Well shit…

My wife has been on me for awhile to get writing again so what better push over the edge than a garbage year worth of pandemic-related unemployment, fires, social unrest, and a bunch of other variables that can drive even the most sane person to the point of a mental health crisis whether they like it or not. How’s that for a run-on sentence rooted in whiny melodrama?

Who am I? My name is Doesn’t-Fucking-Matter McGee and I’m based out of California. I’m a multi-dimensional creative energy source, temporarily hanging out on this physical plane with the rest of you all, struggling to recover from insanity (non-clinical, mostly self-imposed) after over a year of being unemployed due to the COVID hurricane that millions of people are dealing with, many of them in far worse situations than me. But, at the end of the day, perceived inner turmoil can often feel more paralyzing than organic and tangible external stimuli.

That’s where I sit.

I’m anxious as hell. I’ve been told I suffer from severe (yet undiagnosed) ADHD. My personal life is 100% fantastic while my career and how I align my self-worth with being a provider has bottomed out on all fronts. I give the best life advice and pep talks, yet lack the ability to apply much of it to myself. Most of that starts with my upbringing but I’ll get to that later.

Here goes nothing…



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