Originally written in 2011, but still applicable:

In the last few years, I’ve made a lot of changes in my life.

In chronological order: Going batshit crazy over stuff I had no control over, spending the night in jail on trumped-up “domestic abuse” charges, court-ordered anger management classes, a nasty, but necessary divorce, a blissful remarriage and today, maintaining a blended family.

One may suspect that I have learned a thing or two from all of this, and one would be correct. For what it’s worth, I’ll pass this little nugget along. It’s called the Ketchup Pack Theory.

We’re all familiar with the little packs of condiment that we get (usually on request) with our fries. Many of us are also familiar with the mess that results when these things spring a leak, are mistreated, stepped on or pounded into submission.

We are like ketchup packs. There’s a lot of stuff inside. You have your stuff. I have my stuff. As long as there’s a balance, everything’s fine.

If we (or if we allow others to) repress or squash any part of our “stuff,” it will manifest itself in an ugly mess, and usually out the opposite end.

The Ketchup Pack Theory: “The more repressed, the bigger the mess.”