The View From The Garden

She stopped at the 24 hr grocery mart across the intersection from her apartment complex before she hit the road. A couple of cartons of good fruit juice, and two catering platters; one of veggies, and one of meats and cheeses. She knew that she would likely be the only one eating any of the meat, but that was okay. It was shaping out to be a long day.

A StarBucks drive through provided her with breakfast in the form of a muffin and a piping hot caffeinated tribute to her insomniac brain before she pulled onto the highway and headed away from the slowly brightening sliver of sky where the sun was just beginning to stir from it’s own uninterrupted slumber.

She ate the muffin and drank the coffee, knowing that tea would be had at the other end of the road, and so she would enjoy the hazelnut macchiato for now. Her messenger bag sat on the seat next to her, her laptop already singing its siren song, making her fingers itch. But for now, brainstorming would have to do. She was enjoying the quiet solitude of predawn traffic and wouldn’t spoil that by starting her dictophone app. 

Soon, the sun was chasing her to her destination. At 7 o’clock, she pulled into a service station to fill the gastank, stretch, and send a text, warning that she was on her way. She had her own key, but she still hated to show up unannounced. Some habits died hard.

Back behind the wheel, and on the road again, this time on the road less traveled, she had to avoid the urge to stop at all of her favourite tourist haunts, knowing that the polite chatter of the hawkers would disrupt the zen of her creative mind. She promised herself that she would take a break this afternoon, and she and her host would go back out together to see what the latest stock of wares was in season.

The air was still crisp as she stepped down out of the Jeep with her messenger bag over her shoulder. She took a few deep breaths, spiced with pine and the combined scent of the flowers surrounding the house. The cat came tumbling out of the undergrowth along the drive, mewing in greeting of it’s favourite visitor, and twining itself between her ankles. She reached into her pocket for the package of cat treats she always had handy on these visits, and obliged the calico with her customary greetings of scratches behind the ear, and a couple of tidbits. 

Her feline friend satiated for the moment, she loaded up the trays, and approached the house, admiring the home nestled into the hollow formed by the surrounding, sloping terrain. She likely couldn’t have chosen a better spot for retirement if she had tried. The owner’s best friend lived across the road, and they had been coming up hear for years when the kids were younger to go camping. It seemed fitting that the acreage should go on sale just as she and her husband were looking for property in the area. The fact that there had not been a domicile on the property when they purchased it did not dampen their enthusiasm. 

Balancing the trays on one arm, she used her key to let herself in, ushering the cat in before her as she stepped carefully into the foyer, hipping the door closed behind her, and pausing moment to let her eyes adjust to the difference in light before setting the trays on a table to divest herself of her outer wear. 

The retiree she was visiting  was in fact, the mother of her ex boyfriend. However, the annulment of their relationship had not ended their friendship, nor that of his mother and her. 

Nina had wondered at first, if the invitation to come by any time she liked had been just one of those things that British ppl say. Not wanting to have the bad taste to take politesse as intent, she had asked her friend to check with his mother. He had returned from their coffee date with a set of spare keys in hand. Well, that answered that!

Mental Health Awareness - Bravery & Courage

(Reblogged from my Facebook Account)

To a lot of people, the bravest thing I do each day is wake up and face the day. And let me tell you, there are days when it certainly takes strength, bravery, and courage to do so. I think the most difficult days to face are the days when I wake up before my meds alarm. (That's right, I have an alarm to remind me to take my pills.) This is because I have to go through the motions, knowing that it is still X# of hours before I can take my meds, as I am on a 12 hr schedule for pain killers, and messing with that clock is a BAAAAAAD idea!

Now, there are boosters I can take, but most of those need food or caffeine to work effectively, so then I have that challenge to overcome, first. The easier route, and the one I have the hardest time avoiding/succumbing to, is to simply unplug.

I could get high or drunk and it would dull some of the pain, and put me in a place where I wouldn't care about the rest. The good news is, I don't have kids or a job that depends on me. I'm 'self employed' as a Life Coach, and on Ontario Works because I can't trust my health enough to have a 'real job'. In fact, quitting my last job was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do (but that's a post in and of itself).

However, one of the things that I have promised myself is that I will not let my illness rule my life. It certainly RUNS my life; everything about my life has to go through the filter of conserving energy to avoid a bad flair, and just because I've been behaving, doesn't mean I'm not liable to end up with a bad bout anyway, just because the weather, or an on coming cold, or my monthly cycle, or a bad dream, or some personal stress, or, or, or, or.....

But I'm not going to let it RUIN my life.

I am a headstrong, driven, intelligent, multitalented, social butterfly. And you can bet your ass that 20 days out of 30, I am living my life with a smile on my face and a laugh on my voice. But not without the constant urge to reach for a drink or marijuana or sleeping pills.

Add to the pot that I have an addictive personality and have already had my struggles with alcohol to the point that if I feel that I am going though a bout of depression, I will not drink a DROP! Not even a taste of a friend's fancy new beer or home made mead.

You guys usually see the smile, never knowing what it hides. No wonder the death of Robin Williams took us all by surprise....

Reaching out, destroying the illusion that I am fine, that I am happy, that I am healthy, that I am normal... That's what takes the courage. Facing each day is a choice I made when I decided to live life. In my eyes, there are two choices, live life, or quit. And I'm not ready to throw in the towel just yet. I have people to love, lives to touch, lessons to teach, and stories to tell.

Mental Health Awareness - Asking For Help

(Reblogged from my Facebook account)

Last evening, my pain spiked. I have Fibromyalgia, and for me, that means never having another pain free day as long as I live. But my pain usually exists around a 4. Yesterday it reached as high as 8.5 before I finally applied some extra methods of pain regulation and had to retire to the bedroom, despite having company.

I struggled to get to sleep, often waking myself up simply because I'd moved, and a joint had protested to the point that I could hear myself whimpering, gasping, and otherwise vocalizing my pain. 

For many people, this in and of itself would be enough. They could end this post here, having made sufficient points about mental health. I mean, who wouldn't have issues with depression, etc. when faced with this as a reality?

But that's just the intro.

This morning, I'm still in pain. I had to use my cane to get out of bed and shuffle to the kitchen to start breakfast (oatmeal) and caffeine. My roommate called out to make sure I was okay when I made noises of protestation just bending to sit on the toilet. I had to get help to carry the laptop to the couch, and get my electric blanket out of the tangle of the bedclothes. I certainly needed help carrying a pitcher of water to the livingroom so I don't have to get up to hydrate today. Lifting it to pour into my glass is going to be deadly enough, nevermind carrying it all the way across the apartment,
I should mention that my roommate works nights. It was the end of their day, and all they wanted was bed. Which is completely understandable. However, I am living in a reality where the most dangerous (read: most likely to cause me excruciating pain, with the possibility of losing support in my legs and falling to the floor) is to bend over. My joints are just WAITING to collapse under the weight of my body.

So really, I should have asked for help plugging in the laptop, and my external hard drive, and my electric blanket. Instead, I bit my tongue and did it myself. All because I didn't want to be a burden.

Let me paint you a picture: My roommate would GLADLY and easily have done it for me. Would not have complained, or felt annoyed in any way. And yet.... Sometimes, when I KNOW I should be asking for help, I honestly feel trapped in my own mind. It's not that I can't get over the nagging guilty feeling, nor that it's some misguided sense of pride. I simply cannot open my mouth and ask. It feels like a mental block, that when I try to push past it, threatens a full blown panic attack.

Illogical, I know, but no one ever said that brains had to make sense.

PS: I got everything plugged in just fine. No falling, no sudden attacks of pain, but it took me about 5 times as long as it should have, because I had to move so gingerly.

Mental Health Awareness - Mad At Myself

(Reblogged from my Facebook Account)

I am slowly beginning to realize that for the last year I have been being slowly pushed out of his life, and I gave him all the room he needed because I was so sure that we were both going to come back to the table and be fine. This in light of one of his core precepts being that he is always willing to try if the other party is equally willing. I guess this is just another case of me being the catalyst to major change in ppl's lives -.-

The down side of being so loved and cherished by the ppl currently in my life is that I am realizing just how much was missing from my life in the last year. That all of the stepping back, all of the compromises, were simply slowly suffocating myself.

Sometimes this is the price I pay for sticking to my principles and being the bigger man.
Caveat: I do not hold him responsible. He is entitled to his feelings, his needs, and to change his mind. But doesn't mean that I can't wax poetic about how much if frigin' sucks!

Mental Health Awareness - Doubting that I am a Good Friend/Person

(Reblogged from my Facebook Account)

After a series of broken relationships and friendships, one of my biggest demons has been that there is something wrong with me, with who I am, who I have chosen and striven to be. Especially in the light of the fact that a running theme in these 'breakups', seems to be that the thing or things that the person loved most about me, has become the thing that has driven the final nail in the coffin of our shared histories.

It has taken some tears, some anxiety attacks, some days long bouts of depression to take into consideration the loud and plentiful voices of those of you who have stuck with me. The insistence that I am perfect just the way I am, have become an amazing individual, and that the only changing I should do is the changing I want to do to better myself, and the rest of the world be damned.

And truth be told, the admiration of my current web of friends usually outweighs the clamour of the hindsight of the hurt of those who were meant to be my nearest and dearest. Unless I'm unconscious, and then no amount of loving support from friends and family can over rule the demons as they mount my Nightmares.

That's when my anxiety is worst; between dreams, between waking and enough caffeine to face the demons full on, between blinks in the darkness behind my eyelids.

And as Robin has reminded us all, it only takes one dark moment to end a bright and shining life.

Thank you to those of you who shine lights into the dark crevasses of my struggles with Mental Health.

Mental Health Awareness - State of Stigma

(Reblogged from my Facebook Account)

February 5th is a day that my social media has informed me is a day to talk about mental health. As someone who has had personal struggles with her own mental health, as well as watched many of those around me do the same, this is something that is dear to my heart.

I try not to make a habit of spamming my wall with my brain shit, because I know that many of you will get tired of, scared by, discouraged by what I have to say, especially those of you who view me as such a source of empowerment and inspiration on the average day. 

However, in the spirit of education, and in remembrance of the great Robin Williams, I intend to make February, the most depressing month in the North American Calendar, a month to share the demons in my mind.

If you wish to hide from these passages from the annals of my soul, just skip posts with the tag ‪#‎StateOfStigma‬

Thunder Bowls

Jared was a bright and inquisitive boy, which sometimes meant that he got in trouble, in his small, suburban neighbourhood, poking his nose through back garden gates to investigate strange sounds or smells. Eva and Gerald were getting fed up with all of the complaints they received about their boy ‘snooping about!’ in peoples yards, but they did not want to stifle the boys curiosity and imagination. He would come back each evening with tales of his adventures and the mysteries that had cropped up. The eight year old was convinced that Old Man Bettard was a spy, and that he kept someone prisoner in his back shed. That Millie, the young widow two streets over was pregnant, even though her husband had passed two years prior. If that weren’t scandalous enough, the news that the sweet couple that lived four blocks in the opposite direction were in fact cannibals – or perhaps witches- was enough to put Eva off of her dinner. 

“Alright, Jared, that’s enough!” boomed his father, and Jared paled, knowing that he had crossed a line. Puppa very rarely raised his voice, so when he did, the gravity of the situation was explicitly clear. 

“I’m sorry, Mum,” Jared intoned, blushing with shame. Eva, for her part, dabbed her mouth with her napkin and pushed away from the table, patting Jared’s hair as she moved to the kitchen to begin after supper clean up, and setting out dessert.

Gerald sighed, and finished clearing his own plate as well as his wife’s, splitting the last of her sausages with Jared, a silent peace offering. They ate quietly together to the soundtrack of clattering dishes and scraping utensils for a while before Jared’s father broke the silence.

“What are we going to do with you, my inquisitive lad?” Gerald asked, rhetorically. 

“I don’t mean to cause a fuss, Puppa,” Jared apologized. 

“I know, son, and so does your mother. But the neighbours aren’t all as understanding.” It had become a clear pattern that those quickest to report his adventures were those who had no children of their own. The only fuss other parents had made was if anything was damaged, or they were concerned for his welfare. Jared had once had to be rescued from a high place when the trellis he was climbing had cracked under his weight in a rotten spot. His rescuer had been a father himself, and his eyes had sparkled with mirth as he relayed the tale to Gerald and Eva over a mug of beer.

“Well, nevermind,” Jerad nodded as his father declared the subject closed for the time being.

That night, there was a bad storm, and the thunder chased the lightening through the skies. As was his wont during storms like this, Jerad huddled on the bottom bunk, instead of his typical place on the top shelf, cowering under a pile of stuffed animals and his big winter blanket from the trunk at the foot of the bed despite the fact that it was mid summer. He pretended to be asleep when first one and then the other of his parents peeked in to check on him, knowing that he was not a fan of the harsh summer storms that swept in off the Atlantic.

Eventually, the storm blew itself out enough that the thunder ceased, and Jared was able to fall into an exhausted sleep, lulled by the howling wind.

The next day, at a late breakfast, Gerald announced to his son that he was going to be going to stay with Gamma Ebrill, Eva’s mother, in Wales.

Jared brightened, at the announcement. Gamma Ebrill was what the locals called a Wylde Woman, she rarely held truck with other folks, even her daughter and her husband, but Jared she had taken a shine to. She spoke to him as if he were an adult, and not a child, and never scolded him for his unceasing curiosity or wild imagination.

Eva looked relieved that her son was so happy. She had been afraid he would think it a punishment; that they were banishing him. But his mother never understood the connection between the old woman and the young boy.

(Continued...)