So, Pack the Car and Dry Your Eyes

While reading.. play Pink Skies by Zach Bryan.. well…because it’s the song on repeat while I write this 1….:)

A tickle in my throat. Can’t itch it.. just gotta sit with it. Like that annoying feeling inside of your ear.. in your head.. that you can’t quite reach or fix. Just wait it out. Maybe it makes you appreciate how things were without the inconvenience. Like breaking a leg.. can’t walk.. a sinus infection.. my arch enemy. Our car breaking down…maybe all of these minor inconveniences are meant to keep us in check.. to check are gratitude.. to check our egos. To have us stop and see how good we have it all.. Foolish to think we are entitled to perfect little lives. Perfect imperfections in our life are essential to growth. Knocking on wood so that a million health issues don’t hit me at once. One can only handle so much at a time. But still.. growth.. through it all.

Having lunch in a restaurant looking at the Tetons.. kids rush through the door coughing and crying.. a couple mothers rushing through the door coughing and crying. I’m right by the door.. it doesn’t take long to hit me. A wave of people across the room quickly turn heads to look at the commotion and then one by one start to cough and put their shirt over their faces.

Reminds me of one time at Chase’s house in Nashville.. getting ready to watch Alabama football on a Saturday. Their beautiful kitchen sits way across the room from where we are sitting watching college game day. Chase is cooking habaneros in a skillet.. people in the kitchen cough a little bit.. and it slowly reaches over to us. I had never really experienced that before.. and it was minor and we were laughing through all of it. But I thought it was kind of neat how that potent spice in the air travelled across the room and into our system….on that spicy and hot Nashville day. Love and miss Nashville…specifically East Nashville..and all of my buddies over there. The Huggins on the other side of the city. Save Roy’s Meat Service! I want to write about my time and memories in Nashville at some point. Some of my favorite people live over there and I’ve been lucky to visit many of times over the years. Even lucky to break a right leg and spend a week cruising around town on an electric scooter until my dad could pick me up from Georgia. I could write a book on that week alone. Pulling into Nashville gives me a similar feeling to one I had years before…..pulling back into Tuscaloosa after the 4 hour drive from Macon. Giddy…excitement. Friends. People that love you for who you are….maybe the correlation is more about the people rather than the place…in this case…because those same people in Nashville..lived in Tuscaloosa with me. hmmmmm. Maybe the feeling is associated with safety..maybe it’s knowing you are about to be with people that genuinely love you and want the best for you. I wish all of us could pull into a town and experience that same feeling..whatever town that may be…you do have a town out there like that..you are wanted. I promise you. I’ll revise Nash and Nash peeps one of these days on findingzack. Much love..I know it’s hot as shit over there right now. Get in a kayak and drink Busch light on that river for me.

I was going to write about waiting on things to come our way….or for things to come to fruition… or for memories to fade…or for the pain to stop…….

Waste of breath for me to talk about any of it……even you haven’t figured out yet…we can only do so much…..time heals everything. Take a seat and pick up a different magazine…or switch chairs..idk…all I know is…….its all going to be okay..blah blah blah blah blah. Tired of waiting..just keeping moving.

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A few days have passed since I wrote the above..I’m off today. Showered..fresh..wandering..making a couple phone calls to family. Mom is planning a rehearsal dinner for my Brother. Dylan ran 50 miles in Colorado in a race, the Hamlin’s have a name for precious baby Hamlin, and Marchant gave his 1st sermon ever in front of a congregation. I need to call more people..I’m also trying to have me time. Idk what to do..I think I need to do better on my end of keeping in touch. Much easier living closer to people. This is where the test is…when we move apart.

For this portion though…Marchant…Marchant Young. I couldn’t be more proud of my Brother in Christ. I tear up thinking of him…and as I’m typing..looking out at a green a rocky butte with a church in the forefront.. and a white cross on the roof….wind blowing the evergreen “Christmas” trees…umbrellas ruffling..a blue kayak on top of a car..and “pink skies” by Zach Bryan playing in my ears on repeat.

Ok..get in loser.…it’s January 2024..depressed, broken, unemployed, in a life limbo, waiting on house to just…fucking…sell. Marchant offered a room in his apartment..I think I stayed there for a little over a month..idk the days were running together.I had already lived in another place for a month and then couchsurfed for another. It was unfurnished..I didn’t care..all of my stuff was about to be in storage or still in my house. I didn’t want any of my stuff. I wanted to burn all of my stuff. I didn’t want anything.

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I brought a fold out table that I had bought for an AFIM event..it was my desk. I hung the “memento mori” wooden board on a nail…the painting of the little boy and the puppy laying in the grass..on a nail…..and then a pic of me holding Petey in my front yard..that one sat on the desk..amongst a million pieces of paper of bills, work, house shit, and notes to my self..reminders… to do lists..to do lists that weren’t getting done…books scattered..reading bits and pieces of all them..how much do you retain when you are wasted at 2:00 am and don’t know what the next day holds for you. Is the info even sticking at this point..are we overriding and cramming even more shit into our thoughts at this point..than we can handle….like a geyser in Yellowstone that is bound to explode. I was exhausted…holding onto a little bit of hope in a plane ticket to New Zealand..but wasn’t sure when that would be…I kept changing the dates to the plane ticket as things dragged along.

Marchant is the busiest person I’ve ever met..a million things going on..and he handles it all so well. His room was next door on the second floor of this townhome. He painted the wall in front of his bed white…and it was like dry-eraser? I can’t even remember…but it was huge..I had white boards in my room with reminders and such..calendars..but Marchant had the entire wall as his whiteboard……I remember visiting him at times while he read a book in his bed…and I’d face the wall at the foot of his bed….just mesmerized at how much stuff this man was doing…accomplishing..and succeeding in…and things that he was striving to improve, create, and execute….it was inspiring.

I’d go back in my room…either write..or read something..then sneak outside and smoke a cigarette. Drink of course.

I’d walk over to three dollar cafe often and drink more….I could drink alone at home of course..but I was a little scared to be alone..I made a friend. He was in his 60’s. He just checked in with me this week over text. He went through a spell of sitting with me there while he drank sweet tea. I found some inspiration in that and I think it slowed me down a little.

Wander home. I had friends living all around me. I’m checked out and miserable. Not seeing any of them. Wallowing in my own shit playing a waiting game for this all to be over with…I wanted all of it to be over with..all of this life.

Staying with Marchant during that period of depression couldn’t have been better timing or a situation for Zack at the time. The basement I was living in..in November in downtown Atl next to Martin Luther King’s childhood home..was a headspace I don’t want to visit again. It was failure..it was pain..it was betrayal..it was regret..it was angst….it was grief..it was heartbreak….it was pain….it was pain. It was failure. It was all things I’ve experienced..well..several times before…and this was what I assumed would be the last time I felt them.

I’m glad you didn’t find me in that basement. I’m proud of myself for getting out of that basement.

I could have imposed on many people…people offered shelter…but I didn’t want them to find me in their place either. I was 100% suicidal. I had just turned 29 and tried this and that..and had this and that trauma…and this lingering sense of always going to fuck up..or a sense that the next bad thing is right around the corner for me. at 29…it all felt endless and the thoughts crept in that I’d like to not feel that shit again.

Marchant’s place was the one place..and the person… I knew would be helpful in getting my mental above water again…to curb the suicidal ideations…a safe place. I am forever grateful for the genorisity and welcoming of such a wretch. I didn’t want him to find me in that house. At that time…I didn’t have a choice..it was my best shot of getting out of this hole alive.

Waking up with crusty eyes from the drunken tears the night before..on Tatum’s mattress..on the floor...My weighted blanket..sound machine..to block out whatever noise I’d make in my sleep or emotional phone call that i’d take part in..

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Marchant started this thing called “mornin”….always on Friday morning. I can’t remember specifics…but meet at like 6ish and run .7 miles..workout..run .7 back…….and then have coffee at Goldbergs…catch up and then Marchant would ask for prayer requests and give us a little tid bit of some gospel.

I didn’t do the workout portion but maybe a couple times in the past couple years…my excuse..was my knees…I’m sure I could have figured out a way to make it work looking back..but hey..I was depressed and miserable and wasn’t noticing alternative ways to get through things…that I now see!!!!!

I would however…every now and then..join them for the coffee/bible portion…and I swear the days that I attended coffee..were filled with much less stress and worry than days I didn’t attend.

Goldbergs was steps away from the townhome..normally….would have missed but I didn’t want to disappoint…and I knew that there were very little productive things going on in my life at that time..and that stepping up and walking over to join the group could be the least I could do for that day. It helped….and I loved meeting with them…and seeing Marchant lead people.

I woke up a couple times to see Marchant talk to highschool kids about faith and the journey of life. Inspiring. I spoke to my kids in macon during this mess.. it helped. I was looking up to Marchant. Admiring his passion to help others. I share the same passion…but I was losing faith in not only myself…but faith that this life will work out for me…Marchant helped bring back hope into my life.Marchant brought faith back into my life.

Some lonely Sundays were brightened by attending Marchant’s Church near 285. Small Church. Really enjoyed the atmosphere and comfort in the room. I had tried other places in Atlanta and nothing was clicking…maybe I was ready..cause alot of the places were certainly wonderful…but maybe at the end of Zack’s rope… Marchant’s little church did something for me…and before leaving Atlanta…that was one of the things that spent more time in my thoughts….that I had found a Church that I could see myself in..and with good people.

During this time…of debating on giving up…..it was the blue thumbs up that ultimately kept me alive. I mean I had it tattooed on my arm..it was stuck on the back of lawn chairs..I had shirts..it was on my laptop…it was everywhere….the thumbs up and what it meant was surrounding me….and the thumbs up was meant to prevent others from suicide…and here we are and the creation…is keeping me from killing…me. You can get through this Zack…you have done it before…you will do it again….its going to be okay..you have people that love you….you love yourself…its going to be okay, Zack.

The thumb yelled at me from all angles until I listened…accepted my circumstances..and leaned on people like Marchant, the little church, and Mornin…to help push me through and up out of this pit of misery and self-sabatoge. Looking back to April 2023..I did put the thumb on my right arm..for you…..but also for me. I expected that I would need it one day…but never that soon. Is it cheesy to say that my first tattoo helped save me? idk..I don’t think that matters. I’m typing with on a sunny Monday in Wyoming. We are alive.

Marchant is the youth-pastor at Kairos in Sandy Springs. Breathing life into young people.

He gave his first sermon yesterday. I have to video but haven’t watched it yet…..about to plug it in my ears and hit a bike ride and then finish out this post when I’m done. Life is good..and its getting better

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March had posted a “mornin” post on insta with pink skies as the background music…I knew he loved Zach Bryan..so at first I didn’t think much about the song choice…but attaching a Zach Bryan song to his faith based thing..had to have some meaning behind it…other than him just liking the song.

I’ve listened to this damn song about 248 times in the past several days. I don’t even know this for sure but I would guess…he liked the part..that talks about the kid living a life thats going in the wrong direction….and just letting him off the hook without correction or guidance…and of course with Marchant…talking to him about Jesus….and Marchant working with kids…and shoot…even me…checking up on me as I destroy myself at times…Marchant is intentional and caring..is what I’m trying to say. Be more like Marchant. No shame in spitting the truth to the people you love.
Tough love is your friend. Mentioning Marchant’s sermon on next post.

When we talked this week..he mentioned what he was going to talk about..I’m very proud of him.

He also mentioned how my tone of voice and writing in these blogs have loosened up on the “anger” side of things. I agree. And I was angry in a ton of these blogs…and I’ve watched the anger fade and the forgiveness and love overcome me over the past few months….that trip down under changed my life….that trip out west that I’m now..has changed my life…and I don’t have time to be angry anymore..I don’t have time to….or I should say….I refuse to sulk…no feeling sorry for yourself..its fucking upward…and onward….

as the sun comes out in front of me..lol..

I was going to write about nostalgia and how that pink skies song has brought up so much…but at 4:34 p.m. in Wyoming…on my off day…I turn off this laptop. and I live…I continue to live this new found life. I will say this one thing……………I feel like I have unlocked a character in a video game…..its a version of myself…it took a lot of work to unlock this character…you don’t just get this character…you have to earn it….and I feel like I’ve earned to feel this happy. It’s the olympics….and tbh….let the games begin. For Zack…it’s a new life..a new team..and a new journey…and a healthy mindset.

From that dark basement..figuratively and literally….to mountains, rivers, smiling people, and pretty skies….pink skies actually ;)……Like that damn thumb etched into my wrist for life….its all going to be okay.

Much love to my loved ones…new friends and old friends…it really is all going to be okay..I can’t say it enough.

-Z