Things of old, and what to do with them

My wife Kimberly-Ann is recovering from surgery this weekend, she had her gall bladder removed. She's been lovingly referring to it for the past few months as 'the zombie inside me'. Now that the zombie is gone, she is in pain, can't move much, and is popping pain pills, but she's still trying to take care of the world. We (kids and I) are trying to get her to understand that it's her turn to be taken care of. She put this surgery off because of my bout with the hospital of late, and that took it's toll on her. She couldn't eat any solid food for months and what she did eat didn't go down well. Now she just has to relax and recover. But relaxing isn't in her vocabulary - she wants to take care of us. Last night I went through another attack, and while curled up on the couch trying to wish it away, she was trying to help me through it. We're both slightly busted. We will recover and become normal again, she will eat and I will get back to work, in time.

In the middle of all of this, my sister asked me to come over and go through some heirlooms from our parents as she is downsizing her accommodations in the next several weeks and has no room for everything. A fair request, but lousy timing. My parents' collectibles seem to be the last thing on my mind this weekend. But it got me thinking, and looking around my own home, just how much stuff we hang onto. Holy crap.

I don't blame her for wanting my brother and I to take some of this stuff, it's full of memories of our parents who are now gone. Things we grew up with or collected over the years, or has some other meaning - like the basket of toys our kids played with at Nana and Papa's house when they were toddlers. We still have that basket, and surprisingly enough, the kids. But that request got me thinking about our own home, and I'm sure my brother is thinking it too. Family heirlooms and keepsakes are a direct reflection on one's family tree.

Our parents collected stuff, Kimberly-Ann's parents did the same, my sister's in-laws did the same, my brother's in-laws did the same and so on down the line. Somehow or other, all this stuff ends up with us collectively. This weekend my father in-law was down helping out with Kim; to which I am grateful for, and of course the conversation eventually turned to stuff in various homes in London (where Kim's family still lives) that was destined for our home someday. Kim's heirlooms.

So what does one do with this stuff? I am a pack rat, I have difficulty getting rid of anything that has any sort of memory attachment, obviously my sister has the same problem. It's not a bad thing though, we've rarely ever had to buy furniture! Right now I'm using my mother's desk to type this, beside me is my father's favourite chair which sits next to Kim's grandmother's china cabinet. Behind me is one of the three bookshelves that sat in my parent's dining room - each one of us got one. In the living room is my mother's favourite lazy-boy chair, their coffee table, and antique sofa and chair that we figure is about 80 years old and has been re-upholstered, a marble topped washing stand (part of a three piece bedroom set at least late 19th century, the other two pieces are in other rooms), and a corner trinket shelf that was hand-made by Kim's grandfather when he was a young man. The only thing in the living room we've purchased is the TV unit, which is made of particle board and will not last another five years. That's just two rooms. I'm grateful for the inheritance of these objects, to me they're priceless, but the entire house is like this. We still hang ornaments on the Christmas tree that my grandmother made 40 years ago, I have a ton of my dad's books, and Kim still uses her grandmother's electric hand mixer which incredibly enough is still in the original box!

Stuff today is crap. It's made to break so you have to buy new stuff. Great marketing strategy - let's rip people off and fill our landfills with garbage that should still work considering what was paid for it. I can't count how many coffee makers I've gone through since I got married. All junk. But if I want to make a cake, I know the mixer will be there for me! We have entire drawers full of electronics chargers, because every electronic devise uses a new style, we have two TVs in the basement that don't work anymore and I just haven't found the opportunity to toss them, I have power tools that last about four battery charges, then you can't buy new batteries, I have this, that and the next thing that is busted, going, or on my list of things I should never have even looked at.

But the heirlooms are still here.

Why do we hang onto these things? Why do we even hang onto trinkets that have no practical use? Last year I wrote this, and now I find myself revisiting that story. I still use the sugar container. The broken lid has been thrown away and it's a constant reminder to me that some things still hurt when they're not here. We hang onto these things because we can't always hang onto the one's that gave them to us. Sometimes we must make a separation, sometimes we must let go. For a family of pack rats, that's not easy.

My sister is purging but doing it the right way, trying to find homes for the things that matter. Yup, some of it is for sale, if you're interested in what contact me and I will pass the message along to her. But a lot of it is a lesson in letting go. That's a lesson I'm not ready to take yet, even though it's inevitable.

On a brighter note, Kim is doing better, so long as the pain meds are near. She's getting up with a little less pain each time and last night I made her grilled bacon and cheese burgers - she requested that as her first solid food since August. I was all to willing to comply.

Have a great day.

My wife

Today is my wife's birthday. She's 44.

It's just a number, and if you keep in mind the old phrase you're only as old as you feel, she should be 22. She's an amazing person, who has the ability to rise up to any occasion when called on, help anyone who needs it, and makes our lives better just by being near us. To us, and anyone who knows her, she's the one who makes everyone else feel 22.

I've known her since 1989, married her in 1994, had our first child in 1995, our second in 2000, bought our first house together in 2004, and had countless other experiences over the years and since. I have now spent almost half my life with her, and there is nobody I would rather have achieved that with than her. She is my everything.

She's not always had an easy birthday because it's right after Christmas, she seems to get cheated sometimes, so this year I'm giving some thought to moving it (against her will of course), to sometime in February. Maybe then her zombie gall bladder won't be giving her issues, and she can have some cake. Right now, I'm trying to figure out how to put a candle in chicken soup. Any thoughts? We intend to give her the day anyway, giving her the 'queen for a day' title. But she's my queen everyday.

She's passionate, poetic, sympathetic, ambitious, giving, artistic, musical, beautiful, and yes, tough when she needs to be. She's also been there for everyone who has needed her advise, or to just talk to when you're down. In the past eight months I have relied on her alot, maybe too much, to help me with my issues. Just by her presence I feel better. Just by her coming home I light up again. There are few words that can really ever describe the one you love. Sometimes it's just a matter of being with the person to truly know. With Kim, I know.

44.

I'm in mid-life crisis right now, hence the name of this blog, and the contributing factor to my issues over the past year. Kim is just getting started. She jokes that one day she'll figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. I hope she never does grow up, grown ups are no fun. She jams with the teens, she's the 'cool mom' of the hoard that hangs out here, and they love her too. Not just for the food (I can't talk about food until the zombie is gone, but man, can this woman cook!).

Of all the people in my life over the years Kim has been the one constant. The one shining star in the night sky that I look to for inspiration and hope. She is my best friend and I could never imagine life without her. Today she gets a little older, but also a little wiser. Today is her day to bask in her own glory. We all get our days, and some of us get selfish and greedy about it. Today Kim will still give of herself. I hope we give it back appropriately.

Happy Birthday Love.

I look forward to another 44 of them.

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.