Sometimes I'll be sitting calmly at my desk at work when I'll remember something particularly embarrassing from my past. A girl I tried to flirt with who wasn't having any of it. Something deplorable I said in middle school. That time I hurt a friend's feelings.

Such memories are accompanied by the following thought, "I hate myself". Then there's a whole other category of dark thoughts related to mortality that pop up like Wack-A-Moles. I'll find myself with nothing to do after completing a task, and then the dread slips in, seducing me into a tiny spiral, "What does any of this mean?"

For the past few weeks, I've been attempting to course correct this pattern of thought by "staying in gratitude", "reality testing", and "thought stoppage". Much to my surprise, the results have been positive. When such thoughts arise I say to them something like, "No thank you" or "I know what you're doing and I choose not to accept it". I feel like I'm getting to know myself better, because I know exactly what prompts the dark thoughts and I know their goal. When you know those things, it's harder for the thoughts to take shape in reality. They're actually fake-thoughts based in fear that only become real when you accept them as fact. But if you cut them off, you start to recognize the little game your lizard brain is playing.

The truth is, I don't hate myself at all.

In fact, I quite like myself. I'm flawed, but I believe I do more good than harm. Those moments of discord (I'm realizing as I write this), where I think "I hate myself", pop up because I'm remembering a moment where I wasn't living in accordance with my present-day values. It pains me to think I ever made someone uncomfortable, unhappy, or hurt. I wish I could go back in time and change it.

I’m not a monster, but my mind tries to convince me I was and still am. I was a good person in my teens and twenties but I was a bad blend of angry at the world, awkward, insecure, lonely, and egotistical. Not exactly a winning recipe.

Intramural flag football. Sophomore year at LIU.

I suppose it's normal to cringe at the things one used to think and say when we were young and dumb. Should we not extend our past selves some grace? I don't know. All I know is I'm still haunted by memories of embarrassment and fear, and it takes labor to keep them in their proper place.

It's not as simple as "staying positive" or "keeping it light" because it takes immense effort to fend off these thoughts and feelings all day long. By the time I get home from work I'm exhausted and the only thing I'm capable of doing is playing video games or watching wrestling or writing about wrestling.

Before I started writing the Raw Review again I was very concerned about whether or not I'd have the energy to write a weekly column. I still worry about that. Ever since being diagnosed bipolar and trying for years to manage my moods through meds and healthy mental practices like the ones previously described, I've tried very hard not to push myself (in anything) for fear that my brain might break again. This is a stifling feeling, a sense that I can't "go all out" with my work because there's no telling what might happen if I totally "submit" to the demands of my art. As a result, I fear my work lacks something. It's not getting "all of me", and I fear it suffers as a result. On the other hand, managing one's energy is a wise thing to do.

Being an adult is a constant juggling act only you’re juggling whirring chainsaws and blazing torches. The stakes are high, the rewards fleeting, and sometimes you're left thinking, "Who am I doing this for?". I've had fun doing The Raw Review and the podcast these past several weeks. I don't feel like I've hit my energy-ceiling just yet.

It's February 14th as I write this and I have yet to decide if I'm going to review AEW Grand Slam Australia on the podcast. The card features a lot of acts I don't know and a ton of tag matches that I don't care about. Even so, if I have nothing else to do I'll probably put it on.

I think doing the Raw Review and the podcast weekly has been good for my mental health. If nothing else it's provided me something to look forward to each week. I get excited on Monday when I remember Raw will be on and I look forward to Tuesday when I start writing. Wednesdays I get excited about the option of watching Dynamite if I'm not doing anything else. I like to watch Dynamite in a less serious way, usually the day after it airs. Max has to do something about the way it catalogs the latest episode of Dynamite, though. It's absolutely terrible, as is. I don't even remember how I manage to get the latest episode because it's so convoluted. One would think it would exist in the Dynamite gallery, but nope!

I'm completely ignorant of SmackDown, which is fine because devoting a third day to wrestling might be too much. It's funny how it's entirely possible to make wrestling your life. There's new content every day and myriad outlets covering various aspects of the business.

I'm still working out how to creatively pace myself so that my mind stays healthy. Having a mental disorder is exhausting. It takes up an inordinate amount of space in one's life. It's not unlike trying to thread a needle - small, delicate adjustments, several failed attempts until finally the thread goes through. My disorder has also had negative effects on my bodily health. My kidney function has declined over the past year and we think it's due to the Lithium I've been prescribed since 2020. Lithium is the gold standard for treating bipolar, but I've had to go off it in an effort to bring my kidney function back up. I'm also on meds for my blood pressure and triglycerides. I don’t even know what a triglyceride is.

I'm overweight by about 20 lbs. If I exercised and adjusted my diet (even just a little), a lot of my physical problems would be solved. While it seems such a simple fix on paper, I'm finding it near-impossible to get started. I have DDP Yoga DVDs and I've used them in the past to great effect. So it's there and I know it works, but lately I can barely drag myself out of bed in the morning let alone do Yoga for forty minutes.

A still from my short film, I Was Not Who I Was.

Food is one of my main pleasures these days. After work, I'll occasionally go to my favorite Italian restaurant. Eating alone is an interesting experience that I've gotten quite good at. I don't bother with the menu because I already know what I want, and I've gone enough that they recognize me. One server gives me a Coke before I even ask for it, which feels great. It's nice to be a regular, it gives you a sense of community. When the food comes, I take my time, savoring each bite. The whole experience lasts about an hour.

The older I get, the more comfort I seek in the things I love, whether food, film, or wrestling. I feel like Wallace Shawn from My Dinner With Andre, explaining why he's looking for more ways to bring safety and warmth into his life, not less. As I've said on the podcast a couple times recently, I'm not advocating for sticking one's head in the sand. I advocate for taking care of one's self. It's too easy to despair right now. It's much harder to be realistically optimistic, a form of optimism that incorporates the harsh realities of the world. We need the things we enjoy not to distract us from the pain, but rather to immerse us in a cathartic experience. That's how we can heal, and that's the role art can play in our lives.

This is why it's so stupid for people to dismiss pro-wrestling as fake. Yes it's fake, but in the same way film is fake. No one balks at film because it plays on a giant screen. We understand the framing of the medium, and we allow it, through sights and sounds, to move us emotionally. Pro-wrestling has the capacity to move us like any other art. It's a visceral, ecstatic way to achieve catharsis.

I'm glad to have started this journal because it's just another way for me to express myself through the prism of professional wrestling. It doesn't have to be structured in any particular way and I can dump some thoughts here, as I would in a physical journal, that aren't necessarily appropriate in a review or an essay.

Oh, I've decided to keep my Facebook Page. Even though it receives a tiny fraction of the action it used to it's proven a useful tool for keeping in touch with listeners. The comments are deactivated on this site so the Facebook page is where you'll get your voice heard if you want me to hear it. I deactivated the comments after my article The Art of Sasha Banks went viral and was spammed by trolls. They posted filth in the comments and so I decided to shut the entire thing down. I don't lose sleep over it - while I believe in the spirit of comments sections I don't accept them as a practice. I think we all waste too much time on our opinions (says the man sharing his opinion in his public journal).

What's my most unsavory opinion? Hmm.

You're not going to like this...

I kind of agree with Martin Scorsese about Marvel movies.

Yeah. I know. I'm a pretentious prick.

But hear me out.

I don't necessarily agree that they're not "cinema". I think "cinema" should be broadly interpreted and I do think the Marvel films just squeak into that category. You have to consider what Scorsese really means when he says they're not "cinema", though. He's not saying they don't fit into the category, even though that's what he thinks he's saying. He really means that they're just not very deep. They're superficial - the cinematic equivalent of fireworks or laser shows. There's no getting around the conceptual gulf between something like an Ingmar Bergman film and something by the Russo Brothers. They are different in a way that feels fundamental.

I'm not saying Endgame is bad, though, or even bad for you. I loved Endgame and I squealed (yes, squealed) when Captain America caught Thor's hammer. But I do agree with the idea that they're like theme park rides. This notion rang true for me after I watched a video of a theater reacting to the final battle in Endgame. They sounded exactly like they were on a roller coaster.

Now we get into some really dicey mental territory if we attempt to evaluate the worth of a roller coaster ride against watching a film like Through A Glass Darkly. Reconciling the experiences isn't so hard if you just state you like both and both have their virtues. It's when you say one is intrinsically better than the other that you get into trouble. No one likes being told they're stupid and Scorsese is essentially saying Marvel films are stupid movies for stupid people. Hardly a useful criticism. Better to have a lighter touch when criticizing something if you actually want your stance to be heard and properly absorbed.

I'd be curious to hear what Scorsese thinks about professional wrestling. I doubt he'd hold it in high esteem. Werner Herzog really admires wrestling as a primitive form of theatre so we've at least got one great filmmaker on our side.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how much wrestling has in common with poetry. In a good poem, every line, even every word, matters. Each individual line adds to the next, building an image or emotion in your mind. By the end of that good poem you’re left thinking and feeling something new and exciting and every single syllable got you there. A wrestling match is no different. Every minute gesture and movement of the wrestler is a line of poetry adding to the larger whole. There’s rhythm, meter, and rhyme to a wrestling match in the form of a “high spot”, a “comeback sequence”, and a “finishing move”.

It really is a beautiful form of storytelling. It will never get enough credit for that.

But here, we can try. Thanks for reading.

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Tim Kail's Wrestling Journal, 2/15/25