T.A. Barnhart

carpe bucko

it has to be all about me

Welp, another year, another chance to not live 365 days and finish it by saying, “Ok, next year I’ll get this sucker right”. At this rate, I’ll be saying that when I drop dead – which, given the nature of mental illness, will be sooner than if I am able to get past regret and start chalking up accomplishments.

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Even if it’s little more than posting on this blog several times a week. That would be a good start.

I have a good plan for 2018, but it still involves the sad fact that I remain my biggest obstacle. And for all the same reasons 2017 ended in disappointment. As had 2016. And 2015. And so on.

One of the things I am going to do differently this year is not rely on other people. For example, my podcast in 2017 was based on me asking other people to let me interview them. That meant, I had to contact people and make those requests, and that involved more than getting a “Yes”. This year, the interviews are going to be an add-on. I am not going to build my goals around things that require other people to say “Yes” in some way (and, inversely, block me with a “No” or a non-response).

This year is about me. And that is both simpler and horribly frightening.

I live in the grip of fear. I always have. Typing these words stirs something in my belly that confirms how true this is. I have been afraid of other people since I was a little kid. The fear has never ended. It cost me my marriage. It’s made me distant from my sons and grandkids. It’s kept me from building any kind of career. I’ve ended up working a part-time manual labor job that does not pay the bills. 

It’s enabled me to hate myself for most of my life.

I have been able to rearrange the single room in which I live – approximately 10 feet by 15 feet – in a way that lets me record vlog posts. I need to get the lighting right – especially the glare off my glasses – but once that’s done, it’s simply a matter of spending ten minutes reading the script (multiple takes will be necessary) and then editing and posting. 

And then having another ready to record a day or two later. Lather, rinse, repeat. Write, record, edit, post. Slap it up on a YouTube channel, post links to Facebook, and just keep doing it until I get used to doing it. Until I get a routine, a rhythm, a voice and a style that is mine. I believe I have things worth saying, worth sharing.

All I have to do is acknowledge the truth of my fear and press on regardless.

How hard can that be?

T.A. Barnhart