Lockdown day 38: I actually just counted the days on the calendar, because I barely know what day it is most of the time. That’s 38 days I’ve had my shop closed. 38 days without income. 38 days my staff has no income. As of now, we don’t even know when this will end. And as far as experts are saying, this exact thing will happen again this winter.

Yeah, it’s going to happen again. Only next time it very well could be worse. That puts a lot of us into some strange predicaments. There’s no doubt in my mind that we should be closed, and so should just about every other business. Without efforts to mitigate damage, estimates have put the death toll in America at over 2 million. So, yeah, I’m staying home.

But I’m chomping at the bit. We’re all hurtin for money, our bills keep coming in, and even the shit that’s deferred or the utilities that won’t get disconnected during this time will still want their money. Some of them won’t even wait, and they’ll expect it as soon as you go back to work.

In the same breath, I’m fuckin terrified to go back. God knows how bad shit could actually get, and while I trust my own sanitary behavior, I have zero faith in the general public. People are animals. But hey, just like millions of others, I’ll go back to work because I don’t have the luxury of choice right now.

*side note: I’m super ADD, and I had to google what a million people looked like when I mentioned it. It’s kind of crazy.

And luxury is a key word. The first businesses to open are ones whose workers are most affected by the shutdown. And while this may sound good, like “cool, we’re going back to work,” it’s actually the exact opposite. We’ll be going back to work before the pandemic is over, and the flood of people back into social settings will just cause a spike in cases, hospitalizations, and deaths.

The reason the government is trying to get us back to work before the pandemic is over is because they don’t want to pass the measures other nations have taken to support their people. Things like monthly payments, freezes on mortgage and rent, food assistance. They’d rather just send us back to work and put us at risk of infection. Because ultimately, we’re expendable.

“But Tim, this has nothing to do with the blog title!”

Well, yeah, I know, but you’re interrupting before I can finish. This leads up to the fact that this is what will happen, and we’ll work through the spike of returning to work, and it’ll level out. We’ll work our asses off and struggle to play catch up with the rent and mortgage that didn’t stop accumulating, or the utility bills that didn’t disconnect, but they want their money in 30 days.

And that second wave will hit us later this year, and it’ll be bigger, and worse than the first. Then between COVID-19 and the flu, and a dozen other illnesses that are more severe in winter months, our hospitals will be completely overwhelmed. We’ll be ordered to stay home again, the government will argue about how to take care of us, and times will be very lean.

As artists, the things we’ve been doing seem to be working to bring in a little extra money. Selling prints, gift certificates, taking deposits for future appointments. But how sustainable is it? When we reopen, we’re accountable for the money our clients have given us, and we have to make good on gift certificates, giveaways, and other promotional efforts we’ve been using to stay afloat. And we all know that when someone cashes in a gift certificate, it’s like working for free.

And that second wave. That second wave in winter. Will we be able to put enough away to survive a couple more months without work? Will our clients be willing to walk through the same shit we did during the first shutdown? Will we be able to rely on the government to help us in crisis?

The answer is simple. No. No we can’t rely on any of that and just expect it to work the same way. We need to diversify our skill set; cast a wide net. We have to start practicing the creativity and flexibility that are supposed to be hallmarks of artists, and find ways to generate money. We need to actually *gasp* WORK!

How can we think outside the box? How can we break from our industry and venture into unknown waters? Well, it’s very much a personal decision. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, we shouldn’t trap ourselves into something we hate doing, that’s just a given. But we also need to be open to things beyond our comfort zone. I’ll tell you what I’m doing, and maybe that will get the creative juices juicing for you.

My first step is I’ve started putting more effort and attention into things I already do. I’ve been working through several print on demand sites for a number of years now, producing tee shirts, coffee mugs, tote bags, and a bunch of other stuff. I’ve never really pushed it too hard, and upkeep on my profiles has been lacking. I’m going to change all of that.

My site of choice has been Teepublic, but I’m going to put more energy into Society6, which allows you to upload designs for a wider range of products, focusing heavily on decor and home goods. That means more pattern and print, as opposed to the imagery I use for shirts. That will allow me to use a huge amount of my abstract paintings and mixed media pieces. Maybe I’m not 100% sure of myself and comfortable with designing a fuckin bench, but I’m willing to put myself out there and learn.

I’ve also been stepping up the sale of vintage goods and repurposed/recycled artwork. I’m an avid collector and pack rat of old shit and weird, unique items, but my joy is in acquiring them, not keeping them. But the sale isn’t the fun part, so I’ve always slacked on it. So now I’m stepping up my eBay and Etsy sales. This has never been anything more than a hobby, and has only brought pocket change in the past, but right now it’s becoming a necessity to get better at it.

There’s a lot more I’ve started dabbling in. I’ve done a tee shirt design for a fledgling company, I’m working on an Instagram ad for a podcast. I’m trying to figure out how to put together a Patreon that would bring enough value to be worth a subscription. The sketchbooks and coloring books I published on Amazon will be available as digital downloads on my website, as well as a book on cover up tattooing that I’m working on.

And that should be the takeaway here. I’ve been telling people for years that we were bound to hit a devastating economic downturn, and that only the flexible artists will survive. We’re going to see a lot of tattoo shops close, and a lot of tattooers quit and get real jobs. You won’t survive tattooing unless you work in multiple styles and you get off the high horse and serve your clients instead of your own ego. Even then, you may not survive unless you can diversify your skills and work outside of your comfort zone.

You think the landscape is bleak right now, just wait a while. We’re early in the game. Start making moves now if you haven’t already. You’re going to need it.

Sometimes I don’t like myself. I’ve spent my adult life playing tug of war between knowing I’m a good person, and believing I’m a monster. Lord knows I’ve done enough monstrous things. Lord knows I actively fight that monster.

A lot of people think that you shouldn’t have to actively fight instinct, and you should just be yourself. But you see, people like me can’t just “be.” Just being means that I will inevitably give in to the worst behavior that still lies dormant in my core. If I don’t put up a fight, I will burn everything to the ground.

What’s fucked up is that when I look back on all of the things I wanted but I didn’t do because I knew they were wrong, I regret it. I regret doing the right thing. I look back on failed relationships and think I should’ve just fucked those other girls when I had a chance. I look back and think I should’ve taken more drugs when I had the chance. I reflect on so much of my life from t6hat fucked up place that I barely know what to make of it.

I could’ve gotten higher. I could’ve had more reckless sex. I could’ve been a full blown degenerate deviant. And part of me wishes I had been.

That is, part of me wishes I had been, when I’m in the middle of an episode. When all I really want to do is burn it down to numb my pain and my loneliness. When I know I can’t do that anymore. When nothing brings a sense of joy.

My brain is a fucking asshole. I’ve accomplished so much, and I have everything I’ve wanted, yet my own mind doesn’t let me enjoy it. And this is the curse, this is the fine print on the contract. I can achieve anything, but the depression will still sap the joy from it and leave it bleak and grey.

People don’t understand that when you’re depressed, it’s not that you’ve given up, it’s that you can no longer muster the strength to do it any longer. It’s a war with no end. Some battles you win, others you lose, and the tide can turn at any moment. Sometimes you get battle fatigue and don’t have the power to face it, so you run.

I want to run more than ever right now. This has hands down been the most difficult and trying year of my life, and it’s showing no signs of letting up. I’m tired. I’m battle fatigued like hell. A lot of the time, I don’t know how much longer I can fight.

Lately I’ve been pouring myself into hobbies to the point that it’s detrimental to everything else. My only hobby is yard sales and thrift stores. Tonight I detoured on my way home to hit four curb alerts and try to snag free shit to sell. Steph asks me where the hell I plan on keeping everything, because what I’ve already gotten is trickling through the whole house. Selling is slow work, but acquiring is easy.

But I need this. That sounds so fucking stupid when I say it. I need this. I need to find an awesome deal on an item I can theoretically resell because it gives me a feeling of control in a life that’s otherwise spiraling into madness. I need to assert control on something, ANYTHING, to give me a sense that I am the one guiding my life.

I need this so that spiraling madness of existence doesn’t drive me back to the bottle.

That sounds so weak willed when I reread it all, but it’s just the truth. I’m struggling bad lately because I feel incredibly helpless, and I get the sense that it’s all going to collapse like a house of cards sooner or later. And when it falls apart, what’s standing between me and a bottle of bourbon? So I say fuck it. If sorting dozens of crates of used books is what keeps me sane, then that’s what I do.

When life gives us so many difficulties that we can’t recover before the next one hits, we don’t have a lot of options. We can fight, or we can run. For me, running is not an option, because running only creates more difficulties. So I’ll work through it the best I can. If that sends me down some strange roads, so be it. As long as those roads aren’t paved with whiskey, I’ll be alright.

Do your best. It’s all any of us can do.

Lithium may control my mood swings and even out my mood, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have mood changes. It doesn’t mean that I float along at a steady medium, never dipping too high or low from the medically regulated baseline I’m accustomed to. No, it doesn’t mean I no longer get sad or happy.

If anything, it’s made the lows a little less severe, and the transition between moods a smooth process, and not a frantic back and forth. Less severe doesn’t mean nonexistent. I’m actually coming out of what I assume has been a manic episode, and I’m monitoring my mood pretty closely. Monitoring doesn’t mean I can change it, it just means I’m being aware of it.

The quest for happiness is bullshit. Or I should say, people’s definition of happiness is bullshit. People think of it as something tangible; something that once achieved, remains. They think of it as a state of emotional being where the bad can no longer touch you. That’s not happiness, that’s joy.

It’s a train of thought that’s dangerous to your own wellbeing. You can’t sustain joy for the long term anymore than you can sustain ongoing anger or fear. The fight to sustain constant joy would result in your brain melting. The denial of anger, pain, and sadness would compress and compound those feelings into a festering ball in your gullet, and they would eventually force their way out in a display that would most likely be extreme and embarrassing.

So yes, your quest for happiness is bullshit.

So let’s reframe what we call happiness. Let’s stop saying that happiness is all about smiles and pleasantry and laughing. Because again, that’s called joy.

If I had to pick a mood to experience over a long period of time, it would actually be less about joy and more about contentment. I’d rather just be okay with whatever is happening. Joy is prone to disruption by bad situations. It’s hard to laugh and smile when shit is falling apart around you, but being content? Being content doesn’t hinge on external factors.

A lot of people think I have a negative attitude because of this stance. I’d argue that this is the most positive attitude one can actually have. The problem with our current social view of positivity is that it often glosses over the negative, or sugar coats things. It has people believing that in order to be positive, you have to rid yourself of the negative. That’s impossible. You can’t remove all struggles, you can only trade one set for another.

So the idea that you’re somehow going to find a constant state of joy is a pipe dream at best. Abandon that idea. Just get it out of your fuckin head and move forward. Embrace the hardships when you experience them, because they are teachers. Always work for the best outcomes, and understand that you may not get them. This is what real positivity and contentment mean, and this is a keystone to a happier life.

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https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YZ9HqV-Fr2w&t=15s

There is a reason for it, though. I’m writing this post because I don’t write enough. And it just so happens that things like pictures and links and structure are what stop me most of the time. Writing blog posts reminds me that everything we do is judged and measured.

The reason I write is for impact. I want to give something valuable to people in the form of life advice. Not because I think I’m perfect, or some kind of fucking guru, but because I’ve been deep in the shit and I always manage to climb out. That has to be worth something to all the other people who are deep in shit. Be a fucking light to those in the dark, and all that nonsense.

The problem is, I get caught in HOW to write blogs instead of WHY. I start worrying about search parameters and reach. Which tags will be most valuable to google. It starts to ruin the intention.

Once I start worrying about how my little cogs fit into the internet machine, I get slowed down. I don’t write when I feel it, but when I think I can expand my reach, which is antithetical to the idea of heartfelt expression. Trying to do that shit while I give advice is like patting my head and rubbing my belly.

This is where I get a ways into a post and realize I’ve been rambling without going anywhere.

I think what it all comes down to is that I shouldn’t let details derail my ideas. Sure, I can increase reach by reading how to structure my posts so people react better, but maybe it won’t increase my reach, because it won’t sound like my voice. And if I can’t use my voice to tell my story, will it even come off as authentic enough to make a difference in someone’s life?

I spent so much of my life suicidal and obliterated drunk. There’s entire chunks of my life that are a blur. I’ve felt anxiety that prevented me from completing simple tasks. I used to picture myself as being on a small island, a floating chunk of rock and grass, elevated above and separate from everyone. Humanity sat within one ring, and my little island floated on another. Eternally apart from everyone; never understood and never belonging.

These are feelings, and states of being, and drives that I’ve learned to manage. While I still visit sometimes, I don’t live in those states of mind. When one begins to creep up on me, I can spot it and take precautions to make sure it doesn’t take control.

What the fuck does this have to do with everything else? Well, if I’ve experienced those challenges and hardships in my life, and I’ve learned to crawl out of that hole, then I should be sharing that every chance I get. There’s too many people who need to know they’re not alone.

So I’ll do my best not to let myself get caught in the minutiae of proper blogging techniques, because somebody needs to read this. Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re reading this right now and you’ve been wrestling with feelings of worthlessness, or a feeling of separateness; like no one can possibly identify with you and what it’s like to be you. I understand, because I’ve been there. It’s a lonely place.

But you’re not alone, and that’s the point. My inability to put out regularly spaced blog posts stems from my own feelings of worthlessness. My desire for perfection, which leads to my inability to complete anything, because if I’m not perfect, then I’m a failure. You’re not alone. I see you.

I see you, and I love you. I think you should know that you deserve love.

If you enjoyed this post and found it helpful, please let me know. If you you know someone this could help, share it with them. My goal is to help you by giving you the information that helps me. If you want to continue the conversation, follow me on Twitter, or join my Facebook group, Unstoppable.

I feel like this subject gets beaten to death. Not that that’s a bad thing. After all, repetition is a great way to learn, and anything important bears repeating. But do you really understand why gratitude is so important?

I’m not knocking nice things. I love nice things. There is nothing wrong with having nice things, and setting goals for tangible items is totally fine. What’s bad for our mindset and mental health is when our craving and desire for those items overrides everything else. You might want a Porsche, but your life isn’t over because you drive a Toyota.

We associate happiness with success, and success with wealth, and wealth with possessions. So when our mind breaks it down, happiness = possessions. I can’t really think of a more fucked thought process. Each of those things has little bearing on the next, in addition to being shitty definitions of those words in the first place. We need to overhaul those definitions, but I’ll save that for another time.

For now, let’s bring it back to possessions, and our obsession with them. This constant comparison we subconsciously play creates a grass is greener mentality. As we sit and crave what we see as better, we begin to resent what we own. Resentment is the opposite of appreciation.

So what happens when you can’t appreciate what you already have? You get bitter. You get angry. You spend your time wishing for other things instead of living in the present. When you can’t live in the present, you can’t prepare for the future. When you can’t prepare for the future, you can’t create a path to the things you want.

Oddly enough, one of the most important ways to get what you want is to stop reaching for it so damn hard. Stop desiring it so much. Start looking at the good in your life and appreciate it for what it is. Accept it, and plan for the future.

I’m not saying you can’t get what you want in other ways, because you certainly can. But none of those ways are going to bring you happiness and personal fulfillment along the path, and when you reach your goal, it’s going to feel empty. After all, a key to appreciating what you have is understanding that it could be worse. Shit, it’s probably the single biggest part of appreciation. When you don’t understand that it could be worse, you’ll always be reaching for something better.

You can know that you have a shitty, unreliable car, but at least you don’t have to walk. Understand?

Let’s just be honest, nobody likes a complainer. Stop bitching about what you have and learn to be grateful. Big things happen in your mindset when you take time to be grateful.

If you found this helpful, or know someone who would, please share it. It’s all about the impact we can have on each other. If you want to continue the conversation, we can do so on Twitter, or my Facebook group, Unstoppable.

I’ll start by saying the name of this post is a lie. Acceptance isn’t the key to happiness, because there is no key to happiness. There’s no magic wand to wave and sprinkle some fuckin pixie dust and you’re all smiles forever. There’s no happiness cheat code.

What there is is strategies; actions and plans that help you along the path to happiness. Acceptance is a big one. As you learn to accept the reality of the situations you find yourself in, you’ll find it more and more difficult to be vexed by them.

A lot of people mistake acceptance for being supportive of your situation. This is completely incorrect. Accepting a situation is only a recognition of what’s happening. We tend to push away shit we don’t like, and all too often that means ignoring key aspects of difficulties we face. We ignore uncomfortable challenges to the point that they destroy us and the things around us, just to avoid facing it, as per the “this is fine” dog.

A much simpler and more effective strategy is acceptance. It’s only when you recognize and accept what’s happening that you can begin to make a difference. If you don’t take control of your situation, your situation will just run it’s own course. Very rarely will that be in a way you actually like.

I hate uncomfortable shit. I hate being in situations that are confrontational, or that are bound to have bad outcomes. Yet never once have I been able to ignore a bad situation and have it resolve itself nicely. That’s not real life. That’s not how things happen.

A lot of this goes hand in hand with what I call toxic positivety, or false positivity. This is the neatly packaged positive affirmation lifestyle that you see on Instagram. This is the idea people pitch of how if you just focus on the good, then good things will happen. I’m not going to discount the power of positive thinking, but I do want to dispel the concept that bad things won’t happen if you think positively.

The truth is, bad shit still happens and you have to deal with it. The first major step in that is acceptance. Learn to accept what’s happening, and you’ll be able to make decisions in a responsible way.

I can and will continue to talk about acceptance in the future, but right now I have a little boy who wants to hang out with his dad.

Check this video out for more of my opinions on acceptance.

If you found this helpful, or know someone who would, please share it. It’s all about the impact we can have on each other. If you want to continue the conversation, we can do so on Twitter, or my Facebook group, Unstoppable.

When I decided to make the transition from an independent contractor to an owner/operator, one of the first things I thought was “this can’t be that hard. I’ve been in this business for more than a decade.”

Good LORD, I was wrong.

It turns out that running a business is completely different than working in one. I was bombarded with problems, and slammed with bills and fees I didn’t know existed. What the hell is use and occupancy? Why am I being charged $50 by the city to have an alarm system? And where’s all that money I thought I would make?

Yeah, where’s that money? I did the numbers for a year. Then I opened a private location, and did the numbers for another year. Then I opened a big location and…nothing. Actually, less than nothing. Debt. Massive, compounding debt.

Tattooing is an industry where your income is basically up to you. If you work constantly, network steadily, and promote your ass off, you’re going to net six figures. I made the massive mistake of believing everyone that worked for me would do the same exact thing. I mean, I was taking home six figures, why wouldn’t everyone else do the same? By my projections, I should have broken half a million dollars in my first year.

Fast forward 8 years, and I have yet to do those numbers. My initial projections accounted for 6 artists, and today I have 9. I still can’t GROSS half a million. I’ve worked my ass off, had multiple mild nervous breakdowns, at least one serious breakdown, and had full employee turnover. I’ve lost friends, made enemies, and skated the razors edge of my own safety and well-being.

Why would I do all of that? Because I don’t know anything else. I don’t know what else could possibly bring me any level of satisfaction. If I removed the madness of ownership, I would be completely lost. My life needs to be a series of challenges that increase in magnitude and difficulty or I feel like I’m being lazy.

As an owner, I had to learn a lot of hard lessons about management. I had to learn that I can’t expect employees to have the same passion and drive for the business that I do. After all, it’s not theirs, it’s mine. I had to learn that people’s goals aren’t all the same, and while I may be focused on empire and legacy, they may be focused on comfort and artistic growth. There’s no way I could push my goals onto others, and every person has different expectations of their life and career.

The trick is being able to find balance in my business approach. There’s a fine line between growth and financial prosperity and artist autonomy, and I’ve found that in most situations, they are indeed opposites. Like I said before, employees have their own goals and expectations, and when given their freedom to create a work environment they are comfortable in, they’re probably going to affect the bottom line of the business. At the same time, an artist imposed with too many rules, regulations, and expectations won’t perform to the best of their ability.

So what can you do? How can you positively motivate employees to increase sales and performance without stifling their creativity? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m still working that out. In the past, I attempted enforced quotas, but it just didn’t work. It created so much tension, and a good deal of anxiety in several artists as they felt they were being pressured into sales. I lost people over that.

Even though I dropped the enforced quotas, I kept it in the back of my head. The numbers behind those quotas made too much fucking sense. They were sales that an artist who is booked would have absolutely no problem meeting, or even surpassing. It was a light work day.

It took me four years, but I realized the best way to implement those quotas was to reframe the entire conversation. I stayed honest about the fact that I want to make more money, because nobody wants to listen to a liar, but I reframed how these sales goals can help my employees. It’s pretty obvious that making more money is helpful, but what I hadn’t explained was how I could help them along the way.

By keeping closer track of their sales, the time invested into each sale, the frequency of no shows and cancelations, I could find the issues they face and help correct them. Whether it was repeated cancelations, poor time management, or not charging their worth, things could easily be fixed. I just had to walk that fine line. I had to find a way to actually increase the oversight and rules in a way that actually works to help give them GREATER autonomy.

I don’t know how any of this will work, I’m still in my first week or so of it. However, I’m putting a lot of faith into this idea. If two people’s goals can be synced so that they help move each other forward, amazing things can happen. Maybe this method will be an utter failure. Maybe it will be wildly successful. Only way to find out is to implement it, and see what happens. After all, trying and failing led me here, and trying and failing will push me forward.

If you think someone can benefit from this blog, please, share it. I write so I can help others. If you want to continue this conversation, you can join me in my Facebook group Unstoppable, or follow me on Twitter.

I used to think I was a man set in his ways. Hell, I still try to pitch that idea when I’m being stubborn about something. The truth is, I’ve made multiple drastic changes in my life. My father showed me that change can happen at any time, and when I was in my early 20’s watching my dad get his degree, I knew it wasn’t just lip service. He had turned his entire life around when he was older than I am today.

Speaking of how old I am today, I just turned 40. That’s me and my kids after I blew out my candles. It’s funny when I think about it, because at 30, sitting home and eating cake with a bunch of kids wasn’t my idea of a great birthday, and I HAD 3 kids. That speaks to the idea that we can continue to reinvent ourselves and make changes as we age.

When I look back, it seems like I reinvent myself every decade. You can even take that back to childhood, and say that my first reinvention was when I was around 11, and decided I wanted to draw comic books. The second came when I was around 20, and embraced my new role as a tattoo artist. The third was at 30 and I opened my studio, launching my role as business man and entrepreneur. It looks like it’s time for that to happen again.

Now this isn’t overnight change. These are natural progressions as I navigate my situations, clarify my intentions, and commit myself to moving forward. The last 10 years has been total fucking madness most of the time. I waded through chaos for the majority of it, scrambling just to hold onto threads of sanity to keep me going. Through divorce, depression, anxiety, alcoholism, suicidal ideation, marriage, kids, mortgage, life, death, loss…it’s a rollercoaster.

That just fucking life, though. I’m not a special case. This is the same bullshit millions of other people have to go through every single day. I haven’t been given a shit hand. If anything, my life is amazing. We all have to deal with pain and loss, and huge numbers of people have to deal with addiction and mental illness. It could be so much worse, and I should be grateful I even have the opportunity to deal with my struggles. The struggles of others can be so much more difficult by comparison.

The only thing about me that’s special is that I am introspective enough to understand how my own thoughts and actions have brought me to this place. That’s not even that special, either, because that shit can be taught and cultivated in anyone. It’s the entire catalyst of making changes in your life. Without self awareness and reflection, you’re bound to get stuck in those patterns of thought that keep you exactly where you are, in that dead end job or lonely marriage or those friendships that only offer drama. If you can’t look at yourself with introspection and see what’s happening now, you won’t be able to change what happens later. You’re just blowing in the wind of circumstance.

Which brings the circle right back around to me, and turning 40, and what that means for my own personal growth. I’ve talked a lot about how tattooing doesn’t hold the same fascination that it used to, and how I want to do other things with my life. I’ve also been pretty open about the fact that I don’t know exactly what that means, or how change is going to manifest itself.

All I know is that there’s other things I love. Other things that make me happy, other things I thoroughly enjoy for no reason whatsoever. I’m just going to grab those things and squeeze the fucking life out of them, and hope that I stumble into the satisfaction we all deserve.

For now, that means I’m going to make a lot of art. I’m going to write, vlog, go to thrift stores, hang out with my family, and take midday naps. I’m going to eat delicious things and then feel guilty about it. But most important, above all else, I’m going to use these experiences to help other people.

I don’t know what help looks like from one person to another, but I do know that no matter how different we are, we go through life the same way and experience many of the same things. We feel the same emotions and ask the same questions of ourselves. We wonder “can I even make changes in my life?” We often don’t have an answer.

Lean on each other in support. That’s what I’m here for, if I’m to be completely honest. Hopefully you can see me fuck up and feel like shit, and then maybe you won’t feel like shit when you do. We’re all human. The happiness and contentment isn’t in our destination, it’s in the journey.

All that stuff, and whatever other cliches you’d like to add in, ad infinitum. You get the idea.

If you like this post and think a friend could use it, please share it with them. If you want to continue the conversation, we can do so on Twitter or Facebook. If you’d like me to come yell at your teenage kids and tell them to get their act together, well, maybe we can work something out.

I’m grieving.

I don’t really know what that means, or what it entails, but it’s agreed by all parties that I’m grieving. That’s not something that you’re really taught about in life, it’s just something you have to experience. Apparently there’s no rules or specific patterns you go through during grieving. It’s vague, and the only real truth to it is that it hurts.

She may have been my mother in law, but I lovingly called her ma. Her passing was anything but fair. I remained strong through her illness, being the stoic for my wife as she sat at her hospital bed day in and day out. I remained strong when she passed, as my wife handled arrangements. That’s my role in a relationship, after all. Support. So I stayed supportive.

I’m not sure when I broke. I’m not sure IF I broke. I guess the things I’m going through are still within my range of normal, even if that normal is a little fucked up. It’s completely normal for me to be frustrated. Angry. Hateful. Fragile. Despondent.

There’s pride within my achievements of self awareness and mindfulness. Within the understanding of my mental illnesses and addiction, I have found strength. Within my acceptance of the lack of control we have in our lives, I have found control of my reactions and responses.

It’s all failing me now. I can’t control the way I feel, or the way I’m responding to it. I can’t control the panic that overcomes me. I can’t control my lack of patience, or the void where drive and motivation usually are.

I can’t control my hate.

I hate people in denim shirts. I hate men walking tiny dogs. I hate narrow eyed babies and girls with Chelsea’s, people who don’t look before crossing, high waisted jeans and 30 minute parking. I hate young guys with ironic mustaches, double parked beer trucks, young people who gentrify neighborhoods and the old people who fight gentrification. I hate my fat fuck of a body and my piss poor discipline that keeps it that way.

I hate that all of us are on borrowed time, and we’re wasting it doing shit that doesn’t make us happy.

As if my existential dilemma of what I’m doing with my life and why I even exist wasn’t consuming enough, now I can’t stop focusing on my own mortality. It makes everything seem trivial. It makes everything feel like a cage. It makes me feel like I’m an animal backed into a corner, and I have nowhere to run.

Maybe being backed into a corner is good. Maybe it’ll force me to re evaluate the things I do, and the way I spend my time. Or maybe it’ll just force me into avoidance sleep and the mindless tap tap tap of phone games so I don’t have to confront it. Just lull me to sleep by the glow of my screen, sedate me with technology.

Fuck, I want a drink. It’s the only way I’ve ever known to manage the unmanageable, if only for a night. Pump me full of bourbon and Klonopin and tuck me in bed. I’ve worked and practiced and studied and struggled for years to learn to cope with the tragedy of the human condition, only to have it washed away in a matter of days. I know it’s not gone forever, and it’ll return as I heal, but that does me no good where I am.

It does me no good when I’m walking out on my job. When I’m ignoring my employees trying to call me to come talk to my appointment because I’m wrapped in anxiety. It doesn’t help me to discern whether I’m grieving or whether I really hate tattooing and want to quit. It doesn’t help me to understand if blogging and working craft shows is actually a reasonable thing to do for a forty year old man with four kids.

Right now I am lost. I don’t know what to do, and even the safety of home, career, and hobbies feels like a bear trap.

I guess this is grief.

Son of a bitch, I’m an asshole to myself. Even saying that I’m grieving and that’s why I’m getting caught up in these behaviors feels like a cop out. I feel like I’m shifting blame away from myself. I can’t leave well enough alone sometimes, just like I couldn’t leave a simple blog post alone.

I don’t know what I’m going through. I can’t pinpoint most of it. There’s a sense of impending dread, and hanging sorrow. There’s dissatisfaction, and the question of whether I’ve lived a meaningful life. There’s anger that useless and abhorrent people continue to live and ma had to die.

The question of what I’ve been doing with my life has been ongoing and unanswered. This isn’t going to make any of it easier. This bullshit blog post isn’t going to express it properly, and the inevitable lackluster ending won’t caress my ego. The steady collapse of my prose won’t carry the reader along.

I guess we all go through this. I guess we all ask these questions. I wouldn’t want a life where I don’t ask them. Even as words don’t flow to lay out a grand story arc of my fall and redemption, and instead just become mile markers to mediocrity, I still wouldn’t want a life without it.

We’re born, we live, we die. Our relationships matter. Our inner peace matters. Without them, life is meaningless. Mom left having impacted hundreds of people in massive ways. She was loving, kind, and positive. She lived a life with meaning. That’s all I ask for.

It’s not that I don’t love tattooing. I really do love it, I just think I’ve become tired and jaded. I got into this when I was 19 because I thought it was cool, and thought it would make ME cool. Shit just doesn’t work like that.

For years, the pursuit of relevance kept me pushing. Now that I’m older, and I’ve embarked on a path of self discovery, I’m discovering some crazy shit. For one, I’ve found that the only purpose I can truly have is service. The only real service I can provide is done when I am being honest and pursuing my own happiness and contentment.

When I get honest about tattooing, it really upends a lot of the beliefs I’ve held about it. I’ve always looked at it as a service industry, where professionals do what we’re commissioned to do, personal thoughts aside. That’s just fucking bizarre when compared to my feelings regarding personal fulfillment. In essence, being a service provider in the arts doesn’t vibe with my beliefs. My personal feelings take precedence over doing my job. How the fuck do you reconcile that?

The truth is, I love to tattoo as an art form, but everything surrounding it has become tedious, and sometimes borderline painful. I don’t identify with a lot of the community, the scene surrounding it generally either pisses me off or makes me extremely uncomfortable, and the trends and popularity contests make me fucking sick.

I’m a black sheep. A nonconformist. Anti authoritarian. This is true for so many in the tattoo community. Unfortunately, when you gather so many similar people together, they become conformist in their nonconformity. It quickly becomes a sort of parody of itself.

I’m almost 40. All I care about anymore is being true to myself and creating art that comes from the heart. Honest art. That’s why I don’t tattoo as much as I used to. It’s why I’ve become so selective of the work I do, and why I only take limited appointments. How am I supposed to use my skill set to make other people happy if it’s not making ME happy?

Honestly, I feel like a dickhead even saying shit like that, but it’s true. I’m having a crisis about a career I’ve been in for more than half of my life. The reasons I got started no longer apply, the reasons I worked so hard are no irrelevant, and I find myself questioning everything.

I stepped away from the party scene, stepped away from conventions, and stopped seeking validation from the industry. More recently, I’ve stopped seeking validation from the tattoo community as a whole, people’s opinions be damned. A lifetime of seeking acceptance has culminated with me flipping the bird to everyone I just wanted to fit in with.

I won’t quit tattooing. Like I said, I still enjoy the art form, but my stance and views have changed. I don’t do this as service to anyone, or to fulfill their desires. This is for me now. If I don’t think I can invest myself in a tattoo, I’m not doing it. If it’s not something I can see myself interpreting in a way that will make me happy, I’m not doing it. If anything about the process doesn’t sit right with me, I’m not involving myself with it. It’s only fair to me, and only fair to others.

Nobody wants a half hearted effort from their tattoo artist.

We all want to live a fulfilled life. This is just part of how I have to live mine.

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