"Dead And Gone"

"The heart in me is strong today

No regrets, I'm blessed to say

The old me dead and gone away."

It's been a week since I've gotten back into the daily grind of life. If you can't recall the last post, I spent a good five days last week trying to get my life back on track. I used that time to strike at the roots of my depression; to start moving forward with my life. And for the most part, it went quite well.

Actually, to say it went well is quite an understatement. However, I didn't realize how much of an understatement it was until now. Yes, last Monday, when many of my goals and plans had been accomplished or set in motion, I was feeling very chipper. Like there was a literal burden removed from my shoulders and I could walk a little taller without straining my back. The feeling was... familiar. I can actually say that I felt like myself after that "long weekend".

In fact, I felt even better than I remember ever feeling. I felt like Peter Parker after coming in contact with the Symbiote in the mostly-bad "Spider Man 3" (except without acting like an ass). Maybe it's just been too long, but I can hardly remember feeling that good aside from being in love or being on stage (and I can barely remember what those feel like). I've even felt a surge of creativity; comedy skits and scripts have been spilling out of me since last week. I've even been able to come up with half-decent songs as well. I felt so good, I even told a very pretty girl on the metro (who looked a little like Taylor Swift) that she was very pretty... and I didn't care if she thought I was hitting on her or not (which I wasn't... I was polite and I was just complimenting her)! Yes, I was beginning to feel like myself... and maybe a little bit more.

I say that I felt like myself because through this rough period of my life, I noticed as days went by that I was no longer the person I was. I was happy with who I was before; proud of myself. But there were times over the past year or so that I felt so far detached from who I was, I barely recognized myself. I began to question weither I could ever get back to that... get back to feeling good about myself.

"The future's so bright... I gotta wear shades."

Since last week, not only I have noticed a stark change in my attitude and the way I carry myself, but others around have noticed as well. Various people in my workplace noted how I didn't "look so sad" all the time or wasn't "as stressed as before". I believe last Thursday, my boss's exact words after seeing my improved mood and performance at work were "You're like f**kin' Jesus Christ back from the dead!"
That was probably the most accurate way to put it (not that I'm comparing myself to Jesus or anything). Before, I'd felt more dead than alive; a shell of a man. But now, I feel revitalized, reborn, ready to take on the world. It was as if I had been encased in skin that resembled a grotesque version of myself and now I have shed that skin. I am alive again.
Though I feel good about myself and the track which I am now on, I know that I am not the same. I am still suffering from depression (physically, my body is still in depression mode) but that is something that I can overcome through time. What I am going to have to carry with me for the rest of my life are the scars from my experiences.

We are the results of the experiences life takes us through, be they voluntary experiences or unexpected ones. In either case, what we take from these experiences is up to us. Now, we may not always have the right mental or emotional or spiritual tools to maximize what we mine from from each episode of our lives but we still take something. It might do us good: make us stronger; more resilient; more understanding; wiser; more emphatic or more sympathetic. Then again, they might not serve us nearly so well: they might make us more stubborn; hateful; closed-minded; vengeful; depressed.

I really feel that I've begun to take all the negative baggage I've accumulated over the course of the last year or so and started to shape it into something worthwhile and positive. Yes, I still, and most likely will continue to look back at the past and can't help but frown when I remember how it felt to be going through the various situations I'd found myself in, but now I find that I've grown stronger from those experiences. It's almost as if the my despair and anxiety have allowed me to tap into a previously unseen dynamic to myself. I could very easily have used these experiences to turn me into a horrible person that I would never wish to be and if I allowed things to travel on the trajectory they had been on, that may have been the case. Instead, I've gained a greater understanding of many things... things that other people have and will go through and a greater understanding of myself.
The struggle is not over, I know, and it's not quite time to uncork the champagne and drink to my resurrection. What I do know, and celebrate every day, is that the old me... the one beaten and weathered by tribulation... is gone away. I'll always remember that person and I would do well to use him to serve as a reminder that the future (which feels more so now than ever) is worth living for.

"Stand My Ground"

"I can see
When you stay low
Nothing happens
Does it feel right?
Late at night
Things I thought I'd put behind me
Haunt my mind

"I just know there's no escape now
Once it sets it's eyes on you
But I won't run
Have to stare it in the eyes

"Stand my ground
I won't give in
No more denying
I've gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground

"It's all around
Getting stronger, coming closer into my world
I can feel that it's time for me to face it
Can I take it?

"Though this might just be the ending
Of the life I held so dear
But I won't run
There's no turning back from here

"All I know for sure is that I'm trying
I will always stand my ground"

WARNING!: LONG-ASS POST! (but there a pictures...)

For the sake of those who don't keep up with this blog, I have been suffering from severe depression for the last 13 months. Over the course of that time (when I wasn't sulking or wallowing in my despair) I worked at trying to find the root-causes for much of my depression. It took a lot of convincing of myself that some of it was true. Some things, I didn't want to think about at all. This blog, along with serving as an outlet for my emotions and a log for notable events, helped me to face these issues; to reach the root-causes of my stress and depression.

Last week, I decided I'd had enough; Enough taking cover from the fires of my tribulations and just waiting for them to pass. No, if there was going to be any change, I was going to have to bring it pass myself. So, over the past 5 days, I dove head-first into the fray... a battle to regain control of my life.

For a long while, I've argued with myself about weither I should go to school or not. I have no real drive to get some degree or certificate. I understand that having one of these can assist me in building a career. My problem is I have yet to find a career I have a sincere drive for that would truly benefit from the time and money spent on getting a degree or certificate.

However, after much thinking, I've decide to at least get some schooling under my belt. As an aspiring writer, I feel that I could benefit from a few creative writing courses (or perhaps a creative writing program) to hone my skills and have my material read by a person deemed worthy enough to teach such a subject. And so, much of my "free-time" over the last 5 days was spent finding a suitable school I might attend. I think I may have found the right school in Capilano U. All I have to do is apply and all that good stuff and hope I get in for this September.

A problem presents itself here though: The cost of education. I know I need to save for school... but I first need to settle my older debts.

I owe some institutions some money that, when looked at separately, doesn't add up to that much. However, when you total everything together, it appears to be quite a hefty amount.

I really should not have dug myself into this hole. Frankly, it didn't have to be this way. I can only blame myself. Over the last year and a-little-bit-more, I spent a lot of money on things I really didn't need. I bought things to distract me from my stress and the various burdens weighing me down (example: I just got my iRewards annual letter that states I spent almost $800 on books over the last 12 months... and that's just at Chapters!). The irony of it all is that this only served to increase the burden I'd already been carrying. One might call this my "Confessions Of A Shopaholic"; While many people have their addictions such as sex, drugs, and alcohol, I was busy blowing my dough on needless materialistic items and digging myself deeper into debt (though now, I have a proud collection of books and TV on DVD).

I've laid out a plan for me to get out of debt in the next 2 months (at most). From then on, I need to save for school. There was a time when I was far more frugal than I am now. I need to dust off the old will-power and resurrect my older better spending habits. I know that it won't be easy, but at least I have a steady job.

If only acquiring money was as easy as bashing bricks with you're head...

On Friday, I went to see my doctor. I'd previously discussed my depression with him and that day I informed him of my deepening depression and my intent to turn my life around. He was glad to hear that I was willing to take such steps towards bettering my "quality of life".
I was still concerned with my mental stability though (not that I was going to go postal at work or anything). I mentioned how I'd been unable to control my emotional breakdown in public in the recent weeks. Despite this, he believes I am not mentally unstable to the point that I need serious therapy (ie: a behaviourist) or meds.

I insisted on seeing a therapist at least once for their opinion (careful not insult his diagnosis skills). He set up an appointment for the therapist in the building for the following Monday.

I never wanted to be that guy in the middle...

One of the most profound effects on my life this depression has brought with it was a severe case of anti-socialism and repulsiveness. My relationships strained with both my parents and my friends and, upon this realization, I delved further and further into anti-socialism. I'd go through fits of aching loneliness but when presented with the opportunity to spend time with my friends or family, I would often decline. It was like, I didn't want to be lonely but at the same time I was... comforted by the sorrow loneliness instilled in me.

Lately, I've been trying to break out of this shell of loneliness. I've been trying to re-establish the relationships with those I love far too dearly to let slip away due to my own (in)actions.
On Saturday, my mother and I had a solid heart-to-heart. We discussed various issues with my life and my relationship with her and the rest of our family. This included the various things that have pushed me away from her and why I didn't speak to her unless I had to. We managed to get a lot of things out in the open, though not all of them pleasant. That just means there are things we need to work on.
That evening, I went out with some friends. Though we had a jolly old time, I have to admit that I craved for another heart-to-heart talk with them. I just wanted to tell them (as well as other friends who weren't present) how much I care and how much I've missed them over the past year or so... but to just go out and say that would be really awkward and a little bit gay, rather than sincerely caring. So, I just sat and enjoyed their company. And that was a good thing. Sometimes, I forget just how fulfilling it is just to be around them and enjoy being with them. Perhaps, maybe my actions around them already reflect how I feel (hopefully they don't make me come off as gay though).

Qoola: The FroYo place my friends and I went to.

The issue I most wanted to get out of the way over these 5 days was the one(s) between my father and myself. I hadn't spoken to him in over 4 months and I was feeling the ill-effects of this and seeing them within our family (notably the effects on my sister).

I've always believed that, no matter what, family is important. I let my feelings of hatred over the years build up without proper ventilation and the result had devastating effects on my family. I knew that things could not change over night, but I couldn't let this go on any longer. Honestly, I didn't want to have a relationship with my father (or anyone in my family, that is) in which we don't speak to each other unless we absolutely must. It's always sad when you hear about it... but it's even worse to be in that situation. Even the coldest hearts can't go without feeling some remorse for such a dim situation.
So, on Sunday night, I broke the silence between my father and I. We talked about the past and how we both knew that we needed to mend the rift before we grew to far apart. We may not have healed all wounds or touched base with everything we need to in order for things between us to be okie-dokie again, but it's a start... and that counts for something, doesn't it?

Monday rolled around. I got up at 10 in the morning and had what might have been the best cup of tea I've had in a long time. I stood on my balcony just enjoying the morning... something I haven't done in a long while. It was then that I saw a large van pull out in front of the house. I watched for a few minutes as I sipped my tea and it became apparent that the van was there to help my uncle (who had been living in my space for some time... yeah, that was really bugging me too) GTFO. A bonus sent from above, perhaps?
I made my way to the therapist by about noon. After talking with her for about half an hour, she sent me away. She was convinced that I didn't need her help and that I didn't need meds. She told me that my understanding of the root-causes for all the bollocks in the my life and my willingness and eventual actions toward dealing with them, are testaments to me good sense. I mean, there was still no doubt that I was still suffering from severe depression, but I was on a path towards excellent mental health.
I was feeling very good about myself; something I haven't felt in a very very long time. I was beginning to feel like myself. While out for a walk, I thought I actually felt lighter, like the first few steps you take after removing in-line skates. I ended the weekend with the latest episode of "24" and got to bed nice and early.

"24": the cherry on top of a fruitful weekend (plus a few days).

I need to remember that this is only the beginning. I need to implement the plans I've developed and stick to them; to maintain the truce between my parents and I; to break the chains of anti-socialism that belong no where in my life; to get back to square one. I may be feeling better, feeling more confident with myself, but my struggles are far from over. But now, I feel that my life is somewhat on track. I have my bearings and recovered much of my wits. All that's left for me to do is soldier on.

"All right, chumps! Let's do this! LEEEEEEROOOOOOY JEEEEEENNNNKIIIIIIINS!!!

"Landslide"

"Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I Handle the seasons of my life?
I don't know..."

The last two weeks have been quite treacherous for me. I don't really know why. Perhaps it is just the constant pressure I'm feeling and the act of consistently pretending for the public like things are not as bad as they are. I've broken down and cried in public twice in the last two weeks: Once on the bus going "home" from work and once in a coffee shop, while drinking a hot cider. Crying is certainly not a foreign thing for me. I do it often enough, but usually I can stand to wait until I get to the house until I let loose and break down. Now, I can barely do that.
I've been taking a mostly defensive, self-preserving stance in my battle against depression and the various situations that contribute to it, but I've known for a long time now that it'll do me no good to just take the blows and wait for the storm to pass. I feel that enough of my life has been missed due to the weight of all the shit that's been accumulating on me. I've had enough! I've had more than enough! Today, I'm going on the offensive. Today, I'm going to start taking massive strides towards rebuilding myself from the unrecognizable pile of rubble I once was!

Today, I told my boss that I needed to take time off to get my head on straight; to fix my life and get back on the rails. To my surprise, he was very understanding about this and granted me a few days off. Now, that I have this time to myself, I feel I can really get into the planning and execution of my plans.
For the sake of simplicity, I've laid out a list of objectives I hope to accomplish in my few days off. The first thing was "take some time off work" and that's already done. Here's the rest:
- clean my room
- find someone with whom I can practice driving so I can get my "N"
- find an appropriate school and program to enroll myself in (Creative Writing)
- Plan out my finances for the next few months to find the best way to eliminate my debt ($1000+)
- See doctor for some medication and/ or therapy
- Strengthen my relationship/ spend time with real friends
- At the very least, come to a truce with my parents
These all represent some of the hurdles I am facing right now. But there's only so much a person can do in a few days. I don't think this list is too unreasonable. That's not to say completing everything on this list is going to be easy... especially the last one.

Some of the things on my list of objectives my seem trivial or easy. But, even if they are, they are still things that need to be done. Things like finding a person who will let me use their car/ teach me to drive properly shouldn't be too difficult (if I can drive, I might be able to get a girlfriend). Cleaning my room... well, half of it is I've just been lazy, the other half is I just sometimes can't bring myself to do it, due to fatigue or just not in the right kind of mind for cleaning, but I will certainly have to get that done.
I've been meaning to enroll in school for a while now. More so recently than ever. I'm quite set on taking creative writing, mainly because I don't know what else I might do (besides teaching, perhaps?). Actually, I can't really see myself doing something that doesn't involve some sort of creative writing skill.
I am totally swamped by taxes and medical fees I didn't know I was suppose to be paying and now, apparently I owe quite a bit... as in more-than-a-grand quite a bit. My depression really got me into the bad habit of spending on trivialities. I know that before it became severe, I liked to buy things here and there and I wasn't exactly the worst money-saver in the world. But, afterward, I began buying things just to distract me from my problems: DVD's; games; books. I spent thousands of dollars on things I didn't really need (but were nice to have). While some use sex, drugs, or alcohol to forget their worries, I bought other materialistic miscellanea to keep my mind off of the problems that plague my spirit. It's now time to break that habit and overcome my debt all at once; two birds with one stone.
I've already been seeing my doctor to talk through some of my problems... but I haven't seen him in a while. Last time we met, he said that I probably didn't need any meds or formal therapy due to my grasp of my situations. However, after what I almost went through with on new year's eve, I want to ask him his professional opinion as to weither I should really be on some drugs.
One thing I really regret from last year was that I spent almost no time with some of my friends; people I really care about and feel a closeness to. That closeness really began to fade last year (...or was it the year before...?) and I really just want to re-establish some kind of good relationship with those I care for most. I'll definitely have to make time for them in the next few days.
The biggest problem to overcome will most certainly, with little doubt, be the one between me and my parents (more-so, my dad). I really don't want to get into that again. I think about it often enough (for anyone reading this that is confused read this and this). I just want the tension and the grit between us to go away... it doesn't belong in a family.

"Si vis pacem, para bellum"... It's a Latin saying. It translates into "if you want peace, prepare for war". This war has been raging both within me as well as the physical plane on which I live. I've been battered and bruised and forced to lock myself in a bunker as the bombs devastate everything around me. Today, I take the battle elsewhere; I'm on the offensive. I'm sick of living this way, if you can call it living at all. I've been dead for far too long. I want to live again. I know it will be a long and drawn-out battle... but I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees.

"I Hate This Part"

"I can't take it any longer
Thought that we were stronger
All we do is linger
Slipping through my fingers"

Very rarely do our relationships with others withstand the pressures and tribulations that life brings us. There are some relationships that are able to withstand the tests of time but they are few and far between. We never expect them though, these dissolutions. We go through life, we meet people, befriend them, and somehow always think that we'll always be friends with them... that we'll, at least, always be on good terms with them. Then, be it a shattering moment or a slow errosion, it's just not there anymore; we lose the loyalty and the trust and time spent together building a solid relationship.
Of course, we don't expect everyone we befriend to be a life-long friend-'til-the-end. We learn sometime early in our adulthood that not everyone we call friend will always be there. We all go our seperate ways, but usually the relationship is not dissolved... just on hiatus, as it were. However, when people who are in solid relationships have a falling out, it is very difficult to watch. People who were once as close as brothers and sisters afterwards can not even bare to look upon each other without cursing each other under their breaths. People who everyone thought was the cutest couple and could always imagine getting married go through grotesque break-ups and make the effort to stay away from each other. Indeed, it's horrific to watch.

I've been involved in a few of these. I was once a part of a group of friends that now looks upon their time together with such disgust, it's actually quite upsetting that they choose to disregard absolutely everything good that happened (I was not directly involved with any of the numerous conflicts that plagued the group). I even had a friend I had to distance myself from. A few other friends and I were maturing and he was not and, though I was glad we had good times in the past, it upset me to see him in the exact same mind-set he was in while going through elementary school while others were quickly growing up. Another very dear friend of mine whom I thought was trying to mend our friendship after previously leaving me alone without a word, now shuns me and for no apparent reason I can think of (I admit, I do still care though). I remember the ache I felt within me while passing through these phases... the same ache I feel when I remember and reminice what it was like in the old days.
It's the same ache I feel everyday now. Only this time... it is much much closer to home.

I wrote of the growing rift between my father and myself a while back. I think I wrote sometime afterwards that I was not happy or satisfied with our current situation. And if I didn't, well, here it is! I truly hate where this is going. I've seen it happen before. I've lived through it before. I've allowed relationships between myself and those I care for to fall into disrepair (yes, I do, to some degree, blame myself for not intervening when I could... should have), but this... the relationship between a father and his son... this isn't something one can just let slip through their fingers!
Yet, I don't know what I can do. I have nothing to make amends for... nothing to apologize for. Everything I've said or done in response to his (in)actions are non-regrettable. I can not expect him to change who he is; that would be hypocritical, since I will not betray myself and allow him to think that his actions and his words are justified. That being said, I can not agree with him, his methods, his train of thought, his logic.
I feel like I'm floating in space. Nothing but dead space and silence between us and nothing to ground me. I feel I have no control over the direction this is heading in... I only have the fear of heading towards a dreadful and haunting unknown.

I know this is taking a toll on the rest of our family, most notably, my sister (the middle one). Of all the people in our household she is the only one I come remotely close to discussing this with. In fact, she is the person I feel most comfortably discussing this with out of everyone. I know I have a few friends I can tell everything to... but this is an internal affair, and, perhaps that is why I make an effort to keep this from them.
I see that my sister is hurting from watching us fall apart. She is in the position I usually find myself: on the sidelines as grotesque mutations of those we love tear each other to shreds. She is the one that makes me want to end this. To say something that will cause this fued to subside. Somehow, though, I can not see my father and I ever putting this behind us. Well, at least, I can't see myself putting it behind me. As I mentioned before, I was slighted badly and the wound cut deep. So deep in fact, that even my little sister's grief won't bring me to make some sort of first- step towards peaceful resolution.

I am usually a very forgiving person but right now I'm really not in the mood to forgive. maybe, somewhere in the future, I will be able to put this behind me. Maybe there is something to salvage of this broken relationship. Perhaps, all is not completely lost. I truly hope so... but not now.

"If You Could Read My Mind"

"When you reach the part where the heartache comes,
the hero would be me.
But heroes often fail."

So, apparently, people actually read this stuff. I have to admit that it's made me somewhat hesitant when typing out how I'm feeling. Well, it used to, anyway. I remember when I first created this blog, I was either prompted or somehow stumbled upon an option to make my site either private or public. I chose for it to remain public. The reason for this is because I have nothing to hide and I am usually very open about myself in person anyway.
I try to keep my entries somewhat vague in terms of the people I mention. When it comes to mentioning people in my life, I don't use names, including my own. Friends and family etc. are all given aliases subject to change from entry to entry. I do this because it's my life that is on display here, not the lives of others. However, other people help to shape the world around me and I can only write so much about how my life is going before I have to start including other people in this blog. I keep their identities vague as a sort of way of honoring their own privacy. Those who know me personally and read this might be able to figure out who some of these people are, and this, perhaps, is what caused me to really watch my step when writing for a while.

I've always kept in mind, however, that this blog is not primarily intended for others. Yes, I've allowed the general public access to my inner thoughts and personal experiences but, as I've said before, this site, these writings, are for me.
The way I write may be viewed as contradictory to that statement. I do write my entries either as a sort of narrative (when I'm logging an experience) or as an essay (when trying to express my ideals or other things of the like). These are things people write for other people to read. So, am I really writing for this unseen audience? Is this blog a cry out to the public to hear what I have to say rather than a place I can occasionally log my thoughts and events in my life?
I asked myself this question. The answer is "no".
If this is so, one reading this might ask "then why do you write this way? Why do you write in such a manner that an audience is almost necessary to make your compositions complete?"
We all have those moments when we think about our lives, our experiences, our ideals... whatever. When I do this, just sit or lie awake in bed and think, I find that I can think about whatever it is that's on my mind quite clearly... but I haven't quite put it all together coherently. It's as if you see a jigsaw puzzle before you. Maybe you have some of the pieces. Maybe you have all of the pieces. Hell, maybe you have all the pieces and they've been arrange in such a way that all you have to do is slide and snap them into place. To me, that is what sitting and thinking is like: a complete idea, incomplete.
Now, I've noticed when one (including myself) tries to explain them self to another person, it often comes out fragmented or choppy ("Hey, you know that feeling when... like... I don't know... when... when.. Awww, you know what I'm talking about, right?"). Yet, I have little doubt that this idea that they are trying to let out, manifest in some shape or form, is quite clear in their minds. When I write here, this is me, in a (coherent) sense, talking to myself... confessing to myself... reminding myself. This is me sliding and snapping the pieces together for myself... and others... to see.

So, this is why I write this way. This is why people find my thoughts and ideas easily accessible and, I suppose, why they continue to read it. I don't consider it eavesdropping, or snooping, or any sort of breach of privacy. Again, if I didn't want people to read this garbage, I'd ditch this site and keep a journal with a lock on it. Besides, there are a few things in my life that I like to keep private... things I don't even like to talk about... but I'm sure I've slipped a few hints as to what these might be here and there in this blog.
The question I now ask is why people read this stuff. I can't admit to being all that interesting and I don't suppose I've stumbled across anything earth-shattering while writing here. What's more, my blog isn't very happy, unfortunately. I mean, I'd like it to be more uplifting or at least less dreary. But as of lately... well, as of the past three years(-ish)... one won't very often find that sort of thing in me. Also, one should not expect some sort of story-land happy-ending turnaround blog post to appear sometime in the future. This is my life, it's real, and very rarely in real lives do all the nasty loose ends and unfortunate events get tied up nice and fairytale-like.

But don't go losing all hope now. I know I won't.

Aww, dammit! Now I'm feeling all melodramatic and melancholic! I think it's about time I clicked this link over here............