Stop The Stigma

It’s Ok To Not Be Ok

One of the biggest issues with suicide is that people won’t talk about it. They ignore the signs. They joke, they carry on, they act like nothing is wrong.

Then, BOOM!, someone’s gone, and no one knows what to do or say. The questions come too late. The reality hits too late.

I’ve been there. I’ve ignored the signs. I’ve told myself, there isn’t anything to worry about… until there was.

I get it. People don’t know what to say or do. Life looks perfect on the outside: kids playing, ice cream trucks rolling down the street, laughter echoing everywhere.

But the truth is, there’s darkness in most of us. Real struggles. Real pain. And many people are silently fighting battles we’ll never see.

The Yellow Elephant is an organization dedicated to shedding light on mental illness and suicide.

https://www.theyellowelephant.org

“The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it.”

I wear the Yellow Elephant on my right hand. It’s a reminder of a time I lost a dear friend. It’s also a reminder for myself… honestly, I’m not in a good place lately.

And yet… few around me notice. But I’m armed with QPR training, I lean on 988, and I reach out to The Yellow Elephant. Even though they’re based in Moultrie, GA, their support is real and unwavering.

When I’m at my lowest, I take a breath, glance at the tattoo, and start fighting again.

If life were a boxing match, how many rounds would there be? 10? 15? Or as many as it takes to win the fight?

So I fight. I struggle. I search for answers. And I fight again.

Here’s my reminder to everyone: we must stop the stigma. Push past the embarrassment. Push past the naivety that someone close to you couldn’t be suffering. Mental illness, emotional pain, physical pain, it’s real, and it’s often invisible.

The path to help is dark, but there is light at the end… if we as a society stop ignoring the pain around us.

https://www.crisistextline.org

https://www.nami.org

https://988lifeline.org/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=web&utm_campaign=onebox

NASA’s April Fools’: Returning to the Moon

Today, the headlines are buzzing: “NASA Returns to the Moon After 50 Years!”

Exciting, right? Except… not really. The Artemis II mission isn’t actually landing on the Moon, it’s flying around it. A flyby, people. That’s it. To me a fly by is what you do when you are gathering information about potentially visiting a place we’ve never been to!

The Greatest Lie Ever Told: The Moon Landing Hoax and the Alien Cover-Up

It’s like flying from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles and bragging that you “visited Nebraska” just because your plane passed over it. Cool sight, maybe, but you didn’t land there, you didn’t step foot, and yet somehow the media’s spinning it like humanity’s back on the lunar surface.

Look, I love progress. I love space. I love that NASA is actually moving forward with exploration instead of sitting on old glory. But honesty matters. Headlines grab attention, sure, but they also create false hope, stir unnecessary division, and make people feel betrayed when the fine print hits.

If we want to inspire a nation with space exploration, we should start with the truth: we’re not “returning” to the Moon. We’re taking the next step toward it. That’s worth celebrating too… without misleading everyone along the way.

Because seriously, the headline shouldn’t be “Returning to the Moon” it should be “Visiting the Moon for the First Time!”

The Dangers of 2am….

When Everything Hits At Once

Today is one of the worst days since this neck issue started. Not because it’s getting worse… at least I don’t think it is. But because now I’ve got some kind of flu on top of it. And with it comes a cough, the kind that doesn’t just annoy you… it punishes you. Every time I cough, it feels like my head is going to fall off, like something inside my neck is failing.

The pain shoots from my neck into my shoulder, and then the pressure hits, followed by that intense pins and needles feeling flooding down my arm and into my hand. It’s violent. It’s immediate. And there’s no way to brace for it. And it’s going to be a long night.

I’m no closer to answers. No closer to a solution. Just stuck trying to figure out how to exist like this.

I tried to go into work today. That was a mistake. I can’t sit for more than a minute without the pain ramping up, which makes driving almost impossible. Honestly… today might’ve been the last time I try to drive anywhere for a while.

And that realization hits harder than I expected. Because now everything starts piling up.

The grass needs cut. The house needs attention. Coda needs walked, more than once. And then there’s work…. Where I’m useless. I walk around the building when it’s busy, unable to help the way I should. I can’t sit, I can’t focus, I can’t be who I’m supposed to be there. And that messes with you. Along with the fact that I’m killing my wife by making her go there every night to do my job… something doesn’t sit right about that!

I am not a religous person and I don’t believe in God or tests or blah blah blah, “He wouldn’t have given you this if you couldn’t handle it” shit! That doesn’t help. It doesn’t make this easier. It just sounds empty.

So I start wondering…. How is everyone else? Is life really working for you?

Are people actually out there sleeping, working just enough, taking care of their families, exercising, eating right, and then casually enjoying dessert like everything’s balanced and under control? Because that’s not what my life feels like.

This feels like falling behind in every area at once. And somewhere along the way… honestly, not until my fifties, I got hit with a realization I can’t shake: I don’t feel like I matter. I sit here and try to think of what I’ve actually done that’s meaningful… and I come up empty. No real accomplishments. No standout skills, other than cooking. And right now? I can’t even do that.

So what does that leave? I don’t see myself as someone people take seriously. I don’t see myself as a great friend, husband, or father. And yeah… maybe that’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the constant pain. Maybe it’s the flu on top of everything else.

Or maybe this is just what the truth looks like when everything else is stripped away.

Either way… Right now, it’s winning. It’s 2am. No signs of sleep coming. I thought about going to the ER. But for what? Maybe they quiet the cough for a few hours… but the nerve pain? The neck? That’s mine to figure out. That’s mine to live with.

And I get it now… why people lose their minds from pain like this. Why they reach for anything that makes it stop, even for a little while. Chirst even Tiger Woods has an addiction problem. I get it. I won’t drive. So there’s one good decision in all of this.

But yeah… I’m rambling now. This is just where my head is tonight. This, writing, is about the only thing I can still do that doesn’t hurt. So, I’ve hung up the mountain biking for blogging.

So if you’re reading this… thanks for being here. And if you’re not Maybe you’re missing something. Or maybe you’re just one of the lucky ones.

Why Does The Pope Decide What God Hears?

Religion Doesn’t Belong In Politics, but It’s Welcomed In War

After writing my “campfire story” blog, I thought I was done talking about religion for a while. Well, that didn’t last long.

Today’s headlines pulled me right back in.

With everything unfolding involving Iran, whether we agree with it or not, Pope Leo XIV made the statement:

“God does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war, but rejects them.”

And just like that, I was transported back to a different version of myself.

Back when I was trying to follow the Catholic path. Back when I was going through confirmation, showing up to church, doing what I thought was “my part.”

One Sunday morning, I sat there listening, not to the sermon, but to a group of older women behind me whispering about how I looked.

Tattoos from wrist to elbow. Golf tee. Shorts.

Apparently, that was enough to become the topic of discussion. “Judge not, that you be not judged” Matthew 7:1-5

Funny how that message seems to get lost, especially when judgment comes from the very people meant to guide faith.

See, I was under the impression that showing up mattered. That participation mattered. That faith wasn’t about appearance. And more importantly, I believed God didn’t judge like that.

That moment stuck with me. Not because it pushed me away from faith, but because it made something very clear: I didn’t need a building full of judgment to pray.

And I certainly didn’t need someone else deciding whose prayers count.

So when I hear a statement like that from the Pope, I don’t hear guidance. I hear contradiction.

Because whether it’s a soldier in a trench, a president in a war room, or a scared kid halfway across the world whispering a prayer for safety, who are we to say God isn’t listening?

Faith, at its core, is personal. It’s messy. It’s human. It’s imperfect.

And last time I checked, forgiveness doesn’t come with conditions about where you stand or what uniform you’re wearing.

That’s kind of the whole point of Jesus Christ.

With Easter approaching and yard signs popping up everywhere declaring “He Is Risen,” we’re reminded of sacrifice, forgiveness, and grace.

Not perfection. Not politics. Not selective hearing.

If Jesus died for our sins, then that includes all of them. Even the ones wrapped in conflict, war, and decisions we may never fully understand.

We don’t have to agree with war. We don’t have to support it. But dismissing the prayers of those caught in it?

That feels more dangerous than the prayers themselves. Because the moment we start deciding whose faith is valid… we’re no longer talking about God.

We’re talking about control.

Still Alive, Still Suffering… So No One’s Accountable?

Anyone who knows me knows one thing, I don’t like to sit still.

I’m always moving. Work, play, doesn’t matter. Sitting around has never been part of who I am.

So if you know me… you know I’m not just struggling right now, I’m barely holding it together.

I can’t work. I can barely drive and when I do, it’s honestly dangerous.

Watching TV? Forget it. The only way I can even tolerate it is laying down or slouched forward, forcing my head down just to avoid triggering the pain.

Because the second I’m upright…

A violent surge of pain and pins and needles that shoots through my arm and into my hand.

The only way I can describe it? It feels like high-voltage electricity is running through my arm.

And I don’t say this lightly, this is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

These blogs… they’re not just posts for fun. They’re my outlet. My pressure valve. Because without this release? My mind goes to some very dark places.

I’m not well. And I’m not even sure people understand how fast things are slipping mentally.

Even something as simple as walking Coda has become a challenge.

There’s no clear end in sight. No plan. No direction. No timeline.

At this point, I’m seriously looking at leaving the country for surgery… Panama, Mexico… wherever someone will actually do something.

And yeah, I hesitated. Draining savings for surgery in another country isn’t exactly a casual decision.

But let me ask you something… What’s the price of getting your life back?

I need to say something that not enough people see.

My wife. She works all day teaching. Which, let’s be honest, isn’t the same job it used to be. It’s harder. More stressful. More demanding.

And then? She goes straight to the restaurant. Not for a paycheck. Not for recognition.

She does it so the business doesn’t fall apart. She does it so someone’s there to answer questions. She does it to make sure everything’s handled, right down to checking that the ovens and fryers are turned off at night.

She asks for nothing. She doesn’t complain. She just… shows up.

Every single day.

So I’m asking, if you see her, be kind. Be patient. And if you’re able, help out where you can.

Because I promise you, this isn’t the life she imagined when she said “I do.”

This isn’t marriage. This isn’t spending time with your husband, this is struggling to stay afloat while everything around you crashes.

And yeah… I’ve been thinking about malpractice. Because where do you even go from here? My family can’t sue anyone, I’m still alive.

So what am I supposed to do?

Just keep going? Keep waiting? Keep suffering?

Let me walk you through what “doing everything right” looks like:

Chiropractor.

Primary care physician.

X-rays.

Physical therapy.

Neurosurgeon.

MRI.

Second neurosurgeon.

CT scan.

EMG.

Pain management.

Two epidural injections.

Orthopedic spine surgeon.

And somehow… Here I am. Sitting in my basement, unable to do much of anything but fight off the darkness.

While the people who were supposed to help me go home, enjoy their weekends, and live their lives.

I don’t know where the breakdown is. I don’t know why no one has a plan.

But I do know this… Something is wrong.

The MRI shows it. My body proves it.

And every day… it’s getting worse. And yet… nothing.

If you made it this far, thank you.

Seriously. Because right now, being heard means more than anything.

And if you didn’t make it this far…

Well, I guess you’ll never know how much I appreciated you anyway.

Lending Lies: Banks Create Debt

Let me tell you about one of the biggest financial scams that nobody calls a scam.

It’s not hidden. It’s not illegal. It’s just… accepted.

Banks don’t base your loan on what you actually make.
They base it on what you could make, before reality shows up and takes its cut.

The Illusion of Income

On paper, I make $8,000 a month.

Sounds great, right?
Responsible adult. Solid income. Let’s go buy something expensive.

Except… I don’t make $8,000 a month.

I make $6,042.88.

That’s what hits my account.
That’s what pays my bills.
That’s what buys groceries, keeps the lights on, and handles life when it inevitably takes a swing at you.

That $2,000 difference? Gone. Before I ever see it. But guess which number the bank uses?

Yeah. The fake one.

“You’re Approved!” (For a Life You Can’t Afford)

Banks will look at that $8,000 and say:

“Congratulations! You can afford this house.”

No… I can’t. What they’re really saying is: “You can survive this loan… if nothing goes wrong.”

And let’s be honest, when does nothing ever go wrong?

The furnace breaks
The car needs tires
Groceries jump another 20%
Life decides to get creative

And suddenly that “affordable” payment turns into a monthly panic attack.

The Dangerous Math Nobody Talks About

Here’s the part that should bother you.

Based on gross income, I could be approved for payments that would leave me nearly $2,000 short every single month based on what I actually take home.

Let that sink in. Not “a little tight.”
Not “cut back on takeout.”

Short. Every. Month.

And we wonder why people are drowning in debt.

The System Isn’t Broken… It’s Designed This Way

This is the part people don’t like to hear.

The system isn’t flawed. (Well, it kind of is) It’s working exactly as intended.

Basing loans on gross income:

Makes approvals easier
Makes loan amounts bigger
Makes banks more money over time

Meanwhile, you’re left trying to make real-life math work with imaginary numbers.

What Lending Should Look Like

Here’s a wild idea:

What if loans were based on what people actually take home?

Not pre-tax.
Not theoretical.
Not “before life happens.”

Real money. In your account.

Because that’s the only number that matters.

If I have $6,000 a month to live on, then every decision, every loan, every bill, every commitment, should come from that number.

Not some inflated version of it.

The Truth Nobody Puts in the Brochure

Just because a bank approves you… doesn’t mean you can afford it.

It means they can afford for you to try.

Final Thought

If you want to stay out of financial quicksand, stop asking:

“What will they give me?”

Start asking: “What can I live with… comfortably… when life isn’t playing nice?”

Because the difference between those two questions?

That’s the difference between owning your home…

…and your home owning you.

Where to Go: When the System Stops Listening

So I had my second epidural yesterday.

On my last visit, we actually had a solid conversation, one of those moments where you think, finally, we’re getting somewhere. The first epidural was done at the C6–C7 level and gave me absolutely no relief. Nothing. So I came prepared this time.

I explained my symptoms.
I referenced my MRI.
I pointed to what made sense.

Based on all of that, I asked for the next epidural to be done at C5–C6.

The PA agreed. We were on the same page. We scheduled it.

Simple. Logical. Aligned. Fast forward to today and it’s only been about half a day, and I’m sitting here feeling exactly the same… no relief. But this time, it’s different. This time there’s a reason nagging at me in the back of my mind.

Then the email comes in. Physician notes. Results. Documentation.

And there it is.

Despite the conversation.
Despite the agreement.
Despite everything I brought to the table…

The injection was done at C6–C7. AGAIN!

At what point does this stop being frustrating and start becoming unacceptable?

Because this isn’t just about pain anymore. It’s about being heard. It’s about a system that should work, where doctors look at imaging, listen to their patients, and connect the dots.

Look at the MRI.
Listen to the symptoms.
Follow the nerve pathways.

That’s not revolutionary thinking, that’s the baseline.

Shoulder and arm pain with paresthesia? The chart points straight to C5–C6. It’s right there. Not hidden. Not complicated. And yet somehow, my treatment journey has turned into a complete head scratcher.

So now I’m left asking a question I shouldn’t have to ask:

Do I even attempt a third epidural? Because right now, it doesn’t feel like a plan, it feels like a gamble.

And here’s where it gets even more frustrating…

West Virginia Public Employees Insurance Agency has a list of criteria to appeal their decisions on where you can go for treatment. One of those criteria?

https://www.facebook.com/share/1GD7Na5r4Q/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Failed treatment.

Let that sink in.

Two procedures. Zero relief. Clear misalignment in care.

And they still denied my request to go to UPMC for treatment.

So not only am I dealing with constant pain…
I’m also stuck in a system that requires failure before it allows you the chance to succeed.

At some point, you have to wonder… How many times do you have to be ignored before someone finally listens?

Facebook Friends List: An Explanation

I’ve talked before about what social media should be versus what it’s turned into.

With the recent wave of friend requests, it feels like the right time to explain my “80 Friends Rule.”

Here’s the deal.

Most of my Facebook friends are immediate family and a small circle of real-life connections. And honestly, if you have my phone number but choose to message me on Facebook… we need to have a different conversation. Use the number.

On the flip side, if you’re actively in my life… regular contact, real conversations, you already know what’s going on with me. You don’t need Facebook to keep up.

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

If you’re not in my inner circle but still enjoy my content, engage with my posts, and actually participate, then yeah, you might make the cut. But if you’re just quietly lurking? No likes, no comments, no interaction… you’re probably won’t be around long.

Facebook, to me, isn’t a spectator sport. It’s a participation platform.

And let’s address the wildest scenario… if you send me a friend request, then see me out somewhere like Kroger and have no idea who I am? Immediate deletion. No trial period. No appeal. Straight to unfriend.

Now, about the number.

At one point, I went through my list and landed on 80 people I genuinely couldn’t justify removing. That became the benchmark: family, close friends, and a few work-related connections who need access.

Anyone beyond that? Rotating roster.

I’m currently a little over 80, but give it a few days, that number corrects itself.

So here’s the deal. If you’re close to me, you don’t need Facebook to stay connected.

If you enjoy my content and engage with it, you’re welcome here.

If you’re just passing through or unsure why you’re here… that usually answers itself.

And if you were here and now you’re not. it’s not personal.

It just means you’re someone in my life who doesn’t need Facebook to know me.

If you do want to keep up with my blogs, you can always subscribe (for free) at https://baz0157.home.blog… no friend request required.

Checking In, Isn’t Always A Fix

Today is the worst of the days. I’ve done every test required of me and yet, I am still no closer to being fixed.

As a QPR person,

I have questioned, persuaded, and referred myself.

I’m not 100% sure why because I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to take my own life, however, I don’t want to live with this misery and pain anymore.

I don’t know where to go from here… I’ve spoken to the “experts” everyone always has the same responses.

For the past 12 years I’ve been the guy to answer calls, texts and provide the necessary help people needed. They say, you should check on your people and I’ve always done that.. I’ve always been the one to make sure people are ok.

But with that said, save your comments, your phone calls and your messages… there isn’t any amount of words that can make me feel better.

Want to meet up and talk about it? I can’t drive! Want to come over and chat? I can’t look you in the eye, because for any tiny amount of relief, I have to keep my head down and chin to my chest.

Living with this constant pain has taken the life from me already. I am unable to work, sit upright, drive, do any physical activity, or help my wife around the house. I feel as if I’m wasting away propped up on my couch.

I don’t know about anyone else, but this feeling is what make people go mad! My thoughts have been dark and disturbing and my mental health is at an all time low. Kind words do not fix things. Showing up doesn’t make the pain go away.

I am at a crossroads and I haven’t figured out what to do yet… but I can honestly say, this is the worst place I’ve ever been.

Doctor’s appointments are growing, distance travelled has surpassed a round trip drive to Texas and the bills, well, they’re nearing the $8000 mark. All that and not even one inkling of a hint someone has a treatment or solution for me. Hell, the first five doctors I’ve seen haven’t even shown an ounce of care or compassion, just dismissal. Makes you wonder, are they in the field for the challenges and to help people, or just the pay check??

If you need to talk, the 988 Lifeline is here.

THC > Alcohol

THC–Infused Drinks For The Win

Let me start with this… everyone’s different.

We all process things a little differently, so what I feel might not be exactly what you feel. But if you’re asking what it’s like for me after a Nowadays drink… pull up a chair.

It usually takes about 10 to 15 minutes before I start to feel some effects kicking in.

At first, I’m sitting at the bar, listening to everyone talk about busted brackets. It’s March Madness, hoops are on and everyone’s yelling at the TV like the players can hear us.

Then it happens. Not all at once, but suddenly I realize… I’m not really watching the game anymore.

Now, I’m looking at the TV. Not what’s on it… the TV itself. How did they even get that thing up there?

Is there a special guy for that? Like… a “bar TV installation specialist”?

And now I’m thinking… Is it a nightmare to plug anything in?

Do they have to climb up? Is there a ladder? Is there a system??

Meanwhile, there’s still a game going on… allegedly.

But my brain? It’s gone exploring. That’s the feeling.

It’s not overwhelming. It’s not chaotic. It’s just… relaxed curiosity.

Your mind loosens its grip a little. You drift. Things get interesting in a different way.

You might start wondering about the players. Are any of them getting high after the game?

Is college life for them anything like it was for us?

And then, out of nowhere, your brain cuts through everything with the most important question of the night:

“Anyone wanna get a pizza?”

That’s when you know you’ve fully arrived.

For me, it’s a smooth, enjoyable high that hangs out for a few hours. No harsh edge. No next-day regret. No waking up feeling like you got hit by a truck.

Just a good time, a little mental wandering, and maybe a pizza run you didn’t plan on.

Again, everyone’s different.

But if you ever find yourself more interested in how the TV got mounted than the game itself…

Yeah. It kicked in.