🧟‍♀️ Apocalypse Bait

@MaryMack2248 Me too!!!! They always make me smile!!!! Soooo cute!

@KathyRoman I saw one today too & oriole at my feeder - I get so happy 😀

Sitting on the back porch this evening and saw this lovely little creature flitting about the weigela bush! They’re so adorable 🥰 #norfolkcounty #hummingbird

@BrendaB63153826 Thank you ❤️

@KathyRoman Beautiful capture Kathy, welcome home🦋

@BarkBarker3 @ScuderiaFerrari And that’s the long and short of it!

@KathyRoman @ScuderiaFerrari Seriously bad.. it's like an EV Mustang.. just an overall bad idea.. EVs and battery/recharging tech need another 10-15 years of improvement.. even then nothing will replace the roar and feel of an ICE engine..

@ScuderiaFerrari this is a mistake?? tell me it's a mistake.. please..

@CountExcelGuy Ugh 😣 My ashes will probably be in Lake Erie by then

94

@raidersfn112 And here I was thinking of going blonde. Dammit!

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

@Warthawg_Fan 🥴🤣

@jackinmaine And it does keep moving whether or not we are in it.

Death shows up on an ordinary day, mid to-do list, while the world keeps moving. Live a little. I really mean it… Spend time with the people you love 🫶.

@BestBoatTech Starting to warm up here! Finally! Gonna get my garden fixed up this week!

@KathyRoman I see you're back home from your vacation. Have a great week! Hopefully the weather improves for us here.

Hope everyone had a great Memorial Day/weekend. Decided to do some country style pork ribs, mashed potatoes/gravy and broccoli/cheese for dinner.

@Buffalo_Phill 🤣

The sun came out … plants were purchased … the front yard got weeded … a few planters completed too. Everything else gets done tomorrow. I’m getting old. We change just like the seasons.

@YukonSteph Ooof! 🥴

Gas today in Porter Creek… 🤑

@VanRothnRoll Especially at concerts 😤

@BarkBarker3 🤢🙄 EV No thanks

Ferrari used to be my car of choice.. no longer..

@TooHot2Handle26 How I react depends entirely on them 😈

Always be nice to people or punch them …

Be patient … the fog will clear and that which has always been there can be seen. - R. Ogunlaru

@Igetstupified Not wrong and we aren’t all capable of the same love language. But I was meaning a glaring lack of effort … in my experience anyway.

@KathyRoman In my experience, you never get the same in return. Not even from people that love you.

Yep

@Prophet_Poe I hear ya … at least there’s a little bright side. 🫤 And I learned who my real peeps are. Could’ve done without the double whammies when I was down but hey.

@KathyRoman That's the sad part. People being aware of the wounds and making them worse. But at least we're 'stronger' from it, I guess.

The more I opened my mouth about my mental health, the more I realized people only love honesty when it’s convenient for them. The second a man admits he’s drowning instead of pretending he can swim through concrete, the room gets quiet. Or worse. It laughs. Mockery comes quicker than compassion. Judgment comes quicker than understanding. Everybody says “Speak up” until your pain becomes too ugly, too heavy, too real for them to carry for five damn minutes. I’ve been at lows where I was hanging on by threads so thin they felt imaginary. Nights where my mind became a battlefield and sleep felt like a war I kept losing. And most of the time, there was nobody there. Maybe a listening ear for a moment, maybe a hand on the shoulder for a week or two, but people eventually disappear. They always do. Everybody has limits when the sadness isn’t theirs. Because being a man in this world feels like signing an unspoken contract that says: suffer quietly. Bleed privately. Break silently. “Man up.” “Keep pushing.” “Be strong.” Different words, same message. Nobody cares how much weight you’re carrying as long as you keep carrying it without collapsing in public. I’ve buried family members to suicide. More than I should have ever had to. And the ones suicide didn’t take, violence did. Death has sat at my table so long it practically knows my name. Trauma stopped feeling like an event years ago and started feeling like part of my bloodstream. PTSD. Anxiety. C-PTSD. Medications lined up beside prayers. Faith stitched together with panic attacks. Church sermons trying to quiet memories that still wake up screaming at 3AM. Work becoming distraction therapy so my mind doesn’t eat itself alive in the silence. And somehow, I’m still here. Still surviving. But surviving and living are not always the same thing. People ask why men stay silent about mental health. Because a lot of us learned the hard way that vulnerability can become social suicide. The more honest you get, the smaller your circle becomes. People slowly back away until you’re standing alone at ground zero, staring at the rubble of yourself while the world keeps spinning like nothing happened. And that’s the part nobody wants to admit: If I disappeared tomorrow, life would keep moving for most people. The sun would still rise. Bills would still be paid. Traffic would still fill the roads. The world doesn’t stop for broken men. Maybe a few people would truly grieve. A rare few. But the majority would eventually move on like I was just another sad story they scrolled past. So when people say “Speak up” sometimes all I hear is: “Expose your wounds so people can decide whether they’re worth caring about.” And after everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve survived, everything I’ve carried alone… Sometimes silence feels safer.