Tag: mental health

The Cruelty of Addiction

Addiction, Self-Esteem By Matt Salis, MPS 10 Comments

The Cruelty of Addiction

Audio version now available.

 

When the gifts are purchased and wrapped, the dinner is planned, the tree is trimmed, and the cookies are baked, I might grind the gears a little as I down shift out of my hussle-culture existence, but I can get slowed down into holiday mode. Now, in the week between, I’ve got to check my own pulse to make sure I’m alive.

 

As a drinker, and in early sobriety, I sought an elusive perfection in the holiday season, and always started the new year disappointed. Now I seek peace and contentment, friendship and family. I’ve surrounded myself with people I love this past week. I want to carry this warm feeling with me as I shift back up through the gears into business as usual. Business as usual, but with a lingering feeling of love, and a foundational knowledge that I’m blessed and everything will be OK.

Masculinity that’s NOT Toxic

Emotional Masculinity By Matt Salis, MPS No Comments

Masculinity that's NOT Toxic

Audio version now available.

 

At the opening of the holiday classic, A Christmas Carol, the narrator insists that we accept the fact that Marley is dead. “This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.” As a kindred spirit to Ebenezer Scrooge, I have always wanted to use that quote. In the spirit of the season, and because it fits the point I shall attempt to make, now is my chance.

 

When I talk of the critical necessity that men adapt and evolve into Emotional Masculinity, I am not misogynistically suggesting that women embrace femininity as some sort of retro, throwback, stone-age counterbalance. And yet, when women I know well–women who have weighed my pros and cons and decided to trust me–when my closest female discovery warriors hear me talk of Emotional Masculinity, they instinctively bristle.

Emotional Safety is a Dying Fad

Emotional Safety By Matt Salis, MPS 2 Comments

Emotional Safety is a Dying Fad

Audio version now available.

 

I hate having my priorities in order. Why do I listen to all the talking heads who unanimously confirm that when people are on their deathbeds, they want their families around them, and they don’t utter a single word about their careers or their money. Knowing relationships matter more than power and prestige is unhelpful. I’ve been societally conditioned since birth to achieve and accumulate. Now I’ve got to consistently put the people who love and trust me first? What a drag.

I Wish She Would Die

Addiction, Emotional Safety, Family By Matt Salis, MPS 2 Comments

I Wish She Would Die

Audio version now available.

 

“I wish my partner would die.”

 

The gruesome, shameful desire uttered faintly through hopeless lips, the unexpected authenticity of an exhausted heart. She looked up slowly, terrified to see the reactions of the people to whom she had gifted her trust, afraid that her new admission had crossed the line of relatability to something unthinkable.

 

She saw nodding heads. Lots of nodding heads.

Atrophied Intelligence

Unashamed By Matt Salis, MPS No Comments

Atrophied Intelligence

Audio version now available.

 

I finally found a use for AI. If I am trying to find a way to reach a semi-famous person to invite them on our podcast or to initiate an exchange of ideas around their area of expertise, the default AI thing at the top of Google search will sometimes scrape the interwebs and come up with an email back door for me. I don’t ask ChatGTP questions. I don’t use AI platforms to write for me. I don’t trust AI search results and always click on the source material. I don’t think I am a grumpy old man who is in denial of progress and our human destiny, but then again, would I recognize it if I was?

Bizarre at the Boathouse, Part 2

Alcohol By Matt Salis, MPS No Comments

Bizarre at the Boathouse, Part 2

Audio version now available.

 

Boathouse shindigs are my kind of parties. Years ago, we were at a barbeque in someone’s backyard when one of the children of the host fell going up their deck stairs and needed stitches. The hosts both left with their child, and the rest of the party goers pulled together to put away the food and clean up the party. While picking up cups and dishes, I knocked a full glass of red wine left on the fireplace hearth onto their white living room carpet. That experience is why I’ve always appreciated cleanup at the boathouse. It is more of a covered patio. It is elevated with a walk-in basement below, but the party area is a concrete slab with a roof overhead–perfect for spring and autumn nights. And also, perfect for cleanup. A pushbroom, and snow shovel for a dustpan, and maybe some spot mopping, and the renter gets their security deposit back.

 

At a recent church event hosted at the boathouse, I was hanging around waiting for cleanup to start. My wife, Sheri, works at the church, and as is the case with most nonprofit organizations that depend on volunteer labor, the spouses of the employees were voluntold to help clean up. Just like I witnessed the bizarre behavior of the teens when the boathouse was used for homecoming, I leaned against the boathouse wall and watched a peculiar ritual of young adulthood with which I was painfully familiar. The twenty and thirty somethings were well lubricated, and the alcohol gave me a glimpse of how the reserved professionals and parents behaved when they dropped their shields of decorum. Listen, nothing debaucherous took place at the boathouse, much to my disappointment. If people are going to let loose and compile regrets for the morning, I want to see something worthy of my penchant for storytelling. I was left disappointed in that regard.

Bizarre at the Boathouse, Part 1

Addiction, Family By Matt Salis, MPS 2 Comments

Bizarre at the Boathouse, Part 1

Audio version now available.

 

The boathouse in Wash Park has a long and storied history. I mean, it must, right? I’ve never looked into it, but it looks old, and it’s definitely the anchor of the park, the neighborhood, maybe the whole southeast side of Denver. It is the hub of the Independence Day bicycle parade, couples get married there, and it is an easy meeting spot for people walking together in the park.

 

But it doesn’t house any boats. Maybe they store the floating plastic paddle swans under it in the winter, but for all of its iconic grandeur, they ought to have an old Mississippi riverboat cemented into the lakeshore next to it.

 

A riverboat would make a nice backdrop for homecoming dance pictures for the high school adjacent to the south side of the park. We are in the midst of a universally acknowledged, social-media-exacerbated, mental-health epidemic, so the homecoming dance sounds like a great way to encourage our young people to spend face-to-face time together. And it is. I am pro hoco. But as I leaned on the boathouse Saturday night, trying to stay out of the way and not brush against any of the girls who seemed to have shopped for dance gowns in the lingerie department, it occurred to me that the predance picture ritual might not be helping.

Progress

Addiction, Family, Recovery By Matt Salis, MPS 2 Comments

Progress

Audio version now available.

 

Waymo cars driven by humans are techno-mapping the streets of Denver. Local TV ads are recruiting D.P.D. officers to fulfill their destinies and become ICE agents (read that sentence in your best James Earl Jones voice). There are over eight billion people on the planet, but a handful of lunatics possess nuclear codes that could wipe us all out. People get their news from platforms that also allow us to sell our old air fryer or garden hose to our neighbors. I miss plays at the high school football game because I get distracted by the drones filming the action. And I just want to go deep in the mountains and build a lean-to out of sticks and mud.

Yummy Summer of Turd

Alcohol, Emotional Safety By Matt Salis, MPS 6 Comments

Yummy Summer of Turd

Audio version now available.

 

She looked at the back seat of my open-top, two-door Jeep Wrangler and asked, “How do I get in?” Her face lit up with delight as she watched her bandmate step on the back bumper, throw a leg over the roll bar, and plop into the seat next to hers. “You mean I can just climb in? Ooh fun!”

 

My youngest kid’s high school band played at halftime of the Colorado State University football game Saturday night. Just before the performance, my son texted asking if we could take a couple of other kids home when the bus got back to Denver around midnight? I didn’t recognize one of the names, so I asked for cross streets to gauge against my feelings of hospitality. I’m a nice guy, but I’m not building a resume for sainthood. And I follow the Herm Edward’s doctrine that nothing good ever happens after midnight. She lived close, so I “generously” agreed.