These addictions helped me cure loneliness:

I write because I spend a lot of time alone.

Since the beginning of 2020, I’d estimate that around 80–90% of my time has been spent alone.

That’s a lot of time to think.

To worry.

To go deep.

And most importantly, to write.

Writing takes on many forms: journaling, emails, blogs, videos, short-films.

For me, it’s the easiest way to clarify my thoughts.

If I’m feeling bad, I’ll write about why.

If I’m feeling anxious, I’ll write out everything I’m anxious about.

Most of my days are spent writing words like this.

And often when you’re writing a lot, you start to come up with more creative means of processing and sharing those thoughts. For me, filmmaking has become that outlet.

But it started with writing.

Before that, it was running.

It’s the same with running.

Ever since I felt a pop in my inner-groin area while running around our track in college, I hated running, again. It hurt. The rewards were practically non-existent.

It wasn’t until a few years ago, while living abroad, that I realized… running is all I have.

For my mental health.

For my sanity.

For everything.

So I started to get back into it.

It still hurt.

But after a while — less and less.

Eventually, I stopped hating it, and slowly became addicted to it because I:

1. Made it easy. Shoes at the door. Step outside and just run to whatever coffee shop you wanna hang out at.

2. Created a routine. Wake up, drop the kids off at the pool (metaphor), then run.

3. Became consistent. 2-3 days a week is better than 7-days in a row then totally burning yourself out.

That’s how resistance turned into ritual.

Writing and running only get you so far.

I still wrestle with the same things many of us do:

→ Feeling like a fraud.

→ Experiencing trauma and living with it and learning to manage it through therapy, journaling, art, etc.

→ The fact that death is coming for us, WHETHER WE LIKE IT OR NOT (dammit)!

Most of my work follows the same format:

→ Here’s what I’m dealing with

→ Here’s what I went through

→ Here’s something you can learn from that

That’s it.

It’s how I process all of these things.

I run because it’s healthy. Because it keeps me in the moment.

I write because it’s how I make sense of being alive.

Whether I’m running, writing, or making films, I’m trying to do the same thing: process difficult things or move through or even into feelings.

Sometimes we’re shedding stuff, sometimes we’re channeling it.

Writing and running have that same commonality — they’re often done alone, deep in thought, and useful for processing.

And they’re difficult to get started.

I used to hate running 1-mile — one fucking mile.

I’d get these pains in my stomach; I’d look at my phone and see it’s at a half-mile and just think to myself, “This is miserable.”

Because it was.

Writing was the same way, too.

I’d open my computer to a blank page and just think, “What the fuck do I even have to say?”

It wasn’t much.

For a while, there, I was just writing stupid satire.

Then I wrote a bit more honestly.

Then a bit more.

Then, you find more outlets for it.

More people reading.

But really, you’re doing it for yourself.

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably pondered the same existential questions.

Maybe you feel like a fraud sometimes:

Maybe you’re trying to build a ritual.

Maybe you’re just trying to make sense of your life.

Samesies.

That’s why I write.