The Tiniest of Lies.

We live in a world of lies. I'm tired of them, so I'm going to tell the truth right now. The entirety of my truth. Warts and all, so buckle up.

Why would anyone embarrass themselves like I'm about to? We'll get into that later. Trust me, this post won't be for everyone. I wrote this for the people who need to know that they aren't alone.

So let's tell some truth.

Truth bomb 101: Though I don't tend to make mistakes twice, I seem to be guilty of finding every mistake possible.

Besides the fact that I once contracted Chlamydia for being the sluttiest of slutties, in one of my most shameful moments, I also once blew a .10 into the breathalyzer. My DUI was reduced to a wet-and-reckless in court later, but I still ended up in jail that night. I slept on the concrete floor because there were no seats left in the drunk tank. If you think I'm taking this lightly, I'm really not. I still feel disgust for myself in that moment.

This should be a good start point to rev up the truth.

Truth bomb 102:

I usually tune-out when I hear woe-is-me crap online. That's one of the main reasons I left social media. It's not that I don't care, but it's not in my nature to feel things that aren't necessary. The truth is, I have a tendency to feel too much. So, I click it off. It's a defense mechanism that I developed as an abused child. Add to that, I just don't want the entirety of the Internet's sadness or anger to bleed onto me.

Now the hardest truth. Truth bomb 103. And this one has fucked with me for years.

I didn't want the collective people's sadness and anger to bleed onto me anymore because it already had.

I just recently fixed my depression. I hated even typing that sentence. It feels simultaneously weak in my mind and somehow grossly inadequate. It's been so long since that emptiness in my gut—more specifically closer to my heart—wasn't torturing me, that I don't know how to act anymore.

I'm actually content again like I used to be. Since before all this shit happened to all of us. Yes, the people and the governments were screwed-up beyond recognition before, but these last five years have been a whole other epic level of shitshow.

So, Chris is back now. The real Chris.

What changed to heal me? I don't know. I asked God for help. The Universe. Whatever. I'm non-specific when it comes to the Creator, but I'm telling you my life changed exactly one day after I asked for help. And as my wife knows, I won't ask for help unless it's absolutely necessary. And help was sent in many forms the next day.

For clarification, I don't go to church. I have several life mantras. One of which is, never trust anyone who stands on a pulpit. Or any stage for that matter. I've stood on way too many stages as a musician and writer to think otherwise. Now, if you find something in church that helps you treat your fellow man better, please go. Many of my friends are there right now. Many of my friends are atheists, too.

Church for me is like watching a Turner Classic Movie marathon. You're kind of bored. You already know the endings to the stories. Then they want money after each movie. How about no? I'll just give the cash directly to those in need.

My behavior and words are not manic right now either. Any person experiencing the end of depression has to be aware that you might be fooling yourself in these situations. It's been years since I've felt this good, so I've spent months considering that my reprieve might not be real. There is no manic here. Things are truly different, and I think it's because I've stopped living in the world of lies. It was a slight change of perspective that somehow turned out to be seismic in nature.