Thursday, March 21, 2019

Happiness is Overrated

Not too long ago, I was floating in the crystal-clear Pacific Ocean, the water lapping against my back and saltwater seeping into and out of my pores, the hypnotic rush of the waves providing the back-beat for the symphony of seagulls. I didn’t notice. My body was in the water?—?my mind was somewhere else.

I spent nearly all of 2017 sinking into a black hole of rage and sadness. I spent the year crisscrossing the country hoping my demons wouldn’t follow me. They did. I ran a marathon in Orlando. I spent springtime in New York. I saw the Cubs in Chicago. I saw Kendrick Lamar in Phoenix. I spent a secret weekend in Seattle. I took my mom to New Orleans. I surfed in San Diego. I saw the Lakers, Kings and Chargers in Los Angeles. I climbed the cliffs of Malibu. I drank wine in Napa. I rode scooters around San Francisco. I heard soul in Memphis. I saw old friends and met new ones. And I did SXSW and ACL right here in Austin. It was everything … yet it did nothing to beat back the double-barreled blast of depression of anxiety. And all I could do was wonder why.

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