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Not that I have to change and give Dad a catheter. Not that Mom isn’t/can’t help at all. Not that the family had no one we feel we can call on. It’s just the fact that I can’t lift him, that I’m out of shape and can’t dead lift 180lbs like everyone else seems like they can do. How did the nurses do it at the hospital? I’m such a failure has a son and see nothing but more failures ahead for me. Putting dad in a home, even temporarily. What if it’s permanent, how are mom and I going to live together when we can be at each other’s throats at a moments notice. What if they both go in, will I be able to make it or survive? Why isn’t death an option? Instead I’m just going to repeat Wise Mind and try to go to sleep until 4am when I can do it all over again.

I wish I was as confident of the future like this tiger or Drake. At least the drugs are working and I’m not in super panic mode.

Horrible selfie with me laying down. But it is accurate in that I’m just a bloated mess that’s blind to the good things in my life.

What do I do now?

I still have some humanity left in me.

In such a destroy everything and everyone kind of mood.

Old man with sagging pants. You should know better. And no I didn’t need to see the pale moon cracking over your waist line this early in the morning. 🙅🏾‍♂️

When I could double fist two bottles of Mountain Dew for breakfast.