Note: After weeks of not writing much, I finally broke through my creativity block somehow! Well, sort of.

Well, this last year or so has been a mixed bag for all of us. Like always, we’ve had our ups and downs, good times and bad times, although I suspect this last year (and perhaps the near future) has had more intense ups and downs than previous years. At least it has for me. 

Unfortunately, I've been deep in a miserable rut for over a year. Hell, I may even argue that I've spent my whole life feeling miserable over all. I'm sure many people can unfortunately relate to that, especially since this last year or so has been an absolute clusterfuck. I spent the first part of 2020 dealing with the most intense anxiety attacks I have ever experienced. Like, they were so bad that I seriously thought about calling an ambulance, fearing that my Pulmonary Atresia had come back to bite me in the ass (which has gone completely untreated since I was a toddler since my heart miraculously healed itself, or more accurately, God got involved). But, within a couple weeks of having these intense anxiety attacks at least once, if not twice a day, I realized that they weren't actually dangerous. I just felt like I was dying whenever I had them, but the truth was, they were harmless (so long as I wasn't driving. Unfortunately, I often had them while I was driving, forcing me to pull over as soon as possible to let the anxiety pass). 

Thankfully, my doctors and I both knew that these anxiety attacks could be brought to heel using anti-anxiety medications, specifically Sertraline and Propanol. I started on the smallest doses of both medications, and gradually worked my way up to the maximum dose over the rest of the year. I was very, very cautious when using the medications. I didn't want to get on anything that would be hard to get off of, since I never planned to permanently need antidepressants. My doctors understood, and we worked together to find what worked for me that I was also comfortable with. 

But, those anti-anxiety meds had an unintended side-effect: depression. I've seriously been dealing with the worst depression I've had since middle school, especially since I've mostly blamed myself for it (and we've been in an isolating pandemic since March 2020). After all, in December of 2019, I got the best Christmas present ever, which was the life-saving medication called Trikafta. Why was I so miserable? I literally got the medicine I've always dreamed of getting but never expected to actually get it. I shouldn't be deprived of serotonin or overflooded with cortisol. I should be grateful (and I was and am), yet despite having my whole life suddenly ahead of me, I felt the future was bleak. And, when the pandemic hit, that just further fucked things up for me. 

It has now been over a year since I started Trikafta. Physically, I'm healthy. At least, my numbers look incredible. But, I still feel like the bloated, dead deer I saw on the side of a wet and busy road I was driving down the other day. My anxiety and depression hasn't gone away. While my numbers look amazing, I no longer really feel like them. I'm tired, yet very restless all the time. I have a hard time going to sleep, and a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings. I don't eat more than a meal per day, and get most of my nutrition from pills and goat milk. I'm extremely motivated, yet extremely unmotivated at the same time. Time feels like it's both standing still and fast-fowarding. I've done so much, yet so little this entire year. But, through it all, I've definitely learned a lot more about myself, and had an infinite amount of time to really think introspectively and figure out who I really am, what I am good at, what I believe, what my fears are, so on an so fourth. I also added a new word to my vocabulary (Autism), which has helped me in this journey of discovering who I really am and what I'm really made of. 

At the time I'm writing this (so, end of January 2021), I'm politically quite progressive (especially when compared to the conservatives in my family), spiritually I'm a Christian who has fallen pretty deep into the heavy theology rabbit hole on my quest to really get to know my Creator, emotionally I still feel like I'm ten years old and ninety years old simultaneously, physically I feel both healthier than ever before and sicker than I've been in awhile, and mentally... well... let's just say I'm an absolute mess there, as I'm sure most of us are right now. 

I've also traveled a lot this year, despite the pandemic, during which I've been able to stay very much isolated from the world. How is that possible, you may ask? Well, a lifetime of Cystic Fibrosis trained me how to survive a zombie apocalypse pretty well, as it turns out. I had a stash of N95 masks, a gas mask, rubber gloves, and shitloads of hand sanitizer long before it was cool. I also grew up pretty isolated from the world, partly because of the annual flu season I had to avoid, partly because I'm just a miserable bastard (literally and figuratively). I also grew up having to constantly protect myself from bacteria and other things that I couldn't exactly avoid, especially since I've always been pretty avidly out-of-doors. Like I just can't avoid Pseudomonas and had to learn how to safely coexist with it, I was well prepared to safely coexist with covid-19, armed to the teeth with hand sanitizer, rubber gloves, and of course my obnoxious use of anti-viral masks.

But, I'll admit. While most people would kill to safely travel just a quarter of the distance I've traveled this year, I wasn't down to travel. I was forced into it. I mean, it's not entirely true that I had no choice. I just had two shitty choices: travel or be forced to entertain my extroverted mom and little brother and two dogs. So, that's how I begrudgingly ended up in the front seat of my Xterra with a puking puppy on my lap for nine-and-a-half hours, on my way to Utah. The drive was an hour and a half longer than expected because we hit a couple of massive thunderstorms along the way that almost took out the semis driving in front and behind us, and for the first 200 miles or so, we were stopping non-stop due to our carsick puppy. But, after that, I just gave up trying to clean up the mess, and put up with puppy puke soaking my clothes for the rest of the drive. All I wanted to do was get to point B as soon as possible. 

However, it wasn't all miserable and bad. I really needed the change in scenery. Before that big road trip to Utah, I rarely ventured beyond the neighborhood, and I was starting to lose it. I needed to get out and go on some adventure. I just didn't think my big adventure would be a summer spent traveling. During the first part of quarantine, a "big adventure" was more like a day-trip to the mountains to hike with just my household. Not a several hundred mile drive over the Rockies, across a desert, and to another big city in the next state over to stay with friends. But, as usual, fate had other plans. And, that summer honestly went a lot better than I expected it to. 

Of course, there were many bumps in the road. We had a pretty close (and rather traumatizing) first brush with covid, which prompted us to drive to Tacoma, Washington and spend a week down there. Looking back, that spontaneous summer adventure to Tacoma was a lot of fun, but in the moment, I hated it. We all did. I didn't expect to ever move to Washington, but several months later, that's exactly what happened. 

Given my history with Washington, I fought that move pretty damn hard. I never wanted to live in Washington, especially since living in Washington meant I had to live very close to the relatives I never really got along with. I was worried that living in Washington would be a lot like visiting relatives in Washington, only instead of the trip only lasting a week, it would last years. 

Thankfully, I was wrong in many ways. I mean, I still miss everything and everyone in Colorado very, very much. But, life in Washington hasn't actually been too terrible so far. I haven't been bombarded with unwanted attention any more than I would've back home. I've been able to make my Washington house feel a lot more like home. I've even been able to explore my surroundings enough to have almost all of Gig Harbor mapped out in my head. Sure, I still don't know Washington anywhere near like I know Colorado, but at least I can drive to the nearby harbor, beaches, islands, and stores without having to hear Siri's annoying voice interrupting my bluegrass and rock music. 

I must admit, I also really like the scenery around here. It's not like the mountains or the plains like I know and miss. But, the rainforest and the ocean are pretty damn awesome. There's all sorts of wildlife running around on the land and swimming in the Sound and the harbor. The grass is always green and growing, there's always green, leafy foliage, and there are even a few year-round wildflowers. Pretty soon, in February, western Washington's spring will begin, and there will be hundreds of wild blackberries and huckleberries growing along my backyard fence and throughout my front yard within a couple months. There's also lots of interesting things within the ocean and along the shores, from sea anemones that clasp their tendrils around your fingers when you touch them, to harbor seals, orcas, clams, crabs, and alien-looking starfish. 

I also like how stable the climate here is. It's always between 40-50 degrees. Rarely, does it get to 60 degrees during the day or below 40 at night. I have kept my window open literally since I've gotten here, allowing the smells and sounds of the nature outside to come into my bedroom (without bringing any of the bugs in). I wish there was more sun, but it comes out at least once per week, and there are artificial ways to get that sunlight even when there is none. I have an artificial sunlight lamp I turn on every morning, and I also hang out in our tent sauna for ten minutes at least twice a week, where I really feel like a lizard sunning itself under a heat lamp.  

I hate to admit it, but I miss the snow. I know when I lived in Colorado, I always bitched about how terrible the snow was. But, now that I haven't seen a single snowflake since I left Colorado, I miss the snow. I also miss Colorado's sun, wind, and general landscape and climate overall. I enjoy the great, green forest here in Washington, but I want so badly to be back on some wide open plains or high above the treeline. The only place that resembles anything like being on the plains or 14,000 feet up is on the middle of the Tacoma Narrows bridge. But, beyond that, there's nowhere else that I know of that feels anything like being in the wide open wilderness. At least, none that are currently accessible. I know there are nearby mountains and lots of wide open spaces out by Yakima, but during the winters and early spring, they're practically impossible to get to due to how much snow falls on Washington's jagged mountains. 

There are many other things that have been weighing down on me, too. Being unable to spend valuable time with friends and family has been a huge weight on my shoulders throughout the last year or so. You see, I can (and do) go fishing right now, but fishing by myself isn't nearly as enjoyable as fishing with loved ones, even if I'm fishing off the main pier in the middle of downtown Gig Harbor on a weekend. On my own, fishing gets really boring really fast, even when I'm listening to podcasts and music or eavesdropping on others' conversations. With others, I could fish from one spot all day long and never get bored for a second. But, it's not just being bored and lonely that bothers me. 

When I'm around family and friends (particularly the ones I love and trust the most), I feel comfortable enough to just be myself, and to pour out my heart and soul to them, and to playfully mess with them. Very few things are better than spending a night shooting the shit around a bonfire, or going on adventures with others, or playfully driving each other up the wall with epic roasts and pranks. Sure, it's nice to spend a few hours around a fire, in the wilderness, or on the road alone. But again, unlike with others around, I get bored and lonely after a few hours. If I spend too much time bored and lonely by myself, my mind starts to drift into some very dark places. I, like everyone else, need some level of social interaction, even though I am still highly introverted and need plenty of time to recharge. I could spend a couple weeks alone and be totally okay. Chances are, I'd enjoy such a getaway very much. But, over an entire year? Turns out, I can do it, but not without severely damaging my mental health. 

I've also been increasingly craving fellowship with strangers, specifically in regards to a church. I know as soon as it is safe for us all to do so, I'm going to do my best to find a church to attend in-person. Now, as a rather new Christian (I guess one could say I was raised Christian, but I don't think the faith I was brought up in was actually very Christian, but that's besides the point), I don't know what I'm looking for in a church. I have a sense of what I desire (truth, love, acceptance, etc), but what church doesn't have those things as their values? If I'm gonna find a good church, I'm gonna have to walk in and sit down for a sermon to test the waters, which to me right now, is a lot less terrifying than it used to be. When I go to a new church, nobody there has to know that I'm really there. I can just blend into the crowd, not say a word, listen to the sermon, then leave. If I like what I heard and experienced, great! If I didn't, oh well. There are plenty of churches around here. There must be at least one church in Gig Harbor or Tacoma that truly practices Christianity. 

Sadly, due to my experiences with church and "Christianity" growing up, I'm very, very wary of anyone and anything that calls itself a Christian. But, I think I have an exceptionally good intuition, and I trust that God will also help guide me along as I hunt for a good church to attend.

In the past, I've been to churches that on the surface seemed okay, but something about them just didn't sit very well with me. I couldn't have been older than ten years old when my mom and I checked out a new church, and as soon as the pastor starting talking, all I kept hearing from him was, "Give us money. Give us money. Give us money.", which really alarmed ten-year-old me. I brought it up to my mom, who said I was just hearing the pastor wrong and the church was just fine. But, two months later, it came out that the pastor was dipping his grubby paws into the tithes, using it to build a two-million-dollar mansion in the mountains and put his kids through very expensive private schools. 

I've also been brought to churches that practice speaking in tongues and prophesying, both of which have never really made me feel like I was in the presence of anything good. When I was a little kid, that shit gave me nightmares. As a teen, I didn't think I was witnessing anything more than a literal babbling idiot. Now, as a young adult, I don't really know if I believe speaking in tongues and predicting the future is real, and if it is real, if it's of God or of something unholy. Considering how skittish, skeptical, and downright socially inept I usually am, I probably won't stick around if someone starts speaking in tongues or the pastor decides someone needs an exorcism (*Cue the song, "Fuck that Shit, I'm Out", which is one of the very few rap songs I like these days*).

Again, I doubt I'll ever fall for a shitty church. I'm too skittish and critically-minded to fall for predatory theology and creepy, cultish denominations. Unfortunately, I just don't know what denominations are decent, or what church near me is decent. Hell, I have absolutely no idea what church denomination I best fit into, if any. All of that uncertainty is deeply unsettling to me for many reasons. But, I guess I'll just have to have faith and trust in myself and God, gather up as much courage as I can, and start hanging out at various churches and bible studies. If something doesn't sit right with me, assuming I go to church alone, I can get the hell outta dodge.

Not only am I worried about the very real possibility of stepping foot into a not-so-great church and running into not-so-great "Christians", but, I still sometimes wonder if I'm actually a Christian, or if am I just a poser. I know, logically that I am a Christian. However, emotionally, I often feel like I'm missing something, and I'll end up in what CS Lewis calls "The Grey Town" in the very end.

I haven't really had any spiritual encounters with the Lord yet. God hasn't really spoken to me or through me, as far as I can tell. I haven't felt His presence or really had a prayer answered (that I know of, anyway). I haven't noticed any "spiritual signs" as many call them, or any real experiences with God. Sometimes, I think about all of the stories I've heard of people experiencing a miraculous event, running into a stranger they'd later call an angel, or feeling the overwhelming presence of God. Even I've experienced miracles in the past, which is why I haven't had open heart surgery since I was a toddler despite the severity of my Pulmonary Atresia. But, for me now, God seems to be entirely silent, even though I've been desperately praying day and night.

Life continues to be way harder than I think it should be, and it seems like there's no end to my issues in sight. I've said many, many, many heated prayers this past year, despite knowing that no matter what I say, my life probably won't change anytime soon. After all, unlike millions of "Christians", I don't worship a spiritual vending machine. I don't worship a God who will stick a giant pair of eagle wings on my back if I decided it was a good idea to jump off the Tacoma Narrows bridge. I don't worship a God who will get sick of my whining and finally make me 100% normal, like I've been begging Him to do ever since I can remember. I don't worship a God who makes rocks and thorns soft as flower petals when I inevitably slip and fall when my adventurous spirit gets the best of me. I don't worship a God who just does everything "the easy way". I don't worship an overprotective sky daddy who will never let anything harm us so long as we do everything exactly right.

I worship a God who probably has very good reasons for making me go through hell my whole life. I worship a God who has given me the freedom to choose between doing good and bad, being smart and being a total dumbass, so on an so fourth. I worship a God who created literally everything existence with just the words from His mouth (which somehow took millions and billions of years of our time), who lives outside of space and time, who is infinite and everything. I worship a God who knows exactly when and how to get my attention, and knows when to just sit back and let me try (and usually fail) to figure things out on my own. So, maybe I shouldn't question the validity of my faith just because I haven't experienced the presence of God in awhile, or I'll probably screw up on the first question of Bible Trivia. Maybe, I'm still just very young and fragile in the faith (and in life in general), and I just need to grow up a little more in the faith before God reveals more to me. 

In the meantime, while I wait for the world to return to normal again, I'll be desperately trying to claw my way out of this black hole of depression being in quarantine stuck me in, as it's the most important and solvable issue right now. Due to the bullshit's that still going on, I can't go to a church yet, or hang out at a cafe, or go to college, or go hunting, or charter a fishing boat, or use the Meetup app to make more friends, or anything like it. However, what I can do is get my anxiety and depression medication adjusted, an experienced Washington therapist who is willing to work with my CF, Cardiology, and Autism teams, and force myself to get up in the mornings and leave the house at least once everyday, instead of doing my favorite depression activity, which is staying in bed all day and wallowing in misery. I'm still gonna be a miserable piece of shit for awhile, but at least I can be miserable somewhere else besides my bed. 

But, as I'm sure most people are aware of, it's kind of hard to be miserable when you're on the beach or walking on a hiking trail in the middle of the rainforest. However, I don't feel very much joy while in the wilderness either. I'm basically just numb, which is better than being sad and exhausted at home. Despite my numbness, I can admire nature and do questionable things in the name of adventure (such as driving my tank of a vehicle down a slippery, narrow, cliffside road in the midst of a dense, foggy rainforest with zero cell service and very little visibility). And, at times, I do get a few molecules of serotonin, which make each solo adventure worth it. 

Even in my darkest days, I cannot resist adventure when it calls. I've never been able to. Even when I was dying of Pseudomonas just a few short years ago, I went out and shot my first pronghorn. There's just something about being alone or with a very small group of close loved ones in the wilderness, millions of miles away from most civilization, or at least in places that feel a million miles away from others. Given just how dense and dark these Washington woods are, it's not hard to feel like I'm far, far, far away from civilization, even if I'm just a mile or two from town or a few yards away from someone's house. I like that. I like it a lot. 

But, in a way, being out-of-doors right now is bittersweet. Washington's vast pine forests, jagged hills and bluffs, and life-filled waters are really starting to grow on me, but I still miss Colorado very much. I miss the wide open plains where I've always gone to ride horses and dirtbikes, hunt pronghorn and fish for pike and bass, and scour the golden landscape in search of shed antlers and sunbleached animal bones to collect, and large bullsnakes to harass my not-so-snake-friendly loved ones with. I miss the Rocky Mountains. They're where I bagged my first wild turkey, gone off-roading with my father, stood atop Pike's peak and mount Evans, and where I was also traumatized out of skiing and camping (but, due to my homesickness, I look back fondly upon those misadventures, almost to the point I'd gladly stay in a spider-infested camper if it meant coming home again). I miss Colorado's sunny though unpredictable climate. I miss the family and friends I left behind in Colorado, but who I'm almost certainly gonna meet again within the next few months. 

It honestly feels very weird to drive around Washington behind the same wheel I drove around my home state in. My truck is basically the same as it was back home, but the roads are very, very different here in Washington. Everything in Washington is vastly different than what I'm used to. But, in many ways, I really enjoy that newness, especially now.

There are animals and plants that are native to Washington that I've never been up close and personal with, until very recently. There are beaches, woods, fields, rivers, points of interest, and take-out restaurants I've always wanted to check out but never had the chance to, until very recently. I'm also about to get myself a cold water wetsuit to go with my brand new kayak and snorkel, assuming Washington stays in level two lockdown and doesn't regress back into full-on lockdown like we've been in since October. I'm already very familiar with Gig Harbor's many public docks in preparation to get back into the water, after so many years of being unable to swim due to health issues Trikafta has since freed me from. 

Not to mention the numerous hunting and fishing opportunities that I can take advantage of. I just have to get a hold of the right people, as well as go to a couple of gun safety classes required by the state to possess certain firearms. But, those should be pretty easy for me to do when I have the time and the cash to do them. 

With all of this in mind, I'm feeling much more relaxed about living in Washington. Before, my anxiety was so bad that I couldn't eat, sleep, or gather the courage to leave my house. While I did force myself to eat, my body refused to digest anything, and I was losing weight at an alarming rate for a couple months. Sleep was practically impossible. And, during the day, I was too tired and sick to leave the house, and whenever I did, I never had much fun. Of course, it wasn't just the stress of moving that was getting to me. I was very bothered by the state of the pandemic, the isolation from being unable to visit with anyone outside of the household in-person unless strict safety measures were taken, the long, hard process of gathering up a team of doctors to keep me healthy and alive in Washington, as well as politics.

Politics was one of my main anxiety triggers, especially since I kept getting roped into family group texts I never asked to be in, where the chosen topic was, of course, politics and occasionally religion. For the most part, I just kept my phone on silent and never read or engaged with the texts. But, then my grandparents and a couple great aunts and uncles started asking me for my opinions more directly. Still, I remained pretty quiet and vague, taking every chance I had to try to steer the conversation towards other topics.