Turtle Power

 Today is October 24, '20 as I write this.  Fall is certainly here.  I woke up shivering last night because it got quite chilly outside, and evidently, inside.  

I just woke up from a marathon sleep of about 12 hours or so.  This past week, I had to get up on Monday, Tuesday and Friday at 5am because of shipments arriving at work for Christmas.  This is a crazy busy time of year where I work.  October/early November is the most hectic time for my job every year preparing for the holly-days.  I get home tired and sore, enough to wipe out any gym time because work IS my gym.  But, going to the gym is a massive pain in the ass these days.  I do understand it, but I don't like it.  You can only go by appointment because of this whole damned Covid thing.  When I get a chance to, I run outside.  I'm contemplating again training for a marathon.  The last run I did, I slowed my pace a little and found I could run longer a lot more comfortably, making me think if I trained, I could actually do it, so we'll see.  It'd be pretty epic for me, being 55 soon, to run a marathon for the first time.  

I do miss participating in taekwondo too, but I'll only train under one particular trainer, and he's not doing it anymore.  I feel I could improve upon the black belt skills I've learned.  I love the striking that comes with taekwondo, and the forms that shape the technique.  I don't really see a time when I'll ever go back to it, though, unfortunately.  Back in the day when I earned my belt, I went with my wife and daughter, neither of whom train anymore.  They both earned 2nd degree black belts while I toiled earning my first; but like a grade 9 teacher of mine said when I failed two grades before, the mountaintop looks the same from the peak no matter how long it takes to get there.

So therefore comes the admission I've not really made in any forthright manner before in the past:  I am a slow learner.  For whatever reasons; but I surmise that it might be perhaps because of the TBI's I experienced as a child.  I remember my grades were picking up from steady C's in the first three grades to B's, and then Dad died, a bunch of accidents happened, among other things, and from that point forward I struggled in school.  My behavior changed a lot.  I drove my mother and siblings crazy with a lot of my antics, understandably, and back in those days, not a lot of attention was paid to sufferers of TBI's or the ramifications that come with dealing with them.  My cognitive behavior was radically changed, and worsened as time went on, because I didn't know the source of it all, and neither did anyone else.  Now, it's plain as day.  I have to hope that those I've wronged back in those days might understand my lack of judgment brought on by all this stuff I was forced to grapple with.  Even today, I question some of my judgment and how I react to things.  But I blame myself less now, at least.  Sometimes.

Having a learning disability isn't something anyone would actually brag about on their job resumes.  It isn't something that's improved over the years, either.  I know people get frustrated with me when I can't pick something up right away, or even soon, and I never offer the reasons that I just provided here in this blog, because I hate using excuses.  Especially repeatedly.  But it's held me back a lot through life when it came to nailing the 'big jobs', not to mention keeping my self-confidence underground.  I do have an inferiority complex.  I don't think a lot of people admit these things, because of the fear of shame that it might invite, not necessarily in person -- but once the back is turned.  I don't factually know what people say when I'm not around, but I have a good idea.  But maybe that's the problem.  Assumption can truly be a demon.

I remember when I was a teenager and I got my first job as a store clerk at Green Gables on West Lane here in Moncton.  When I was being trained by the legendary Donnie Goguen, who managed the store, it took two to three weeks to get me through it, when most people learn within a week.  The man had epic patience with me!  I worked for him under three different company names, though, so he must've seen something in me.  He did make me assistant manager at Green Gables back in '86, and I kind of blew the opportunity by requesting that I learn management skills more slowly.  Not to mention I just wasn't responsible.  Ironically, the one that took the assistant manager title from me was my wife-to-be!  That was Donnie's choice, not hers.  She was far sharper and actually mentally stable.  That remains today.  In retrospect, everything turned out how it should have, because we wound up being married with a wonderful little girl, plus, I'm still here.  I'm convinced I wouldn't be if not for Janice.  My sailboat was adrift at sea and she was the wind that brought me to shore, steering me out of the storms.

Still, I doubt myself and question my decisions, and even the things I say, on a regular basis.  Such is the life of a traumatic brain injury patient.  I say 'patient', because since '96, I've been treated for it by my family doctor, until I finally was given a psychiatrist fairly recently.  Only to be dropped by said psychiatrist, so now my doctor is overseeing things again.  Thing is, my doctor is not a shrink or psychologist.  I'm basically on my own again as far as navigating my way through this, although I'd be highly remiss if I didn't mention that Janice is my number 1 advocate.  She accompanies me to my appointments these days, by my request, to offer information that I might be hesitant to divulge.  She even covertly talks to my medical professionals when things flare up and she wants guidance.  That's protection you can't buy.  On a cute aside, my wife's spirit animal is the hippo, she absolutely loves Fiona the Hippo at the Cincinatti Zoo.  But I refuse to call her 'my little hippo' because of what some rude people might think. so I call her my 'Shrippo', or, my Incredble Shrinking Hippo.  To her, I'm her Monkey, my spirit animal.  You should experience us at our loosest around here.  I'll jump around making monkey noises to the delight of my wife.  When the Gorilla Glue commercials come on TV, I mark out and imitate the gorilla, I become a giant kid.  I'm my wife's Monkey, who will go into Gorilla Mode to defend the honor of my sweet Shrippo.  And be careful if you incite that taekwondo Gorilla to come to the surface!  I'll come at you with all bananas blazing.

I worry sometimes at work that I'll lose my job, especially these days.  I won't mention the company I work for, but suffice to say they're constantly making cuts to their workforce, despite the fact that with the onset of Covid, they're making billions more in profits as a result of it.  But they insist on less people doing more work.  My job title is receiver.  At most places under this company, they've eliminated receivers, but my boss insisted on keeping me because he values my work.  Here's the thing... he's not going to be my boss forever.  He talks a lot about leaving, and everytime he does, I get nervous.  I'm quite sure when he does, the next boss will cut my position like all the other places.  That would leave me to seek out a new job.  I've been doing this one for ten years this month.  At my age, there's not a lot I can do, or learn very quickly, so that would throw my life into chaos.  Thus the worry is there.  To be blunt, I'm really not that smart or sharp.

A lot of people have told me I should be a writer for a living.  I always rebuke that with the facts that I failed three grades, barely squeaked out of high school, and don't have any clue what I would do to get that kind of work.  Go to school again?  I don't think so.  Last time I attempted going back to school it didn't go very well, hence my learning impairment.  I'm not saying I'm stupid, just that my brain's efficiency level isn't exactly top notch, given my circumstances.  You might think, you, reading this, that my writing doesn't reflect someone with the description I gave above.  But everything I said is true.  I have no clue whatsoever who would hire me to write for them, or why.  I did start writing a book actually, but threw it aside after my last counselor critiqued the hell out of a short story I wrote.  She was an author herself, so her opinion threw a lot of cold water on any creative fire I had, whether she meant that or not.

On the other hand, there's this woman I know who's written a ton of books that insists my writing is kick-ass and needs to be seen.  She's quite special to me, really.  MIMA, or Michelle, is kind of a mentor to me when it comes to writing at all.  She's the reason I began writing a book, with her encouragement.  She's also a big reason why I'm very level headed these days, after she suggested I try something to combat my mental illness issues.  She recommended a mantra:  "my ego is trying to kill me".  It works!  Whenever I feel slighted or degraded in any way, I tell myself this.  It's true when you think about it, that the ego gets in the way of pretty much everything.  Ultimately, Pride really is a deadly sin.  If you feel you're entitled to anything, you set yourself up for disappointment that could represent mammoth proportions, as it did with me.  I'm not saying this is a magic bullet, or I'm cured in any way, but it's a great weapon in my defense arsenal.  I owe MIMA a lot.  God bless her.  I encourage you to check her out, too.  

I'm happy to report that there's been no incidents of self harm since my last post.  That's definitely progress, even if it's not that lengthy of an amount of time.  But, there is another health issue in the form of nodes on my vocal cords.  I got it checked out and apparently, they're benign (hopefully anyway), but I see my ENT in a few weeks where she'll check on them to see if it's improved by doubling the dose of my stomach meds; she believes it may have something to do with acid reflux, which I don't think, but I'll follow her instructions nonetheless.  They likely will have to be surgically removed.  That means Janice gets complete silence from me for at least two weeks after such surgery.  So no jumping around with monkey noises for that period of time.  

On another note, I was happy that a jam band appeared to be forming with me drumming, until suddenly the plug was pulled.  This left me thinking about starting a YouTube channel with me drumming to songs so guitar players out there can crank it up and jam along with me that way.  I'm not what you'd call much of a good drummer, but it's something I'd get a kick out of.  I finally landed a cymbal that I'd only dreamed of having all of my drumming life, a 22 inch Zildjian K Ride, albeit used, but after I polished that sucker up it was new to me.  It might just light that fire under my ass to get playing again, bad wrist and all.  Maybe I can conjure up another jam band out of it.  Jamming is one of my favorite things in life to do that I haven't done now in years, sadly.

I will close once again on this note... that if you're suffering from mental illness of any kind, of any severity, you absolutely have to talk to someone and/or get help.  If your partner is supporting you, you have no idea how much of a blessing it is, or maybe you do.  If your partner is bringing you down because of it, LEAVE.  You're worth so much more.  There are a lot of us out here who will catch you if you fall.  Just like a lot of folks broke my own fall.  Don't give up on yourself!

God bless, and thanks so much for reading.

The Beast

 I'm in the staff room of my workplace as I prepare to leave after a shift.  My manager is there, along with a couple of other staffers, and another in a nearby room down the hall within earshot, while the administrator walks into the staff room and drops papers on the table in front of me.  

"These are the life insurance papers I asked you to sign before the first time you tried to kill yourself," she blurts out.  I'm aghast at the lack of discretion.  My manager looks at her with his jaw agape, and asks her, "why wouldn't you do this in private with him?"  

"This is why people like me are quiet and normally clam up about these things," I say in frustration as my hands go up in the air.  "This is why one day you might find me dead in a pool of blood somewhere, or stepping in front of a speeding truck or something, because we find the battle just isn't worth it anymore, or we don't have the strength to fight it, because it's been drained by people just like you."  

And then I woke up.  Just now.  It was a dream.  But a dream based in reality.

I know what it's like for a lot of people from day to day, for those of us who are looking for the slightest bit of good in the world to make it a little bit brighter.  I often will say something to someone to light that little candle in their day, because light is the only thing that can fight darkness.  It might be a delivery driver who shows up to drop something off.  It might be a friend online.  It might be a co-worker.  I just think all of us should be proactive to try to make the air a little more positive, especially during these times; times which have been the most trying in modern history.  

It might be especially hard to deal with for those of us who have already been compromised by some form of mental illness.  For me, I've been compromised, I believe, since I was 12, when I tried to shake my dead father awake in his bed, while my mother tries to quell the stress with chain smoking and a constant stream of tears.  Suddenly, from that point forward to the present, I began to get involved in a series of car accidents and incidents of self-harm that I kept quiet, to perhaps call attention to myself that something was wrong.  I wasn't brave enough in those days to admit that was the case.  I was a kid.  Not a pure and innocent one either, but who of us really were?

Nowadays, to this day I still engage in self harm.  As recent as yesterday.  I won't go into details, other than to say when I feel I deserve punishment, which is a lot, I administer it to myself physically.  I was accused of something terrible at work that sent me into a state of mind that's hard to defend my sanity against.  

Medication has helped.  It actually saved my life more than once.  Cannabis oil has been especially beneficial, perhaps even life-saving.  But as many mental health professionals will tell you, medication alone won't do the trick.  In person talk therapy combined with medication is the double whammy that can beat back the Big Dark Monster.  I took part in that therapy a couple of years ago.  But here's the thing... after three visits, my "allowance" of time with a professional, ran out.  

That was with the psychologist.  She was quite good, but constrained by bureaucracy that says she can't help me anymore if the money isn't there to pay for it.  The kind of money I don't have.  This help was through Morneau-Shepell... yes, that Morneau that resigned from Canadian politics in disgrace.   Then there's the psychiatrist I've been under the 'care of' for the last few years.  At least up until a year and a half ago.  The last time I saw this person, I was given two prescriptions and sent on my way without booking a return appointment.  No calls to see how I'm doing.  No follow ups of any sort.  So I guess he's not my psychiatrist anymore.  My wife Janice understands my frustration, because she accompanied me to my appointments, and sensed, like I did, that he didn't seem to care a hell of a lot.  Clearly, after all this time has passed since my last appointment, that's proven to be quite true.

I tried again to ween myself off the meds, twice, since then.  But I always wind up being that same guy that found his lifeless dad in bed that day in '78; still that same little boy looking for some kind of relief from pain that just accumulates and accumulates.  But I won't let you tell me, either, that I'm weak of mind and spirit.  Because 42 years later, depression and anxiety issues be damned, I'm still here.  Like my psychologist said, I Am Resilient.  

But I can't have this kind of strength to forge forward without my wife with a net at the bottom of that tall building I teeter from , scrambling to figure out where I'm going to fall next.  She's always there to catch me.  I know you're reading this, Janice.  I live because you make it so.  I love you.

Still, life all too often questions me whether or not all the pain is withstand-able.  I know my brain is scrambled from my history of injuries and self-harm.  And I know, no matter what I tell myself, that I'll endure whatever comes after me.  For now.  Until tomorrow, when I'll inevitably ask myself that same question... Can I?  I'm doing battle with my own self, my own self doubt, my unrelenting guilt for past misdeeds.  When I'm at my worst, I'm literally disgusted by what I see in the mirror.  Like yesterday.  Those of us like me know exactly what I'm saying here.  I implore you, don't you even dare think of telling somebody like this that "others have it worse than you", "be happy you have what you've got", "you have to have a better outlook", etc.  What you wind up doing is just heaving more guilt on this person, making everything worse.

Through my eyes, I don't see an end to all of it.  Would you?  After 42 years?  There were glimmers of hope, like when I was first prescribed meds by my physician.  I gained control somewhat, and was able to tame the beast temporarily, but I could never kill it.  Like the song says, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

It isn't getting easier with age, it's getting harder.  Friends are disappearing.  Some are dying -- one from the same illness that I'm dealing with -- and others disappear out of frustration for me.  I don't blame one of them.  I've become a chronic introvert, resisting socializing out of fear of some kind of rejection or chastisement that will send me back into that cage with the Beast to do battle once again.  I just don't know how much longer I can keep fighting at my age.

So, now what?  If I ask for another psychiatrist, I know what I'll hear.  'You have one'.  Or, if I do get a shot at another one, I'll have to once again get on the years-long waiting list to see one.  See a psychologist.  The waiting list thing again, unless you have money.  Just don't expect the health care system to give a flying fuck about your plight if you can't afford to pay for it yourself.  With the whole coronavirus thing in full swing right now, any attempts to get help are quite futile these days.  All of the focus is on controlling the virus that's actually itself controlling the planet at the moment.  But don't worry... if you have it, they'll find help for you somewhere, because they can actually see that you're sick.  You're coughing, wheezing, have a fever, throwing up, all visible symptoms.  People like me?  You have to take our word for it.  If you don't, some of us will self-harm.  But  most often enough, you will not see these injuries.  We hurt ourselves in places where you normally wouldn't be able to see.  It's why during this past summer, one of the hottest on record, you never once saw me wear shorts or go shirtless.  Because there's a lot of shame in self-harming.  I think I'm butt-ugly as it is.  

I write these blogs partly because they're therapeutic, partly informative, and also to implore those going through anything similar to at least attempt to get help.  Just because I've failed to find it doesn't mean you also will.  For whatever reason, I'm not getting listened to, but that doesn't mean that's how it's going to be for everyone.  There are plenty of success stories out there of people who've "found their way out".  Why can't you be one of them?  You at least have to try.  

But here is the stark reality with me... as with every single blog I've written on this topic, this may be the last one I get to write.  Maybe you'll more likely hear something like "at least he's at peace, now" from someone I know.  I have a wife and daughter who love me and say they need me.  That helps keep me going.  But this illness of mine keeps challenging me.  And to be frank, I'm not getting stronger with age.

Chances are, you know someone going through something like this.  Don't give up on them.  If you are going through it, don't give up on YOU.

God bless.

Let the good times roll

Here in my province of New Brunswick, Canada, there were recently two deaths of indigenous people at the hands of the police.  Black Lives Matter is to the U.S. what MMIW (Missing Murdered Indigenous Women) is to Canada, although to be sure, indigenous men are also on the shitty end of the police baton.  I'm pretty disgusted with how our governments (read: plural) have handled the whole mess that has existed at least as long as Canada has.  But wait.... there's more!

A Canadian federal election is surely coming soon enough, since right now we have a minority Liberal government heading up the country.  The carelessness of Justin Trudeau on how he handles certain matters is freakishly startling to me.  And I'm a liberal.  Note... liberal with a small 'l', not of the Liberal Party.  The Conservatives scare me a lot more than any Liberal government ever did, especially since they wiped the 'Progressive' out of their title.  That ought to make people think right there.  But the Liberals aren't a hell of a lot more progressive, either.  I remember the last federal election where JT's 'Sunny Ways' movement was inspiring people to get away from the backwards disaster that was the Harper regime, but now it all just looks like a facade.  Harper can be somewhat forgiven for a tanking federal deficit because of the stock market crash in the late '00s, but the oft-proclaimed 'genius economist' didn't see the crash coming when it was creeping right up his nose.  In the meantime, he put all of Canada's economic eggs in one basket with the tar sands (I refuse to say 'oil sands' because that shit's much dirtier), and we fell down the rabbit hole of painful recovery that cost us our accumulating EI funds and countless social programs that hurt everyone from the poor and middle class to our tearful veterans, not to mention Canada's reputation worldwide as a nation that actually cares.  Give JT props for raising Canada's reputation back up worldwide, but here at home, he's looking more and more like a bumbling fool who, unfortunately, is making the Cons look like they were right when they proclaimed he's 'just not ready' to be the nation's leader.  He isn't.  And he wasn't.  "WE" certainly see that now.

Whenever there's a crisis where he has to defend one of his big mistakes, he either gets 'mommy' Chrystia Freeland to fight his battles for him (who, in my mind, ought to actually be the country's PM), or he throws gargantuan amounts of dollars at it.  It's what he did for the MMIW issue, which yielded absolutely nothing.  The Phoenix payroll debacle, while not born on his watch, just got worse and worse, with the sounds of ka-ching ka-ching echoing in the foreground of finance minister Bill Morneau's disastrous remedying of its mounting issues.  Money to fight these kinds of issues is fine, if it's spent responsibly, and with intelligence, none of which seems to ever happen with this government. 

I'll give them props for a few things, like managing the COVID crisis and helping keep Canadians safe, especially in comparison to our next door neighbours.  But every damn time I see JT on television, he's dishing out more billions with no plan to recover.  The recent 'economic snapshot' was just a joke, looking to me like a brief moment in time before things get worse and they have to admit the numbers are going into freefall.  Let's make no mistake... recovery isn't going to be easy.  It isn't meant to be.  Anyone knows the more money you borrow, the longer it takes to pay it back.  Canada will not be out of its current debt in my lifetime, or yours, regardless of how old you are.  Let's just be real.

But if we're going to climb out of this seemingly endless well of deficit, the country needs to take bold and dramatic steps to make it happen.  If COVID has done anything positive, it's forced us to re-think the world's economic model in the age of the ticking time bomb that is climate change.  There is a sect out there that is addicted to oil, and like any addiction, there are going to be withdrawal symptoms, but getting off of it won't kill us.  Staying on it WILL.  But again, like any addiction, once we are off of it, we'll be so much healthier and our outlook so much more promising.  Any scientist will vouch for this, also.

America's Joe Biden's recent media address left me feeling a hell of a lot more hopeful for the future than anything I've heard from any world leader in ages.  He wants his nation to get off oil by the middle of next decade, and he acknowledges that it won't be easy, but the rewards are endless.  Millions upon millions of jobs can be created through renewable energies and innovation, eliminating the need for pollution-spitting, humanity-killing fossil fuels, concurrently giving our very planet a shot at a future with humans on it.  And let's face it; if humanity destroys itself with its greed and lust for power via fossil fuels, planet earth will breathe a sigh of relief for itself.  It will continue on prosperously without us.  So why not feed the earth instead of starving and torturing it? 

The Liberals touted themselves as champions of the environment for many years now, only to buckle to pressure from oil tycoons and petrol-rich provinces.  I sympathize with Alberta.  It's all they've ever known.  They've quite literally fed Canada for decades with the riches that come from its finite reserves of fossil fuels.  We owe them!  Let's face that.  They're literally lashing out at the rest of the country for being thankless for helping build Canada through its history, only to be virtually shit on for doing just that with the means by which they've been doing it.  The best thank-you we can give Alberta is to make them one of the country's top priorities in sustainability through renewables.  But the Liberals have all but ignored that idea.  The Greens, on the other hand, recognize what needs to be done, and have laid out a plan for that for years.  I realize there's next to no support for the Green Party in Alberta, but thankfully, the feelings aren't mutual. 

Even Jagmeet Singh and the NDP have been borrowing from the Greens' agenda by pledging to modernize Canada's energy sector.  Hell, even the Bloc has a smarter look at the future of energy and environmental concerns than the Conservatives do.  While I don't ever want to see some kind of 'Unite the Left' movement like the Progressive Conservatives and the Reform Party (if "reform" is actually what the "R" stands for) did with the right, I do hope that the balance of power sticks to liberal interests that look forward than the backward peering conservatives.  You can't drive a car somewhere by staring in the rear view mirror the whole time or you'll surely crash.  However, you also want someone experienced driving that car if the road ahead is a long, bumpy one.  Justin Trudeau can't even change a proverbial flat.  He needs Freeland to do it for him.  Regardless, we can only let the good times roll if the leader really knows how to drive.  And that's just what we need.  Time to shake it up for a brighter panorama of the future.

And for the love of the sweet Lord, talk to the friggin' Chinese leaders and get our guys back.  NOW. 

Rants and Raves

Coronavirus is here, and like an obnoxious guest that just won't leave the party, it's making everyone a bit cranky.  I haven't had the time off work that a lot of others have had, but believe me, I'm thankful for that.  During my six weeks off with a broken wrist, I had enough 'time off'.  People have asked me, 'how do you like your extra vacation?'  A vacation is time off on your terms.  My broken wrist and coronavirus don't fit that description.  I think just about everyone would agree with that.

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It might come as somewhat of a shock to some that I've given up on WWE.  It's been over a month since I've watched any of their programming.  Before you think to yourself, "he's finally given up on that fake fighting crap", no, he hasn't.  I watch AEW, a rival wrestling promotion that has a considerably different direction, but watching AEW isn't the reason I've quit on WWE.  I gave up on it once I found out WWE founders Vince and Linda McMahon donated millions to the Trump re-election campaign the same day they laid off and fired lots of wrestlers from their company.  I don't like the republican party in the States, but that's really neither here nor there on this issue.  What my problem with it is that such a vile, evil, hateful man like Donald Trump is getting support from a company that I used to endorse.  I've always known the McMahons are republicans.  Linda was a part of Trump's administration, even, before leaving it to devote all her efforts on his re-election.  Before Trump, I had no problem with it.  Now, I have a huge problem with it.  I no longer subscribe to the WWE Network, because I hate the thought of one penny of my own money is helping support a wannabe dictator bent on destroying the lives of anyone who doesn't 100% agree with him.  I also gave up on watching "Survivor" and "Shark Tank" as well as any Mark Burnett production, because he's an ardent Trump supporter and fundraiser.  Same with Wendy's restaurant chain.  I don't like the conservative party in Canada either, but there's no Trump in Canada.  Yet.  I do, however, have a measure of respect for the Progressive Conservatives, which is what my province in Canada has.  When the federal party splintered to become Conservative without the Progressive, they appeared to become more hateful and imposing, and they lost me.  Progressive, to me, means to look forward.  Conservative, to me, means to make do with what you have.  Same old same old.

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I've had a lot of spiritual questions lingering in my head lately.  The chief one being, why are the Old Testament and New Testament in the Bible so vastly different?  Why did God become so much more gentle in the NT compared to the OT?  It makes me wonder if God Himself has the inclination to change his mind from time to time.  I would like to believe that the God I follow judges His children on how they treat one another, that He takes into account everything that everyone is pre-disposed with.  In other words, a God of mercy.  If God really loves us more than we love our own kids even, then I have to think that He loves all of us despite ourselves.  Is the Bible God's word, or man's interpretation of God's word?  Because many religions came along that splintered from Catholicism claiming their way is the written way.  Man's interpretation is certainly lurking in there somewhere.  My belief is that God wants us to love each other especially when it's difficult to do so, because love conquers all.  A lot of us ask, "why does God let such terrible things happen?"  To which I say, because God gave us free will.  If He bailed us out every time we screwed up, how do we learn anything at all?  When Jesus asked His Father in the garden to spare him of the great pain that was about to happen with him, it didn't happen.  Man got his way.  If God won't spare His own Son, why would He spare any of us?  I believe you can appeal with prayer, but it's God's judgment to let man decide his own destiny, for better or worse.  I think that's completely fair.  If you move out of your parents' house and you get in financial trouble, you can ask your mom and dad for help, but they might refuse it in order to teach you a lesson.  You can't get help every single time you ask for it or you'll learn nothing.  And hate gets no one anywhere.  I have to wonder what Jesus would say about immigration issues going on today, or gun control problems, or capitalism run amok.  To me, Jesus was the original socialist.  True socialism is about making sure the less fortunate don't struggle or fall through the cracks of society.  No one should be homeless, without health care, or judged by the color they were born with, nor should they be chastised for the religion they adhere to, as long as it doesn't harm anyone else.

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Then there's the issue of abortion.  Wow, that's a loaded one.  You have people on one side and people on the other, very few in between.  My personal view is I don't like the idea of abortion at all.  But there has to be a better way to deal with both sides without one pissing off the other so much.  Firstly, every woman is an equal human being.  No man or woman can dictate what happens with her body.  I do believe abortion needs to be discouraged, though, or better yet, that birthing a child needs to be encouraged.  Many conservatives tend to incite anger in women by telling them they must have a child if they're pregnant, no matter what the circumstances.  No ifs, ands, or buts.  The same conservatives that treasure that life in the womb often pull the rug out from under the mother once the child is born, which largely contributes to such pushback from those who are fearful once they become pregnant.  Democratic socialism is key to fixing this.  Assistance to the mother and child, namely when they don't have access to it, is what can change the entire narrative around the abortion subject.  Until everyone genuinely tries to understand a pregnant woman's plight, there can be no solution to such a sensitive subject.  Far right "Christian" politicians who see things in either black or white, with no room whatsoever for discussion, have no place for rule in a democratic society.

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What about the gay culture?  Geez, all over the Bible there's passages ranting against homosexuality, right?  It's also in the Bible that you can't get tattoos and expect to go to Heaven.  But there are lots of clergymen and women with tattoos.  So what changed?  WE did.  We evolved and became smarter and more understanding than we used to be back in biblical times.  At least for the most part.  Perhaps society 2000 years ago was a bit different, no?  Could it be that we were actually able to grow over that time?  Because if God changed between testaments, why wouldn't He between those days and now?  As long as love, civility and fairness are involved, why would He be against it?  Maybe in those days, homosexuality involved lust more than it does love as it does today.  I don't think God's very approving of the whole lust thing, but love is a different story.  And straight people are every bit as prone to lust as gay people are, make no mistake.

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Something that really changed my view on gay culture is a TV show called 'Six Feet Under'.  I think that show might be a bit too raunchy for some, but for those with an open mind and heart, I think it can be revelatory.  There are two gay characters in the show in particular that try to show the audience that they're people too, every bit as much as anyone else, deserving of respect and love as much as the next person.  A good person is a good person, no matter what their sexual orientation.  But to see 'Keith' and 'David' interact and deal with life issues and their difficulties is eye-opening, to say the least.  If you follow the show, you wind up getting to know these characters and genuinely appreciate what they go through.  You develop feelings for them, just as if they were... what... human beings.  Because they are!!  Hey, I'm guilty as anyone else of making fun of gay people in my past.  I look back on it now and see how ugly that really is.  Not unlike racism of any sort.  It's very un-Christian.  There is no place whatsoever for hatred in any form of Christianity.  Which is why I scoff at the very idea that Donald Trump is a Christian.

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A lot of folks in the U.S. sides with either Fox News or CNN/MSNBC.  Fox News, of course, leaning heavily to the right, the others to the left.  There's a site on Facebook called Politifact that appears to call things right down the middle, exposing truths and exaggerations on both sides.  I tell a lot of folks to just take in Cuomo Prime Time on CNN on weeknights.  He's very gracious and gives both sides time for their arguments and challenges them both.  He's a Christian man who does what he can to see both sides of an argument and looks for a bridge in the form of facts rather than opinions.  You won't see any hate spewed on his program, at least not by him.  If you haven't watched yet, give him a try.  My wife and I actually find hope in watching his program because there's a lot less spin than on other political commentators' shows.

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Anybody missing baseball?  I sure as hell am.  Where I live, my house is adjacent to a local ballpark, where games are played all summer.  I grew up in this neighbourhood, too.  Like everywhere else, though, games are canceled through the summer because of the whole coronavirus thing.  It's only going to remind us of how bleak things seem when there are no ballpark lights illuminating the field with cheering fans when I go to bed early sometimes to get up early for work a couple of times a week.  Not even on TV.  The big thing that really bothers me about major league sports is the money involved.  A great man I know named Donny Goguen told me many years ago, "no man's job is worth a million dollars a year."  That extends to baseball/hockey/football etc. players.  If their "jobs" are worth millions a year, then what about the military that protects our country?  The doctors and nurses that literally save our lives every day?  The cops that are constantly subject to questioning of the actions they take to quell violence and crime with their lives on the line?  Something is way out of whack.  That 'something' is capitalism.  Sports money got crazy greedy in the 80's when Reaganomics took over.  Now, people are conditioned to admire players who get record contracts with ridiculous unnecessary amounts of money to PLAY sports.  Same goes for music.  Concert ticket prices are just stupid these days, but I kind of, sort of understand it.  The music industry is fading every year because of online piracy, and artists are looking to concert events to recoup that money.  Problem is, it's on the backs of the everyday citizen who's a fan of their music.  The bottom line is, people don't need to amass unnecessary amounts of money to sustain themselves.  Sure, everyone should be able to enjoy some degree of luxury if they've earned it, but it becomes obnoxious when greed overtakes desire for sustainability.  And no oligarch should be able to dictate what happens politically and at what rate they choose.  I'm looking at YOU, Bezos, Kochs and Irvings, among dozens more.

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Watching any TV these days?  I know that's a silly question, where everyone's being told to stay home and watch Netflix.  Besides 'Six Feet Under' reruns, we're catching up on 'Westworld', and recently finished up a series called 'Devs', which I totally recommend.  It's a bit of a mind-bender, but not in the sense of having to figure things out, as much as challenging your beliefs and what you think you know, as well as where we might be headed.  I say it all the time, producer/writer/director Alex Garland is the new Stanley Kubrick -- you'd swear it was his work.  'Watchmen' on HBO is also exceptional, and it does help to have read the comic/graphic novel before you watch, but also if you can watch the 'Watchmen' theatrical movie first, because the HBO version of 'Watchmen' is actually a sequel to the original story.  You'll want to watch it again after you've seen it.  I also recommend 'The Leftovers' on HBO.  It's a fascinating take on the question of what would it be like if a rapture-like occurance happened, where 2% of the population on earth suddenly disappeared.  It's heart wrenching, thought provoking and thoroughly fascinating, and at time depressing, but hard to stop watching.  It's only three seasons long by design, with an ending that's quite satisfying.  I should also point out that 'Watchmen' and 'Devs' are both limited series as well, both at one season each.  They play more like a long movie split up in chapters than an actual series. 

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Anyway, that's all I have for rants and raves for the time being.  Take care and thanks for reading.

Kick At the Darkness

These are strange days, eh?  I mean, cripes.

Way back in 2019 ... it sure seems way back ... around Christmas time, things were as they usually are on my own end.  Kind of a downer, a bit of a spiral, and more or less an endurance test for those of us who have a hard time with that season, namely Depression and Anxiety patients.  It's hard to escape memories for some of us.  I'm constantly battling with things I miss from days gone by to dealing with guilt for all I've done wrong that I'd love a second chance at.  The trick is to look ahead.  But wait... 2020 is just gonna up the ante, ain't it??

Really, Christmas wasn't too bad.  As is every year, though, there's a deft loneliness that lingers, because so many people are missing year to year due to passing away, leaving for other places, or just plain split apart.  You have to make the best of what you've got.  I've got my wife and daughter to get me through the holidays.  Without them, I'd be utterly, completely lost.  

Working in retail as a receiver at a drug store, October and November are the toughest months to get through, as that's when the most product arrives at the store.  And seeing as I'm a receiver, I'm the guy that takes it in and records it all, mostly, in the store computers before it has to be merchandised.  A lot of interaction happens on the main floor of the store, so that's a bit of a nightmare for a guy like me.  I have no problem helping someone or dealing with pleasant folks.  It's just the ratio of rude people accelerates during those busy times.  And that I have a hard time dealing with.  So, I rejoice at the thought of January.  I often say that January is my Christmas month, because things notably slow down after a hectic season.  Well, January saw its share of challenges, with me working hard and non-stop, through my breaks and lunches and into overtime, but I got a sense of accomplishment through it all.  I was feeling good.  The wife and me cleared a substantial debt at the bank, we were going to the gym on a regular basis, and generally feeling good.  The new year looked promising!  

2020:  "Hold my beer..."

In January, I had my MRI on my right knee which was really acting up, and subsequently saw my ortho doctor about what could be done.  The short answer is, nothing.  My knee frequently gives out and sends searing shots of pain through my leg that causes it to buckle a lot.  I thought there was more ligament or tendon damage that needed repair, or whatever, or maybe it's arthritis.  The doc said, yep, lots of arthritis in there, another tear in the miniscus, but the tear was horizontal not vertical, which apparently makes a difference in urgency.  Repairing it would produce scar tissue, he said.  Also I had a Baker's Cyst on the back of that same knee which made squatting excruciating.  I do that a lot at work as part of my job, which is really physical, so these things are piling up, you know?  Ultimately, according to the doc, no course of action is to be taken.  In other words, I have to live with the searing pain when it happens, which is a lot at work, and the doc recommended I change the way I work.  I can't.   Anyone who knows me knows I can't work 'easy' or 'slowly'.  So, I roll the dice every day and take extra care to avoid the worst.  I mean, geez, I'm 54, not 84.  Still, the month was going pretty good.  Things looked promising.  Tax time was coming, which we get a decent refund for every year to help fix up the house because of our disability claims.  There's stuff we need to do to keep this building respectable.  We were psyched at how the future was shaping up.

In early February, while receiving one of the big orders that I do on Tuesdays and Fridays at 5am, I slipped while pulling a very heavy pallet of stock and fell backwards, landing on my left arm.  It hurt, but I dusted myself off and kept going.  The truck driver seemed concerned and helped me with unloading the rest.  He's a really nice guy, a big, fit fella with this deep voice that reminds me of the Brawny paper towel guy that used to be on commercials on TV.  I worked through the next three hours alone, with my left wrist hurting, and got myself a brace to support it until staff showed up around 8am-ish.  I proceeded to unload product from the pallets with considerable pain; not only was my wrist hurting, but my knee was acting up too.  I wanted to stay until my boss arrived so I could give him a rundown on what happened before I headed to the hospital to have my wrist looked at.  After I briefed him on the situation, he offered his support, and off to the hospital I went.

Janice was working, so I was there by myself, but certainly not alone.  The waiting room was loaded, which meant a long wait, so I passed time by... well, waiting.  It was a long six hours.  Janice joined me when she was done work.  They finally called me in and I got an x-ray, which revealed fractures in two places in my left wrist.  A splint was put on, I was referred to an ortho guy at the other hospital, and the waiting game began.  It's not easy sleeping with one of those things on your arm, as most people who dealt with it would know.  The guy who put the splint on told me all the wrong things to do with my broken wrist, which were refuted days later when my cast got put on.  I was given pain meds, a nice red fiberglass cast, and a note saying I was off work for six weeks.  Six friggin' weeks!  To some that might sound like a vacation.  I say, I'll take a vacation on my own terms, or else it's not a vacation at all.  I couldn't work out or run, lest I sweat and make a balloon out of my cast arm, so I generally had to loaf around for a month and a half.  This sucks more than it reads.  Keeping in mind I have D&A, non-productive thoughts began creeping into my head.  I was having bad dreams.  My diet went to hell.  But wait... there's more!  

In the midst of my six weeks off, the Coronavirus crisis hit.  Businesses began shutting down, people retreated indoors by law, toilet paper suddenly was a hot commodity, and panic was setting in with the general public.  People were getting sick and dying, but it seemed at first that this might just be a variation of a flu virus.  A lot of us thought that.  Then more and more people got infected, the death rate took off, quarantines took effect, and racism was rearing its ugly head against Asians because the virus originated in Wuhan, China.  Conspiracy theories ran rampant.  The increasingly inept American president Trump told people how to treat themselves if they got sick, subsequently having to be corrected by the "fake news", as he calls it, which is everything in the general media that doesn't cheer with bright red pom poms for him.  If Trump calls it "fake news", chances are overwhelming it's very credible information, as opposed to Fox News and their ilk.  Let's be very honest, friends.  Trump is in power because of two things... his support for the pro-life crowd, which is very disingenuous to most of us, and his backing by the fanatical religious right.  Those are two tools that he uses to coerce his minions to continue to support the cult of personality that is Trump and his administration of fools.  His lack of action and degradation of his own intelligence organizations has plunged the U.S., and economically the world, into an epidemic of dangerous proportions and what will most likely be the next Great Depression.  Canada's Trudeau is throwing crazy amounts of cash at anything and everything to try to bury the problem, so we're not a lot better off, but Canada for the most part is relatively safe, at least until parliamentary budgets are released in the coming years for the rest of our lives to try to fix this giant monetary mess.  Oil is virtually free on the markets, which seems to have promptly shut up the likes of Alberta's Jason Kenny and his relentless push for pipelines.  The Green Party has never looked more relevant.  

But I digress....

Two weeks in with my six week recovery, I was up late at night one night trying to sleep, which I had great difficulty with during my entire time off.  I had my cannabis THC oil, which almost always helps me sleep, but it didn't seem to work enough this time.  At 4 in the morning, in our dark bedroom, I got up and went to Janice's side of the bed and administered some oil into a glass to mix with pop and wait for it to take effect and finally sleep.  As some time passed, I got really, really thirsty, and really 'out of it'.  My mouth felt like it was full of sand.  I sat up in bed with crazy dizziness and my ridiculously dry mouth, getting worried, and tried to summon Janice awake, but I couldn't put words together.  I wondered if I was having a stroke!  I shook her awake and told her I was in trouble of some sort.  She got up and rushed to my side of the bed, and not long after that, my head spun like a Tilt-a-Whirl and I headed to the bathroom, crashing into walls and falling, and barely made it before I puked anything and everything that was in my gut, heaving violently for over half an hour continuously.  My head was spinning with a "wow" effect, with things zooming in and out, and I was freaking out.  It occurred to me I might have taken too much cannabis oil.  I stumbled, barely, back to bed with Janice's help, who held my hair back while I was hugging the toilet, only to have to get up again after a few minutes to stumble and crash into the walls again and nearly falling into the bathtub in my rush to make it to the toilet in time.  It was even rougher this round, because there was nothing in me to vomit.  Another half an hour of retching ensued.  Our beloved cat Marbles was freaked out, as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom letting out what sounded like a crying version of meows.  The sweet little guy was worried.  When I was done, I fell to the floor, and it took me at least a half hour to crawl eight feet from the bathroom to the bed, only barely making it.  Janice was beside herself with concern.  I surmised, eventually, that I suffered a perfect storm of ailments... I had a severe anxiety attack, combined with too much oil -- as much as 4 mls, where 1 is sufficient (in my defense, it was dark, but I should have been far more careful) ... and acquired what seemed to be a bad stomach virus that was going around at the time.  It was probably the scariest round of stomach illness I've ever experienced.  Add to that I had this damned cast on and I had to be careful with everything where I was so spaced out.  After it was all over, it took weeks to recover from it.  Weeks!  I've normally bounced back from stomach viruses after a few days, but this seemed to take forever.  It made getting back to work even more challenging.

Once the six weeks were over, I promptly did go back to work, and after just a day or two was so sore and decrepit I felt like a tired old man.  I popped a lot of muscle meds and Gravol in the first week upon returning, but I knew that was just a conditioning thing, my body getting back in shape.  But now I'm battling what I call Coronablubber.  A lot of us are, I think.  With gyms closed, and being outside having been frowned upon, combined with a lot of emotional eating, we're all at war with this monster that seems to be fattening us up like turkeys for harvest next Christmas.  The wrist is still sore, but improving, despite me falling off a ladder at work the other day and landing on it again and badly bruising my hip (I did not report this).  Thankfully I had my brace on, so I only bent it to the point of straining it and not breaking it again.  The knee is another story.  It's getting worse seemingly by the day, and I don't really have anyone to go to for help, as I was basically told to suck it up and move on, in a nutshell.  The good part is, I've had no self-harm incidents yet this year, which is huge for me.  

2020:   sighs  "...hold my beer again."

Last week I took an unnerving anxiety attack at work.  I'd rather not discuss what brought it on, because I feel like I'm actually the one to blame, pretty much all the time.  In summary, I got thoughts in my head how stupid, useless and ugly I am, and proceeded again to cut and scratch myself in an effort to distract from the pain in my mind.  It's not something that works, but when I descend into that state of mind, there seem to be no other options.  Crying spells pop up out of nowhere.  Here's the thing... I have a doctor and a psychiatrist I go to from time to time to try to keep this in check.  The last time I saw my shrink was nearly a year ago.  He never made a follow-up appointment or checked in on me.  As for my doctor, I get moderate results from him only if Janice accompanies me, which she insists on because she also sees my lack of results from medical professionals.  Essentially, I'm hung out to dry here as far as my mental health goes, and keeping it under control... which I haven't had a lot of success with lately... is pretty much completely left up to me.  In short, there is no help for my D&A.  A couple of prescribed meds are issued to me and I'm sent on my way.  Self-inflicted cuts, scratches and bruises be damned.

Add to that, our lovely Liberal government has taken away our disability eligibility, for both of us, leaving us with no funds to get some much needed repairs done around here.  We've appealed numerous times, to no avail.  The irony being, the notoriously stingy Conservative government didn't give us any problems at all with our claims.  Now it's worse than pulling teeth.  

It doesn't look like this Coronavirus thing is going away anytime soon, despite my home province of New Brunswick weathering it quite well, so we're planning on making the best of this situation by having lots of backyard barbecues, maybe some washer-tossing, getting some mileage in from running if my knee permits; I did run an 11k not long ago, but my knee took a sharp downturn a few days ago, so it's a day by day thing.  Ultimately, I'm extremely fortunate to have a wife that couldn't be more supportive, and a job that's steadily paying the bills in a time where a lot of people have lost their own employment.  Things could have been a lot worse.  But 2020 is throwing curveball after curveball to all of us.

I just wish the healthcare system we have was as attentive to mental illness as it is with the Coronavirus.  Or even a fraction of it.  That being said, I urge anyone who might be reading this who's suffering from the same issues as I am to get help.  Kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.

Friends, thank you for reading.  I am very blessed indeed to have earned your interest.