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. 

Dear Fear

      It has been sometime since my last post.  I was touched by the number of people who personally reached out to see if I was alright.  Thank you.  

      I wanted to bring you up to date.  As of the writing of this post I have officially weaned off my Anti Depressant.  This was my decision.  I have felt for some time that the drug was blocking any progression I was seeking.  What resulted was about 5 weeks of emotional and physical upheaval.  And what often comes with upheaval?  Revelation!  So ...

     Dear Fear--- SHAME ON YOU!  Shame on you for using fear to control and belittle.  Shame on you for empowering bullies to taunt and harm.  Shame on you for ...  I stopped here about 6 days ago.  I had it on my To-Do List to get back to this post for almost a week .  That happens sometimes.  One day you are pissed at "Fear" and then six days later you find yourself looking at the unfinished post wondering ..."What did I mean to say here?"
     I don't want to change my post.  I mean, it took me almost five minutes to find the cool picture.  Why waste it?
      Fear is most often a good thing.  It tells us about dangerous situations and keeps us from doing stupid things.  It's when Fear makes you unreasonable and cowardly that I get annoyed.  Thinking back to when I was a kid I remember feeling fear many, many times.  I was never a fighter.   I was not brought up that way and when, as an eight year old, another kid told me he was going to beat me up after school, that fear often paralyzed me.  I now wonder what fear was doing to the kid who threaten to beat me up.  For all the threats I received from grade school through to High School, I never did anything to deserve the threat of bodily harm.  So, what Fears were my bullies feeling that they had to pick on a kid just minding his own business?  It must be awful to be that person who lashes out at someone, not really know why they are doing it. 
      The funny thing about my bullies is that once they reached adulthood they turned into good people who were able to let go of their fears.  I have met a few of them who told me they were not proud of their younger selves.  They admitted that they couldn't even remember if there was a real reason for them to dislike me and threaten.  (Except for Dave in High School.  Yes, I was trying to steal your girlfriend.  Sorry.) 
     So fear takes on many forms.  Right now there are children who fear going to school because of a bully or are afraid of speaking in front of the class.  I want them to know that eventually it gets better.  Everyone experiences something similar to what they are going through.  Please reach out to parents, teachers and friends.  Once Fear is out in the open it will likely shrink to something small and not worth worrying about. 

So Tired

I am so Tired ...

I am tired of being unmotivated.

I am tired of being sick.

I am tired of not being the husband I should and could be.

I am tired of avoiding meaningful or needed conversations with my son in case I upset him.

I am tired of being befuddled 90% of the time.

I am tired of not trusting and not being trusted.

I am tired of pain.

I am tired of taking myself out of situations with friends and family because of weight and health issues.

I am tired of wearing the same few items of clothing over and over again because I don't want to buy even bigger clothing.

I am tired of not being able to verbalize what is going on and instead turning away from people who love me and just want to help.

I am tired of hearing "You can do it!"

I am tired of not being able to fully commit to work.

I am tired of waiting for something that may not come.

I am tired of failed attempts at improving myself.

I am tired of being "So Tired".

I am tired of being me.

I am just so very, very Tired.

Fathers and Sons

     One of the most emotional moments I shared with my Father was a few months after my graduation for Fanshawe College's Television Broadcasting program.  I had just turned twenty-four and still had not found a job in my chosen field.  I was sitting on our backyard deck feeling very, very sorry for myself and my Dad came out and sat with me.  My emotions have always been close to the surface but I usually, like many kids, kept that part away from family.  Dad could sense that something was up and he quietly sat next to me and let me tell him all about it.  Anger, sadness, desperation and self doubt flowed like Niagara Falls.  The "Why Me's" were top of the list.  Had I made a mistake?  What was my life going to like?  Was I a failure!  I can't remember his exact words but it boiled down to "Everything is going to be alright.  You are a good person with a good heart and you will find your way."  Of course he was right.  Within a month I began to volunteer at the local Community Channel and with in six weeks I had a part time job there.  A little over six months later I had a full time job there and began a twenty-seven year career that I am very proud of.  Everything was alright.
     My son is going to be 20 years old in 59 days from me writing this post (Sept. 14, 2014).  Like the majority of young adults his age he is longing for complete independence from his parents.  I am looking forward to that day as well.  Not that I want to kick my son out of my house, I don't!  I want to know that, for him, "everything is going to be okay". 
      That's the other side that I did not see in 1984 when my Dad sat on the backyard deck with me.  He wasn't worried that I would not make it or that I was going to fail.  He had complete confidence in my ability as do I for my own son.  What I now know is that he could, no matter how hard he tried, take away my sadness and self doubt with a few words.  On that day I did not jump up smiling and say to Dad, "Wow, greet talk Dad.  Love you!"  I did not run up the street to the Community Channel and bang on the door.  It took me almost a month after that conversation to made the decision to go.  I needed to go when I was ready.
     Bottom line.  I want my son to know that "Everything is going to be Okay".  He is a good person with a good heart.  He is well liked and smart.  What ever is going on with him, he is not alone.  His Mom and I will always be there for him, even when he thinks we are a pain in the ass or nagging him.  That can't change.  I began writing this post thinking that the end result was me telling my boy that I was going to stay out of his business and just be there for him.  I am sorry, I wish I could but I am not done being a parent.  I have some good stuff left in me, least of all, my never ending love for him and the man he is today.  And if his mother and I say or do something that pisses him off, I want him to know that we do it because we can't help it.  We do it because we love him so very, very much and that "Everything is gong to be Alright!"

An Honest talk about Friendship

     I want to talk about Friends.  No, not the TV show F*R*I*E*N*D*S, which is one of my most favorite shows.  The photo on the left is known as an attention grabber and also indulges my love for all things Television.  No, I want to talk about friends as it relates to myself.
     I re-read an older post, the Pain of Being a Wall Flower (Feb. 9, 2013).  It stunned me! Much of what I wrote there was a lie.  I am trying hard to remember why I wrote these inaccuracies?   Yes, I do regress into the background often but I do the same thing with my wife and son.  Even with them I zone out and conversations are short.   I am sure my wife said something at the time about the post, but I likely dismissed it or was in another world.  And outside of the family I am also not really listening many times to what is being said to me or around me.  I now know that it was ADHD affecting me.  It's not that I drop out of conversations, it's that I often don't hear them at all.  I am far, far away doing who knows what. 
      I can tell you that I have been trying to improve.  Now that I know why it happens, I do it I try to consciously engage in conversations.  I find that I am better at the one on one conversations than the group gab fests. 
      Now back to my "Friends" theme.  I have been wondering lately how this has affected my friendships over the years.  I sure many people have looked at me and thought that I was stuck up or uninterested in what they had to say.  No to both of those.  I just could not stay in the moment.  It was like someone had a rope tied around my waist and had yanked me away in mid talk.  I can think back on many situations with friends, family and colleagues, when potential friendships and career opportunities were lost.
      Any of my friends reading this may say that they did not notice it but I am sure if they thought of it, they would remember me as being more of a "listener" than contributing to the conversation.  I say to you, please, if you can, give me a verbal or even physical nudge.  Bring me back.  I don't want to be that person who drifts away and most certainly I don't want my wife affected because I come with the "package".   I want to be a part of your lives and to any new friends I have made recently and those to come ... don't be afraid to hit me up side the head.  I can do better.

Your Friend -- Mike

O' Captain, My Captain

      This is so sad.  What baffles me is how could someone so loved not find the help he needed?  When Robin Williams passed earlier this week I was not prepared for the news at all.  My wife texted me.  I was at my doctor's office and was in a bad state of mind to begin with.  Months with barely enough sleep, my doctor had suggested that I take a break from the ADHD meds and try a sleeping pill.  "Let's see if a good night's rest will help?"  We'll the pill did not work and I could not get back in to see the doctor again for a month.  So for that month I had no sleep and no ADHD meds to boot.  I was waiting to see the doctor when I got that text.
     Anyone who grew up in the 70's followed Robin William's career starting with the wonderful silliness of Mork.  You could tell he was something special.  The way he would go off on tangents and improve.  At that time adlibbing on set even just a little was frowned upon.  He did it for most of each episode.  You could tell by the look in his fellow actor's faces that, at times, they had no idea what was coming next.  For any other performer that would have spelt disaster but for Robin Williams he was just getting started.  His first feature film, The World According to Garp, showed that he could act and act well.  Every performance was one to behold, even the movies that did not "perform" well.  I watched them all.
      From 1980 to 83 I lived in London, Ontario.  I was following my dream of working in television and was attending Fanshawe College.  My roommates and I would listen to my Robin Williams Comedy Album over and over again.  Then it was announce that he would be performing in Toronto, an hour away.  I did not have the money to spend on comedy concerts but I knew a "once in a lifetime" opportunity when I saw one.  The night of the concert, my friends and I waited in the 2nd balcony of the theatre.  When he came on stage the place erupted.  Even from the balcony he had a commanding presence.  I remember vividly how, when a woman tried to sneak to the bathroom, Robin cat called after her.  When she return I think he may have been wearing her coat on stage.  (That part might just be wishful thinking on my part.)  It is a night I cherished.  I think I may even have the ticket stub somewhere.  I hope I do.
     Why didn't he seek help?  The news says he was in the early stages of Parkinson's.  Still, he had lots of productive time ahead of him.  Likely there is something that we don't know about what he was facing.  But he did not have to face it alone.  None of us do. 
     Sad ... so sad.