I can’t tolerate, the actual taste of coffee?

    I decide that I work hard and deserve the altered coffee drink.

    8:07 AM. The shock hits my body, we are really late.

    “Sweetheart, let’s go! The bell already rang.”

    “OK, I have to go to the bathroom.”

    “What!”

    I can see my future, homeless self holding a sign, “Free Corner Therapy, anything helps.” As I imagine my forgiving client’s patience running thin.

    “How could you take advantage of me, my time is valuable” I imagine them saying.

    “I am going to tell everyone you suck.” They will follow-up with the death blow of therapists everywhere, a bad review.

    The Great Forgetting

    I finally arrived to my first session of an overbooked schedule. Mentally, I am working at being present, not over apologizing and getting right into the material to show that the client’s wait was worth their time.

    “Again, I apologize….” Just like a slow motion Tik Tok video emphasises the behavior that I wanted to avoid. “Fooooooorrrrrrr beeeeeeinnnnnggggg Laaaatttteeeee.”

    Ahhhhhh….noooooooo…….

    Now they have to say, “it’s OK,” that they “get it” that they know the mornings can be, “rough.”

    But it shouldn’t have been rough, if I kept my keys in the same place, didn’t need constant caffeine to stay engaged, as well as some earlier things such as doing one more rep at the gym, doing one more page of writing, pushing for one more preparation of food item and one more conversation with my wife. I can do it….I can fit it in…….

    Conclusion

    Life with ADHD is often a rollercoaster ride where mundane tasks morph into epic adventures. While I may be the proud owner of the world’s most disorganized brain, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Overall, I like the way I think. On the positive end, I can get too focused, and feel emotions deeply. I think this benefits many people. It took me a while to accept the way I think, and clearly there are underlying parts that I want to improve on (cough) fixating on if people like me or not. But, overall, it’s me I have to accept, not try to get people to accept me by enhancing my stress with an ideal “mask.”

    So here’s to the beautifully bizarre world of ADHD! Even if my thoughts sometimes lead me down a rabbit hole or two.

    Now, excuse me while I try to fit in making a smoothie, packing my backpack for the day, and getting across town to the office I work at on Wednesdays.

    Wait, what is today again?

  • What if Darth Vader Was the Hero?

    What if Darth Vader Was the Hero?

    From where I stand, watch the Star War series and image an alternative perspective; what if Darth Vader was actually the good guy and the Jedi were the ones in the wrong?

    Here is my proposal:

    What if, Darth Vader, was actually the good guy in the Star Wars franchise? Let’s take a look at some reasons why I think this is so, and maybe a lesson can be gained out of it. Something about perspective and empathy no doubt.

    Origin Story:

    Before Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker was a kind-hearted and passionate Jedi Knight who wanted to protect people he loved. His fall to the dark side was due to fear—fear of losing wife and mom. It was his misguided fear, most-likely due to childhood, single mom, responsibilities given to him prior to the emotional maturity. Childhood trauma is not so easily avoided, even in a Galaxy Far Far away. Anakin’s descent into darkness was driven by love and desperation.

    The Jedi Order thought that Anakin was the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force. This is something he succeeded at he did exactly what the prophecy foretold—just not in the way people expected. The Jedi became rigid in their rules and detached from emotions separated the Jedi from the people they were meant to protect. When Anakin took out the Jedi (though violently) he dismantled a flawed system.

    And lets not forget when Anakin, now Vader destroyed the Emperor.

    Darth Vader took out the Jedi Pharisees and eliminated the power-hungry Sith.

    Was the Empire really that bad?

    Think about the Republic, aka “good guys.” Under their rule, corruption, crime syndicates, and slavery existed unchecked on many planets. The Empire offered order, stability, and unity across the galaxy. In fact, under Emperor Palpatine, technology thrived, interplanetary travel improved, and large-scale conflict was minimal.

    Maybe Vader saw himself as the necessary enforcer of peace. The Rebel Alliance, were freaking rebels who ended up causing widespread destruction. Couldn’t the “rebellion” have learned to negotiate within the confines of the structure. But no, the “good guys” took it upon themselves to overthrow the government and at some point aware of the lives it would cost to do so. Vader was focused on maintaining peace, and did so as Anakin aka Vader always did, through attempts to control with the best information he had at the time.

    Redemption

    True villains don’t seek redemption—but heroes do. In the end, Darth Vader chooses love over power, saving his son at the cost of his own life. This selfless act proves that the good in him was never truly gone. His final moment, where he asks Luke to tell his sister that he was right about him, confirms that Anakin Skywalker was always there, waiting for the chance to do the right thing.

    Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury:

    Was Vader perfect? No.

    Did he make terrible choices? Absolutely.

    But his journey was one of pain, sacrifice, doing what he believed to be best, and ultimately redemption.

    In the end, he was the one who destroyed the Sith, saved his son, and fulfilled the prophecy. Without Darth Vader, the galaxy would have remained trapped in an endless cycle of corruption and war.

    So was he really a villain?

    After all, how far would you go to fight for what you believe to be right?

    Like Vader, maybe we all have a dark side we need to address.

  • The Chalk Line

    The Chalk Line

    Elliot, a tall, slender man wearing a large untucked shirt splattered with various mediums of materials sat hunched over his canvas. In his shirt pocket, the box of cigarettes rests on the chest going in and out, deep breaths. His fingers smudged with oil paints digs into the pack, fumbling in the box spreading a dark oil over the bright white filters ends.

    His art never seemed to land quite right.

    The air in his studio was thick with turpentine and frustration.

    Dozens of unfinished paintings leaned against the walls, each abandoned just shy of completion, their potential strangled by his relentless pursuit of perfection. He had spent weeks, months—sometimes even years—on a single piece, only to despise it in the end. Like his cigarettes, the weight of expectation pressed against his chest, also like the smokes, a suffocating reminder that his art no longer felt like creation but a battleground between ambition and failure.

    One afternoon, weary from the endless cycle of doubt and revision, Elliot stepped outside for air. The city bustled around him, indifferent to his turmoil. His feet moved without direction until he found himself at the park, where laughter and life carried through the crisp autumn air. There, just off the pathway, a child crouched, a piece of chalk clenched in his tiny fist, his face scrunched in concentration.

    Elliot watched as the boy’s hand glided across the pavement, sweeping blues and yellows into the gray stone with an ease that seemed almost careless. A streak of orange, a swirl of pink—no hesitation, no erasures, just movement. The boy paused, squinting at his creation. For a moment, Elliot thought he recognized that familiar doubt, that paralysis of knowing something could be better. But then, just as quickly, the boy dropped the chalk and sprang to his feet.

    Without a second glance at his work, he bolted across the park, following the unmistakable chime of an ice cream truck. Elliot stood there, stunned. He waited, half-expecting the boy to return, to kneel back down and tweak a line or blend a color more carefully. Minutes passed. The chalk rested where it had fallen, abandoned like the artwork itself.

    Curiosity got the best of him. He turned his gaze from the unfinished drawing and scanned the park, spotting the child sitting cross-legged on a bench, an ice cream cone clutched in his sticky fingers, laughing with a group of friends. Elliot hesitated for only a moment before approaching.

    Kneeling, he extended the chalk towards the boy. “Do you want to finish your drawing?”

    The child barely glanced up, licking a drip of melting vanilla from his hand. “It’s done.”

    Elliot blinked. He turned his head slightly, looking back at the pavement where the colors sprawled in wild, unapologetic shapes. He had expected an explanation—some reason, some justification. Instead, there was only certainty.

    It’s done.

    Those two words landed heavier than all the years of critiques, rejections, and self-imposed expectations. He had spent his whole life trying to make something perfect, something worth admiring, yet here was a child who created simply for the joy of it. And then, when the joy was over, he let it go.

    For the first time in years, Elliot felt something shift inside him. A loosening. A breath of relief.

    A week later, he started working part-time at a coffee shop. Not because he wanted to quit art, but because he wanted to make art without forcing it to pay his rent. He wanted to create without the suffocating fear of failure. And so he did. Some paintings he finished in a day. Others he never finished at all. And for the first time in his life, he was okay with that.

    Because sometimes, you don’t need to perfect something to make it worth creating. Sometimes, it’s done when you decide it is.

  • Oppression

    Oppression

    Words matter. When we qualify something as a word, you encompass the topic, concept, idea, into that word. Word’s have a meaning, but history shows us that this meaning or intention can change. A word like “oppression” is one of those words, much like “discrimination” or dare I say it, “slavery.” They are all concepts that even just reading can invoke some emotion.

    I chose oppression to write about because it’s a word I am hearing used more these days. People in America are being “oppressed” by a tyrant. People are being held back or somehow blocked from what they want. Which, at a relatable level, sucks to experience.

    What does oppression mean? “Prolonged, cruel or unjust treatment or control.”

    To experience any level of cruelty what does that do to a person? Break them? Make them angry and resistant to any sort of change? Does it make you scared, hopeless, depressed? Does the entire environment or anyone who seemingly doesn’t agree with you wholeheartedly become an adversary?

    Now, nobody can deny any other person’s experience. So, I don’t deny people feeling oppressed in their daily life either under this current presidency or any other time in life. I don’t deny that it can be debilitating to feel threatened, to feel that around the corner there are choices being made that will have an effect on you, your family, possible future generations.

    My question is, how do those who feel oppressed, but wanted change before, know if what is being done isn’t for a larger good later? Therefore, the “greater good” later may require a sacrifice now. How do we know that all of this won’t lead to something good, later? Is it because we feel the person or persons making the decisions aren’t trustworthy?

    According to historical accounts of the German SS troops in WWII in the book, Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland, the choice to be a part of something or not, is still up to each individual. These men’s journal accounts depicted the failure to act according to what they believed to be good, in support of the Jews. Instead they slowly fell into heinous mass murder.

    If you want some peace, try an exercise: When you experience a narrative of something, write two or three alternative perspectives. Force yourself to see what potential good could come from the current narrative you are experiencing. Work at being someone who is willing to challenge their notions, if only to better understand, there is an alternative perspective to everything.

    Triggered responses occur when we experience something that is painful or threatening in some way, setting the body into a fight or flight. When a threat to you or your wellbeing occurs, of course you are going to get amped up, of course you are going to have thoughts influenced by the biological response of fight, or flight.

    For the fighters out there, is what you are choosing to fight for, real and worth the potential sacrifice you might accrue as a result of an emotional choice in response to a “threat?” For the keyboard warriors out there typing some pretty damaging rants about how angry they are, how wronged or oppressed they are, what is it specifically you are responding to?

    These are real questions by the way. Not challenges. Curiosity kills, I am familiar with burning my own hand to see if the pan is hot. I want to touch on this topic of oppression because people are hurting, but some of the reason for hurt isn’t because of things going on, but the overconsumption of media and fear being promoted as a result. Threat of harm to anything you care about, leads to a justified fear response.

    Our minds work too quick for us, and questions can help us slow down a bit and investigate things more thoroughly. What happens when people slow down to realize what exactly they are feeling and ask “what can I do about this, what can I control?” What happens when we live as people trying to do good instead of identifying as oppressed or wronged leading to our inability to care for others?

    If you are drowning in the water you aren’t going to look out at the side of the pool and care for some kid who dropped his ice cream cone. When fearful you can waste all of your productive energy to yell out into the abyss to be heard. Online is like that, a large abyss, a seemingly large stage, but very little impact, if not just white noise.

    Dave Chappelle did this skit about 9/11. In the skit he references the old MTV music video show TRL. In the skit he talked about the twin towers and how when they fell, TRL host Carson Daly gets on a call with the rapper Ja Rule (who was incredibly popular at the time). Chappell references the idiocracy of getting Ja Rules opinion on the twin towers falling.

    “What would Ja do?” Chappell screams from the stage indicating that when he finds himself in trouble and unsure of what to do, he is now going to reference Ja Rule and what his thoughts are on matters.

    When in a heightened state, nobody should probably hear what you have to say. If you feel oppressed because of the information you are taking in and you feel justified in your angry response and you choose to share that, what is that going to do for other people? In your own way, you too could be the oppressor or at least reveal that you have the potential to oppose others as well.

    If you think the president is mad and hatred fills his bones, then do you hate back? If you want opposition to hate or it’s actually going to require you to love and be open to others. Yes, political parties, that even means to each other. You want to overturn the shift in the country, then love on each other more

    If you say that is how people are submissive and fail to make change? I disagree. I think doing good for others in our daily life does change things radically.

    Imagine you walk down the street and see 12 smiling faces, do you not think there would be some subtle shift in perspective of the world? If you are looking at yelling faces all day or yelling yourself, then yeah, you probably do feel the world is out to get you.

    Also, do we not think that every other government that fell before America did not have the people rebel or disagree along the way? Even with all of that anger as a result of oppression all the other nations fell. But I want to read about a nation that worked at loving each other and see how they did. Did nobody watch the Grinch and see the Who’s come together even after all of their stuff was taken?

    Sadly its human nature to rise to power, turn corrupt, and then the people fall into a faithless, fear state and then the whole thing collapses. How about in the face of oppression we choose to love and share words of uplifting comments and give more, rather than telling random people how angry or threatened you are.

    I don’t know, maybe there’s something I am missing. After all, I am supposed to be the Christian, white, heterosexual, cis-male with tall stature and medium-level income that is told doesn’t get it. So, fair enough, but the question of what you CAN do in the face of oppression and how is it going to serve the good of others still stands.

  • Diddy=Nothing New.

    Diddy=Nothing New.

    It was 2000, maybe 1999; unfortunately, any other year off of something wouldn’t matter, but this was Y2K we were talking about.

    1999 (things are OK) 2000 (things implode).

    So, it was February of 2000 and I was with my friend in his 1989 Buick. I just turned 15. The snowy landscape was visible for miles in our small Midwest farming town. My friend had his drivers license, I was too young to drive. Needless to say, I was very happy to ride shotgun on the plush seats.

    My friend puts on a song. My ears start to tingle.

    “My songs bump in Houston like Scarface produced ’em
    You ain’t gotta like me, you just mad
    ‘Cause I tell it how it is, and you tell it how it might be…    ”

    “Who is this?” I ask.

    “Puff Daddy” My friend says condescendingly.

    See, I didn’t listen to very much cool music growing up.

    I bought my first album in elementary school. Friends (Original soundtrack). I didn’t have a clue what to listen to back then and this weird mix of coffee house and alternative rock songs was not highly talked about in school.

    When I looked further into this”Puff Daddy” guy, I became enamored with the sunglasses, the cool videos, and the red leather pants. Now, for context, in 2000 ,”looked further” meant that I opened the little folded paper inside the CD case. I gleaned whatever I could from the various TV show appearances, Making the Band, talk shows, MTV interviews, and even picked up albums from anyone on Diddy’s Bad Boy Records. (See, Black Rob, Notorious B.I.G., Craig Mack, Faith Evans, The Lox).

    Sean Combs aka Puffy, aka Puff Daddy aka P. Diddy aka Diddy wasn’t that good of a lyricist. The albums weren’t the best. But it was his persona that stuck with me.

    Skipping to September, 2024. Sean “puffy” Combs gets arrested on charges related to using his empire to control women and sexually abuse them. The charges also include racketeering and sex trafficking. Along with these charges other allegations involved forced sexual acts with minors, sex parties known as “freak-offs” lasting up to 48 hours, and associations with sexual abuse of minors.

    It doesn’t stop there; other stories outside of the main charges started popping up. For instance, baby oil bottles filled with GHB used to manipulate people into sexual acts. Reports of various recordings from the 250 cameras inside the Diddy house. Also, various accusations implicating celebrities including some of the most famous people in Hollywood and professional sports.

    Mind blown right? Give a human being all the money, power, and influence they could want and It turns out some people use it to indulge their sickest desires.

    “Well, I would never….” A thought many people have.

    But the truth is, let’s say tomorrow you woke up and had all the money and notoriety as some of today’s modern celebrities. On top of that, you were surrounded by people who were normalizing the fulfillment of their deepest desires. Don’t you think there would be decisions made that you wouldn’t have agreed to before?

    Most people are not that good. They are scared. Scared to get caught and judged. But as society continues to deteriorate, it moves away from any sense of morality. As a result, normalization of deviant acts continue to increase.

    From where I stand human beings are not living as intended, as God-centered as we were made to be. If we replace the source of authority with our feelings, we become delusional. Further, as truth seems relative and holding people accountable is viewed as unfair, we lack checks and balances. Further tolerance leads to acceptance and eventually into participation.

    As history has taught us, societies rise and fall, America is not so special to avoid such things. We have to take in to account that an increasingly immoral and corrupt society will continue to breed an acceptance for further deviated behaviors.

    Diddy isn’t anything new. Nothing other than a celebrity who bought in to the idea that he was something special. We’ve all been in a position to assert some sort of power for our benefit. His power was vast and his “benefit” was to harm others. Our power might be used to slander or steal (as a former Napster user, guilty).

    We are all capable of atrocities. Any one of us has the potential to think that we are special, that the rules do not or should not apply. We think we don’t need authority, that we don’t need God. In fact, to a self-centered person, God is an interference on the presumed “good” they want to do.

    Self-indulgence runs rampant throughout the history of mankind. From Cain who killed his brother Abel, to kings and royalty, and tyrants throughout history. The more we look at the past, the more we see the same thing today.

    Modern celebrities are no different with the way they are viewed as deities among mere mortals. If you think you are different, or “you would never” you’ve got a whole history of other “good” humans who did some atrocious things who said the same thing.

    Just be honest with yourself. Judging separates you from relating to others. When you get disgusted, ask what inside of you it is that disgusts you. When you see Diddy or any other celebrity engaging in behaviors that you judge, just remember that you have done some things in your life you aren’t so proud of but justified at the time. Be willing to identify areas for self-improvement. Pray for guidance to recognize the shortcomings in your life that need addressing.

    All day…err day.
  • This Will Solve Everything!

    This Will Solve Everything!

    Glad you’re here. Glad you decided to do this for yourself. I find that people willing to take the helping hand and in turn, humble themselves, do better in life than those who don’t.

    What is “better?” Well, it’s better than…

    Better than…being prideful, greedy, selfish, masking, denial, prideful.

    Humility in asking for help is better than all the rest of the “successful” traits.

    Humility is simply better than pride and tastes so much sweeter when experienced than does, arrogance or stupidity.

    Yes, to be humble is to be wise. Humility shows you that you can benefit from anyone at anytime, so it’s good to listen.

    What solves your problem then isn’t the solution, but the next problem.

    You want to lose weight, so you starve yourself. Thirty-five pounds later your problem is solved right? You wanted to lose weight right? You should be content now.

    But wait, your life is now more miserable than it was before. Why, well, you now have something to lose, or in this case, gain. You could gain the weight back and be the piece of crap you were before.

    You can’t go back there. You have to keep the weight off, if not lose more.

    You reinforce the belief that only certain versions of yourself are good enough to be admired, the weight-loss part, the thinner legs and slightly flatter stomach. You have to depend on the weight loss to make you happy because it cost you so much.

    But you still aren’t happy.

    So you get fat again and say “I accept me for me.” But now you are the model of yourself you so harshly judged when you were thinner, when you “had it all together.”

    Your willpower was used to get you something you thought you wanted. But you were lied to. Your solution to your identified problem is now your new problem and so on and so forth.

    Humble yourself and allow yourself to see moment to moment what you live for, and be really honest about it.

    You wanted to be sexy, wanted to be wanted, looked at, coveted. Maybe you nobilize that you wanted to feel better, and that might be true. But honestly, what is your problem, other than the fact that you are living for things you think you should live for. You assess yourself based on a measuring stick that was formed from your environment.

    Your pride says you know what to do. Your god-like self says that you alone came up with the solution. Your worst and most destructive parts have led you to a false sense of control that is actually a jail cell.

    I promised you this post would solve your problems. SO here it goes. It’s not the problem your mind tells you is a problem that needs to be solved. You don’t need to lose weight. You don’t need to be better. You need to identify the underlying repetitive narrative that tells you the same thing-feeding you what the problem is. You need to see your brain and body for what they are and stop trying to solve and fix. The resolve here is to sit and wait.

    Yes, patience and quiet.

    You create more problems by doing too much. Life isn’t measured in how much work you do. Life is given to us to be experienced and to do so with a mind focused on the highest things.

    “Whatever you do in word or deed, do it for the Lord, giving thanks through God the Father” Colossians 3:17.

    Serve your highest value in everything and you will discover that your problems are solved because they were never really the problem at all.

  • The Subtle Art of Caring

    The Subtle Art of Caring

    I am fortunate to get to hear stories everyday. Sometimes I wonder how many people wonder if I still care or not?

    I would hope that my presentation is one that demonstrates care, but what if there’s something I am unaware of that comes across as uninterested in the other person?

    But yet, to try to seem like we care isn’t really caring. To actually care requires us to no longer try to depict caring, but to feel what the other person feels.

    But then, how do we find the space for care and compassion for other people around us when we may be struggling ourselves?

    I find that it’s not about our initial thoughts that determine if we care or not, but to care is more about noticing our habitual first thoughts and choosing to act based on what matters the most.

    As humans we are designed to be together in community. I would gamble on the idea that if you dig deep enough, you do care about community. Even if you focus on yourself to be praised by that community. A reason why self-established god status is because you believe it is good for people to praise you, just like you might think it’s good to praise yourself. No god is going to think it’s not good for the people to praise them.

    As a general rule, we desire good for one another. So, although short-sided and misguided, self-promotion can be an attempt to do good.

    But how can we care about people in the right way,?

    1. We were given two ears to hear and one mouth to speak. Yes, all you philosophers out there, people loooooove to get advice, but often listening can show you care so much more.
    2. You can improve your ability to acknowledge the thoughts and then checking the thoughts against what matters to you and then choosing what action aligns with who you want to be.
    3. You want to be good, then do good.

    Good then comes down to thinking if you were that person, what would you want/need in this situation. If you like to talk like I do, then I love it when I get someone to listen to me. I love it when even though the person might not fully get what I am talking about, they can see my passion and because they want me to feel cared for, they care about hearing me talk about my passion.

    These people I like to talk with, nod, acknowledge my ideas, ask questions, even propose an alternative perspective. The best people first try to see what I am saying before they impose their ideas.

    So, thinking about the people I have enjoyed talking to, I work to mimic these people. Because of my own selfish nature, I need models to show me what a listener does to show they care. And no, it’s not being fake to do this, but it’s to live as the person I want to be.

    Now, smiling and nodding along is great, but there is so much more to caring. And this is important:

    Within a healthy relationship, I also like when I am challenged. When questioned with intent to help me see something differently I am grateful for it. I mean, I am initially defensive in my head, but with time and practice I can see how feedback is exactly what I need. So, I also use the relationship and understanding I believe I have with people to share the same challenges or alternative perspective to them. All of this is under the umbrella of caring for people’s good and wellbeing.

    Although the long-term goals of other people may be different than what we want for them, in the short time together we can demonstrate care and compassion by listening. We can improve at removing the expectation that we have to fix or answer everyone.

    Remember, when caring for others, it’s not about you.

    From where I stand, if someone comes to you with a problem, it’s good to listen. After the conversation you might find that the initial “problem” they had wasn’t really the problem. People have a desire to be heard. So, if we do to others as we would like to have done to us, we don’t give advice, correct, or even reprimand (although there is a time and place for all of these things), listen first. Then, through caring and empathetic ears we can ask ourselves what sort of conversations do we like to have and who do we think of when we imagine absolute kindness and caring at it’s best within a conversation.