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.