Garrett Gessell

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The Ups

It’s very simple to feel good when good things happen.

Sometimes they happen very rapidly and you forget for a moment that bad things even happen at all. It’s hard to remind yourself that there is a world around you that is hurting. A place where people are not safe. People are not happy.

Some people are not happy.

Sitting at my desktop computer with LoFi for Ghosts playing in the background (the only way I can seem to ground myself to the world around me) with a fairly large glass of Sake to my left I want to address – mostly to myself – that even in the heart of great and powerful change in your life there are people near you, people close to you, who are hurting as much as you are soaring. When you are in the heart of abrupt and painful change there are people close to you who are soaring as much as you are hurting.

Sometimes it’s very easy to feel bad when bad things happen. When circumstances close and opportunities leave us we feel like, because a door has closed, no other door will open.

Sometimes when we feel bad because a door has closed we close doors that have opened to us.

Sometimes when bad things happen we feel bad and we close the doors on the friends and family that love us.

Sometimes things happen and they influence the way we feel. In fact often times they do. I just wanted to let myself know.

I just wanted to let you know.

That the things that happen to us can teach us.

The things that happen to us don’t have to be us.

You are safe.

You are loved.

i haven’t taken a shower in a few days.

There will be days – as someone with a Psychological disorder – where the hurt will hurt more than it should.

There will be days – as someone with too many thoughts and too many questions – where all time ceases to exist locked in a moment of discomfort and fear.

There will be days – as someone afraid of being alive – where you will not feels so scared to move and the song of life will fill your veins and muscles with vigor.

Each of theses days will come and they will go, ebb and flow, along with the rhythm of time.

While the days hurt and they don’t we continue to change and grow along with the world around us. Branches growing entwined with other branches, sprouting through the cracks and wholes of the cement and metal that assimilates and constricts.

There will be days – as someone with a Psychological disorder – where we are wrong or we are stuck but the day beyond will be new, one step ahead of the hurt before.

What I mean to say is – hurt is okay.

There will be a day – as someone who is hurting – that you will know you are safe and you are loved despite the pain.

To See Me.

There is magic in the written word.

Not just for others but for ones own sanity. I feel if I did not write, I would not know what I am feeling as my brain cannot write down on itself to inform itself of its current state. If I were not to write my heart on paper I would not know it.

It’s very mysterious in that way, I can know my tongue and its love for spices. I can know my eyes and know their taste for yellow. I can even know my hands and they’re love for brick and stone walls. However I know not the ways of my own heart.

I know if I touch fire my hands will burn. I do not know if I am to smile if my heart will become lighter. If I am to frown will it grow heavy? There are times where the answer is yes and other times the answer is no. Of course there are studies on the case of happiness but when seeing my love dissected like a frog on a metal pan – one feels almost like they are being lied to. It feels disingenuous.

I want to speak to my heart like I would an old friend. As if to check in and have it say “ I am well today. I am light and I am love”. Most days I ask it why it is how it is and it cannot know. It simply is to itself as I am to myself. I will never see myself like you will. Just as my heart will never see itself like you will.

While I have thoughts and feelings others will never know, those around me know my words and actions better than I ever will. They see me in those lonesome nights in the dark where I move not a muscle for fear that being will hurt. Being at all would hurt. They see me in my anger when the fire in my gut boils my heart and the steam comes out my throat as knives of hate and self loathing. They see me. I will never see me.

So I write. So that I might read myself as you hear me. So I might see me one day in the words I say like my loved ones do.

Trapped

Some days aren’t perfect.

No days can really be perfect but some days are challenging. Overwhelming even with feelings of being trapped or alone. It feels inevitable and irreversible.

Today I am feeling trapped. The atmosphere has decided the snow will come as rain, the rain will freeze to ice on the ground like an endless ice rink. It’s not safe for cars – I am waiting for the ice to melt.

There is a loved one with me. They are also trapped but trapped with me. I am one that does things alone very often. The actions I would take right now on instinct would neglect any company. I would ritualistically brew my tea, relocate a gaming system to my upstairs living room and delve into the virtual world to forget my own existence.

It’s hard to be with me. I delight in forgetting myself. I find solace in it as I am discontented in my own body. I could change it but the dream life seems futile. Even if I were to be an attractive man with spectacular cooking skills and a 6 figure salary I would still be me. I would never be the Robin Hood of my time as Robin Hood is not needed in our world today. I want to be a Pirate for the good of man. Steal from the rich to give to the poor.

I play video games so I can be this Hero. I can’t stand being human or part of a society of corporate dogs. I don’t want to be here and so I disconnect, dissociate and disappear. This is especially hard when someone needs me there for them as I have very little presence to give. For what presence I do have I am lacking in empathetic techniques that would make someone feel better.

Today I feel trapped in my own skin as well as trapped in a circumstance where my loved ones must bear there own burdens when I am bearing my own. I hate to be absent.

Today will hurt.

Tomorrow will be better.

Departure.

Today there was some things that had me on the edge of my worst self. I was a little angry. A little messed up and scared of myself in the moment. No amount of Jazz Hop LoFi can pull me away from the things that I am. I was taught these things and only I can face these things in the deepest parts of my mind.

When I roll my eyes in a fight, go a little cross eyed, repeat an accusation in a questioning tone as if invalidating the person who I hurt. There are pieces of me that have been there since before my mind could even make sense of them. The habits that I learned from those before me that make me who I am… they are the ones that need to go.

The first step is to know they are there. Which is the hardest part, seeing the hurt from childhood and into your present is hard. Hard to say that I’ve been this monster before and hurt others the way I’ve been hurt all my life.

There’s no more time to ignore who I’ve been – there is only the rest of my life to change and that will have to be enough. Today is a day not of liberation (despite that being my deepest wish) today is a day of declaration. Today is a day of war. Today I declare war on every part of myself that hurts the ones I love, every part of me that takes me away from them. Whoever that man is, he’s not welcome in my heart anymore. It’ll take days, weeks or years to move his things from his room to my front lawn. I can not erase him but I can leave him outside of my heart. Get him to where he can’t hurt me anymore.

It’s time for me to start that process without remorse even if it hurts. For every day that he is here I will tell him twice to leave despite that he didn’t choose to come here and was placed in me, he hurts me daily and he cannot stay any longer.

Love is worth the effort.

Change is worth the pain.

I will be better tomorrow and better today. Even when I fall I will be better than I was yesterday.

Journey with Tim: Experience of a Lifetime.

I’ve only just finished sprinkling Starbucks Espresso Grounds across my grandfather’s Town and Country van.

Returning from Indianapolis in the Nissan Sentra that I wish I had the money to keep, made me loathe the overwhelming smell of gasoline in this van.

In short, my trip has made me realise the changes I have to make in my life and the effort that must be put forth in order to become the man I dream of being. More importantly I’ve met some people who are sparkling and wholesome hearts.

I met my hero yesterday and he was magnificent even more so when he was more himself than his persona. Before then we spoke of video games, bullying and Star Wars which was fun but not half as fun as hearing from the man underneath.

Tim has the work ethic of a farmers ox and the wisdom of the tallest trees of the forest. There is Tim Rogers the man of many stories – who we know from Kotaku.com and then there is Tim the brother, the boyfriend and the man. Tim is human with a huge heart for his family and his work. I came to Indianapolis for that man.

I began the day galavanting around Indianapolis filled with anxiety. Eventually sitting across from a new friend with a hot coffee under the freezing air conditioning of a Waffle House. Both of us a little early we learn of each other and our wants and expectations for the future. Another new friend, then another and two more. Another who later proved to not only a friend but a caretaker when my anxieties got the better of me.

Finally Tim and his family came. By this point I was already so fixated on learning about each of my new friends and uncovering their hearts that I could hardly focus. After a rapid succession of meetings and greetings I was seated in a booth with Tim, his brother and his girlfriend. I of course greeted Tim but immediately felt as if he wasn’t fully ready to talk with me like I wanted to talk with him. I also failed to let him tell his stories as I made conversation with his brother and girlfriend where I felt so many emotions I’ll have to save them for another post where I will not disclose a single detail of their circumstances but how I felt when I spoke to them, what I wanted when I heard where they were and a bit of who they are.

I was feeling a lot.

We were going to go to the mall and Tim offered me a ride, I was afraid to crowd him so my family came back with the rental car and we headed off to the mall.

One of our splendid friends graced us with an hour of arcade time together. I spent a lot of time with Tims brother who is absolutely spectacular. I couldn’t ask for a better friend to have made. Of course I neglected Tim a again however I would soon get to see more of him eventually.

As the night drew to a close I was exhausted, I was angry at myself for not trying to talk to Tim more. I felt as if I had neglected the others as well. There were just so many hearts to know and too little time to ask them.

Tim needed to get dog food for his little gremlin who had tagged along for the mall adventure and at this time I had to say goodbye.

It was then where Tim opened up more to the group and I. It was still somewhat surface level, not particularly how he was feeling (which was what I cared most but a man can only ask so much of a content creator who has a life to tend to) however it was something he needed to talk about. I didn’t want to just meet Tim Rogers, I wanted to meet Tim and by the end of the day I hope he might consider me his friend as much as I consider him a friend.

So Tim, if you happened to read this.. I’d just like to say that I care about you deeply because you are a wonderful person deserving of such care. Clint, Jenny, Michael, Brett, Ben, Jake, Harry, Bernard, the same goes for all of you. I respect and care for you each very much.

Don’t hesitate to call to vent or talk about your day. No need to ask about me or anything, I want to give back to you all for the experience of a lifetime.

Thank you.

Mindless in Indianapolis

Sunday morning – my Mother and young Sister are sleeping in the bed of the Air BnB that I took out for this adventure to meet Tim. I am sitting with my legs crossed on an extended chair that I slept on over the night, my hands gingerly tip tapping in slow motion as not to be a disturbance.

Tim was up until 3 AM. At least his last message is from then. Chances are he did not fall asleep until 4. I am worried. I am worried he will be too tired for the single day I put away for this trip, to go to Waffles. I am worried he will NOT cancel and will find myself with an exasperated Tim Rogers who would really rather continue to sleep but doesn’t, purely because he has had access to the blog I made yesterday. My meaning being I also don’t want him to stretch too thin because of me.

I hope he’s okay and rested mostly.

I am very anxious. It makes me hyper aware and I can feel the wretchedness of my breath through the lukewarm mist that seems to come out with every exhale.

I must remind myself that what ever happens, tomorrow will come. Maybe I’ll have come to Indianapolis for Tim to say he wants to go Monday. Maybe he’ll feel obligated and I will meet an half sleeping Tim where I act like a fool and he regrets the time. Lastly maybe he is rested and we both have some bomb waffles.

I’m sort of pegging on that last one.

Today, I will live until it’s end and tomorrow will come.

I will be alive when tomorrow comes and it will be a new day to explore myself and the life there is to live around me.

I’ll write tomorrow too, taking a step at I time I will follow through.

Journey to Tim Rogers

Day 1 of my Journey to Tim Rogers. My mother and kid sister of 11 are now accompanying me on the trip.

Nothing is more comforting than being surrounded by love on a very tiring and inspiring trip. This was very spontaneous for all of us and it was very scary for me until them.

I was already nervous to meet Tim as I believe so much in the work that he does and was afraid that the scholarly man that I know him to be, he would be. This would mean that my lowly uneducated brain would be not only intimidated by him but it would also mean I wouldn’t be able to keep up in gradually deepening conversation with him. The age game of 18 years would mean the amount of experiences he has had in comparison to me would be enough to make a newborn babe a grown ass adult. My family will continue to encourage me of my aptitude for the English language and its intricacies (despite that it is only gently above the norm) which will allow me to feel at peace when encountered with a man who has impacted me with such power that it drives me to emulate him. I hope not to become a smaller version of Tim Rogers but I hope to become influenced by his work ethic and desire to be seen as a friend to the community.

You may determine of the length of the last paragraph that I have many feelings about the encounter. To add to my dismay I will be driving 20 hours there and back purely to have waffles with this man. I am curious and afraid of the thoughts he may have to know the lengths I have gone to meet him.

I have already packed. I am downstairs in my disheveled bedroom while the entire house is filled with my choice of Jazz Hop LoFi as always, under my right buttcheek I believe is the remote to my Amazon Fire TV (which I regret purchasing due to my recent understanding of their business practices with their employees) and I am so intent in writing this post today that I refuse to even take a moment to remove it’s discomfort from my sitting space.

It is a difficultly enjoyable day for a drive. I say difficult because no amount of this serene day can wipe away the fear, no amount of fresh vibrant Minnesota air can erase the insecurities – but boy it helps. I know the more I ruminate on the idea of burdening Tim or embarrassing myself with a lack of knowledge I will fear him only more. He doesn’t deserve that and I don’t deserve that.

Maybe we will become friends. Maybe I’ll go on a Journey again not to him but with him – to new horizons and experiences.

Maybe we will have waffles and he will be wonderful and I’ll walk away knowing I was capable of making it to him and I am capable of learning from his work to become a better writer, gamer and loving nerd of the community.

No matter the outcome – it is a beautiful day

And that is enough for me.

The Journey to Tim Rogers

This is the day before I meet one of the most diligent, linguistically adept and hard working journalists on the Internet. His name?

Tim Rogers.

Tim is a man of many words. His sentences are crafted in a forge of hot unadulterated sophistication. His voice the audible formation of the word soothing. Tim Rogers is my hero.

Now one day Tim may read this post and think “Wow, Garrett writes like shit.” He would be right however he would also think I am stretching his stature and exaggerating his position in the gaming media. Tim if you’re reading this, I may stretch your prevalence in gaming but I do not stretch the impact you have made on my understanding of the industry.

Earlier this week Tim tweeted out if anyone wanted to go to a Waffle House on Sunday this week and I assuming he was joking responded with an obvious “I do.”

Of course 8 hours of not considering the inevitable I receive a notification. Tim Rogers has mentioned me in a tweet. He asked a group of the fine humans who responded in an alike tone to accompany him to a Waffle House in Indianapolis.

Not soon after there was a group Dm including myself, Tim Rogers, and 9 others. After further investigation most of these other individuals were established writers, podcast hosts and game designers. I was horrified. How could I turn down this opportunity to meet not only the man who inspires me most in my craft but also seemingly a group of other influential individuals who may learn me a thing or two about the industry.

I was mollified. I was torn between the idea of how dare I consider associating with people obviously above my head, with people who were established and educated while I am a 22 year old nerd with Bipolar II and Social Anxiety – aside from feelings of fear how could I turn down this opportunity. Further more how would I make it to Indianapolis?

For backstory I have not been working for 2 months due to my mental health treatment plan. I have been drained of any financial stability, my car has no chance of making the drive and I don’t have the money to stay there. At this point all hope was lost. I was defeated.

My partner suggested a GoFundMe which I immediately felt bad about considering. My friends are struggling to. Who was I to ask them for their hard in money so I could eat waffles with a gaming journalist. My partner insisted, so I listened. Soon enough I was half way to my goal.

I was half way to being in a rented car driving through multiple states to to stay in a strangers house to eat waffles with a group of strangers who I am DESPERATE to impress. I am scared of reaching my goal.

Despite my doubts I continued to share and push my campaign. I knew I needed to meet Tim Rogers and this rag tag group of scholarly talent and skill. Continuing my program in partial hospitalization I failed to speak of my feelings – failing my recovery process just a little bit every day. I was filled to the brim with anxiety and fear.

Now today – Friday – the day before I would have to leave for my trip to Indianapolis… I get the notification. My GoFundMe has reached its marked goal, my rental car has decreased in price for some reason and there is an affordable Air BnB. I am going to Indianapolis to meet my hero

It’s all thanks to my close friends who support me constantly and validate my work and emotions. I can never express my undying gratitude to them and I owe them my life.

Tomorrow I begin my Vlog where I journey out ( Now with my mother and younger sister) into the ether that is Indiana.

Wish me luck.

Acceptance and Grief

During my last day of Partial Hospitalization we had a deeper discussion on the ideas of experiencing hurt. Of being damaged, abandoned, or crushed not just by others but also by ourselves.

Our Psychotherapist spoke of the prayer that goes “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference”. While not all of us are religious, do not allow that to pry you away from the wisdom of acceptance.

When we experience hurt some of us begin to change direction. We turn to anger. We turn to isolation. We turn to avoidance of the basic issue at hand. However, we were hurt and we can’t change that. We cannot remove this hurt. If you broke your leg you would not ask for it to be removed. You would instead ask for treatment and steps to recovery. You would not attempt to remove the pain and instead would treat the injury with care. We must remember this idea when we are hurting. Ignoring our wounds, whether they are physical or mental, will lead to infections.

If we leave our emotional wounds to ruminate on their own, they will become infected. When your emotional wounds become infected they become especially harmful and sensitive. If you neglected to grieve the loss of a loved one, you will continue to experience a magnified version of that loss every time the thought of them enters your mind. You must clean your wound, you must wrap your wound and continue to feed your body the nutrients it needs to continue the process.

For this post I would like to ask you, the Reader, to comment down below a grievance you have been avoiding or a pain that has been ruminating in you today. I urge to you refrain from explaining the events but instead attempt to speak of the emotions and the hurt.

For example I am experience a great deal of loneliness in my hurt. Some days I feel as if only I know my hurt despite that all hurt is a part of the human condition. I continue to remind myself that everyone feels lonely and that I am okay to feel lonely. Knowing this will allow me to heal that loneliness – this does not cure my loneliness however it allows me to begin the recovery process.

Today, clean your wounds with me. Speak of them in the most authentic form – your emotions and your hurt.

Heal.