I thought I knew disappointment after watching my role-model parent pass away so early in life. I knew nothing near what the full extent of it would bring.

Hell, I had a relationship to “recover from,” and suddenly, my “OWN kid” to support.

All at once, mom was suddenly in and out of hospitals facing end-of-life… the girlfriend I’d committed to was revealed to be a hussy… and this mysterious, new health condition was upon me. At that precise time, friends began disappearing, expended funds started drying up saved assets & achievable options began to reduce. Most urgently, the way I saw it right then… time had never been on my side. Options came and went, good times came then passed…… and throughout it all, somehow, I remained positive. Though it felt that I cuddled the Grim Reaper’s sickle nightly, I focused on whatever distraction presented itself right then. My mind was a Fun House, and my wildest, most negative anticipations of how it’d all go haunted me… with every closure of my eyes.

Moving out on your own to support a household of three when you’re seventeen is tough. Burying your beloved only-surviving parent a decade after losing your childhood role model, the other parent, is tougher. Learning as an adult exactly how these two did themselves in… man. It was as heartbreaking as it got for me. My directives from an early age were clear: outperform your failed father. Do something to make the wife he left behind, now your dying mother, proud of her son. Get out there & kick professional ass, wherever possible. And of course, do it all with a smile…… like there’s nothing wrong at all.

Easy, right?

After relationship #1 failed spectacularly, fun (shortly) came by way of martial arts training whilst anticipating future distributed beatdowns. For awhile, I did well in carrying out what my father had helped me start when younger. Then, there came a point where I’d preliminarily do nothing but want to express all this anger to any opponent… then I’d go out & do just that.

I’d spend up to a half an hour in a secluded area, pacing… and though I’d foresee victory, I saw no satisfaction ultimately. My last two contests saw me take a Muay Thai fight that I won via knockout in the third round… then, I fought a man who outweighed me by 100 pounds in a Mixed Martial Arts fight a year later. Still, despite these hard-fought victories, a much harder-fought battle was waged in tandem. No one was any wiser to it.

After those fights, Relationship #2 came & went in under 5 years. This time, work had fallen out from under me. A momentary girlfriend’s father had offered us to stay with him. By the time I had funds and employment secured for our advancement beyond her dad’s… she’d decided she was done playing “Grown-Up.” We split amicably & haven’t talked since, though I did hear that she’s married and with child now. I’m happy for and proud of her, and I hope her family is well. Though, I will say this… for as close as we were, last time I called to “catch-up” with her father, he barely even remembered me. I’m honestly happy that his beer has so effectively nullified his mind.

Friends who trained in Martial Arts, involvement in the fight community… not even press access to events was sufficiently distracting enough. Whether there to compete or photograph, interview or be involved…… nothing quelled that “urge.” It wasn’t just some generic, simplified “be happy in life blah blah blah” pitch. I truthfully wanted to know what was wrong with my health. I considered everyone who would come around back then to be an eventual unfortunate in-advance witness to my health’s turn. Sustaining a neurological condition that randomly tests your ability to stay conscious is a challenge. Picking yourself up off that floor, each and every time that condition drops you, like it’s a fist from God… no matter how bloody or injured you are, the only course is to stand once more & face life.

Relationship #3 saved my life. Were it not for her, I’d be deceased by now.

At one point, doctors had told me that as soon as I “passed out” again… I needed to get my ass back to their ER, and with urgency. Just as they advised, three months beyond a precautionary, two-week “neurological” stay. a medical incident occurred at home, and #3 was there on-the-spot. She rushed me back to that same hospital… which entailed a seven-minute drive that Google said would take fifteen. Upon arrival, I was recognized almost instantly thanks to her, and taken right into the Emergency Room… past a lobby that had to have had at least 20 others waiting. They must’ve all been absolutely delighted to see me walk in & instantly achieve medical attention… the same way they didn’t.

Once in an ER room, I received a brief interrogation from the nurse on-duty. They hooked me up to the EKG, then went to fetch the EEG, which would survey neurological activity. I was IV’ed with medication, and then me & #3 were left to wait briefly.

Now, THIS is where it gets fun.

Blackness. Numbness. No cold, no heat, no hard, no soft. I was literally simply “there.”

I didn’t *want* to move, and even if I’d wanted to… it didn’t feel like I had to. At my most relaxed, I was my most worry-free. Nothing to expect, no apologies owed, nothing granted or taken for such.

I don’t want to call it “floating,” that’d sound generic. “Drifting” would sound hippie-ish. Oh, no, no, no…… I was definitely sober for each & every bit of this ride.

Disappointingly, the ride was short & that end came abruptly. I quickly snapped-out of my tranquil opacity… & into lights in my eyes with a surgeon standing above me, holding shock paddles. As I collectively regained consciousness, I heard

“….woop….. WOOP…… CODE BLUE” repeatedly… as the tending physician began questioning me, to make sure I remembered who and where I was.

Clinically, it’s been proven that brain activity can continue after the heart stops. I’ve wondered if on that night, my heart & head had a conversation & said “ya know what?! F this…”

Either way, I’m still here, and you all still have to deal with me… like it or not.

“Long and weary, my road has been.”

~ Chris Cornell