The masses have passed by, which is just fine with me. I was never great with a huge readership. Too much pressure and not enough stomach to sustain any real criticism. Once, that's how it was. Blogs were new and no one read them. You could hide online in plain sight. I feel that way now, and it's nice.
One of the pesky side effects of cutting alcohol down to almost none and consistent, healthy eating is clarity. That self-imposed beer fog is a great blanket of dampening oblivion. It's both terrifying and dumbly calming. What you can't feel can't hurt. However, as that fog does clear, there are two choices: deal with what remains exposed, or find another way to ignore it.
The harder choice-the choice to deal with the stuff that's been repeatedly sloshed down-is probably the correct one.
It takes time.
I'll use the current drought as an analogy.
In many parts of the West, lakes and reservoirs are at historically low levels. This receding water exposes former mining towns, stolen cars, long lost plane pieces, and in one case, a Federal badge and weapon. They are mixed reminders of the past, some exciting and some better left swallowed by time.
You don't get to choose what peeks its head through a cleared (dry) mind, though. As you take inventory of your life, you do get to choose what you hold onto and what you chuck back in the lake. If something is no longer valuable? Dump it. Friend who constantly disappoints you? All set. Bye. Old habits and behaviors starting to creep in? Tie them in a bag and drown those fuckers.
Sometimes I wonder if the clarity is just too much; if a dampener is better for my overall existence; if maybe the guy I really am is less interesting than the guy I wish I was.
Those questions remain. Baked broccoli. Lean chicken breast. Beans. Repeat.