Everything for a reason, for everything, a time

For most of my life I've been living my father's lies.

He lied to us from the day we were born about his history, his experiences, his past. He kept everything truthful from us, except his generous spirit and sense of humour. He couldn't fake those, for those were the qualities that beyond everything else is what he's remembered for. Not his military service, not his jobs, or his fetish for building models, but for nailing my mother's shoes to the floor. That's the dad I remember.

All our lives he forbade us from researching his family. When my mother was bit by the genealogy bug years ago, he shook his head and said "why bother - they're no use to us dead". My mom just shook her head and told him to go back to his doll houses. (another hobby - he built doll houses and gave them away to needy kids). Before she died in 2002 my mother had managed to trace portions of our heritage back to the Huguenots in France, and proven United Empire Loyalist Status. She uncovered many mysteries and interesting stories about our ancestors, and for that she left us a legacy of knowledge. We know, at least on her side, where we came from.

Dad just shook his head and reaffirmed to us that he did not want that route taken with his side. We willingly obliged him, and short of his stories, never pursued his family.

Dad began getting sick around 2006. Eventually dementia wore its way in to his wonderful head and heart. He began getting his stories mixed up. His facade was falling. He began to mistake his children for his siblings, all of whom he said died in the Coventry blitz in 1942. He always said he was the only one who survived because he was off at war at that time in India and Burma. One day he said something to Kim and I that unravelled everything - he said "I wonder if any of them are still alive?"

Kim and I both looked at each other, and knew then that the stories were fabricated. We knew he had led us all down the garden path he created for us. Now we needed to know.

Knowing that his time was short we began having leading conversations with him. Kim is especially good with this, she had a bond with dad that none of us could, and she began asking more questions, which he freely answered, without straying too far from the wartime storyline. Bits and pieces of a former life were coming through.

We knew then that somewhere in Scotland, we had cousins, and possibly aunts and uncles.

We never broke our vow to dad. We did not pursue anything at that time. It wasn't until he passed away in 2009 that we decided we needed the right answers. My sister did all the dirty work, sending away for documentation from the Scottish government. These docs proved our theory - we had family there.

For the past two years we've been following leads with no luck. This weekend, we struck gold. Several weeks ago out of frustration I posted a Facebook message to dozens of Wilsons in the area in Scotland we knew the family originated. The message was full of names and dates that would surely convince someone also related to these people that we too were family. I also wrote on that message that if this doesn't apply to you, please forgive our intrusion and move on with your lives. One person replied on Saturday confirming that he is indeed our cousin.

We found a living relative in Scotland.

After 43 years of lies, we are closer to truth than ever before. The elation of that moment will stay with me. I stared at his message for the longest time, and could not reply. I could not even read it to Kim - I called her over for her to look at. Then I called my sister and read it to her - she started crying.

This person was skeptical, and wanted proof we weren't scamming him. I understand that in this age of electronic deception, and we had to find him proof of who we really were. I can only imagine his reaction as well - he are these people from the other side of the world claiming to be cousins. We gave him proof and answered his questions. But we have so many.

Yesterday we arranged a group chat that lasted about 2 hours, and just got to know one another. We asked a few questions, but tried not to overload him. He's younger than me, so he's not of a generation that knows the answers readily. But he is willing to dig for us. That's a great start. That's the beginning of a relationship that we hope will first off bear fruit and answer the lies, and secondly, open relations between one family on 2 continents.

We found the answers we were looking for. The feeling of overwhelming jubilation set in. Last night I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking about the weekend and what we've found.

I wonder if winning the lottery feels like this. Somehow, money can't compare to the feeling of having your heart lifted so high.

Cheers.

Huge Elephants

I'm about an hour away from doing something that will affect me greatly. It scares the hell out of me.

My diagnosis has messed up everything I know in the past year and I've had to make a lot of difficult decisions. But everything to this point pales in comparison to the one I have to make this morning. I will be meeting with my psychiatrist soon to decide whether or not to go back to work. Part of me wants to, but a bigger part of me realizes that I can't - not in the job I have waiting for me in it's present form.

The medication and therapy has not worked as it should and I'm still having major issues. Most days are good, but bad ones are enough to make everyone around me cringe. The fear and panic associated with the disorder is unbearable at times and I just want it to stop, but I have to let it ride it's course. No medication helps. No soothing music, or calm voice helps, I just have to ride it out. There is progress on this, I'm getting a referral to the Mood and Disorder Clinic this morning, problem is the waiting list for that program is six months long. I'm also on the list for a CMHA worker to begin working with me soon. (Canadian Mental Health Association).

So here I go, into the unknown yet again, list of questions and arguments in hand. Hopefully I can make more progress today, but the one elephant in the room isn't shrinking. He's growing. Gotta stop feeding that damn elephant.

Cheers.

Things that annoy me today

Let the rant begin.

1. February. Even though it feels like March, it's still called February.
2. American politics. Being Canadian, I can't - and won't - even try to understand them.
3. Bipolar Disorder. If you've read this blog, 'nuff said.
4. Hollywood. There are no movie stars anymore, just people they found on YouTube. I still don't understand the Kardashians or Snookie.
5. Mortgage Companies. Or anyone else that can take over your bank account. Let's go back to mattresses like our grandparents did.
6. The Syrian Regime.
7. The Iranian Regime.
8. The Sudan Regime.
9. The American Right-wing nut job wanna-be Regime.
10. The City of Windsor and it's attitude toward spending millions without any purpose.
11. CNN
12. Fox News
13. The corporate policy of building things cheaper so we have to throw them out and buy new ones every three years filling our landfills and breaking our bank accounts.
14. NSF fees for things that weren't your fault.
15. My psychiatrist.
16. SOPA, ACTA, or whatever that bill is called now.
17. Kim Jong Un. I just had to get that nutball in here somewhere.
18. Random Judges who can overturn government legislation because they don't like it.
19. Telemarketers. Yup, they're still there even though we're on the 'don't call list'.
20. Schools that play more movies in class than teach anything. When we try to decide on a movie, my kids say "no, we saw that one in class last week".
21. A complete lack of financial assistance to people suffering from mental health issues in Canada. That would be me.
22. The fact that EVERYTHING requires a credit card today. Face it, some people don't want the stupid things!
23. Rising food and gas prices for no reason.
24. Canadian politician's pensions.
25. Things being left in the same place in the house everyday, and everyday I point out where it's supposed to go.
26. The hype over the Superbowl halftime show and ads. It's just a friggin' game.
27. The amount of crap in my basement.
28. The amount of crap in my head.
29. The amount of crap in my to-do list.
30. The fact that I can't part with any of the aforementioned crap.
31. Genealogical roadblocks. Where the hell are all you people!
32. Lack of funding for youth groups - Cadets, Scouts, Guides, etc.
33. People texting me and wondering why I won't text back. Face it - I won't.
34. Reality shows. Spend some money and bloody well entertain me. These shows are crap.
35. Steve Jobs. Really, did you have to die?
36. Anyone else who's died lately. I want a word with you when I see you again.
37. People who win the SuperMax lottery. Just because I didn't.
38. Writer's block. The reason for this rant.
39. Medication side affects. You wouldn't believe some of the shit I've endured.
40. And finally, Robert Plante won't re-unite with Led Zeppelin. What the hell is the world coming to? Are you that arrogant? You're today's asshat.

The opinions here are my own, if you don't agree, please feel free to comment, I'll feel free to delete them.

Cheers.

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The battle inside my head

So far I've found that being Bipolar has absolutely no perks, unless of course you revel in the idea of a constant shift from depression to manic states.

I don't.

The past few days I've been smacked with the former, and it hasn't been easy for my family.

When the depression hits, you don't want to do anything, or should I say, you 'can't' do anything. I keep telling myself to get off my ass and do something, but the nature of the beast brings me back down to a fetal position again. I try to entertain my self with books, games, even chores, but most activities are dropped under the pretence that I'd rather sulk. Depression just plain sucks. I've found my safe place is here in the house, so I don't like going outside, even though yesterday it hit double digit temperatures, I should have enjoyed the walk to the meeting with the Canadian Mental Health Association.

That was fun. For just over 2 hours I sat with a case worker going over the past year's trials and tribulations. She was good about it, and it was with good purpose, I now have a case worker (or will within a month's time, they're a bit busy). She brought me back to the first day I found I had a problem and moved forward from there. Not an easy thing to do - I've been through so much since last April and remembering it all was quite difficult. Dates, medications, breakdowns, family issues, all of these had to be logged. All of these had to be pulled from an already strained memory. Retelling the same stories though, is getting old. There are some instances that are quite vivid and I don't want to keep talking about them, but I have to, for example my 2 week stint in the psych ward.

At the end of it I was shaky and full of anxiety again. Even though it was a productive meeting. I came home with a package full of new information and places to go if the need arises, a referral to the Mood Disorder Clinic, which is at a hospital by physician's referral only - I have to have my psychiatrist enrol me for that. Not to mention there's a 6 month waiting period to get in.

She saw right through me. She noticed my shaking and heard in my voice that I want nothing better than to put this past me and get back to work, which I do. These walls, comforting as they are, are closing in. Not to mention the lack of a paycheck.

Yup, I want to get better.

The manic part is sometimes preferable to the depression, but not much. Last weekend I went on a rampage cleaning the family room and storage room. This of course had the obvious affect of knocking me out. Once done, I crashed. This manic episode, where one tries to do everything possible in the shortest period of time can be dangerous. Some people that I've talked to turn to the bottle or drugs when this happens, some run, some get violent, I clean. Whatever the manic state creates in a person, the ending is always the same - crash and depression.

Hence the past couple of days. Today is new, I'm alone in the house listening to Rachmaninov, having a coffee and writing while the sun shines through the front window. It's all good. I know I have some laundry to do today, and I have some other things I want to get done, but it's early. Relaxed as I am, it's difficult to tell what will happen an hour from now that will change everything. It really sucks.

Some episodes over the past months have started this way - a beautiful sunny day where all is good with the world, and suddenly I'm in an ambulance. (I still don't remember police in my kitchen last November when I passed out in an episode). So being alone is a double edge sword; I relish the peace and quiet, the music and the freedom to carry on as I wish, I always have, but there's the ever present fear of having the day go horribly wrong.

So today I will put stressors out of my mind, I may not even check the mail. I will do what makes me content and calm, and I will get through it. I may even enjoy it. Writing this is the first step to that. I don't even care if anyone reads it, to me it's therapy, and necessary. Readers of this blog have been good for my mental state, your kind words and compliments on the writing boost me up, but it's difficult to do. I re-read the comments to feel better. I never however, re-read the blog!

So to those of you who have played that part, thank you. You have helped me get through this even though you don't know it.

That and the anti-psychotic meds.

Cheers.

Keith Wilson - Graphic Designer

So today I've decided to be self-promoting and selfish. Call me shallow, but I have done some pretty good stuff over the years, and I want to share them. There's a reason though, so hear me out.

Graphic artists are a skilled trade. I went to college for this, and have spent almost 18 years developing my skills in print publishing, corporate identity, marketing campaigns, copywriting, and more. Good work is worth the money one pays for it. I'm not cheap, but there are much more expensive artists out there who I see as gouging their customers. There are also people who think that because they own a PC that has basic pre-installed software, they can design anything. Therein lies the problem. They're taking my business.

People would rather do it themselves than pay me to do something professional and worthwhile. Even some of my previous clients have gone this route trying to save a buck. I don't blame them, but because of their actions two things have happened: 1) My profession is becoming obsolete and 2) The design work you see out there is just plain crap.

Maybe I'm a little one sided on this issue, but it really bothers me.

Here are some pieces that I've done over the years that I'm rather proud of, you be the judge. I'd welcome any comments, good or bad. One thing I always told up and coming designers is that you must maintain humility in this business - somewhere down the line someone is going to hate something you've done, and you can't be offended by the criticism. Personally, I welcome it.

First off, my graphics business logo...

Next, a poster I designed for our cadet corps reunion. 12x18 gloss print. This one I'm rather proud of. This was part of a larger campaign to advertise the reunion, including smaller posters, tickets, and a facebook page.

This one is a marketing piece for my employer, done up as a leave-behind for sales reps advertising our printing capabilities. Double sided, bi-fold.

This is the inside spread of the piece.

Finally, a double page spread from a magazine I worked for called In Business. Each year we put together a huge spread on the North American International Auto Show. It usually ran 8 to 12 pages depending on ad sales, and this example was my baby that year. The 12 pages took me an entire week of painstaking work selecting the photos to be used, taking the backgrounds out in Photoshop and finally working them into the spreads. This is the intro spread.

So this is just a taste of what training and experience can do. I'm by no means the best at this job, I have worked with some amazingly talented designers over the years, and they each deserve their own credit. But this is my blog. You can view larger versions of these and other pieces I've created over the years at my online resume at http://kswilson.mnsi.net

As I said, I'd appreciate any comments. I'd also appreciate the opportunity to blow our horn as a trade. Graphic arts usually costs companies money, but if it's the look you want, it's worth it.

Cheers.