That’s me.  2017.  Rockstar photo... but the darkest mental state I've known. Walking a razor thin edge inside, knowing it as normal. Dreaming of the West, failing at Home.

​​​

So much has changed since this shot, it's truly hard to quantify. Eight years on now, a different man writes these words to an unseen audience, deeply and personally happy. Not just a flippant statement, but a feeling of true connection to all the human relationships in my orbit – my person and life partner, our family, my self – and none of this came easy. And it will always take shared effort, empathy, and care. And while the road has been long and ever winding, it’s still unfolding in front of me. That’s what the music is about, at its core. The journeys in and out of darkness and light... growth through the black... the will of the soul to adapt and survive and express itself, without limitation.

​​

That last bit is the hardest part - the healing.

​​

A moment for dis-comfort. In my 30’s I could see images of the end, closer than they should appear. It wasn’t good. I stared at them regularly and creatively; danced with them in continuous, unhealthy ways; allowed them a power to make me feel trapped, desperate… alone. But I wasn’t done. Far from it. That will I mentioned above is strong, and what I found is that it was (and is) the true representation of me, not the darkness. Something I may have always known innately, but getting lost in the inner wild had put that belief in jeopardy. Standing in a terrified but grateful light, a choice was made.

​​​

It took me almost forty years to change my life for the better, but it happened. And once I made that first difficult choice in the name of self-worth, the mental doors started to open. I confronted my father about our shared demons - door one. I spent years working on my own thoughts, emotions and habits – door two – pulling them back from the outer bands into the eye of the storm. Middle-middle. A safer space to reset and recenter, before attempting to venture out into a whole different kind of storm – door three. The outer reaches of personal creativity and self-expression. Music. The stage. Baring your soul and seeing what the universe bares back.

​​

Pass or fail, no matter. Everything happens for a reason, like falling off a ladder from fifteen feet... inside my own home... in front of my children. Level I Trauma. Nothing humbles a man like shame, or changes his perspective like a wheelchair. Just two shattered heels for a lifetime of running scared, and the daily pain so I never forget.

​​

But you know I got back up - stronger, I believe. Physically-mentally-spiritually, I have healed (or keep healing) from past trauma, grateful every single day for this life. It has given me so much more than asked...

​​​​​​​

At present day, this man is home.

​​​

                   -  JD​​​​​​

​​​​