Sometimes life gets under my skin, makes it kind of crawl and I want to run … from everything.

I visualize someplace remote, devoid of human life.

It’s just me and the animals, the water, the rocks and endless natural vistas, like sliding into a movie I created for myself to live in forever.

This mindset is not uncommon, and it isn’t insanity, though it can feel a lot like it.

It happens when I get burned out, or spend too much time comparing myself to Nobel laureates.

People at “wellness” clinics diagnose this as low-T  [with or without a blood test] and prescribe 1 CC of testosterone with HGH and 2 or 3 other cocktail items to balance out the side effects while keeping my mood in line with the way it was at age 17.

I could go down this road with you, but you already know the punchline.

The point here is that as I get older, I experience depression directly tied to aging.

Some say it isn’t depression at all, but sadness that life is flying by so quickly at a time where guys like me can afford to do whatever the hell we want [within reason].

But we also have more time to reflect back on my life, which most know isn’t a particularly healthy thing to do when it turns into a kind of comparison.

I was once 21 with the world in front of me.

Now I’m 62 with the best of it – at least physically – behind me.

In other words, my script’s already been written.

It’s not like I can’t still write the Great American novel, or dead-lift 500 pounds. But people tend to pay more attention when you do all of this at 25.

That alone makes it newsworthy because now the future’s a blinding, endless saga into existential bliss.

This aside, at this stage in life that we men have to figure out how to balance the realities of where we are and then come to a place of acceptance and peace.

This is easier said than done because it requires self-actualization, which is kind of like obsessing about actuarial tables.

Think of it as a complex equation where all the data points are separated from one another and placed under a microscope.

If you’ve never done this, I’d advise you find a padded room for your first go round.

Then you can move on to wide open spaces, which is where I am now.

Today, at least. This is, after-all, a kind of waking journal.