When I Say I’m Not Okay, I Mean I’m Working Through It.

What You’re Seeing Isn’t Collapse. It’s Creation.

I’ve gotten a lot of messages lately—people checking in, asking if I’m okay. And I want to be clear about something: I deeply appreciate every single one. The fact that you care enough to ask means more than I can explain.

The Truth About Grief + Creation

Let’s be real—my posts have been heavy. The words come out sharp. The metaphors hit like bricks. So let me say this as plainly as I can:

I’m not spiraling. I’m processing.
I’m not breaking down. I’m bleeding on purpose.
Every line I write, every image I build is on purpose.

Yes, I’m in a fog. Yes, it’s hard. But don’t confuse smoke for fire. I’m not burning up—I’m forging something.

When shit falls apart, I don’t crawl into a dark room. I open a doc.
I build. I write. I imagine wrench-to-the-face animations because that’s what emotion feels like sometimes.
This is catharsis—not collapse.

Why I’m Sharing This Publicly

Because for most of my life, I kept this stuff inside.
Because men are taught to be strong and silent and “handle it.”
Because someone else out there is reading this and thinking, *fuck, me too.*

And if that’s you—I see you.
You don’t have to write a blog post.
But don’t bottle it up, either.
Get it out. In whatever weird, raw, or ridiculous way you need to.

So yeah, I’m okay. But not okay.
And that’s not a warning sign.
That’s a sign I’m alive.
And working through it the only way I know how:
Out loud.
With all of you.