I am here though, to write or at least put something down on ‘paper’. Mom has begun going to a writing class and that’s one of the things they’ve told her, just write they said. And that’s something I’ve talked about quite a bit here, Just Write They Said. Easier said than done, I feel just beat down.

It’s an ongoing theme. Want to write but stuck? Just begin. I suppose that applies to lots of scenarios. Mom’s asked me a number of times to come with her to her classes but again, I just don’t have the energy. After watching the kids almost every day, for at least a couple hours each time, my enthusiasm wanes for most extra-curricular activities.

And that’s not to blame them or the parents either. Things are what they are. Without us they’d be lost. I say that with sincerity too, not a lick of bravado or over-confidence. I suspect they’d say the same too. We are, as my wife says, their soft landing. That likely applies to my wife first too.

I have my moments but I’m more what I’d call the hard edge, the realist and the rule maker. I have my soft’er’ moments but by and large I don’t like to put up with any bullshit. I won’t say Hard Ass but I get tired rapidly of any whining and poor behaviours.

As far as writing goes this time I just came to Starbucks. Thought of a bar but I just don’t feel up to it lately. Drinking beer, or other booze, just doesn’t really appeal to me right now. Coffee is not much better but today is ‘Happy Hour’ so my Espresso drink is 50% off. Having a chocolate chip cookie with it hits the spot, how can it not.

I just dropped off Madden at Thrive, the after school care facility. Ayron called me from work and said the school called her and mentioned that Madden had fallen at recess and hurt his stomach. He didn’t want to eat at lunch. We are their failsafe so she called me to check on him.

I got there and he was in a small room off the office. The room was outfitted with a small cot and chair, a space suitable for a small medical issue. Madden was sitting patiently in there with his coat and backpack, ready to go. I somehow assumed I’d be able to talk to him first, before determining if he should come to our place or not. At any rate we had a chat and he told me he had slipped off the ladder on the monkey bars and either landed on his tummy or had scraped them on the way down. Either way his stomach was sore, he needed to leave.

I brought him home and we cajoled him for a time. I suspect he was playing it up a bit and once we approached the idea that if he came to our place today he have to give up a day with us next week he caved. The whining and crying began.

I put up with it for a bit then just ignored him and let him cry it out. He seemed to come to the realization that I wasn’t giving in so he relented and decided to go to Thrive when school was over.

It’s just enough, I’m tired and I don’t feel well. I don’t want to do this anymore. We have no time to ourselves, seldom a day nevermind a week or more. Maybe even that wouldn’t help, I don’t know. I just feel done, done like dinner.

Somehow I’ve almost lost my train of thought, something shiny caught my eye. Almost is the key word I guess, and “Broken” would be right up there.

I was lamenting my lack of feelings for members of my family, in particular my parents. It’s not just that I don’t like them for some reason, a past sin or whatever, but more that I don’t feel that love that I think I should. And all this said I fully appreciate what a blow this would be to my Mom who is still living. I am her life, and I don’t say that with some misguided sense of “I’m all that”. I think she’d say the same should you ask, but please don’t.

In that sense I truly feel ‘Broken’. How is it that a child can’t Love their parents? Or, maybe I do and I just don’t recognize the emotion. Again, am I Broken?

I love my wife. Perhaps not in the head over heels, soul mate kinda shit, but we have grown together and the Love I have for her can’t be forgotten or minimized.

I certainly love my children. After losing our Son I have another perspective to look at it from. I feel pain when my daughter does, I feel loss from our disconnect from Tracy. I love the g-kids, and while Madden tries his best to take that away from me I endeavour to regain and recognize it.

In the bigger picture I just feel a disconnect from the wholesome life we are taught to strive for, I’m on the outside looking in. I’m a ghost, a spirit following this life but never fully in it. Alone, perhaps the best word is Alone,….and Broken.

The symptoms are there. I have low energy, very little desire or motivation to do anything. Those things I did enjoy or love I have little desire to take on. I don’t know if I’ve taken a photo since the New Year, not many if I’ve taken any. I don’t particularly feel like writing. I know I’m here posting now but it’s a struggle, words don’t come to me the same way any longer. I do some genealogy stuff but even that has not been catching my interest in the same way. Colouring has fallen into my distant memory

One of the most hurtful things is that I often feel numb when it comes to relationships. For the most part I just don’t care. I can’t seem to muster up the energy to devote to maintaining the relationships I’ve got, certainly supporting others in my life is more challenging. I just want to go ‘NAH’ and move to a mountaintop.

I know I’ve said it before, and done little to resolve it, but I think the weather has a bigger impact than I may have realized. All I need to is dig out my SADs light and I’d likely see a resolution if that’s it. Just have to do it. That and call the Doctor.

My thoughts also run to the number of things or tasks I feel connected to. In addition to home jobs, the honey-do list a prime example, I also have my own little projects both around the house and not. There’s too many to list here really, and I’m sure the list would continue to grow as I wrote them down, but as an example I have multiple webpages and blogs that require maintenance and new material. I have multiple journals in addition to the blogs, and journals for both g-kids. There are solar projects I’d like to tackle, jobs to finish around the house like painting, even routing maintenance. I just feel overwhelmed and as a result I do none of it.

Now it’s tax time too of course and I’m always behind in my banking. Then there’s my finances of course, and the shitty place I’ve put myself with more money going out than coming in. Conservatively I could be out of money in 5 years. Then watch the real depression set in.

I feel like I’ve babbled enough, and there’s no sense I’m resolving anything. I still feel empty, perhaps in addition to my soul vacating the premises it’s also been my ‘heart’.

Wish me luck.

It began a couple days ago and I’d hoped to write before then however life, as it often does, got in the way. This afternoon I made the time. I came to Brandt’s Pub with pen (laptop) in hand and I will now see what damage I can do. The challenge will now become can I say what I wanted to say, and say it comprehensively, concisely, before the beer kicks in.

I’m not sure what put me in the aforementioned mood but I suspect it’s hormonal. Could be weather related too, or just that I am who I am and my shortcomings, however normal perhaps, need to be recognized and accepted. As Oscar Wilde (allegedly) said in the photo above,

Be yourself; everyone else is already taken
– Oscar Wilde

I’m not convinced this is truly his quote, the sources are not clear on that, but it works for this example. I am what I am, I can’t be someone else.

Another quote attributed to Oscar is this:

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

This quote may be more appropriate but I digress, perhaps due to fear and maybe it’s my procrastination kicking in. Whatever the reason I must forge ahead and spill, my guts that is. I will don the mask Oscar mentions and tell you ‘my’ truth.

A Couple Things

One black thought that came to my mind near the beginning of this dark adventure was my disconnect from the love and caring that one should feel toward close family, in this case parents. Why is it I seem to be lacking this fundamental emotion of life? I love my parents, I’m sure I do, but the fact that I feel I must add a disclaimer points to some malfunction on my part. I feel damaged, missing the necessary human components that make one, well, ‘human’. At times I feel particularly inhuman, due to the lack of those emotions I often feel.

My Father passed away a couple years ago, I can’t even recall the date other than it was in December. I was working out of town and my wife was taking care of my responsibilities as a son. A ‘caring’ son. My Dad was in the hospital, suffering after a fall and subsequent surgery. When I asked the nurse if I should leave and drive the 6 hours to see him she replied “if it was my Father I would come”. Obviously I was not her as I didn’t go. I can’t tell you what I chose to do instead.

The point is that I never really felt the bond with my Dad. Sure I helped him in his later years. I think I could be considered a kind and supportive son when he needed that support, but it was more from duty and obligation than the love and caring a ‘good’ son would give. That connection just wasn’t there for me. Perhaps I got that from him. I wanted to have the connection, just never did. My leaving him on his deathbed, me not there, is something that has weighed heavily on me ever since. How could I be so uncaring? I will have that regret forever.

My Mom will lament that my Father’s lack of communication and emotional bonding was part of what caused their split. I have no doubt there was a connection.

My feelings toward my Mom are similar. She is still living but is looking forward to moving beyond this life. She appears to find no solace in this life. While I dread the day she passes I still find myself somewhat cold and emotionless about it. How bent is that? How can one human be so cold and callous. This is my Mother I’m talking about. She bore me, and raised me essentially alone. What an ASSHOLE I am!!

I’ve heard of, and sometimes relate to, those people described as without emotion. A quick Google search for “lacking emotion and connection” brings up a number of pages, most dealing with Emotional Detachment Disorder”. Articles also describe it as being one symptom of depression. That I have. Whether that is it or not I can’t say, I don’t believe so. I believe it’s a bit more complicated than that. Dr. Google does not always help us out.

The bottom line is that while I feel a disconnection with my parents and sibling, even my spouse at times, I do feel a very strong bond and love for my children and Grandkids. I don’t understand, I want to but I seem unable. This is something I never got into with Elly (my counselor) and wish I had. I wish I had the time, and the guts, to bring up this topic and find some answers. I wish Elly was here for me now.

While I will likely always lament the emotions, or lack thereof, that I’ve discussed here I will stop now. The beer has taken it’s toll on both my focus and my bladder. I have been able to articulate some of my thoughts and that will have to suffice for now. Perhaps with time and focus I can retrieve more thoughts on this topic and write them again. In the meantime perhaps I’ll find some answers, within or without.

I feel so Black, and it’s Friday.

I was colouring in my Mandala Colouring book this morning, enjoying a cool breeze out on the front ‘lanai’. This is something I’ve taken to doing lately and I find the peace and solitude out there calming. Once I begin to focus on the page and select the area and my chosen colour I’ll generally buckle down and lose sight of much of what’s happening around me. Today however my conversations with Elly once again came to mind.

Elly is the one whom I recall discussing this whole inside/outside the lines concept first. She was my most recent counselor. The chat came up as a result of the art therapy she was using with me. I mention it here in “Some Thoughts….”. I think of that conversation every time I colour, when I laboriously try to remain inside the identified areas of the page, any divergence a cause of some stress and dismay. Where I’d dearly love to just scribble on the page I haven’t found the gumption (as of yet). Maybe soon.

One of the things this morning that took me off my task of enhancing my Mandala was the curiousity of what that meant out in the real world, to colour inside/outside the lines. One of the first links in a Google search brought up a link to this sketch and the owning blog EscapeAdulthood.

There are a number of quotes out there too, the quote below from Jay Woodman being one.

“Colour outside the lines, live outside the box. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do, or not. Don’t be afraid, listen to your heart.
Heaven is a state of being – of one-ness, and Hell is a state of being – lost. We simply need to live as we best define ourselves, find our own ways of being who we are in our world.
There is no requirement – only freedom of choice. We should not be judged if we are doing what we think best according to our perceptions at any given time.
Guilt should be discarded, moved beyond – what matters is who we choose to be in the next moment, given what we might have learned. We continually create ourselves anew.
Forgiving someone is a great way to show love, and forgive yourself too for the hurt you held onto far too long.
Take back the energy you have wasted on these things and reclaim your power to be your next best self.
Honour the past but refresh, expand, renew, fulfill. Heaven is within us, always reachable.”

― Jay Woodman

So, that preamble was much longer than anticipated. I have half a mind to delete much of it but the other half says neh! Leave ‘er alone.

I think the whole point was I noticed how inflexible I was becoming with regard to the colouring. It is Priority 1 to stay within the lines, to be consistent with colours and symmetrical, and that credo seems to be much of what my life is back to being. I feel as if I’ve relapsed back to my ‘old’ self. It’s not where I want to be. I want, I NEED, to be colouring outside the lines again. At least a little.

It was the normal beginning to the day, slowly waking and not wanting to rise. At least I don’t wake angry as so often used to be the case BM (before meds). I do thank the antidepressant medication for that.

I wake but don’t want to be awake, I want to drift back into nothingness, to dreamland where life is simple with no expectations of me nor responsibilities to carry. At times it feels like the ‘awakeness’ is a cross I’d prefer not to bear. Life is so much simpler and enjoyable when I’m asleep.

Regardless of my desires I realize the need to get up so I slowly crawl out of bed, being careful not to disturb my wife who has likely just gotten under the covers a short time before. She has her own sleep issues, dissimilar to mine, perhaps more serious. I pull on some clothes and quietly leave the room, off to take care of whatever morning business requires taking care of.

A glass of water, my vitamins and pills, perhaps a banana, are next. I’ll sit and mindlessly attempt to watch the morning news, likely cruising around the ‘net on my iPad or phone at the same time. After a short while I’ll get off the couch and brew some coffee and prepare more food. This time a muffin, cereal, or toast. I’m too lazy and unmotivated to make a real, healthy breakfast. This is my life, at least the morning portion of it.

The last few days however I’ve shut off the tv earlier and moved outside. My front porch is the preferred location these days with the back porch being equally as nice but in closer proximity to the passing road. We are separated from the street by green and and a nice enough concrete fence but the noise from passing vehicles knows no boundaries and it pushes me away to a quieter locale. The front is cooler as well this time of morning, in fact today I wanted my hoodie.

I grabbed my 2nd cup of coffee and my colouring book and felts and proceeded outdoors. My wife got me an adult colouring book filled with mandelas and today that was my art project of choice. I have others but the last few days it’s been this. Any of the art related projects, photography included, were all supported by Elly. As a counselor Art Therapy was a big part of her toolkit and she introduced me to it. The colouring is therapeutic and also somewhat mindless however my thoughts continued to run rampant in my head. Perhaps writing will help, hence my visit here.

While the wondering continued I did wander about ADD or some other, similar, mental illness. Let’s throw that into the mix too while we’re at it. Perhaps it’s not (only) depression that is my illness, it may well be there are other factors at play. I’ve never been diagnosed with such, other than my own armchair diagnosis, but it does make me think (more).

We had a young friend come for a visit last night, the daughter of friends, and she has suffered with ADD or ADHD much of her life. She explained some of her symptoms and those of her friends who also suffer. Symptoms such as unfocussed thoughts, inability to selectively work on tasks, procrastination, etc.. These are of course not necessarily definitive symptoms, certainly not saying they have some mental illness, but they are most certainly some traits I feel I have. I’ve often wondering if ADD (or similar) is part of my repertoire.

Regardless I work with what I got, I ‘dance with the guy that brung me’. I have good days and days not as good. I try to find things that help my mind settle, to slow a mind that wanders, and wanders still.

My mind wanders. It frequently wonders too but mostly it just wanders, jumping from thought to thought without settling on any one thing. Perhaps it’s like being a kid in a candy store, so many choices that deciding on just one is onerous.

I think of blogging. I think of things in my yard or in my house, tasks, responsibilities. I think of friends, both current and past, and right now I think of my last counselor Elly. She was my favourite.

Not that Gloria was not good, or anything remotely like that, Elly was just more ‘into me’ if that makes any sense. Elly was like the friend I never had. I felt more open with her, more real. And that’s not to say I could tell her my most inner thoughts, my darkest quirks, those things best left unsaid. Those things or thoughts that should never be let out. Things like…….I once ate a mustard, ketchup, and mayo sandwich (and didn’t hate it). Those things one cannot talk about. There may be others too but I keep them all locked up in my mind. Most of those I could talk to Elly about.

Times that make me think of Elly are when I sit on one of my ‘lanais’ (yes, I have 2) and I see some of the quirky yard ornaments, the chachki (tchotchke), another word for useless stuff. We have a number of them surreptitiously placed in the yard. Having these ‘items’ in the yard was something Elly and I talked about a few times.

I was concerned that when we moved to our new place, a gated Strata complex, that the rules would be hard to accept, that we would be too restricted to what we can and cannot do in our yard. Both my wife and I liked the personalization allowed us in having our own house and we thought that might have to change. I suggested to Elly that maybe I’d have to hide a pink flamingo in the shrubbery, just out of sight where we could see it but the strata cops could not. At this point we have a few.

I was/am trying to loosen up a bit and I posted about it in “Some Thoughts….”, I desire to be more adventuresome, outgoing. Ask me how that’s going….. I do have my moments but there is work to do.

Well, enough travelling through time and thought. Perhaps it’s now time to do some real work. I plan to return so keep your seat belts on.

I try to write but my words seem perfunctory. I blather on, spitting words on the screen like a wet-mouthed close-talker. See, here I go again. I feel like I’ve lost my edge. I want it back, if I ever really had it.

I began this blog to talk about my experiences with depression, hence the sub-title “Then, til Now”. While I suspect one never beats depression, nor is ‘cured’ of it, I do think we adapt and it becomes part of who we are. Anyway I digress.

I was out for a walk today and passed through a tunnel on the way. I took a photo and it’s posted as the feature image above. It made me think my life is sort of like that, in a dramatic sort of way. Part of my life was in a tunnel. Over time I came to the exit and saw a future ahead. The meds help that. They assisted in my exit from the tunnel and perhaps they help me still. I guess I won’t know until, or when, I stop taking them.

I will admit one of the reasons I began writing here was to help vent out some the the thoughts I had, to ‘spill my guts’ as it were. A journal was suggested by my then counselor Gloria but given my geekiness I thought an online blog may be appropriate too. I wrote a bit about that in a previous post Ennui, Now there’s a word.

One of my followers on this blog was a lady named Mary. She had created a number of blogs herself, and had lived an amazing life, one filled with blessing and much pain. I miss Mary. I never knew her in the sense one might be acquainted but we chatted via email a few times and she expressed some of the challenges she had experienced in her life. I won’t cover it here but needless to say she lost her husband, the love of her life, and 2 of her sons, both boys to suicide. I think of Mary and wonder what became of her. I’ve found a number of her blogs but few of them have anything current. She frequently used the name “oldsunbird’ in her blogs, My Poetry, My Journey Through Old Age, OldSunBird are a few I’ve found. I’d dearly like to know what’s become of Mary.

Well I think it’s time for me to go. I’ve rambled enough and responsibilities command. In reality it’s taken me 2 days to write this post and even now I’m not sure it’s completely satisfactory (to me). Mind you I don’t know that they ever have. That my be another symptom of my withdrawal.

As our childcare responsibilities have been frequent it seems that the ‘me’ time or ‘our’ time has been somewhat restricted. We have had the g-kids almost every day and in fact we filled in for the closed daycare on both Thur. and Friday. On Friday we even hung out with our g-nephew Mason, he likes to chum with Madden and Ivy.

Saturday was also a day off, sans children,  so I did take the time to catch up on a couple nagging home tasks. Don’t kid yourself I did relax a titch too. So today (Sun) when the opportunity came to leave town I took the opportunity. Unfortunately my wife is sick again so I had to go solo. It was only a quick trip to Salmon Arm to sit in on a private showing of Despicable Me 3 but I thought the road trip might be nice and it may provide me with the time to take a few photos. I did get a couple, maybe if they meet my high standards I’ll post them.

I’m winding up the afternoon with a beer and some lunch at one of my favourite haunts, Brandt’s Pub. It’s a short walk from my house and I like to come here to write. And if I have a bit too much libation I can stagger home. When I think about it I don’t think any of it really improves my writing but it’s a nice excuse to get away, and have a couple beer, and I can kid myself about my blogging.