blog – The Conscious Pilgrim

permission to feel

I’m someone who spends a lot of time in their own head. I struggle to shut my brain off at the absolute best of times and quite often, there’s nothing more comforting to me than to field a question about something that I am particularly well-versed in.

Beyond that, I take medication that acts as a stimulant, that – if I were to intellectualize it – allows the energy level of my body to catch up to the energy level of my brain where there can be some sense of equilibrium. It may even divert some energy, but that remains to be seen. These are ADHD meds, and since I am AuDHD (combining forces of Autism and ADHD), my Autism is a little more ‘free to roam,’ as it were.

The assertion that Autistic people don’t feel emotion is incorrect. They just process it differently. I would argue that they feel emotions to a higher degree and that regulating those emotions are more of a challenge… so don’t confuse that monotone voice and that deadpan look for anything other than what it is – honesty. If you’re seeing that face and hearing that voice, then you are looking and talking with someone who is not ‘masking’ their disability, and if it feels awkward, it’s not the Autistic person who doesn’t know how to react, it’s you.

Anyway…

… with ADHD meds working in full force, I’ve ultimately never felt more autistic than I do now.

Sorta makes it sound like I live even MORE in my head than before, right? Well, kinda. Except I can put thought to action way more easily without my ADHD symptoms clouding judgement and distracting me, metaphorically tying my shoelaces together.

There are not a lot of Autistic people who will tell you this, but I actually love my autism. Being able to see how I function differently from the people around me is not a new thing… I’ve always been different – but to know WHY and HOW is a comfort I’ve never felt before.

It’s allowed me to walk in the truth that I am very smart, and very resourceful, and good at a lot of things.

It’s got it’s challenges… especially for a “tough guy, rock & roll guy, a hot rod guy, a dad… of a daughter…” and all of the other tropes that beset men. Don’t get me wrong – I know this whole society was set up for me to succeed, but it comes on the condition that we must all be as stoic, stiff-lipped, and unrelenting as Rooster Cogburn in True Grit.

… now who’s not regulating their emotions?

Right.

The truth is that you can have a good life and still be sad. you can be smart and also make a poor decision. You can be a professional and still perform poorly.

And… you’re allowed to feel shitty.

Shitty is a feeling that is just as valid as happiness and just as important to acknowledge, live in, and move through. It’s repressing that feeling that hurts you, because you hang onto it, and add to it, until it’s bigger than you.

I try to remember these things when I’m consoling someone who’s sad, because I have to ask myself if I’m trying to make them feel “better” because it makes the dynamic in the room less awkward for ME… when really, the person being consoled should be made to felt SAFE to feel those feelings.

a thousand papercuts

I never in a million years would have described myself as someone with anxiety.

And I still don’t.

The end.

Well, not not exactly.

Do I have clinical anxiety? no.
Do I get anxious about things? Yes, I suppose we all do, but I honestly thought I might be the exception to the rule, because I generally felt the same about most things in my life. I never really got too worked up about ‘the small stuff’ as a general rule because in the grand scheme of things, I could anticipate a desired outcome if a few things were given special attention. So, generally speaking, I would operate at a baseline that I would really only deviate from in special circumstances.

I realize I’m speaking in broad terms, but that’s because I have always done this.

Then I started looking into natural supplementation to assist in recovery from athletic fatigue – i.e. I was running a lot and wanted to run more, and more frequently – and I happened upon an article about ‘cannabidiol’ – a cannabinoid that is fairly cheap and plentiful for those of the age of majority up here in the land of legal weed, better known to most as CBD.

There are several weed stores within dog walking distance, and they’re all pretty friendly to my giant Dane/Hound, so I did a little observational research of my own and found that it worked decently enough as described, but it also offered me an education in what my baseline for operation really was.

On a scale of 1-10, I’d have told you that I operate in the 1-2 range on a daily basis for stress and anxiety, but it was more like a 3 or 4. Again, not staggering, but I’d been hovering around the 3-4 mark for so long that it felt like nothing. As it happens, I’ve been living and coping with “1000 micro-anxieties” of which I was in unaware.

A better name for that is “overwhelmed.”
And being constantly overwhelmed is symptomatic of other things.

It’s truly amazing what we can decide about ourselves, and subscribe to… until we suddenly can’t anymore.

Popping a CBD caplet put me down to an actual 1-2.
And then I knew something that I could never un-know.

Now, again… not an anxious person by definition, and I won’t start to say that I am at any point but it was fairly eye opening to go from ‘not worrying about the little stuff’ to ‘actually not worrying about the little stuff.’

So, I found a little thread… and I tugged on it… and through some of my own research and podcast-listening and conversations with other neurodivergent folks – whom I seem to be surrounded by, for the most part – I decided to go for a formal diagnosis for AuDHD (the one-two-punch of ADHD and ASD, together at last).

I was put on ADHD medication, and as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, with the ADHD dog now on it’s leash… I’ve never felt more autistic.

So, there’s an origin story for you, lol.
44 years of believing things were a certain way, and that everyone has a similar experience.

But, no.
They don’t.

the hollywood version of not giving a fuck

I turned 44 earlier this week. The notion that I’m in better shape, both mentally and physically, than I was at 34 certainly takes the sting out birthdays.

I gotta say, now that we’re past the 1/3 mark of 2026, this year is absolutely wild. There are bonkers-level things happening all around me as I both prepare my child to be become a legal adult and am anticipating being an uncle (again) – I had assumed (and even posted about) the notion that I’d be settled in, riding shotgun for some massive life changes for the people around me.

… then I got a wild (to me, not surprising to many others) mental health diagnosis and decided to start an arts-based side business.

It’s certainly an interesting time in my life, as the combination of so many of the events of my life are coming into view with a much clearer focus than ever before at the very same time that so many of the artistic and business experiences are gathering under the same umbrella.

Every experience I’ve ever had has brought me here, whether significant or otherwise. Every show I’ve played, website I’ve launched, shirt I’ve ironed, dishwasher load I’ve put away, beer I drank, beer I said ‘no’ to… all of it was a step toward this exact moment in time. I feel alive.

I’m anticipating some test pressings from the new Confusionaires record pretty quick here. We haven’t announced anything about it other than teasers but given the 7 songs that are featured on it, I think the single we’ve chosen is atypical. In the past we’ve chosen catchy, short songs (as most of our songs have been catchy and short) but this time around we’ve chosen something with a little more franticness and urgency – it’s rock & roll, it’s got a country riff, and it feels like a surf song, and it’s about something. It doesn’t care what you think.

It’s called “Anything Happens All The Time” andit about how anything can happen on the road, and it does. I’m excited for you to hear it and I am not concerned with whether or not you like it. But I DO want you to buy a record. I’m not certain how release dates for this album will go because festival season is fast approaching now, and I really don’t have any interest in hosting a show at a time when nobody is around to come see it.

How’s that for complex?

I also don’t think we’re doing a video… not a formal one, anyway. Maybe a live one down the road but I the way we’ve been approaching this batch of songs is different than our previous records. We have some Alberta and B.C. dates through the summer.

Perhaps we’re older and wiser.
Perhaps we’re just older.
Maybe we don’t give a fuck anymore… Honestly I hope that’s the case, because that’s where bands always start doing their best work. I’ve essentially been waiting my entire life to stop giving a fuck what other people think.

I always thought I didn’t care what people thought… but it turns out I cared a lot about how I was perceived – and I wanted to be perceived as someone who didn’t care what you thought. I had the “Hollywood Version” of not giving a fuck… which is in the same realm as being “Hollywood Fat” which is not fat at all, just ‘less defined’ in the muscle department (like me!). It’s also similar to the “Hollywood Ending” wherein everything gets resolved, which is a laughable concept at 44 years old.

Life is not like that.
Life doesn’t have an instagram filter, and is certainly not AI generated.
Life is lived.
Life is weathered.
It’s complicated and it gets bloated, and has bad hair days and wears ugly sweaters unironically on occasion.
Life has mustard stains.

At any rate, this is my public journal entry for the week, in all entitled glory.

Some really cool things on the horizon, and I am doing my best to live in this moment, here & now, because I know I will never be here again. I will never stand in this river again because the river is always flowing and I am always changing, growing, and learning.

Much love.

scheduling creative output

Sounds counter-intuitive, doesn’t it?
Well, maybe it doesn’t to you, but it always did to me.
Don’t knock it ’til you try it, though.

I’m not sure when, or how I started doing it, but it’s been a few years of attempting to do this and I have to say, It’s been working pretty well. However, there are some common beliefs that most people seem to hold around creativity that you’re going to have to drop if you want to get a handle on this.

There’s no such thing as writer’s’ block…

… or any other kind of creativity block for that matter. Writer’s (or creator’s) block; as a concept, is not the inability to write (or creator). It’s the fear that you’re going to write something bad.

So, write something bad and toss it. You’ve written bad things before and tossed them.
Night time is not the only time you can make art.

You don’t have to dig very hard to find documentation that supports the notion that proper diet, exercise, and a good night’s sleep does wonders for your brain. It stands to reason that; since your brain is pretty heavily involved in the artisan process, that you could sleep during that sacred late hour and be more refreshed and more creative any other time of day.

You might just prefer to create at night. That’s fine. But it’s worth noting that there are reasons for it, such as being interrupted by distraction less, since most people are asleep, and we have social contracts in place that prevent people from calling late at night. Maybe you have a fear of missing out during the regular waking hours. Maybe you lack discipline. It doesn’t matter, really… work all night for all I care – but acknowledge that it’s ultimately a choice.
Drugs and alcohol don’t make your art better.

If anything, they make bad art more tolerable. You’re free to believe whatever you want but I’ve seen more than a few decent artists become shitty artists, seemingly on purpose. I don’t have a problem with drug fuelled art – I actually enjoy quite a bit of it, but I do believe that art was in you to begin with.

In an alternate reality, I’d have been able to hear Hendrix play straight & sober. I think we tend to (and yes, I have certainly done this) have a propensity for nerves, and want to ‘take the edge off’ in order to give what we think will be a better performance.

But to “take the edge off” is to admit that (a) you have an ‘edge’ and (b) understand why. I’d rather “live on the edge”, if you’ll pardon the antiquated term.

Clearly I’m not talking about prescribed medication here.

Circumstances. I get up early and I go to the gym. I often work up a sweat, as is typical with long intervals of steady-state cardio followed by heavy weightlifting. Since I have an elevated heart rate, my blood pumps faster, speeding the whole body system up, including the brain. As a result I get wild ideas about art and writing while I’m running on a treadmill, or on the trails, or lifting weights – often frustratingly with nothing to write on or with.

I keep my weightlifting progress noted, but my pen actually DIED this morning, which may have been what prompted this whole post.

I’ve taken to writing emails to myself so I can log the idea or develop it further next time I’m sitting at a computer. Hours later, computer bound, I’ve written numerous songs, blog posts, and developed a few different ideas for my most recent art project. Obviously, during the work day, I’m fairly focused on the tasks at hand, but once the evening rolls around and I’ve got a few hours to burn, I’ll dig in hard.

Dig in on what? I may have to consult my calendar reminders…

If there’s an upcoming show I’m playing, I may find myself running songs, which will likely turn into me trying to perfect some technique by the end of the alotted time.

If it’s an idea for an art project, or a further pursuit of an idea I’ve been working on for some time then I’ll leave it a little bit open. I may need to solder or weld something – but; if my hands and eyes don’t want to work together, then I might do some sanding or prep some things for paint. OR, maybe I’ll just plug a guitar in and push creativity that way.

The point isn’t specifically what I’m doing, so long as I am moving forward. All steps forward are progressions toward the ultimate goal, so just because I didn’t accomplish exactly what I’d set out to doesn’t mean I didn’t accomplish anything… small wins are still wins… even if it ends up being on a completely different project altogether.

That’s some AuDHD shit right there. The time dedicated to art is planned… of the 2 (groan…) “Wolves” inside me (ASD and ADHD) – the plan is integral to my success as an autistic artist. I have set aside this time for this and if I don’t use the time and space to be creative then I’ll be upset. The ADHD in me is totally fine with “my painting sucks today… let’s hash out some guitar riffs” and can seamlessly move to another creative outlet. This is how I’ve learned how to utilize both sides of this AuDHD diagnosis and it’s been very helpful to be able to acknowledge both, and how important each of them are.

Then when it’s time to wind down (again, a predetermined time), it’s important to develop and practice a routine that gets your head out of the art and into the pillow. That can be really hard to do… but fortunately you’re allowed to make notes, or send yourself another email, all in an effort to spend what’s left of the mental energy and move into a place of quiet and rest.

Then you can get that ever important sleep, get some good food in you, and maybe your hands won’t be so shaky tomorrow evening and you (or I, in this instance) can get that soldering or welding project tackled after all.

The goal; for me, at least… is to be artistic in all aspects of life. It’s perfectly natural to have a few projects on the go at a time… but if distraction is a challenge for you then you may need to limit the amount of projects you take on, or at least change your expectations of progress.

There’s no wrong way to make art, but there are definitely ways of being more effective and being more efficient… and there are ways of being an artist and taking care of yourself, too…

managing the unbridled

I’ve driven a few people nuts over the years, from romantic partners to band members, but none so much as myself. It’s not until very recently that someone flipped on the lightswitch and the reason was revealed – AuDHD – the 1-2-punch that is the combination, and often conflicting traits of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).

One of these things can be medicated. So, I spent a month building up levels of that medication, and I’ve been on my full dosage for a month now, and I have to say that the barking dog that is ADHD put on a leash (still barking, though – it’s being treated, not cured) it’s really given my Autism symptoms some space to move around and show itself – and while it can be challenging at times, and I definitely catch myself being weird in public more frequently… I have to say that I really do like myself.

What really adds layers to this is that I’m also starting a small business that allows me to make really cool stuff. Full disclosure: I’ve been running small performing arts businesses: rock & roll bands – for decades, so while some of this is very new, a lot of it is very familiar and I definitely DO have something to compare the experience to, and that comparison is Me vs. Medicated Me.

I’ve put an inordinate amount of energy into this new venture that seems to be falling together pretty seamlessly, somehow. I don’t have a wild number of gigs right now, which sucks, but it’s good for the development of ‘this thing‘ (as I’ll refer to it henceforth) because there is not much to distract me from ‘this thing‘ currently. The big year-end push at my day job has recently happened, so there’s a little more mental space for ‘this thing‘ right now on that front as well.

So what’s different?

My level of focus is huge. As much as I’ve become Dr. Doolittle around my house, forgetting whether I’ve let the dog outside and when, or that I have rice on the stove, or that I have a coffee growing colder by the minute still sitting under the Nespresso tap… completely losing track of time to the degree that I have set multiple alarms to remind myself to check the time… all this aloofness is happening in favor of mentally differentiating between small parts for something I’m building, or paint shades.

I’m suddenly able to point myself in a direction and see it through to the end. Sure… time-blindness is a factor more than ever before, but that’s become part of the planning, and the ASD part of my brain loves a plan… while the ADHD part can roll with a plan that changes… so while my plan may be to do some very detail-oriented work, if my eyes and hands aren’t cooperating that evening, I can change gears and tackle something that I’d planned to do another evening. It all needs to get done… so all steps forward are progress.

It’s when I don’t have a plan, and things change… that shit goes sideways in a hurry. I’ve walked away from a few flaming wreckages in my day, and this won’t be one.

I’ve still got a thousand things going on in my brain at a time, but each of them has time & space to breathe and develop. It’s a very exciting and explorative time in my life and I’m honestly really excited to do it, and while I’m pursuing this I also get to learn how to work with myself in a whole new way, which is thrilling. It’s like having a business partner that understands my shortcomings and compensates for them – meanwhile, creativity is flowing in a really cool and interesting way.

I’m excited to reveal what I’ve been working on – ideally by the fall of 2026, I should be able to do some sort of reveal, because there are legal and tax things at play that I don’t fully understand – but some of that might be a job for someone else if this all goes the way I hope it does.

What no entrepreneur will tell you is that there’s a possibility that the whole thing falls flat… They can’t think like that, and neither can I. But what I can say is that if it doesn’t rise to the level I hope to see it reach, I’ll still be richer for the experience.

You can’t buy that kind of fulfillment.

transitional period

whenever I think of the term transitional period, I think of that scene in Pulp Fiction when the couple is holding up the diner and Julian (as played by Samuel L Jackson) mentions “I’m in a transitional period right now and I don’t want to hurt you, I want to help you...”

I’ve said those exact words so many times that I’m surprised nobody ever mentioned the reference, though it is rather obscure. I’m just as surprised that nobody’s ever retorted (‘retort’ being another word that reminds me of Julian from Pulp Fiction) and said “Davey, you’re always in a transitional period.”

And I guess I am.

I suppose I am in that long transition from birth to earthly death, but I am also constantly changing. I often think of the old Greek philosophical proverb ‘A man never stands in the same river twice‘ – something that is constantly in mind, and I jokingly said to someone who was describing how the pizza from this one family-owned pizzeria is always a little different than the time before, but it’s always good. My joke flew past… but I’m autistic so whatever.

I will often wonder if I am the only person who feels this way. From the outside, it seems like so many people are just hitting that day-to-day as consistently and (possibly) as aimlessly as ever, just surviving… never thriving or flailing, steady as she goes until something life-altering happens, at which point they are so jarred by circumstance that they can’t get their footing, and their eyes are opened for the very first time.

That’s not a description of anyone in particular. It’s a broad generalization about the seemingly ‘non-player characters’ (NPC’s, for the less hip readers) we come across in places like the pet food store or the food court at the mall.

Perhaps I’m the same, but I was jarred into consciousness by circumstance at an early age. Perhaps at birth. Because even within my own family there are NPC’s, just circumnavigating their own container… never trying to do better… but never doing bad enough to warrant a swift and brutal change.

It almost sounds blissful, even in it’s mundanity… to never know struggle because you’ve never known challenge. I’ve seen people who are really smart somehow end up in these scenarios and they ultimately destroy themselves one way or another… possibly intentionally but likely by accident. As if nothing bad ever happens, so they do bad things with impunity… until; of course, something punitive happens. Are they then brought into the consciousness that I’ve known my whole life? Where they must actually make choices and defend their actions, and learn something integral? Will they see God, perhaps? Or will God see THEM? Will they THEN become a player in the game, giving up their NPC status?

Wild shit, folks.

Part of me knows the flaws in this line of thinking.
But another part of me can’t help but think that maybe it really is that simple.

It doesn’t matter.
I mean, sure, those people matter. Their vote counts and they have rights and they exist… own real estate… what have you.
But I don’t know them, and I have no say over what they say or do.
THUS… I cannot be concerned with their lifestyles or decision-making processes, as these are things I cannot really affect.
All I can do is hope.
Hope they’re good people who treat their children and spouses well, and shovel their goddamn sidewalks.

All I can do is what I can do.

And… I’m doing some really cool stuff that I’m really excited about, but I must remain cagey in an effort to put forward “a big reveal” in the future.

What I can tell you is that – on an unrelated note – my band just approved the artwork for the album we’re releasing this year. You should get a copy for your turntable.
You should buy a turntable.

At any rate, what I can EMPHATICALLY tell you is this:

I’m in a transitional period.

emotionally i’m a celebrity

“Emotionally I’m a celebrity” That’s a line from an Iggy Pop song, but I sorta love it and I think it’s a fair descriptor of how I feel sometimes – although, yes, I DO understand that ol’ Iggy is takin’ the piss over a generation of punk rockers who don’t understand punk rock.

Maybe it speaks to you, too.
Maybe it doesn’t, and I’m emotionally dysregulated… but are we not all the main characters in our own stories?

Once upon a time, they used to call artists, (and by extension, popular artists) (and also by extension, rich weirdos who were often popular artists beck before being ‘famous for being famous’ was a vocation) ‘eccentric.’ That’s a term I haven’t heard used in a long time; likely since medical science has come up with actual diagnoses for these disabilities.

Yes, disabilities – and that’s an important distinction.

These people who operated in these ways fell under the umbrella – or; nore accurately, were swept under the rug – of ‘eccentric‘ which was a catch-all term for ‘a little different but ultimately harmless‘ primarily because they saw beauty in things that their contemporaries didn’t. These folks were odd. They’d simultaneously procrastinate and fixate. They’d be uncredited authorities on obscure topics. They acted out sometimes… or became reclusive. They showed up late and left early. They wore sunglasses indoors and dressed differently. they were called ‘weird’ ‘gifted’ ‘wild’ and my personal favorite: ‘talented’. They flocked together. They had a hard time maintaining employment. They drove fast. They lived a high-risk lifestyle. And there were countless other symptoms… and unfortunately for those who lived their lives before these diagnoses were available – they self medicated their disabilities in lieu of actual help.

There’s that word again. Disabilities.

Anyway,
… all of those things are still true.
… and have been true for me along the way.

The importance of that distinction comes with some controversy within the community, I suppose, but I’m beginning to think that controversy is regional – as in, if you live in a place where there’s no government funded help available and you’ve received an adult diagnosis after developing your own coping methods over the course of your life – you probably don’t want to be labeled as a ‘disabled person.’

However; if you do live in a place where there’s government-funded help and tax breaks, that designation is probably a blessing.

But if you live in a place, as I do, where; although you were diagnosed as an adult, and have some (healthy) coping mechanisms (after dispelling your unhealthy ones on your own, the hard way), and the governing body in your region DOES provide help and support, but the current folks in power are actively trying to take money out of the pockets of disabled people, it’s a VERY important designation.

Me? Yeah, I’m ultimately fine. I made it this far, didn’t I?
I’m pretty high-functioning ADHD and ASD (AuDHD, technically).
But that doesn’t mean I have a spare $5,000.00 kicking around for testing (regardless of the outcome) as well as $150/month for medication and an untold fortune for ongoing therapy.

How about folks who are not quite so high-functioning?
Or folks who are dealing with a whole bunch more than I am?

These disability designations are crucial.

So my job… my role here… is to highlight the fact that these people are all around you. This is why I’ve decided to be open about this, and not to be embarrased about it.

Because April 2nd was World Autism Awareness Day… (and yes, the notion of posting this on a thursday was really problematic for me due to my Saturday morning ritual… and my… ASD… struggled with that) and there will be all kinds of cool information being posted and shared all month that I hope you will take in.

Thanks everyone.

The Iggy Pop quote is from the song Neo Punk, from his most recent album “Every Loser” which is a great record from front to back and the fact that he put out such a barn burner of an album at 75 years old should give you as much hope as it gives me.

Another line from that song is “my hair is blue, and my prescription, too” but both my prescription AND my hair are grey. Not joking.