hard to write about this one

 

It's hard to write about this one.

That tattoo on my arm has more than one meaning, some of which I won't talk about. One of the meanings I'll talk about freely is about mental health and suicide. A year and a half ago, I drove out to the bridge, parked the car, and walked out to find a place to jump. The semicolon tattoo is for those of us who have been touched by suicide. I don't ever want to get any closer than I did that night. 

Too many men deal with mental health issues (notably depression and anxiety, but also simple grief) and have no place to take them, nobody to talk about them with. Too many men have spoken about their struggles, and found that their partners, their spouses, their families and friends were not safe to talk to; they were shut down or ridiculed. Too many men never spoke about that stuff again. Almost four times as many men "successfully" suicide as women.

I want men to talk about mental health. I'm lucky in that I have people with whom I can.

We lost a nephew earlier this month. I don't know the cause of death. He was 33. His death has got me thinking about death often, and I've been sporadically depressed since, sometimes unable to engage in my usual activities, sometimes unable to get pleasure from usually-pleasurable things. I'm usually disciplined about food and exercise, but I've gained about eight pounds in the past three weeks, after having my weight controlled for years.

Tom H listed a club ride earlier this week. I normally sign up for his right away, but I didn't. I didn't sign up until the night before, and when I got up today, I still wasn't sure I'd actually go.

I think I actually packed up the car and got going, more out of not wanting to have to explain to The Excellent Wife (TEW) why I wasn't rather than out of any real desire to go. But I went.

I'm glad I did. Being with the guys was a tonic. And a discussion with Ricky, straight to the point, was able to get me to reframe some of my misery and focus on some gratitude. It turned out to be a pretty good ride, despite a grey day (and were there some raindrops on the way back?).

When we stopped in Farmingdale, we met a group from the Jersey Shore Touring Society.

It turned out to be a good ride. I'm glad I went. I'm not all better, by any means, but I'm better. And I'm sure Ricky would be embarrassed if I gushed about how grateful I am to him... so we'll leave out the specifics of that.

Do you care about the ride specifics?

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And as a reward for getting this far... isn't this a great picture of Chris C?