The Fuckin' Good News

I’ve hit a bump in the road. And that bump is me.

A wise man told me that he starts his day by looking in the mirror, pointing at himself, and saying “YOU are the biggest problem you’re gonna face all day”. 

Ain’t that the truth.

Getting smack dab back into the real world has proved more jarring than I anticipated. 

Currently, I'm an absolute raw nerve. That’s not a bad thing. But it's very challenging. Sometimes I don’t know where to put, or what to do with, all the raw emotional energy that seems to be constantly charging through my body like sizzling electric current. I’m still learning to live life from this other side.

Before treatment, there was always an undercurrent of sadness in me, no matter what. Sometimes it was barely perceivable, but I was constantly aware of it, like a stone in my shoe. That’s not there anymore. And that’s a bloody miracle. Another thing that’s stopped are the barrage of negative thoughts and voices that used to constantly race through my head. That’s an even bigger miracle. Both of these miraculous events have me considering petitioning for Sainthood. Yeah. That would fly. 

My heart has always been huge. I’ve always been sensitive. I feel very deeply. And now, there’s so much more space for all of that. Nature abhors a vacuum, so, that space is now filled with even more emotional energy. More feeling. More love. More sensitivity. More everything. I’m still navigating my way through that. Still learning how to manage it. 

That’s truly a great thing. I know it’s improved my writing, not to mention, well, my entire fucking life. Everything feels more vibrant. Everything looks different, tastes different, smells different, feels different. The colors of life are screaming at me, even more than before.  It’s sounds are clearer, louder, more beautiful. As an artist, the potential to translate all of that into my creative endeavors is positively delicious. 

Instead of going directly from my transitional living space in LA back home to Boston with an after care plan in place (which is normal protocol), I went to Phoenix to hang out a bit. Yes I know. Far be it from me to do ANYTHING according to protocol. That maverick approach, however, does not always serve me. As we shall see. 

Before I left Los Angeles, I knew I would be going back there to take care of some business and do at least one more week of treatment. What I didn’t know was what these two weeks in Phoenix would be like. Or what I would be like, when I returned.  

Well, now I know. And there’s Good News. And there’s Bad News. 

Bad News first. I’ve always been a “Bad News First” guy. It suits me. When I boxed in college, I was a pretty damn nasty counter puncher. That means I will take a punch (bad news) to give a punch (good news). I have a good chin, so I could take a hard shot. Then I could nail you with one of mine. The tough part about that approach, however, is that you can get battered and bloodied in the process (you should have seen me after a few of my fights). I’ll get my licks in, but I’ll take some hard knocks to do it.

Being here in Phoenix for two weeks, I’ve taken a step or two backwards. I’ve lost a little bit of ground; slipped into some old maladaptive behaviors. Gotten some blood on my chin. Split my lip. Maybe even broken my nose. For the fifth time (the first four times were literal, not figurative).

The Good News is that none of this negates any of the progress I’ve made, or diminishes any of the work I’ve done. In fact, it clarifies, it reinforces, the shit that I still need to get. Despite the fact that I’ve done nothing short of change my life, I’ve still got a lot to learn. I will always still have a lot to learn. That’s My Life Path. Even though I’ve come home to myself, I’m still getting used to the place. It’s a big house. Actually, it’s a freakin’ mansion. 

And, I still have be on top of my ego. Literally. There’s a BDSM term, “Topping From The Bottom”. It means that, in sexual role playing power exchange scenarios, the person who is submissive, the “bottom”, is still trying to control, or “top”, the scene. Usually because they have serious control issues, and can’t let someone else take the reins, even when they have agreed to it. That’s kinda like My Ego. He’s a total control freak. And He thinks he knows everything. He does not. Arrogant Motherfucker. 

The process of recovery from mood disorder, from anything, is not a linear one. It’s bumpy, messy, beautiful, really. I have seen, I have experienced, so many people I love, change through this process. It fills my heart. I have been a part of their journey, and they have been a part of mine. We have become intertwined in a way that nobody who has not been through it will ever truly get. Nonetheless, we will share our story. Because sharing our story makes this planet a better one. Sharing the magic we’ve been through can help the lives of everyone who listens, so much better.

And that’s the Fuckin’ Good News. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights (both top and bottom) reserved.

Balanced Motorcycle CD Mind Love

Balance. How do we get it? How do we maintain it? Is there such a thing as “too much balance”, where our steadiness can be an indication that we aren’t taking enough risks? 

Actually, as I write this, I’m figuring it out. Maybe my frame of context is wrong. If I use balance metaphorically, say, as in riding a motorcycle, then it helps translate the term of “balance” into the nuts and bolts of life much more concretely than the abstract concept I’ve been writing about. This is one of the most beautiful things about writing; I actually come to new insights and connections about what I’m writing, precisely because I’m writing about them. Figuring it out on the fly. Kind of like riding a motorcycle. And speaking of motorcycles….

Balance on a motorcycle is critical. If you lose your balance riding on one of those bad boys, you can crash. And that can be mildly or tragically disastrous. If I look at my life like riding a motorcycle, it makes sense. Sometimes, I see balance as a rather staid, prosaic, even downright boring, concept. But that sort of thinking needs to be examined. Because it is potentially indicative of something I learned about in treatment called a “Cognitive Distortion”.

We all have Cognitive Distortions. It’s a function of humanity. Some of us have more than others. Those ‘some of us’ usually end up in treatment, recovery, or the halls of 12 Step Programs. No matter. Nobody is free from Cognitive Distortions, or “CD’s,” as I call them. And we can all get a better handle on them.

Cognitive Distortions are exactly what they sound like: thinking gone awry. Maybe I’ll do a whole piece on it, but for right now, as it relates to “Balance” (oh yeah, remember that?), let’s just say that I need to be aware of how my mind is working. Because when I do that, and only when I do that, can I direct it. Only then can I direct my mind and allow it to work for me, as opposed to against me. And that’s very important; I learned just how important over the past three and a half months. 

Those of us who are big, heavy, deep thinkers, we have a wonderful mind. A beautiful mind. When I sit down to talk to you, look into your eyes, and off we go, part of what I love about you, part of what you’re showing me, is that beautiful mind. And part of what I’m showing you is mine. I don’t ever want to lose that. I don’t ever want to discount that. Your mind, my mind, is indeed, beautiful. And, Our Minds, are, like, well, many things. Our Minds are like Fire: because fire can cook our food or cook ourselves. Our Minds are like weapons: in the right hands, they can serve us; in the wrong hands, they can destroy us. Our Minds can be like bad neighborhoods: Don’t go there alone. The Mind, like Money, is a wonderful servant and a poor master.

Jesus, there I go again. Off on another fuckin’ tangent. Part of my process. I’ve gone from “Balance”, to “Motorcycles” to “Cognitive Distortions” to analogies between “The Mind” and “Weapons Of Mass Destruction”. See, THIS is exactly how MY mind works. This is exactly why I have no idea what to call this post. This is exactly why I have a writing coach who keeps me focused.

Which, TA-DAH!, leads me back to “Balance”. And as it relates to one of my favorite topics, Love.

When I am with a woman who is Grounded, Centered, and Balanced, she’s really good for me. And I’m really good for her. Because I am a constant reminder that she needs to fly. I am, in fact, The Gold Standard Poster Boy of Flight. Which is precisely why I need a woman who has her pretty little feet (that I constantly touch, kiss, and pay attention to), on the ground. Ultimately, in our mutual respective unbalancedness, we balance each other.

It’s times like this when I fall in love with writing all over again. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

If The Devil Made Me A Deal

I wrote this last October, the very day after My Angel and I split up. We were both in so much pain. It didn't seem real.

Suddenly, there was a hole inside of me so big that I felt completely empty. Completely lost. The questions didn't seem answerable. So I turned to my heart, to my soul, and to my writing, to give me what I knew my head never could.

Sitting there, crying at my computer, I, somewhat ironically perhaps, felt the undeniable surge of Male Warrior Energy; an archetypal fire that burns in the DNA of every man. This is the Juice that we feel when we go into battle; a beautiful, primitive, powerful, primordial joo joo that gives us the courage when we stand between the woman we can't live without and any fucking thing in this or any other world that threatens to harm her. In that moment, I literally felt what it would be like to battle to the death, to give my life for, My Angela. Because in that moment, I would have. Absolutely. Without regret. Without but a second of hesitation.

Gotta say, I never felt that shit before.