"When you are in doubt, be still, and wait; when doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage. So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still until the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists - as it surely will. Then act with courage." ~ Ponca Chief White Eagle (1800's to 1914).
Something beautiful has left this world behind and entered into a different place, the spirit world. She is now walking beside her ancestors on her journey home. Her journey will take one full year as she passes through the four seasons and during this time we cannot say her name aloud, as it keeps her tethered to our world, the world she so desperately wanted to escape.
The loss of a child, someone as young as her fifteen years, has been difficult for me to grasp. An Aboriginal leader from my community has communicated to me that, despite the pain that has resulted from her decision, it is one that I have to accept. She has encouraged me to sit with my pain, resulting from the loss of one of "my" kids, and to simply let it be. Suffering is part of life, regardless of how much we want to avoid and suffocate it.
She taught me how to throw a baseball. She laughed at me when I attempted to play catch with her while wearing high heels. She thought it was funny to show me the chewed up food in her mouth. She could make a sound that sounded exactly like a Canadian goose. She liked to listen to Johnny Cash. She was quiet, shy, and sensitive. She loved hockey and her family, despite how dysfunctional they can be. She trusted few.
I will miss you little one.
I will painfully accept your decision.
I won't forget.
Days Pass Quickly
"Time is what prevents everything from happening at once." ~John Archibald Wheeler (American Theoretical Physicist)
Today's count sits at 82 days until I leave for Africa. I have to start getting my shots in about three weeks. There are crucial items I need to purchase, such as luggage, which would be good to start with so I can pack the other items I also need to buy to fill the luggage. A sleeping bag, a warm one, because it gets cold where I'm going. The travel warnings continue to be fairly serious and the people who care about me are becoming unnerved because of my non-unnerved-ness about the situation. Oddly enough, my mother appears to be handling things really well but, at the same time, it's not likely that she's caught the international news on these particular events. My attitude: it is what it is. I can't wait to get there.
Time snuck up on me and yelled YOU'RE LEAVING REALLY SOON, then recommended that I start getting my ass in gear.
82 days. So excited.
Today's count sits at 82 days until I leave for Africa. I have to start getting my shots in about three weeks. There are crucial items I need to purchase, such as luggage, which would be good to start with so I can pack the other items I also need to buy to fill the luggage. A sleeping bag, a warm one, because it gets cold where I'm going. The travel warnings continue to be fairly serious and the people who care about me are becoming unnerved because of my non-unnerved-ness about the situation. Oddly enough, my mother appears to be handling things really well but, at the same time, it's not likely that she's caught the international news on these particular events. My attitude: it is what it is. I can't wait to get there.
Time snuck up on me and yelled YOU'RE LEAVING REALLY SOON, then recommended that I start getting my ass in gear.
82 days. So excited.
Adult Summer Camp
"Sometimes too much drink is barely enough." ~ Mark Twain (American Author & Humorist)
On this long weekend in May, I celebrated the third anniversary date of my good friend Sue's passing. The previous two anniversaries I mourned her loss and felt sad; therefore, I decided to switch it up this year and pay tribute to her in a manner she would have actually appreciated. I got piss ass drunk for two days in a row on margarita's and wine, sitting in sunny 30 degree weather in a lawn chair, while intermittently "throwing" around a football and cooking delicious food. I'm using the word "throwing" fairly liberally here, as in reality it was closer to "hucking" or "bifting" the football due to my level of intoxication on the two occasions I engaged in this activity.
I spent this weekend with a friend who gets me on a fundamental level. We share a lot of silence very comfortably; we do not need to fill the air with bullshit. We laugh when it's funny. I adore her and our friendship. Despite not feeling as enthusiastic about "throwing" the football around with me as I was her (as she was the one running her ass off, chasing the football that was zinging by too far to the left and/or right), she still played with me. And it was hot and there was mosquito's. That's a good friend.
This weekend felt like an adult, drunken version of summer camp. Good times.
Here's to good friends of the past and present.
Cheers.
On this long weekend in May, I celebrated the third anniversary date of my good friend Sue's passing. The previous two anniversaries I mourned her loss and felt sad; therefore, I decided to switch it up this year and pay tribute to her in a manner she would have actually appreciated. I got piss ass drunk for two days in a row on margarita's and wine, sitting in sunny 30 degree weather in a lawn chair, while intermittently "throwing" around a football and cooking delicious food. I'm using the word "throwing" fairly liberally here, as in reality it was closer to "hucking" or "bifting" the football due to my level of intoxication on the two occasions I engaged in this activity.
I spent this weekend with a friend who gets me on a fundamental level. We share a lot of silence very comfortably; we do not need to fill the air with bullshit. We laugh when it's funny. I adore her and our friendship. Despite not feeling as enthusiastic about "throwing" the football around with me as I was her (as she was the one running her ass off, chasing the football that was zinging by too far to the left and/or right), she still played with me. And it was hot and there was mosquito's. That's a good friend.
This weekend felt like an adult, drunken version of summer camp. Good times.
Here's to good friends of the past and present.
Cheers.
Daily Positives, May 17th
Despite wanting to go on a shooting rampage at my place of employment today, I managed to simply internalize it all and just hate my life at work more. Yeah me!
I did not get hit by a train today.
I only smoked 100 cigarettes today instead of a million.
I did not drown in a fishbowl today, or a puddle for that matter.
Today, as the children in the apartment below me screamed their heads off for approximately 2 hours straight, I did not puncture my own ear drums.
Even though my soon to be ex-boyfriend lost his mind because I didn't answer the phone when he called last night (one of the reasons he's slotted for the ex-category), I didn't even get angry when he put this stupid fucking post on facebook about just how mad he is. I am officially too tired to be angry. I think this might be a good thing.
Grey's Anatomy season finale is tonight.
I did not get hit by a train today.
I only smoked 100 cigarettes today instead of a million.
I did not drown in a fishbowl today, or a puddle for that matter.
Today, as the children in the apartment below me screamed their heads off for approximately 2 hours straight, I did not puncture my own ear drums.
Even though my soon to be ex-boyfriend lost his mind because I didn't answer the phone when he called last night (one of the reasons he's slotted for the ex-category), I didn't even get angry when he put this stupid fucking post on facebook about just how mad he is. I am officially too tired to be angry. I think this might be a good thing.
Grey's Anatomy season finale is tonight.
Shit Show with the Shit Rats
"I believe that always, or almost always, in all childhoods and in all the lives that follow them, the mother represents madness. Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met." ~ Marguerite Duras (French Writer & Film Maker)
To put it mildly, my mother and I have not always had the best relationship. I am not unique in this, as family dysfunction is woven into the fabric of every family that has ever existed, in one form or another. It is also abundantly clear to me - this mother/daughter malfunction - because I work as a therapist. Likewise, I have sat on the other side of the therapist's office, for hours, discussing the relationship I have with my mother. Some time ago, my therapist and I had a long discussion about how the relationship with my mother was unlikely to change and yet, over the past many months as I have made considerable shifts, the relationship with my mother has also transitioned into an unexpected place. Apparently, Bowen's Family Systems Theory does have some merit. The two events that I have been able to identify as contributing to this shift were when I stopped smoking pot (my mother's dream) and started dating a good/normal/nice man from my home province (my mother's other dream). Since these dreams have come to fruition, her new dream is having her non-pothead daughter move back to Nova Scotia to start a "family" with said good/normal/nice man. Now, luckily for me, her ideas around me having a "family" do not involve producing grandchildren, because that ain't happening.
Despite my lifelong goal of "never being like my mother," we do share some undeniable commonalities. Recently, some of these similar personality traits have struck me as hysterical, as they fall under the category of "acceptable" or "livable likenesses." How we express ourselves, particularly when under duress, would be one of them. Over the past two months, I have been experiencing some fairly unbearable bullshit at my place of employment and if it weren't for my upcoming trip to Africa (which they are being supportive of and allowing me to take leave, most of which is paid), my ass would have quit by now. In the past, my mother's support around these issues would have looked like this: "buck up." But, more recently her support has taken a turn to the hilarious, of which I greatly appreciate. I have received these wicked emails from her that involve the type of colorful language I usually get shit for from her, including the use of the descriptive term "shit rats," which she is using in reference to some of the people I work with. Here are some direct examples:
To put it mildly, my mother and I have not always had the best relationship. I am not unique in this, as family dysfunction is woven into the fabric of every family that has ever existed, in one form or another. It is also abundantly clear to me - this mother/daughter malfunction - because I work as a therapist. Likewise, I have sat on the other side of the therapist's office, for hours, discussing the relationship I have with my mother. Some time ago, my therapist and I had a long discussion about how the relationship with my mother was unlikely to change and yet, over the past many months as I have made considerable shifts, the relationship with my mother has also transitioned into an unexpected place. Apparently, Bowen's Family Systems Theory does have some merit. The two events that I have been able to identify as contributing to this shift were when I stopped smoking pot (my mother's dream) and started dating a good/normal/nice man from my home province (my mother's other dream). Since these dreams have come to fruition, her new dream is having her non-pothead daughter move back to Nova Scotia to start a "family" with said good/normal/nice man. Now, luckily for me, her ideas around me having a "family" do not involve producing grandchildren, because that ain't happening.
Despite my lifelong goal of "never being like my mother," we do share some undeniable commonalities. Recently, some of these similar personality traits have struck me as hysterical, as they fall under the category of "acceptable" or "livable likenesses." How we express ourselves, particularly when under duress, would be one of them. Over the past two months, I have been experiencing some fairly unbearable bullshit at my place of employment and if it weren't for my upcoming trip to Africa (which they are being supportive of and allowing me to take leave, most of which is paid), my ass would have quit by now. In the past, my mother's support around these issues would have looked like this: "buck up." But, more recently her support has taken a turn to the hilarious, of which I greatly appreciate. I have received these wicked emails from her that involve the type of colorful language I usually get shit for from her, including the use of the descriptive term "shit rats," which she is using in reference to some of the people I work with. Here are some direct examples:
- "How's the fucking shit show with the shit rats going?"
- "I would kick that shit rats ass the length of the fucking highway."
- "You are surrounded by uneducated morons who define the term shit rat."
This is the mother I love...one that I can relate to. Now, if I could only get her on the sauce more regularly.....
Daily Positives
Life's been sucking a little bit lately and, as a result, my mom recommended that I write down some positives every day to remind myself that life doesn't actually suck. Here's my list for May 3rd.
I did not get drunk at work today.
Although my neighbor almost rear ended me and then proceeded to swear and scream at me, I did not get out of my car and beat him senseless.
I did not fall down any stairs today or contract a venereal disease.
No one told me to fuck off today, at least not directly.
I ate some chocolate mini-eggs and they were delicious.
I got paid today.
A dog did not eat my homework today.
I did not fall into a sinkhole today.
An airplane did not crash into my apartment today.
I do not have pink eye.
I did not get drunk at work today.
Although my neighbor almost rear ended me and then proceeded to swear and scream at me, I did not get out of my car and beat him senseless.
I did not fall down any stairs today or contract a venereal disease.
No one told me to fuck off today, at least not directly.
I ate some chocolate mini-eggs and they were delicious.
I got paid today.
A dog did not eat my homework today.
I did not fall into a sinkhole today.
An airplane did not crash into my apartment today.
I do not have pink eye.
Misguided Nostalgia
"It's never safe to be nostalgic about something until you're absolutely certain there's no chance of it coming back." ~ Bill Vaughn (American Columnist & Author).
Once in an extremely blue moon I miss the irresponsibility of my youth. This is a seldom occurrence that only happens after a night out drinking (which happens may be once a year) when I have experienced the loud tribal beats of an excellent DJ that have reverberated through my chest. I don't know that the average person experiences music the way I do; may be everyone does, I have no idea. I do know that the experiences I had in my young 20's, which included a lot of pill popping and electronic beats, changed my experience with music drastically and, apparently, forever.
In the year 2000, the electronic music scene in Halifax exploded; perhaps it happened prior to then, but it happened to me and everyone I associated with during that particular year. It was the birth of a new scene that lead to the death of more than a few young people who danced a little too hard with a variety of chemicals coursing through their young bodies. We were ignorant and immature; therefore, people dropping dead had very little impact on our behavior. Everyone thought they "had it under control" regardless of the fact that none of us did, which was heavily evidenced by the obvious lack of any sort of normal human functioning. Little to no sleep, food, and profoundly entrenched in chaos, it was an experience to remember but never to be replayed or revisited.
I clearly remember dancing to anything and everything....even sounds coming from a dishwasher or laundry machine could catch my otherwise depleted attention span. Music appeared in everything. Don't get me wrong, this was heavily influenced by drugs and a lack of connection to reality, but, it seemed fun at the time. The aftermath of these experiences, when everything was said and done, were anything but fun and I know of many people today that never quite fully recovered. They are still talking in riddles or trying to recapture what was then, which wasn't even real at the time it was happening.
I don't miss dancing to dishwashers, or the drugs, or the scene, or the people. I just miss, once in an extremely blue moon, the youthfulness of total and absolute abandon. So today, as my lazy 34 year old ass lays around doing nothing, I find my thoughts drifting towards me standing in a field with the sun coming up, covered in dirt (for any number of totally ridiculous reasons), dancing my ass off as the DJ spins a perfect set.
Like A Fine Wine
"There is still no cure for the common birthday." ~ John Glenn (Former NASA Astronaut)
Tomorrow is my 34th birthday and, although I've known since I could count past 50 that 34 comes after 33, I am still in shock that this is occurring. Age is only a number....I've always hated that saying. If I could pick a number to represent my age, it certainly wouldn't be steadily creeping towards the mid-30's. My sister is turning 39 next month and there is some solace in the fact that I am still years from 40. Years ago, my sister diagnosed me with what she calls Peter Pan Syndrome (PPS for short), meaning that I never wanted to grow up (an accurate diagnosis). Now she laughs at me as she happily sings, Peter Pan is gettin' old, as evidenced by my gray hair and thoughts around possibly being too "mature" to continue having a belly button piercing.
So far, I have no plans to celebrate this glorious event. In fact, I feel that a day of quiet reflection while sitting by the nearby river seems most appealing to me. As for today, the final day of my 33rd year, here are my reflections:
Tomorrow is my 34th birthday and, although I've known since I could count past 50 that 34 comes after 33, I am still in shock that this is occurring. Age is only a number....I've always hated that saying. If I could pick a number to represent my age, it certainly wouldn't be steadily creeping towards the mid-30's. My sister is turning 39 next month and there is some solace in the fact that I am still years from 40. Years ago, my sister diagnosed me with what she calls Peter Pan Syndrome (PPS for short), meaning that I never wanted to grow up (an accurate diagnosis). Now she laughs at me as she happily sings, Peter Pan is gettin' old, as evidenced by my gray hair and thoughts around possibly being too "mature" to continue having a belly button piercing.
So far, I have no plans to celebrate this glorious event. In fact, I feel that a day of quiet reflection while sitting by the nearby river seems most appealing to me. As for today, the final day of my 33rd year, here are my reflections:
- I am thankful that I have evolved to a place where falling down drunk and puking doesn't have to be part of my life celebration.
- I am grateful that I find peace in quiet solitude.
- It makes me really happy that I still listen to music with base really loud and car-dance constantly.
- I look better now (physically) than I did when I was younger and frequently get asked for identification when purchasing liquor.
- I take great pleasure from doing and experiencing the simple things, like cooking a beautiful meal or drinking a glass of wine (although my "glass" is generally a bottle).
- I like me.
Stopping Waiting
"The test of an adventure is that when you're in the middle of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I’ve got myself into an awful mess; I wish I were sitting quietly at home.' And the sign that something's wrong with you is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of adventure." ~ Thornton Wilder (Pulitzer-Prize Winning Playwright & Novelist)
Tonight I took what I consider to be the 'big step' in the African adventure plans.....I booked the flights. Realistically, I know that the 'big step' was making the decision to go but this particular step seemed to solidify that first one. I have been looking at tickets for a few weeks now and, quite honestly, every time I found one that was reasonable, I got a little lightheaded and decided to keep on looking (which translated into, keep on waiting). Tonight, I decided that waiting was for suckers, so I booked the damn thing. I leave on August 11th and arrive the morning of August 13th, making my previously noted countdown dates a little off. I now firmly sit at 135 days.
The "Well" in Wellbutrin is Questionable to Me
"Mankind has survived all kinds of catastrophes. It will also survive modern medicine." ~ Gerhard Kocher (Swiss Political Scientist, Economist)
Funny how we continue to do or use things well after they have proved to be unhelpful. Whether related to a relationship, a thought process, a habit, a way of functioning....it's all very similar. I was placed on Wellbutrin years ago to help manage some pretty intense feelings of depression I was experiencing. Although it - at times - helped bring the depression from completely unbearable to a constant undercurrent, it never brought it to a functional place. Perhaps that was an unrealistic expectation. Regardless, since finding alternative medicinal practices and eliminating things that were contributing significantly to my feelings of depression, I finally overcame my fear of stopping my prescribed medications. Currently, I am still having benefits from a small dose of anti-anxiety medication (which I have also reduced by half since January) but a month ago I stopped taking Wellbutrin. All I can say is, what a wild trip that was.
As someone who has kicked a variety of substances over the years, I can honestly say that getting off Wellbutrin was one of the more intense experiences I've had doing so. Wellbutrin does not come in a dose smaller than 150mg; therefore, gradually reducing the dose is somewhat complicated. After consulting with both my family doctor and naturopath, the best suggestion provided was weaning off it by taking it one day and not the next for a period of time, then moving to skipping two days in a row, to three, etc. I was told that this would produce a very bumpy withdrawal from the medication, as the withdrawal symptoms are fairly acute with this particular medication. Cutting the medication into smaller doses was also complicated as doing so shifts the medication from being slow release to quick release and would require me to take pieces of the pill throughout the day. In knowing myself and how hard it is to remember to take my vitamins/supplements everyday, I knew this wasn't a realistic option. My decision: just stop taking the damn stuff and ride it out, which is what I did on February 26, 2012.
I'm only starting to feel "normal" now (four weeks after stopping the med) and this feeling of normalcy is greatly assisted by taking 200mg of a natural serotonin booster called 5-HTP everyday. I doubt I'd be feeling okay without it at this point. Just like when a person takes steroids and the body stops naturally producing testosterone as it gets used to the synthetic kind, my brain stopped producing it's own serotonin a long time ago, leaving me in a state of complete serotonin depletion when I stopped the Wellbutrin. The withdrawal symptoms associated to stopping this medication are very real and intensive and imaginably were so difficult for me due to the length of time I was taking it. The most prominent features of my withdrawal included serious feelings of agitation and anxiety, coupled with insomnia, excessive bouts of crying/weeping and GI problems. My belly was a very unhappy place and my appetite disappeared while dealing with the nausea and tummy cramps. One day in particular, in a seven hour period at my place of employment, I cried four times with little provocation. Then I came home and cried some more. That happened repeatedly and made me look like a lunatic to those who had no idea what I was experiencing. I was often heard saying things like, I just want to run someone over with my car or I want to bash so-and-so's head in, which is quite unlike me. I was a mess....and not the hot-kind.
I have weathered the storm, however, and the sun is starting to peak through the clouds again. I am working diligently with my naturopath and osteopath to maintain balance in my life and that is a great support. I am exercising as regularly as I can manage and I view this activity level as part of my new "medication regime" when stopping my prescribed one. I need all the help I can get. My goal is to be off all of my medication prior to departing for Africa (136 days) but if along the way it becomes clear that this is an unrealistic goal, I will be okay with that. The thought of being free from the things that keep me tethered to dependency or reliance on anything but myself is liberating. I want to know that should I ever be stranded on a desert island that does not have a pharmacy, pot plant, liquor store, or cigarette factory near by that I will not cease to exist. This is the overarching goal behind all of this forward movement and change. I have a long way to go, particularly in relation to that cigarette factory. Hot damn, I'm smoking a lot and I hate it. Once I have achieved greater stabilization, the cigarette smoking is the next thing my naturopath and I will be working on. We suspect that the use of hypnosis and acupuncture will greatly assist this process, along with homeopathy, determination and support. Stay tuned for that one.
Funny how we continue to do or use things well after they have proved to be unhelpful. Whether related to a relationship, a thought process, a habit, a way of functioning....it's all very similar. I was placed on Wellbutrin years ago to help manage some pretty intense feelings of depression I was experiencing. Although it - at times - helped bring the depression from completely unbearable to a constant undercurrent, it never brought it to a functional place. Perhaps that was an unrealistic expectation. Regardless, since finding alternative medicinal practices and eliminating things that were contributing significantly to my feelings of depression, I finally overcame my fear of stopping my prescribed medications. Currently, I am still having benefits from a small dose of anti-anxiety medication (which I have also reduced by half since January) but a month ago I stopped taking Wellbutrin. All I can say is, what a wild trip that was.
As someone who has kicked a variety of substances over the years, I can honestly say that getting off Wellbutrin was one of the more intense experiences I've had doing so. Wellbutrin does not come in a dose smaller than 150mg; therefore, gradually reducing the dose is somewhat complicated. After consulting with both my family doctor and naturopath, the best suggestion provided was weaning off it by taking it one day and not the next for a period of time, then moving to skipping two days in a row, to three, etc. I was told that this would produce a very bumpy withdrawal from the medication, as the withdrawal symptoms are fairly acute with this particular medication. Cutting the medication into smaller doses was also complicated as doing so shifts the medication from being slow release to quick release and would require me to take pieces of the pill throughout the day. In knowing myself and how hard it is to remember to take my vitamins/supplements everyday, I knew this wasn't a realistic option. My decision: just stop taking the damn stuff and ride it out, which is what I did on February 26, 2012.
I'm only starting to feel "normal" now (four weeks after stopping the med) and this feeling of normalcy is greatly assisted by taking 200mg of a natural serotonin booster called 5-HTP everyday. I doubt I'd be feeling okay without it at this point. Just like when a person takes steroids and the body stops naturally producing testosterone as it gets used to the synthetic kind, my brain stopped producing it's own serotonin a long time ago, leaving me in a state of complete serotonin depletion when I stopped the Wellbutrin. The withdrawal symptoms associated to stopping this medication are very real and intensive and imaginably were so difficult for me due to the length of time I was taking it. The most prominent features of my withdrawal included serious feelings of agitation and anxiety, coupled with insomnia, excessive bouts of crying/weeping and GI problems. My belly was a very unhappy place and my appetite disappeared while dealing with the nausea and tummy cramps. One day in particular, in a seven hour period at my place of employment, I cried four times with little provocation. Then I came home and cried some more. That happened repeatedly and made me look like a lunatic to those who had no idea what I was experiencing. I was often heard saying things like, I just want to run someone over with my car or I want to bash so-and-so's head in, which is quite unlike me. I was a mess....and not the hot-kind.
I have weathered the storm, however, and the sun is starting to peak through the clouds again. I am working diligently with my naturopath and osteopath to maintain balance in my life and that is a great support. I am exercising as regularly as I can manage and I view this activity level as part of my new "medication regime" when stopping my prescribed one. I need all the help I can get. My goal is to be off all of my medication prior to departing for Africa (136 days) but if along the way it becomes clear that this is an unrealistic goal, I will be okay with that. The thought of being free from the things that keep me tethered to dependency or reliance on anything but myself is liberating. I want to know that should I ever be stranded on a desert island that does not have a pharmacy, pot plant, liquor store, or cigarette factory near by that I will not cease to exist. This is the overarching goal behind all of this forward movement and change. I have a long way to go, particularly in relation to that cigarette factory. Hot damn, I'm smoking a lot and I hate it. Once I have achieved greater stabilization, the cigarette smoking is the next thing my naturopath and I will be working on. We suspect that the use of hypnosis and acupuncture will greatly assist this process, along with homeopathy, determination and support. Stay tuned for that one.
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