Soul Crushing

     When I am about to write a post that speaks to the pain I am going through at that particular  moment, I find myself asking  "Am I just feeling sorry for my self?"  No doubt about it.  Do I have good reason to have these feelings?  I don't know.  When you are this close to the problem it is hard to be objective.  Being at the edge of a cliff, all I see are the jagged rock below and I don't seem to be able to turn around and just walk away.
      Quick update of my professional situation.  In 2010 I was laid off from my career of twenty-seven plus years in broadcasting. Those twenty-seven years meant the world to me.  Sure, I experienced times of burn out and near the end of my career I had lost my focus.  I had been a manager for almost ten years and that took me further away from what I loved to do ... create! 
     So, 2010, I get laid off just as the summer is beginning.  I'm not worried.  The company treated me fairly and I was given a good package.  I didn't jump on the job search right away.  A trip had been planned and I wanted to volunteer at the upcoming Atlantic Film Festival in September.  There I planned to network as much as I could.  After the festival I started my new career search in earnest.  It did not take me long to find out that opportunities for a 50 something Community TV producer were almost nonexistent. 
      I'm rambling too much.  Long story short.  I found nothing!  By late October I was desperate to find anything so I took a call center job to "tide me over" until my dream job/career came in.  By May there was nothing happening so I switch to a different company as an Account Manager and worked out of their call center.  I have been stuck there for over four years. 
     I know that I am not the first to ever be in this position but having already been diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety before my lay off, the ensuing five years did nothing to improve my situation.  Instead, the act of working in such a structured and uncreative atmosphere drove me deep down into a pit of black despair.  About a year ago I was making some progress and attempting to accept my situation.  I was trying to make the best of it.  Then things started to change at work.  The way we worked and the ability to make the extra money to pay the bills changed.  At first, I and others in my situation, was told that it was temporary and that everything would right itself with a few weeks, a month tops.  But month after month nothing changed.  If anything, it got worse.
      A cornered animal is a dangerous one indeed.  That is what I felt like.  So I began to bite back.  I started to question policy and practices and demand meetings with higher ups. I wrote a lot of emails.  I was and am not the only one in this situation so I thought I would stand up and speak for those of us hurting.  We're dealing with a very large company here.  As much as I thought my voice would get heard and that I would be treated fairly that was not to be.  All I managed to do was paint a bulls-eye on my back, front, forehead and ass.  (Lots of room for it on my ass I can tell you!)
      So there it is.  I am stuck in a very small, very square box.  I have a creative soul.  I crave being creative but that creativity is stifled by a situation I have been trapped in for too many years.  I have found myself wishing hours, days and week's away just to get closer to something else.  What that something else is, I have no idea.  Some of you will know what I am talking about.  And some of you will think that I should just get over myself and do something!  I'm trying!

Positive Space

   

      Recently I had the opportunity to attend the first ever BlogJam held in Halifax.  It was a chance to  explore the world of blogging and to meet other bloggers.  Right from the get go I was impressed by the organizers and the caliber of speakers and attendees.  What impressed me the most was how honest everyone was about who they were and how open they were about their writing.  Finding your own voice in any kind of writing is paramount to any authors success, whether you are writing for a few dozen friends and family or if you have a hundred thousand followers on the net.
     Vicki Murphy has definitely found her own voice. The popular blogger of http://www.motherfumbler.ca and sometime CBC contributor, was the keynote speaker at BlogJam.  So right out of the gate "I had a feeling that I was not in Kansas anymore."  In the first five minutes I learned more about a woman's vagina than any man has a right to know.  And I found out tiny, redheaded Newfoundlanders can swear like a sailor, except they can do it way better.  My Dad was a sailor and if this had been a swearing/boxing match he would have been knocked out in the first round. 
      Moving on ....  oh yeah, blogging.  For some time I have been wanting to change the direction of my blog.  I considered, for a time, changing this blog's name and starting fresh, but I have since decided that Waiting for the Awful will stay but the focus will shift.  Sure, depression and anxiety will always have a home here (and in my head), but so will anything "Awful" I could talk about such topics as: "Why did the Blue Jays fall apart last night in game two?"  I could have had a blast with the Aunt who tried to sue her 8 year old nephew for hugging her too hard, breaking her wrist.  Or I could even get more political and post about Monday's Federal Election.  "Nice Hair though".  So basically, where ever there is "The Awful" I will be there to expose it or wallow in it.  Could go either way.
       Back to Vicki Murphy.  Her speech was very funny and shocking to some of us "older folk" but I was impressed.  I wanted to learn more about her and her style of blogging.  The opportunity came during the silent auction. There was a pre-autographed copy of her book and this t-shirt. (for an explanation of the slogan go to http://www.motherfumbler.ca/contact/twat-are-you-waiting-for-get-the-v-shirt/#sthash.u2lSvijB.wYF2Sn3r.dpbs )  If there are children in the room send them out before you watch it.

 

So I placed a bid and then forgot about it.  I have that issue with Silent Auctons. I always go home with something I proably shouldn't.  Anyway ... I won and the book and t-shirt are mine.  The book I will keep.  After all, how can I give away a book that is autographed --"Rock that Vagina!!"  That baby is going up on the shelf next to my signed copy's of Farley Mowat and W.O. Mitchell books.  I don't think the boys will mind. But I don't see me wearing the T-shirt as it is a size large and I am a size Godzilla.  It's to big for my wife and she said she could not see her self wearing it to any functions she could think of. I suggested causal Fridays at work but she works for the Provincial Government and it may not fit in.  I am pretty sure it is a Unisex t-shirt.  I want it to find a good home, so anyone who reads this, and would honesty wear the T-shirt, can have it. I only have the one, so the first one to respond via Twitter or Facebook gets it. (Oh, and you must live within 100 Kilometers from me.  I'm not made of money!!)  I only ask for one thing in return ... a picture with you in it.  Not for pervie reasons.  Okay. maybe a little for pervie reasons, but I won't post it. I promise.

        So stay tuned for the new and improved Waiting for the Awful.  A new website will be a part of the process so it may take awhile.  If anyone out there is willing to help me build a website for free I would be eternally grateful.  Or at least point me to the "just add water" website building sites on the net.

      So we'll see you next time and as Vicki would say "Rock that Vagina!"

Empty Nest

     Anxiety comes in all shapes and sizes.  My wife and I knew this was coming but it always seemed so far away.  We believed that we would have time to put the finishing touches on our best work.  But the day did come.  The day our son left for college.  We now have to face the truth...  We are Empty Nesters!!  We'll at least until the holidays and next summer.
      The journey had it's stresses for sure.  The packing of our Ford Explorer became a challenge.  How would he fit everything he wanted to take and still have room for three passengers.  Some how we made it fit.  So off we went on our 2,000 kilometer journey to Ontario.  My wife and I knew that this was our last chance to impart our wisdom and our son knew it was his last chance to ignore it.  Don't get me wrong.  He knows we have some solid points.  He just got tired of hearing it. 
      After two twelve hour driving days and a few successfully hidden tears, we arrived at our destination.  We, as a family, have always been lucky to have great support from family and friends and that did not change when we arrived.  We had a place to stay for three nights and our hosts were gracious, offering drinks in the evening and breakfast in the morning.  That first morning was move in day at the college.  We were all excited to see where H would be living.  For me it was a chance to relive my college days and visit friends from 30 years ago.  The move in went smoothly but anxiety was ever present, even though my son did not want to admit it, for all three of us, .  Only a day and a bit left with each other.
       It was a pleasant surprise for both my wife and I when, after he was settled in his dorm, my son was willing to visit the friends and family.  This is where the anxiety lessens.  Each person we spoke to would ask H for his contact information and gave him their information.  He was immediately booked for any holiday while he was living in London and offers of "being there" and helping in any way were given.  I can't tell you how much that means to both my wife and I.  I know that H can take care of himself but to have this kind of support was appreciated from all three of us.
     Finally that last morning came.  It wasn't even a whole morning.  My wife and I got up and had breakfast with our hosts, again, thanks so much, and then we called H to arrange one last moment together before we got on the road.  I expected to have woken him up but he was ready for us when we arrive at the dorm.  Lumps in throats, we both hugged him and told him how much we loved him.  He was a bit embarrassed by the tears and cracked voices but he allowed us to have our moment.  Then it was over... he turned and headed back in and we went to the car, pausing for a time to wipe our eyes and clear our throats.
     The ride home was quieter.  We texted with him and on our last day on the road, we called to find out how his first day of college went.  He rushed the call, not because he didn't care, but because his new life had begun and its call was far stronger than ours.  Once home we both took a moment to look around the house and listen.  No kids in the basement, no thumping music from the stereo and no games being played.  Quiet.  It will take some getting used to that's for sure.  But look on the bright side ... only fourteen more weeks till he comes home for Christmas!!
     We love you H.

Hold your Tongue

     Can I be honest with you?  That is a very good question.  Can any of us truly be honest with each other?  What would happen if we said what we were really thinking all the time?  I have this reoccurring nightmare where a friend asks me to give them my completely honest opinion and when I do it is brutal.  I let them have it with both barrels.  They look on in horror then turn and walk away.
      We it comes to honesty we all hold some things back.  We have to.  If we did not, most of us would have not friends at all and our families will have disowned us.  It also dangerous.  When we are honest with them that means they can, and will be honest with us.  I had a recent conversation with someone close to me.  I was feeling in one of my low moods and decided I should be honest about something that was on my mind.  Well, within five minutes both of us were bawling and soon we had to hang up.  We couldn't go on.  We also have not revisited the conversation since.
      What happens when someone asks you to be honest with them.  Likely it is about a particular situation and they are not asking for you to dissect their complete life.  Do you hold back a little?  Me?  I have always held back.  I usually am not confident in my answer to the question so I turn to vagueness and "what ifs".  I know I am not alone.  I have asked for honesty and I can tell when someone is holding back.  You hold back to save someone embarrassment or possible shame.  You hold back because you like/love this person and you do not want to damage your relationship.  Too bad.  We should be evolved enough to take someone's honesty and use it for positive change.
     The worst is, of course, when you are not honest with yourself.  These days my life is filled with self reflection and questions I ask myself.  I hold know I back from myself.  I guess that means I must like myself.  That fact is, not being honest with yourself is dangerous.  By keeping things back when you self reflect the only person you can hurt is yourself.  Wait! I take that back.  The only people you hurt is yourself and the people who care about you.
     Honest!  I wouldn't lie to you.

Mr. Premier, your timing SUCKS!

      I have never been a political person.  That is to say that I never followed politics, cared about which party was in power or kept up with anything political in the news.  Recently that has changed.  My home has been hit two fold by recent decisions that the Nova Scotia Liberal Government has made. 
      A little over a week ago my wife Lorraine's life changed drastically when, suddenly and with out warning, she was laid off from her career of 31 years with the NS Government.  The cuts came swiftly and were brutal.  They were also head scratchers.  People who specialized in departments saw their job move to another department but they were told they were not needed.  The job and the projects were still alive but the person who was doing the job was out in the cold.  In many cases that person was the only one who could perform in that position.  So, now there are projects and programs out their that we Nova Scotians were counting on, floating in limbo.  The qualified person out of  a job and the little guys screwed again.
     Part two of my Rant.  As many of you know I come from a television background.  Ever since my lay off in 2010 I have been struggling to get back into the business I love.  For the past few years I have been meeting with a friend who owns a local Film company.  We have slowly been working together to foster some of my ideas and to get me back in the game.  That come back dream was so close to happening and then our Provincial Government cut the Nova Scotia Film Tax credit to a mere shadow of itself.  That credit is the life blood of everything creative this province's filmmakers had to offer.  Especially for the small independent shops like my friend's.  Over the last few months I have been working hard to get some outlines and scripts together for a meeting at the end of this month.  I am afraid to call the office.  What is the state of my friend's company?  Will they survive or will they have to pull up stakes and leave Nova Scotia.  This seems so unfair. Not just to me but to all those people who make their living associated with Film in Nova Scotia.
     You can imagine what these events do to a depressed person.  All the hugs from friends,  along with thoughts and prayers, do little to help when you find yourself falling back into the hole you've been trying so hard to climb out of.  I know I am not alone here.  My wife was devastated but is rallying.  She is very strong and has some good options.  I am not so sure about the rest of us left out in the cold by an uncaring and unfeeling government.

The Avoider's Lament

      It's funny how we can be avoiders.  Do we learn to avoid or is the ability born with us?  Here in Nova Scotia, February 2015, we just experienced our first Heritage Day.  It was a hard fought and well earned winter holiday that the rest of the country, for the most part, enjoys.  I hated almost every minute of it.
      To be fair it was not the holiday I hated.  No, it was myself that I hated.  I wasted a great weekend.  The things I could have accomplished.  No! The things I SHOULD have accomplished.  What a waste of a weekend.   What a waste of a life.
     At fifty five I should know better by now.  How much longer can I go on avoiding what needs to be done?  There are moments in my day where I feel so weak-minded and useless.  Unable to help myself in the most basic of terms.  I could write a laundry list of things I am avoiding.  All of these  tasks would help me be the person I dream of being.  The top two on the list are my Job and my Health.  If I could stop the avoidance on those two things alone my life would change drastically.  Everything else would improve just by solving those puzzles.  Yet, I put off the things I know I should do until the next hour, the next day, the next week and the next month.  Avoiders rarely will put things off until the next year because that makes them look bad.  Have I done that? Put things off a year?  Sure I have.  I don't seem to have a problem looking bad these days.
     So, what is the secret of not avoiding?  I HAVE NO IDEA!  At least not at this very moment.  For the last month or more I have been waiting for something to change.  With the drugs I currently take or have stopped taking, I believed that I would gain more focus and insight into my own life.  I thought that I would finally see the arrow that would point me in the right direction.  As of this post there has been no magic arrow.  There are many who would tell me that I am foolish for believing in such "magic".  That I need to get up and just do what ever needs to be done to get where I need to be.  I don't disagree.  There is a small, whispering voice near the base of my skull that tells me that every day.  But the heavy weight of uncertainty has been stronger.  Like a heavy lead skull cap, it presses down and keeps my mind and my will mired in emotional and psychological quick sand. 
     It has taken me five days to write this post.  Why?  Because I was avoiding it.  It's Sunday, the best day of the week for avoiding.  It is also raining.  The best weather for avoiding.  And it is getting near to mid afternoon.  Might as well call it a day and save the rest for tomorrow.   Maybe ...
     

Number 118

     So for the third time in four months I find myself in the waiting room of the Dartmouth General Hospital Blood Collection department. Most days you are in for an average hour and a half wait.  It would be no different today. At my age, getting blood work is routine.  "Man" stuff.  

     My having to go four times in such a short period of time would worry me normally but I must be getting used to it. On my last few visits I have been people watching. Normally an amusing past time but not so in a hospital. You can spot the regulars. They have a book or newspaper and some listen to music through ear buds. The not so regulars sit nervously with their ears cocked for their number. You always have to listen twice. The first time to check in and the second to get the "deed" done.  

     Since coming off the anxiety meds I have discovered my emotional side again. Sometimes a good thing. Sometimes a bad thing. At the clinic I struck me how many grossly obese people there where there. I'm talking have to buy two extra seats on the plane obese. Size XXXXL or higher obese. It is sad to watch and even sadder to imagine yourself being one of them.

 

     I have been fighting the weight wars almost my whole life. I had a glorious three years from grade nine until midway through grade twelve were I remember that my waist was no more than a thirty two.  Thirty two is a very long ways away in the rear view these days.  

     I get very frustrated with myself for having not taken care of myself better over the years. And it's not like I did it consciously. I do admit to not being a calorie counter back in the day and I foolishly thought playing volleyball one or two times a week would be enough exercise.  Now I find myself unable to tie my shoes without feeling light headed, I get winded walking up any steps and my flexibility is non existent. I have gotten great and valuable advise from friends over the years(one who is an actual personal trainer) and my wife was always trying to motivate me.

     It is one big hole I have dug for myself.  What are the other people watchers thinking when they see me at the clinic?  Frightening thought. I know I will not give up. It is just so damn hard to believe I can make the change.