Theodore “Thor” Uram, failed writer
My Story
All my life I wanted nothing more than to be a writer. I took ridiculous jobs to pay the bills, using my body to do the hard work so that I could keep my mind fresh when I got home. At night, I would write. This continued for decades, until one day I finally wrote something worthy of publishing… almost.
The book was called “The Ross Island Bridge” and it represented my best effort. It was a work of speculative fiction about a young, struggling writer awash in the dystopian landscape of an alternate Portland, trying to get published and just figuring life out. It was interesting enough for my agent to pitch it to some of the biggest publishing houses around. Random House gave it a read and loved it, although they wanted to see some rewrites.
That’s when things got interesting.
Long story short (no pun intended), I very suddenly came down with an aggressive form of multiple sclerosis. It severely damaged the gray matter in my brain, as well as the nerves in my brain and spine. In addition to the physical disabilities I was now facing, I was suddenly finding it difficult to think clearly, to reason, to recall even basic information. Each writing session became blurry the next day, much of the details of what I had written new and strange. It wasn’t long before I lost the ability to recall enough fine detail to continue.
I could no longer write.
This crushed me.
I fell down a deep, dark spiraling pit of despair.
On the way down, every bit of trauma I had experienced over my life seemed suddenly amplified: physical abuse as a child, PTSD from my time as a volunteer firefighter, and worse. As a strong, capable person, I had always been able to keep these at bay. But as a disabled man it was too much, and it all came very rapidly tumbling down.
I went all the way down. All the way.
With the help of family and friends, and some very kind doctors, I was able to get my feet back under me and start again. Little did I know, I was far from out of the woods.
A therapeutic drug treatment slowed the progression of the disease but could not cure it. To this day, there is no cure for multiple sclerosis. The treatment targeted a very specific type of white blood cell that kept attacking my brain and spine, killing them off. This worked, but it also irreparably damaged my immune system.
Then there was the pain. Let me tell you, musculoskeletal neuropathy is some of the worst pain imaginable. It’s unending, and it’s literally everywhere.
So… they gave me drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.
And when you’re on drugs, you get fat. And when you’re sick and weak AND fat you get depressed.
So… they gave me antidepressants.
I spent the next seven years sitting in a recliner watching slot machine videos on YouTube.
I was angry. I was embarrassed. I had lost all hope and any desire to do anything, even muster up the courage to end my life.
Then, one day I stumbled across a motivational video on YouTube that completely changed my perspective. I never thought much of self-help gurus, so I figured it was good for a laugh. I would watch this and poke fun at how ridiculous everyone sounded before I switched back to some more slot machine videos.
What happened next is nothing short of a miracle. Somehow, that video changed me. Almost in an instant I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to TRY again. And I knew that trying was okay. I didn’t have to “totally crush it” and dominate and win. All I had to do was not give up.
Who, me?
I’m a loser! I’m lazy and I don’t give a damn!
But something happened.
I sought out all the people from that one inspirational video, people I had always thought were just kooks and con artists, because that’s what we’re all told, right? They’re just full of it and out to get your money. But the funny part was I hadn’t parted with a damn cent and here I was actually feeling and wanting things for myself that I hadn’t experienced in years.
I wanted to live again.
It took a long time. And it took more than just a few motivational videos. It took commitment. It took research. It took reading. It took some deep, deep introspection and meditation and praying and working and brainstorming and soul searching and a whole lot more. Until finally, one day, I decided that I (ME!), little old broken down insignificant damaged goods old man that I was… actually still had value.
It’s not permanent. It’s fleeting. Like a butterfly in the palm of your hands, tender and delicate. If you hold on too hard you’ll crush it. And it’s always eventually going to fly away and when it does… what’s left?
You. That’s what’s left. There’s you and your big damn beautiful life!
So, I started this website. I formed a company. I stopped all the drugs (they weren’t doing anything anyway), I stopped all the damaging treatments (they weren’t helping anymore, anyway), and I stopped all my complaining and worrying and finger-pointing and blaming, and I very slowly and purposefully and methodically put myself back together.
Hooray.
Good for me.
But it’s not enough.
There’s you, friend. And I know you. I know you probably better than you know yourself because I AM YOU! I know exactly where you are, and what you’re thinking, and what you’re avoiding, and what you’re doing to yourself and I can’t stand the fact that I do.
I’m not fixed. No one ever is. This isn’t permanent and I know it.
But I do have a very specific set of tools. I have an ironclad mindset. And I have a new love for life that is so freaking powerful it practically brings me to tears every damn morning.
And I want to share this all with you.