Christmas 2011

This year is different, or so I thought. This year Kim and I are sick and the kids are dealing with it. So this year we changed our frames of mind. We kept our respective illnesses in the back of our minds and carried on. This morning we woke early; as we always do on Christmas, stirred by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The kids waited patiently (including Kim, she's a kid today), and we opened gifts. With every one, eyes widened, hearts grew fonder and family grew closer.

Last night Kim pre-prepared breakfast - bacon and sausage. So making breakfast sandwiches was easy. More coffee and a good meal to continue a beautiful morning. With dishes done we are all talking an hour to digest breakfast and gifts. We are also taking time to contemplate why we're doing to do this.

This afternoon we'll go to Mass, as we did last night. We'll hear the word of how one child changed the world. We'll shake hands with our brothers and sisters, as we did last night. We'll know.

We'll know that today isn't about presents or trees or catching snowflakes on your tongue, it's about a child who taught us all to love our fellow man. A child who spent his lifetime changing mankind. Whether you're Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, Athiest, or anything else, you know of this child. It doesn't matter how you feel about Him, or even believe in Him, you know that this is HIS birthday and the gifts are for Him, not us. He taught us to give to our fellow man and keep our neighbours in our thoughts, he taught us to love one another, he taught us peace.

Personally I believe. I believe in Christmas miracles because I've lived through them. Christmas has touched me in ways I can't adequately convey. It's inside me and my family. Every day should be like this, but sadly, it isn't. The world is too full of hatred for that. There are too many wars, too much hatred and strife, too much disbelief, too many people forcing their opinions instead of listening to the thoughts of others. It doesn't matter if you believe, but you should at least take a moment to understand that there are many views. Why they lead to war is the problem.

This child taught us that the path to living a life of happiness is to love one another and pray for peace. There couldn't be a more universal hope. The people who aim to destroy that peace are a minority, but sadly they cause more damage than the majority. We should pray for them, because they don't know how much they are only hurting themselves. Peace of mind is something we have to practise and learn. It can be a product of your upbringing, or it can be a mind frame you yourself adapt. But it's the right course.

Muslims follow quotes of the major profits (including Jesus) using the words "Peace be upon Him". Christians have obvious feelings, and many other religions in the world look upon him as one of the world's greatest profits, if not the Son of God. There's a reason that a man born 2,000 years ago has had this impact on us ALL. His message is universal and right. In a nutshell, we're all on this planet to live, why should we not live charitably, peacefully and with hope for the future.

This Christmas keep this message in your hearts. Regardless of how you celebrate, or even if you don't. This Christmas, Pray for Peace.

Merry Christmas.

Distractions

Lately I've been writing a little about being sick. Ok, maybe too much about being sick. This blog has been my vent port for a lot of shit going on in my head, it's been as much for me as anyone else, a way to journal my experiences with the hospital, doctors, therapy sessions, etc...

Frankly I'm getting a little bored of it all. Don't get me wrong, it's all still there, the illness, doctors and soon, even more therapy, but I can't hang on this forever. Sooner or later I have to move on and realize that there's still a life outside worth living. If I've learned anything over the past months it's that people don't want to hear me whine about it. Talk and whine are two different points of view, so take that as you wish. I've also learned that if anyone is going to break this cycle of depression and fear, it's me.

Sounds easy doesn't it? Stop being so hard on yourself, pull your chin up, go back to work, don't let the small stuff get to you, smile more, catch snowflakes on your tongue, try to hear a fly fart, take up a new hobby like spelunking or some other weird shit, play chess, get your mind back to the present.

Reality bites. These things are really difficult to do unless you are focused and filled with rational thought - especially trying to hear a fly fart - you really have to focus there. For the past few months my hobbies have included coffeeology, cruising the internet, gaming, watching stories about how Kim Jong Il destroyed a country, playing the drums and walking. Not too interesting of a list, maybe it's time I fixed that. Maybe it's time I picked myself up and found something rational to concentrate on.

I was diagnosed in May of this year, and my groups have people that have been dealing with this for up to ten years. That statistic scares me. If they are still in therapy after that long, when can I come out of it? The answer is obvious - I probably can't. I will have this hanging over my head for years to come so it's up to me to make the most of it. Maybe I can have some fun along the way. I don't plan on spelunking anytime soon, or holding a fly up to my ear, but there are things I enjoy doing and I have been told I'm good at to pursue. One of which is writing. I started writing a story a couple of years ago when I was really bored, and it's been sitting here all along waiting for me. Maybe it's time to pick it back up. I have a strong love of the military and it's history, another option. I also love my family, who have been through this journey with me supporting me. It's about time they got their dad and husband back.

There's been too many distractions for the things I love to do. Too many reasons not to do them and in reality none of those reasons make any sense. Part of the illness is the ideology my brain tells me - these things take second seat to being sick. It's up to me to break that distracting irrational thought and get back on the band wagon. I have to get back to work, I have to find new purpose in my life, I have to live again.

Look for my book launch early in 2025.

Cheers.

Yuck

Today is a typical Monday. Except that it's 6 days til Christmas, my pills aren't working, I'm having trouble getting over the passing of my next door neighbour, who we took care of and befriended like a second grandmother to the kids, I still have no car, and I don't know when I'm going back to work. Short of that, it's a fine day.

I see my psychiatrist on Wednesday - the one who dosed me up on all kinds of meds over the summer, and I had to spend time in the hospital to get sorted out. I look forward to that argument, he's gonna say 'I told ya so', and I'm gonna say 'shut the fuck up and fix it'. Then I will give him the back to work form and ask him to sign it, to which he will demand another $30. Yeah, I look forward to it.

I'm getting ready to leave for the hospital again, I'm starting week 3 of the outpatient psychiatric treatment, or brainwashing. I really don't want to go as I can't see any benefit to all this. The teachers talk too fast and I'm having trouble concentrating on the material. But in the end, it should be worth it. One issue I've had to deal with since May is a lack of ability to concentrate and follow multiple stressors. Alot of that is the medication, alot of that is the illness itself. My feeling is that the Occupational Therapists who teach this thing should know that and teach accordingly. At least I'll have the handouts to go over - they kill more trees in this class than anywhere I've ever been.

5 More days. Then I'm done, and I don't know what comes next. I'll be going to my own therapist once that is over, I actually look forward to that - it's one on one, and once per week. I'm hoping that January brings new promise for me and this mess I'm in, being always confused and scared sucks. Always being on the edge of a breakdown sucks. I know that in the end only I can fix that - no amount of classes or drugs can reverse this course, but I still don't know how to steer the ship.

On a good note, Kim Jung Il died. One less lunatic fucktard in the world is a good start.

Have a nice day.

I took the road most travelled

I found myself a few months ago walking down a path in the woods. A path travelled by many people, some like myself out to see what was there, others, on the path heading for a particular destination. I had no destination. The path meandered through the trees and across small streams, where wildlife of all kinds flourished. I felt watched. As I walked I thought about how my life was going and where it was leading me. I thought about my family, my friends, my career, myself. I took in the peace of it all to reflect on middle age. I walked for miles.

I came across a crossroads on the trail, one more trodden than the other. As I stood there for a while trying to decide which to take, others walked on past, some took the trodden trail, others, without hesitation, took the overgrown and underused trail. I saw them in the distance ducking branches and jumping streams until they were out of my sight. I stood there again for a while, considering my family, friends and career, and I opted for the heavy trodden trail.

I began walking again, and again, watched my surroundings. I listened to the wildlife, but it became less prevalent. I watched for trees and streams, but they were fewer. I even watched for other hikers, but they seemed to walk on past me without a word. The trail became a highway. It opened up into two lanes where now bicycles began to pass me. Then, scooters, finally cars. The trail had become what I didn't want - a rat race. The trail had become my fears. The road now, as it was, led to places I was afraid of and had no desire to be. It led to stress, anxiety, and a sense of foreboding the likes I had never experienced. It led to all the places in my mind that were wrong. As cars whizzed past me I was afraid of where I was going, I suddenly wanted to go back. But I didn't know how. I couldn't turn around, the traffic was coming right at me. I couldn't keep up with it, I was still walking. I sat down and fell into panic and fear.

I sat there for a long time wondering what to do. All the time the sights and sounds of the rat race flew by me in both directions. I couldn't see my family, friends or career. I couldn't even see myself anymore. I had become anonymous to all but the fear. I sat there, watching the rat race fly by me, destroying what I knew. It destroyed my inner self, it clouded the sky, and even ran over the wildlife. All around me were things I didn't want to see. I needed to get out of this place. I needed to get back to the trail.

I looked around me and saw across the road a small opening in the fence with a clearing behind it. I had to run for it. I bolted across the oncoming rat race and jumped the fence, and fell. It seemed like I fell a hundred feet, but it was only a fraction of that. I fell into the brush, listening to the rat race whiz by me overhead. I was off the road, but now in my own fog. Now I was in the trees with no path. Again, the panic gripped me, the fear grew inside me, and I couldn't see my family or friends. I had to keep moving - I had to find the small path, the one I should have taken the first time. But I had no idea where to look for it. As I moved farther from the rat race the sky began to clear and through the trees I picked out familiar shapes in the sky - trees and wildlife that I had seen before. I heard a stream, peaceful and tranquil. I headed for it.

I had to pick my was through the forest, making my own trail. I climbed over rocks and over swampy areas still saturated with rain. Ever closer I moved toward the sound of the stream but it seemed like it was so far off - it seemed like the closer I got to it the farther away it moved. I began to hear my family calling. I began to hear my friends calling. But I still couldn't see them. I walked for what seemed like months, through the trees and over bogs that held me back. Swampy land that made me find another path. Several times I fell down and cried because I couldn't shake the fear and anxiety. Several times I collapsed. But each time I knew I had to get up and keep moving. The stream was still there, in my head. It was in front of me, but I couldn't see it. I kept going.

Finally I came to the small trail, the one I had lost. Finally I had made it there. The trees were as picturesque as I had remembered them and the wildlife was all around me, and they all seemed like they were egging me in a certain direction. The direction that would lead me to my lost family and friends. I could hear them, but I could still not see them. Again, I panicked and and the anxiety caught hold of me. I sat down against a tree and stared up. I thought long and hard if this was the right path. Were there three? After all this progress, after all this falling down and getting back up again, was I still on the wrong path? How could that be when I could still hear the familiar stream, which was still so far distant. I knew they were there, I knew I had to find them.

I must keep going.

Sanity School

This morning I start a three week program at the hospital for outpatient mental health issues. Basically it's intensive psychotherapy. I have a therapist that I am due to go back to at some point, but with one hour appointments once per week, it won't add up to this.

I'm a little nervous, sitting in a room with a bunch of other people telling all about my issues, but if I think about it, that's not too far removed from what I've been doing on this blog, facebook and with my friends and family. I've not hidden this. The difference here is that I'm face to face with strangers. Once I'm finished with this, I can finally go back to work, but that's a whole other issue.

I was going to write a part three of my experience in the psych ward, but I didn't get there. Sorry, I will anyway soon, so stay tuned. For all of you who read the previous posts and sent me some wonderfully supportive comments, I thank you. Some of you even forwarded these to other friends. One person whom I do not know asked if she could use the blog in her outpatient sessions for mental health somewhere (I can't remember where). To which I eagerly said yes.

Everyone should know that these issues are way too common. It's not me I'm writing about, it's the illness itself. As I've said before, there are people in this world physically ill with diseases so complex and horrifying that they wrench our hearts. I know some of these people. I don't want to put my issues above their issues. I don't want to take away the awareness, but although mental illness is not physical, but there is no cure. By writing about it, I am better, but not cured, I never will be. I will just learn to cope and live.

Today is a new day.