Hi. I'm Josh and I ain't right.
Yeah, I'm a musician, but not a good one, so not sure that qualifies me by default, but...
I got a degree in Psychology from UCSC in 1989. It was more like a PhD in smoking weed. I was trying to deal with my anxiety, which haunts me to this day. Thanks, genetics.
Used the degree to work in mental health until 3 months ago. Worked in a long-term locked facility for 4 years, graduated to outpatient case management for a whole lotta years, then graduated to management. It sucked. I mean, I like helping people, and Schizophrenia is fascinating. Somehow I was able to relate to everyone and help them, but it was always stressful, mostly due to my superiors, 90% crazier than me, criticizing everything I tried to do.
So yeah, tolerated that abuse for like 30 years, tolerating daily death threats and such, until one day I left my gun in the bathroom while taking a dump. I had a permit, but leaving it in the bathroom was a serious oops. Of course I was fired and I deserved it.
A good friend gave me a job back at the locked SNF where it all started after college. It was all fun and games, but didn't pay enough, then the dreaded COVID hit a few months ago and I was like, "OH HELL NO." Sold the house, bought a new RV and hit the road.
They have like 27 cases and growing. I'm not super high risk but I'm old, 54, and don't wanna die just yet. Wasn't having any fun anyway, working full time just to a afford a crappy house in a crappy town and NOTHING ELSE. For someone prone to depression, not the best of circumstances.
So to heck with it. Sold the house, all my stuff, bought a new Winnebago Class C and hit the road.
It was AMAZING for the first couple months, running from the cops around Monterey, CA, and the Sierra Nevada, paying nothing for camping, breaking the rules, doing my thing. Then here come the fires. Had to bail from Tioga Pass and head East. No prob. The dog and I hit a bunch of National Parks throughout California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado and Arizona. It was fun.
Mom needed shoulder surgery so I headed back toward CA at some point. Got here and man, it sucks. I left home a lotta years ago and remember why I can't spend more than a couple hours around the parents. Dad is Captain Anxiety. Mom is Captain Alcohol. The plan was to be here a couple weeks while mom recovered from shoulder replacement. **** me if Dad didn't need a pacemaker while here, too, so I'm here for another several weeks. I can't sleep. I'm drinking A LOT. The butterflies in my stomach have turned into angry hornets.
I don't regret anything, but it's difficult. Everyone at the old job has tested positive for COVID. People have started to die. It's just, Dad keeps referring to me as homeless and unemployed, despite my best efforts to make money blogging, making YouTube videos, and taking photos, which aren't all that bad.
So, suffice it to say I ain't right. My heart tells me I'm doing the right thing, avoiding the dreaded virus and helping family, living on my savings, following my dreams, yet I'm failing at making any money on anything and a little nervous about the long term. Add to that, despite a lifetime of loving to drive, it freaks me out anymore. and some days I can barely do 100 miles.
I dunno. Guess I just need a little support. I'll be fine. I always have been fine. But today, I'm not fine.