Issue 2: The Welfare State Of Mind

A Shovel, A Pity Party, and Fresh Orange Juice On Sundays

Jul 30, 2024

Welcome to The Bluebird Paradox, a gritty MicroZine written by me, Chris Sadhill, that explores the coexistence of light and darkness, focusing on social issues and the human experiences we often overlook, presented through various short stories, poetry, and other creative arts.

The Bluebird pays homage to Charles Bukowski’s poem Bluebird, which delves into themes of vulnerability, repression, and the struggle to express oneself authentically.

Often, the Bluebird symbolizes hope, love, positivity, and renewal; however, throughout my life, I’ve observed the presence of darkness where there is light, leading me to believe in a paradoxical relationship between the two.

The Bluebird Paradox embraces the inherent contradictions and complexities of our existence and seeks to reveal deeper truths about society, emotions, and the human experience.

As always, thank you for being here. Please enjoy the read.

*The Premature Burial*, 1854, by Antoine Wiertz: Wiertz Museum

The inferiority complex is damaging and toxic, and if left unchecked poisonous to the blood. It quickly seeps its way into the brain and tarnishes all of your thoughts and every decision. It destroys your functionality, ruins relationships, and diminishes the potential to achieve the best version of yourself. It affects your self-esteem, self-worth, and self-confidence. It affects your Self and any sense you may have of it. It disorients you and leaves you stranded in the world, never knowing where you belong or where you stand. It acts like an ego and begs you to seek attention through any means possible. It’s narcissistic and its byproduct is the welfare state of mind. But like all things, our perceptions and our reactions those perceptions have drastically different outcomes depending on one’s life experiences and perspectives.

I was raised to think the world owed me everything. The first chip on my shoulder was handed down to me by my mother in the late 90’s, not on a silver platter, but on a paper plate somewhere between Vermont and Florida.

Yes, misery can be hereditary and it’s highly contagious.

I won’t blame my second stepfather for all my troubles, as my mother was mostly responsible for the emotional damage I endured, but I can say that my suffering grew exponentially after she brought that wet dog home. A father, he was not, and a husband he was barely.

We lived a life of self-induced agony, and my mother was at the core of it all. Like a black hole, she sucked us into her void while placing most of her energy into blaming everyone else for our problems, and though there were solutions available, some of which I could see plainly as a child, she chose blindness and ignorance over seeking a better life.

To be fair, from the stories I should not have been told at a stupidly young age, my mother experienced some unfathomable shit, which undoubtedly affected her later, but without a doubt, it also affected my sister and me. In many ways, those stories explained our status quo, and why she was the way she was, but they didn’t excuse her from the responsibility of fighting to overcome the past for her children and they didn’t excuse her from seeking help.

A normal week consisted of unpaid debts, collection calls, half-empty wine or whiskey bottles, and various forms of verbal abuse; we often showed love by shouting insults and in our house, untreated mental health problems compounded daily until eventually each of us had some combination of undiagnosed OCD, anxiety, stress, depression, PTSD, or any other complexes stemming from instability. We were poor, without insurance, and as mom used to say, “We had this black cloud hanging over us”—her second most popular phrase. “We don’t have enough money” was her most popular, which she constantly reminded us of. Over the years she managed to produce a mobile-home-sized load of excuses as to why we couldn’t better ourselves or ever make ends meet.

We didn’t live paycheck to paycheck but rather advancement to advancement, or worse, borrowed money without the intention of paying it back until we were blacklisted and forced to move on. We moved a lot and found ourselves homeless more than once. There were always new family members, new friends, new jobs, new schools, and many times new states to fuck over. We were like gypsies but also leeches—the worst kind of gypsies.

To say it plainly, I had a shitty upbringing and only for the past few years have I realized how much my childhood affected me. I blocked out much and masked the rest, then lied to myself about my feelings to cope. The truth is, I had become infected at an early age with the survival mindset just like my mother, too blind to live life to the fullest and I lost a lot of time to preserving myself and chasing money. I was selfish and suffered because of it. I had the instinct to blame others, and expected help from everyone, and I fell victim to spiraling into the darkness of self-pity. I embodied the welfare state of mind.

The only difference between my mother and I was that I was overwhelmed with the need to fight, and my perspective, though it free-dived into the depths of hell more often than I had liked, was always looking forward and up. Perhaps it was the Yang to her Yin, the universe correcting itself, or my way of coping with the struggle of living with an alcoholic. Either way, I have never given up and to this day, I continue to work toward a better future and a better me and though I have much to overcome, I feel I’m in a better place than the alternative simply because of my perspective.

I had gone through some very dark times, even considered the worst during a few of them, and can only speculate what my life would be like without my outlook.

This month’s theme is inspired by a poem I wrote in 2023 titled Gravedigger, which was originally intended for inclusion in a book I was developing called, How to Live & Die in Style—an anthology of poetry, prose, and sentiments exploring the reflections of life, and cool things to say on your deathbed.

The book’s intention was to encourage readers to reflect on their lives by exploring various perspectives and hopefully coming away with an appreciation for where they were by looking at where they were not. Death, loss, and misery were common themes.

Perspective is a double-edged sword and it can lead one down some very dark and lonely paths, to back alleys, to drugs, to decades of bad decisions, and even suicide. It can turn any intelligent person into a homeless junkie seemingly overnight or it has the potential to motivate any dying person to overcome the impossible, to not only survive, but to thrive despite everything against them.

To be happy can be simply a matter of perspective and I hope after reading this you would expand your mind enough to change your perspective and thus change the course of your life toward a more fulfilling one.

My Poem “Gravedigger” invites one to explore the perspective of self-pity and its negative outcomes and then I encourage you to reflect on the possibilities of life outside of one’s own grave at the very end. If you’re going through it, it’s ok, just understand there is a way out, and you have the power to change the channel any time you’d like.

Perspective, if carefully wielded is all you need to make progress. To have a dream, even if it’s little, is enough to encourage the growth of an entire forest. You just need to think you can be a tree first.

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“Gravedigger”


How dark is it 
in your coffin of despair,
in that hole you dug deeper
when you brought a shovel 
to your pity party?
It's quite disorienting, isn’t it;
wallowing in the corner, 
collecting filth and muck,
and complaining about 
the wetness of morning dew?

Oh, poor you,
Your body convulses — 
a self-induced seizure.
You knee-Jerk,
clawing at the crumbling edges
of your bottomless pit
with an interminable shiver.

You choose misery
over action,
expecting the roots to grab hold, 
and praying they will drag you out —
a welfare state of mind. 
You fail to realize
that you’re merely five feet under, 
yet refuse to stand tall enough to see it.


If only you did: 
you’d observe the eastern dawn 
once more, 
you’d bask in its warmth,
allowing it to nourish your soul
like Sundays and fresh orange juice, 
and you’d inhale the Iris blooms 
alongside the hummingbirds 
hungry for sweet nectar.

If only you did
you’d realize, 
you could climb out of that grave
of your own free will 
to enjoy a picnic on the cemetery lawn.

and only then, 
would you discover that my hole
has long been filled and mowed over,
and my coffin, 
unlike yours,
wasn’t sealed shut 
with nails made of thin air.



©2023 Chris Sadhill

Sadhill’s Music Minute

“The Cold” by Exitmusic captures the essence one feels with being alone. Much like a poem, its power lies in its skillfully refined lyrics. Throughout the song, you’re constantly reminded that “You are alone” which if you’ve ever experienced loneliness, you may relate to its repetition or the “downward spiral” that consumes you. It can be pitch black and bitter down there.

The magic in this song is from its ethereal and atmospheric sound which allows the perfect amount of space to reflect on the sadness evoked within. The pained crying out for help is prominent—it’s emotional, lonely, and sad.

Though there are a multitude of feelings involved with loneliness, Coldness is almost always certain and Exitmusic does a fine job making you feel it, but despite all the beauty in the song’s blueness, there’s a light that shines at the very end.

The last line, “Sing another song” suggests the possibility of survival, making it through, and despite unfathomable suffering, there’s something better to look forward to at the end of it all.

The true lesson I think is that we must accept that suffering and pain are inevitable, so feel it and learn from it, but when you’re done, move on.

We must remind ourselves of this because the alternative is to stay in that darkness indefinitely and that’s a sad life to live.

“The Cold” was featured in “Shameless” Season 4 Episode 12.

Sadhill News

Twisted Tournament

Twist in the Tale has spawned a new peer-judged, peer-powered contest. This is right up my alley, minus the short time frames given to write. I am excited to see where this goes and how well my stories place.

I wrote three stories over a three-day period:

100 Word Story: “Jane” -A noire-inspired piece where a detective investigates a murder, and tries not to fall in love.

250-Word Story: “Planting My Bastard Seeds” -A medieval revenge piece where an old king is forced from his throne by his sons, and he must teach them the lessons of the past.

500 Words Story: “Not in My Backyard” -Patricia, the Neighborhood watch leader has been tracking a child killer on the loose and is close to finding him. How close, will be revealed on a foot patrol during tonight’s late shift.

The contest results will be revealed on the below dates:

Round 1 results revealed: Jul 22nd, 2024, 23:59 UTC
Round 2 results revealed: Jul 23rd, 2024, 23:59 UTC
Round 3 results revealed: Jul 24th, 2024, 23:59 UTC

My goal is to finish Top 10 in one or more of the story lengths. I am among some of the best international competitive short story writers, so we’ll see!

It’s official! SFS Publishing, LLC has published my short story, Perpetual Override. Read it today, or make it this weekend’s read. Exclusively on www.scifishorts.co.

Also, help a writer out and share it!

Upcoming Events & Contests:

2024 Summer Nano Fiction Battle Writing Battle: Aug 2nd-Aug 4th

2024 Autumn Short Story Battle Writing Battle: Oct 20th- Oct 27th

Sadhill Writing Challenge (250 Words)

Each month I’ll provide a Writing challenge to encourage fellow writers to compete and to stay creative. The winning piece will be showcased in next month’s newsletter as well as any links the winner wants to share to promote their brand.

August Prompt: Wander(er)

Rules:

Must be 250 words or less.
Only one (1) entry per writer per monthly contest.
The deadline will be by 11:59 PM or the end of the day on Friday, August 16th, 2024 to allow me to update and edit my newsletter in time.
By entering, you agree for your work to be published in my newsletter if chosen as the winner and stored on my Substack as content. You retain all rights to your work.
Does not have to include the Prompt word or phrase, but must have the essence of the meaning understood somewhere in it. Metaphor and obscurity are encouraged. Finding something beautiful in darkness is even better.
All entries must be sent to my email: ChrisSadhill@gmail.com. Please use the Subject Line: Sadhill Writing Challenge (Include the Month). You can paste the story directly in the body of the email as well as include any promotional links you want.
This is an opportunity to showcase talent and work while cross-promoting your brand. In the future, there may be prizes awarded, but for now, there are none. I’m poor, damnit. If you have any donations, such as your books or merch you’d like to donate for me to giveaway, email me and we will it happen.

Good Luck. See you next month!

…and don’t forget to leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you.

The Bluebird Paradox