HEAVY BLOG TIME

I’ve been debating on writing this blog, then erasing it, forgetting about it. Then my brain says “You have to be honest with yourself and those who read your blogs, man.”

I hate my brain sometimes.

Every winter, I battle with seasonal depression. I make no bones about that, and if one person can step up and say “I have that too”, then hopefully we can arrive at how to get past this. Some get it in the summer, but I think it’s more common in winter. When I was a kid, I hated winter, would be visibly upset. And of course, I was made fun of for it. Kids can be cruel but adults could be worse. There was no such thing as ADHD/ADD back in the 70s, so you were either “normal” or “weird”.

Guess which one I was.

I was diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder in 2013 and then everything made sense. It didn’t erase how I was treated back when I was younger, but I could move forward and deal with it as best as possible.

Now add self doubt/impostor’s syndrome to the mix.

Yeah you pictured my brain exploding too?

I will not sit here and say I was perfect and amazing. I hurt people too in the past but more as a protection, rather than sabotaging someone or making them feel like they were worthless. I can think back to all the negative comments hurled my way since I played in bands back in the 80s. But I was so driven and determined to make it, I was better at letting things bounce (but I internalized things just the same…go figure). I had to endure a lot of nastiness from guys who couldn’t find their own ass with two hands. Somehow I could brush myself off and move on.

Not this time.

I basically fell down pretty hard a while back. One morning I woke up and EVERY single hurtful thing from teachers, kids, musicians, family…I was basically stone-walled. Couldn’t breathe or think. All I could think was “What did I do to warrant such bullshit?” Then it hit me…

I’m a good person.

Bullies don’t target weak people, they go after strong ones. No I don’t have muscles, but I was always a pretty ‘together’ person. So when I would hear things like “You’re too nice, stop that” and “Stop using big words, you’re so pretentious”…well, yes I am too nice, and no I’m not pretentious. I am pompous though. How’s THAT for honesty?

Without going on and on about every single incident, I can cull everything together and say it was a THEM problem, not a ME problem.

But was I really a good guitarist? Or was I a fraud?

My guitar style is flashy, trashy, quirky, noodly…but could I really play? Some said I could, others say “Ah he’s not that good, just masturbates a lot.” (Any female readers, please forgive me!) But here’s the rub…I CAN PLAY. Few can really handle me. So they turn it around like “You’re nothing special! You need to play more like…”

No, I play like me. And if you don’t like it, stay in the past, okay?

But I still feel “Was I lying to myself all these years? I mean, did people really like playing with me? Or was I just something to do until something better came along?” My dad said it to me around the time I was recording ABOUT TO EXPLODE (2008): “People just want to see their names on your albums, and their work is done.” Still I thought I could find my tribe.

Nope.

So between seasonal depression and self-doubt…

I am going to kick these to the curb soon!

My mojo is coming back…slowly…slowly. Not going to pretend that life is peachy and rainbows are shooting out of my ass. But I will feel like the Steve Bello that I should be.

And to sum up who I am:

I’m weird, strange, quirky, eccentric, enigmatic, and a kick-ass guitar player that writes decent songs too. I care about what I do, what appeals to me. Not what others want me to be.

I am the real deal.