My camping for the year pretty much ended the day the hurricane hit. I’ve made peace with it somewhat. I have gone once since the hurricane and attempted three other times and things just didn’t go my way. The circumstances have been a little all over the place, trailer breaks down, random road closures and seasonal closings. I was pushing myself to get outdoors and in all honesty it was putting a strain on my mental health. It almost felt like an obligation. I use nature as my escape from the old me. I referring to my habits not my personality. It took some time for me to mentally separate the two as I’ve always thought they were inclusive.

I’ve flipped my life upside down to avoid some patterns that I’ve carried around with me over time.

Work used to consume me and my personality. I’ve always been a company guy throwing myself into every situation, position, solution to keep the company in ship shape.

“Ill relax when I retire”. That carrot I chased has shriveled into a dried up vegetable carcass. My retirement party would be celebrated over my grave. Maybe a breeze will blow out my candles.

I put a lot of time and effort into my camping. It reflects my passion. My side of the kitchen is a cornucopia of mass ADHD and burnout. I know exactly where everything is but there’s no motive or consistency. It reflects my burnout.

My truck is uniformed. I have it organized and everything filed in it’s mise en place. I have backups of backups and my blankets and bed made.

My kitchen while it is clean, sanitized and appropriately functional, my mind is all over the place. I opened this deli out of necessity. It’s hard to explain without sounding dreadful but i didn’t sign the lease with a big shit eating grin on my face. I wasn’t applauding when they handed me the keys.

I sighed and thought to myself “let’s make this one different. You’ve changed. You’re older and your passion battery is only at about 30%.”

“Don’t overdo it”

I really enjoy this deli. It’s a reflection of me.

But man I’m just tired.

I’ve gotten allergic to stress. I hate how prevalent the term PTSD has become but man I’m a walking dissertation on service industry PTSD. If it’s busy I get overstimulated. If it’s painstakingly slow my mind goes straight to doomsday. I have to lock myself in the bathroom for a pep talk. This is no exaggeration. I’ve had to trim my fingernails to keep them from digging into my palms. I observe a lot of hard working friends on social media chase that dream and the only thing I can say to all of you is don’t dive too deep.

Success is immeasurable and sometimes miss understood. Take time to rest. There’s a see saw of sacrifice and longing. Rarely do you get to let your feet dangle it seems your ass is always dragging on the low side.

Again I love the deli. I just hate the dance it takes to keep it flowing.

I’ve mentally prepared myself for the holidays. I know from this week until January I go into robot mode, put my head down and stand on the assembly line to make boxes. 60 hour work weeks, 4am check in times and going to bed exhausted at 8pm. I’m good for it. I keep my body decently maintained for the long haul but you can’t beat Father Time. Every year it gets a tad harder.

When that hour glass gets flipped upside down it changes your perspective.

I had a PTSD moment yesterday. The holidays get to me. I’m way behind on my resets as you can tell and it’s getting in my head. I write to get it out. If this comes out as whiny it’s because that’s exactly how I’m feeling. I’ve worked long hours for a long time.

I’ve earned the whine. Big tall fucking glass of it.

I retired that savage idiot who would jump on top of prep tables and give 15 minute long pre shifts.

I’m soft now because I want to be. The idiot savage is still there he knocks on my goddamn door every day. I take early morning walks to reckon with him. I prefer yoga over weights now. Walking over running. Life feels better at a slower pace I just need for the escalator to calm the fuck down.

One day I will find a way to make a living off the back of my tailgate. And no that doesn’t mean a food truck.

I get a kick out of the term clopen. I do this shit everyday.

My brain is already prepared for no campfires for the next month or so. No coffee sunrises. I watch camping reels online to keep my eyes on the prize.

Don’t let this give you the wrong vibe. I’m extremely grateful and excited for the work this year. I love the holidays. I love spending Christmas with my friends and family. I’m not depressed. Or at least it’s under control. I write to release so that’s what the fuck I’m doing.

It’s therapeutic. In my mind I want to change some of my camping habits I want simplicity again. I love the trailer but it’s a little too much. It was meant for the whole family and not for everyone has the camping bug like I do.

I get it and my schedule is always the opposite as per the norm.

I keep looking at campers but yall love to mark those things up. My old ass longs for a heat source when I camp at night. I love winter camping but my bones don’t like 30° anymore. It takes a minute for the bones and joints to lube up.

I’ll figure it out.

A hot coffee and my favorite blanket on a tailgate would fix some of this blah right now.

Cheers