Depression vs. Introspection

As many of you know, I asked a lot of questions about myself and my thought process in my previous post. Yeah, I do that. Most of the time it is therapy for me to get it out of my head, read it, then tell myself to get on with this thing called life. That is exactly what that last post did for me. Well, that and a few others. It prompted some of you to reach out to me and share from your own lives very vulnerable struggles and experiences.

I so appreciate all of you. In being true to the original purpose of this blog, I am fascinated by the similarities we all share. We've all have dark moments, moments of doubt, moments of not knowing who your friends are, moments of wondering if you truly are a good person. I have had those times. You have as well. When you lay in bed, and it's quiet, sometimes those thoughts rattle the chains that you thought were holding them back. Is this depression, as some of you have hinted at, or is it healthy introspection? I chose to let it be a healthy introspection.

A friend sent me a list of what it is to be clinically depressed. Yes, I asked her for it, and since she is getting into the field of psychology, I thought she would be a terrific resource. She is, by the way, also one of my best friends. I am happy to report that I do not experience any of those items on the list. Yes, I feel weighted down sometimes (who doesn't?) and I feel bah-humbug about the holidays (I am finding people do feel that way). The point is, I'm not depressed. I am, however, introspective. I like to look into what makes people, myself included, tick. Why we behave like we do, why we respond to certain situations in different ways, etc.

I have come up with my own psychology model: People behave in a certain way because it works for them, and they will stop behaving in that way once it stops working for them. How does this apply to my own introspective questions? Obviously, because it works for me. I have negative thoughts about myself because if I let me love myself, I will have to accept myself. Think about it: If I accept myself, then I must accept the bad with the good. I must say that it's okay to let people down once in a while, to not always communicate appropriately, to not have a six figure income, to not have my app idea be hugely successful (which reminds me, I gotta work on that sucker!). I have to be okay with failure. I don't have to accept failure, or hurting others, but I must accept that I am capable of it. This whole concept of trying to look perfect is THE fool's errand! I chose to not let this negativity work for me and accept myself for who I am, always striving to be batter, but knowing that I WILL fall, but I will pick myself up and KEEP GOING!

Look around at your own sphere of influence. Your personal impact on this world. Look at those who have influenced you and pick out the three that are perfect, that never made a mistake. Can't think of three, try two. Can't find two, how about one. Right! No one is perfect! How much respect do you have for the people in your life that have flaws, that admit their failures and press on? I for one, have a ton of respect for those that can admit their weaknesses and failures but still press on!

My grandfather is one example of someone who made mistakes and pushed on. As a child I thought this man could do no wrong. I can still his voice say "Stevie,...." whenever he addressed me. Everyone loved him, his house was immaculate, his garden lush, his garage organized. Everyone that met him fell in love with him and he "adopted" many into our family. But the night before he passed, I laid in bed next to him and he basically told me "Don't ever get so involved with Church or other good activities and neglect your children." He went on to tell me how much he failed as a father to his son, my uncle, David. How he pushed him away, how he beat him with a switch in the woodshed for the slightest of offenses, all while being a deacon at church. He was so ashamed of that part of his life, that when he realized it, it was too late to change it for his son, but he did change. He became a very gentle, loving man, so much so that I had a hard time believing his story. My mom backed up his story later. He was my hero before this story, but he became a superhero by his vulnerability and how he changed.

I respect people who are real with me. I know I have let some of you down in the past, I probably will in the future, just so you are prepared. One thing I will tell you: if you do feel like you may be clinically depressed, go see a doctor. There are a lot of treatment options. If you are just feeling introspective, join the human race and lets do this thing together!

Much love to you all!

Why, oh why?

Accepting yourself, faults and strengths alike, is harder than it seems. I feel like my faults are looming over me, and my good qualities are never enough to mount the ladder to get over the negative. Why is that?

I can't be alone in this, can I?

Why can I not see the good that others see in me as worthy of attention? Why is it that the negatives grab so much attention? The failures, the unfinished business, the unpaid bills. Why do I have a hard time loving myself, when I feel like I love others deeply?

Luckily, I have incredible family and friends that look past my obvious faults and love me regardless of it, in spite of it.

I'm having some breakthroughs, don't get me wrong. I had a patient compliment me, them give me a hug. I fought back the haunting thoughts of "if they knew the real me" and let myself receive the compliment. Later, driving home, I had to pull over, as the emotions rolled over me. I realized, at that point, that I hadn't truly loved myself for forever.

I realized that I was worthy of love, of being loved, of the nice things people say about me. Hey, its only taken 42 years.

I will close with this: it was inferred that I should maybe take an anti-depressant because I've been a bit down recently. I offer them to my patients on hospice, but it still took me by surprise. I can now honestly say that I appreciate the heart behind it, but I'm a searching soul. Finding out why I was so unhappy that week and fixing it, to me, is much more thrilling than just taking a pill and forgetting to search.

Take the time to ask yourself why, and don't be afraid of the answers.

I'll let you know as I search for mine. My line is open, my shoulders large, and my ears ready should you ever feel alone and need to talk.

Thanks for reading!

Belly flop

Two hundred and eighty pounds. 2.8.0.  280#s. I've never been heavier. Shameful. Truly shameful.  My waist so big I've had to buy different jeans.

My eating has been out of control. I've made excuses. I haven't worked out. Maybe working nights was one of the causes. Maybe, but I'm not into excuses anymore. My blood pressure is higher (144/88, I think I'll be seeing my doctor) than its been and I'm not getting any younger. 

I want to be there to see my kids retire and I want to do it independently.  I have seen people who are on hospice with so many regrets, so many fears.  I don't want either.

So....here goes. I've signed up  for a 7 day trial at the Anytime Fitness down the street.  I've purchased protein powder meal supplements, sworn off sodas and all beer that isn't "light". No more McDonalds or seconds, or non-whole grain pancakes.

The only way this works for me is my way, I know myself too well. I did the low carb/high protein diet and supplements before, lost tons of weight, but I didn't change my lifestyle. This is on me. No excuses.

I make this public so you can ask me how I'm doing, keep me accountable if you see me eating something I shouldn't. My commitment to you is to post updates no less than once a week. Hopefully I will encourage you to join me if you need to. I will be brutally honest. Here goes the rest of my life...

Jeremie's BIG purpose!

"If you weren't here, Jeremiah, your family would not have a roof over their head." The tears slowed down, he was looking at me, trying to understand. "If you weren't here, people wouldn't know about Maissade, your hometown. Many people would just think 'Oh, how how sad for those people in Haiti', people who would not have known about your family or a small town in Haiti. But now they do. Do you understand?" His eyes were clearer now, the redness fading, his chin still quivering. A slight nod. "Your family loves you so much! When May and I went last year and took them the gifts you bought for them, the chalkboard for your little brother, Kinche, pictures for your parents that you had drawn. We gave them pictured of you and they squealed and ran around showing your pictures to your family and friends! They were laughing with delight! They love you SOOO much!" I flung my arms open wide, "This much!" The sadness was replaced by a shy grin.

Once in a while, Jeremiah has a small meltdown as he tries not to forget his family. It's usually triggered when he's sad or thinks he's in trouble. It's at these times that I wonder if we did the right thing in bringing him here; agreeing to raise him for his intact, but very poor family. Since adopting him, I've been back twice. The first visit was difficult because Kinche was very sick. I ended up taking him (with papa) to the next town via tap-tap. They have a hospital there and Kinche ended up with his sister in the tuberculosis ward. Jeannika, his older sister was already committed to the ward and we visited with her, surrounded by those being treated with a special cocktail of three meds and separated from the general population. I have been thinking about that time more recently because I had a TB test for my new job (it was negative).

On my second trip there since the adoption, May and I visited Jeremie's family and we had a great time. I showed him a business idea and gave him a small amount of start up capital. It was a way to light up a dark shack with mastick, tin rooking, a clear plastic bottle and some water and glue. We brought them a water filter, clothes and food.

I had held off telling Jeremie these stories because we didn't feel it was the right time. There is a photo album in his room of our trip out there, photos of his family, photos of his first few months here. He had just learned a new language, a new culture. But he has been less emotional recently, easier to talk to about his family without tears. Tonight though, when he was crying and sating that his family did not love him, I just knew the time was right for this talk.

"Jeremiah, do you realize that because of you, people felt compelled to give over $20,000, more than all of the cars in the driveway are worth, to build a well in YOUR hometown! You are here for a BIG purpose! We don't even know all the reasons you are here!" When I took in his fave fully this time, he was a different child, older than his six short years. I could see the man he was going to become, and it gave me hope for the future. "Jeremiah, you may have saved your brother's life and many others that have clean water because of you, and how much your family is part of us. Your papa is my brother, your mama is my sister. Jeannika is like my daughter and Kinche like my son. Thank you, J. We ALL love you very much!"

It Really IS a Wonderful World!

I'm not titling and writing this because anything great has happened in my life recently. I AM writing this because we need a reminder once in a while that there is more beauty and kindness than ugliness and nastiness.

What grabs the headlines nowadays is usually the bad stuff, the shocking things, stories that cause fear in the hardiest of mankind, natural disasters, scams, cheating politicians, etc. If you are a reporter, I would think that these are the kinds of stories your editor would want to hear. You need to "scoop" the competition, to get a few more details, a "better" angle, a more shocking fact.

Think for a second: if you were a visitor from outside the daily workings of this culture and world and your only source of information about what was happening in this day and age was the news on television and what you read online, what judgement would you pass? It would reason that you would view this world as a mean and horrible place. You would see mankind being bad to their own kind. You would see how a group of people pass judgement on others for having differing viewpoints. You would see nature being destroyed for yet another retail establishment.

Unfortunately, you would be correct. To a point. There is still an infinite beauty out there. Just think, there is a reason that this stuff is news. It is because it is the exception. The problem is, when that is all that is reported it weaves it's way into our psyche and messes with our perceptions. It makes us look at all politicians with a sideways glance. It makes you think your neighbor is growing pot and holding a captive in his basement. It makes you think that all corporations are greedy bastards that care nothing for the environment or their employees. It causes you to see all people from a different belief as terrorists and/or ignorant.

What a horrid way of living! We are, in essence, holed up in our homes/bunkers, unwilling to come up for a fresh breath of life. We don't want to meet our neighbors for a variety of reasons, we don't want to learn, objectively, about other cultures or religions, and we don't buy a product for a store because it may contain asbestos or lead or made with child labor (Disclaimer: it is always good to research items before purchasing).

I challenge you to get out, take a walk (bring a camera), meet a neighbor. Think for yourself. Don't let Fox news, CNN, or any other mainstream media make up your mind for you. In fact, turn it off, dust off your library card (or go apply for one, just bring in a utility bill with your address on it) and check out a few books. Go to the local second hand store and get some materials for an art project. Or to your local art supply store and get some cheap acrylics and a canvas and paint. Take photos and edit and print them.

...or build the Eiffel Tower in your front yard like the one I saw in Caldwell, ID the other day leaving a patient's home.

A while ago I decided to try and make my own paper, basically recycling old paper and making new stuff to one day make bind into journals as gifts. It was tons of fun! I've got to go find that stuff...

Get Real!

It's kind of funny. I have been trying to post on this blog daily, while a friend does the same thing on hers. I'm a day or two short. The funny thing is, our blogs have been almost consistently similar. Check out Daleymuse.Wordpress.com.

With the increase of population and the ability to easily communicate via the web, we are inundated with data, words, information, music and images.  As with the law of supply and demand, the over-abundance of all of this can tend to cheapen it.

Take for instance a writer who slaves over their work. My friend, Alan Heathcock was an overnight success. It only took him 12 years to get his short story collection, Volt, written and published. Twelve years. Overnight sensation. Yeah, the math doesn't really work.  Let's say that he gave up trying to get this done along the way. He gets discouraged by the cool reception of the publishers and decides to self-publish. Would that cheapen his art? Let's say he just leaves it in digital form from his computer and posts it as a blog entry. Can you still relate to his raw, beautiful characters?

I think you could, but you would have to wade through an awful lot of information to find it.

True art, while not having to be recognised by a commercial entity like a publisher, is usually better experienced live and in person. I remember walking in Downtown Disney and being stopped be the music of Drew Tetrick. He made his violin weep and sing. We stopped and listened and chatted with him and purchased his CD's that he signed. Listening to them now is good, but hearing it live... That was awesome! 

I'm sure we would all recognise the Mona Lisa because of an art class, or from a movie, or some other book. Can you imagine seeing it with your own eyes at the Louvre in Paris?  Can your computer monitor show you the scale of the Sistene Chapel? Or of the David? 

The point is, get out there and either create or enjoy a museum or gallery. PRINT those pictures off the memory stick and frame it. Give one to a friend. Print off the story and mark the hell out of it. Let someone you know will be honest critique it.

Log off and create! It's what you were born to do!

Don't Do It For Praise

I am uncomfortable receiving praise. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, but I usually don't go seeking it.

I can see how what I do is appreciated. I can, but to me, it is my calling. To take care of families in times of need is something I enjoy doing and get satisfaction from. I realize this is not for everyone. I hurt for the ones that are hurting, but I try to not let it affect me so much so that I can't do my job.

I do get something out of this, and not just a paycheck. I get some fulfillment, some joy, some peace, and some satisfaction in taking care of these sick kids and their families. I consider it an honor to be let into their lives, many times at their most vulnerable. I have a deep respect for them and I have learned many lessons. Here's a few:

-Don't forget to tell people you love them, even if you are temporarily angry with them.

-Realize that life is hard for others, even when you can't see it on the outside.

-There's never too much of a good thing, especially laughter and face to face visits. Chocolate and bacon as well.

-Hugs are almost always welcome.

-There's nothing worth being angry over for too long. Most times, people didn't mean to hurt you, give the benefit of the doubt.

So, you see, I feel I get just as much as I put in, if not more.  So, whatever you do, don't do it for the praise. If you do, and it doesn't come, you just did it for the wrong reason. Do whatever you do for the love of it, for the fulfillment of it, because your soul would weep if you didn't.

This post is kind of short, I do plan to get all of these lessons down with examples. Watch for that in future posts.

Irons in the Fire

I have many irons in the proverbial fire. Don't we all? How many do you have?

For me, there's the family. I'm always worried about how they are doing. Will May get into the Coast Guard Academy AIM program this summer? How is Sam doing in his first year of High School? Will Jeremie get to keep his desk with the other kids? Will Sherri be okay with her business? Then there's Laura, how is she feeling? Still sick, all better? Addam and his college load and music career and his family. All these questions and more will be answered in the next "Days of Our Lives". Cue music...

That was just the family.

Then there's work. Both jobs. Oh, and that third one, NurseNoggin.

How is my mom doing? How's my great aunt?

Oh, and the bills, and the dogs, the Bearded Dragon, the tile flooring project (yes, still unfinished), the holes in the walls and ceilings, the shed roof, the trailer wheel bearings, May's bug.... You get the picture.

Unfortunately, the things I consider "my projects" are like extracurricular activities. These are things I deem worthy causes, but somehow, with how busy life is and how tight finances are, they fall to the side. They are still irons, we all have them, but they are wasting away, being burned by the fire while the others are being shaped. For me these things are writing, St Baldricks, and Haiti.

I'm sure you have your own list. This is the thing. As soon as you take that iron out of the fire, it starts to lose heat. You hammer on it, bend it, then have to return it to the fire. Out comes the next one. Back in it goes. Your time is the heat and there's only so much of it in a day. You have to prioritize.

It is so hard to enjoy life when the things that make you happy aren't getting the kind of attention you would just love to give them. 

For me, I am going to focus on getting the things done, iron formed and finished, that haunt me when I am trying to enjoy this life. The small, unfinished projects, the floor, drywall, and the shed. Then I can truly enjoy the things that bring me contentment: my family, writing, raising awareness and funds for childhood cancer and for Haiti.

I challenge you to lighten your load, as I lighten mine.

Addam Love

Needless to say, we love Addam. We tell people all the time how much we love him, how great he is, how responsible he is, how impressive his music is. Truth is, we live him like a son.

People may hear him and fall in love with his talent, his silkier than silk voice, his mad guitar and piano skills. But the Addam we know is so much more than that.

He is kind, giving, a good big brother to our three other kids, respectful of us, his real parents. He's a good college student, a hard worker at Sherri's daycare.

Basically, we can't say enough about him. We believe in his talent completely but that's not what is going to make him successful. As a friend, Amber, said just now at this, the first concert she has attended of his, "I want him to be successful and to make it, but I don't want to see him polluted by the music industry." I couldn't agree more. As strong as his convictions are, the influences, I know, are incredibly relentless.

His character is the definition of success to me. He could have been bitter about what he didn't have growing up, but he chose to work hard at his talent. He taught himself piano at age 6. No Xbox around, no time sucking cable t.v. just a boy and his keyboard. Then a guitar a couple years ago, then singing, then songwriting.

What's your excuse?
I'm convicted.

What Does a Good Parent Look Like?

Is a good parent tattoo free? Smoke free? Does a good parent act a certain way?

I worked last night at the hospital and then, after a couple hours of sleep, worked my second job as a home infusion nurse. My first stop was in the next town over. I usually work with adults in this job and it turned out to be the parent of one of our "chronic" kids.

We looked at each other and couldn't quite place one another. We put the pieces together and figured out I took care of one of their kids. The child was called in and sure enough I recognised them.
What was amazing was this parent would probably be judged by appearance as somewhat less than desirable. Someone could even say "white trash". What I learned was that this was a wonderful parent.

While taking care of a child with chronic issues (partial blindness, partial deafness, heart problems, and newly diagnosed heart failure), they are dealing with their own (extreme pain, obstructive bowel, gastric tube, inability to take pain meds, etc.).

I asked how they were handling everything. How the only pain meds that worked rendered this parent useless.  My empathy was working overtime. I know I can't do a damn thing about their situation. We spoke about support.  I was relieved to learn the patient's mother lived next door.

What I focused on was our similarities as parents caring for our children, on the sacrifies we "good parents" make.  This parent had a beautiful and caring soul. This parent was more worried about the sick child than their own declining health.

Many people may view this as tragic, and rightfully so because it is. For me, it was a chance to connect on a human level. Illness and mortality are the great equalizers. We will all be sick at some point, maybe even terminal. It is the amount of grace with which we deal with it that makes us who we are.

The Dichotomy That Is Me

Blogging about my life, your life, our lives as they are shared, intertwining on this planet. I've been wondering, is the blogoshere the equivalent of "If you aren't on YouTube, you don't exist" as in if you don't blog, your thoughts and insights aren't relative? It really doesn't matter to me because these are my really only MY thoughts and mine alone; cobbled from MY life experiences, not YOURS, no matter how similar they are to yours. I have lived many places and had many jobs, careers, relationships that you will never experience. It will always just be MY thoughts until you, the reader, interacts with me. I would prefer you comment here, but I guess if you find this on facebook, that works as well. A bit about me... One of the things that really interests me is when two people have similar ideals that come from extremely different places, not unlike when you discover two different cultures from very different spots on the globe that have similar stories of the "Great Flood". It's like the feeling I had when I first heard Sting's "Russians" and realized that we share the same Biology regardless of ideology, and that we love our children too. Take a listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHylQRVN2Qs I was raised one way, grew up another, and yet I look at those times as formative yet not what made me to who I am today. I have been a loner from the moment I can remember yet I love being with others. I have friends, sure, but I am also quite comfortable by myself for long periods. I enjoy spending time with others, making people feel good, making them laugh, making them think. There's this dichotomy in me that once drives me crazy yet provides peace: being alone versus being with others. How does this all tie together? Here's how I see it: I am a thinker and a provider. When I don't feel like I have time to think, I get antsy. Life is noisy and crazy busy and makes being deep impossible sometimes. People are needy and noisy and just plain crazy and I live to provide for them in various ways. When I can't do that, I go a little crazy as well, searching for peace, for solutions. This is THE inner battle that goes on at any given time in my head. I can be retrospective and ask WHY and WHERE does this come from and HOW did I get this way. I could embrace it and just say "deal with it" if someone has an issue with me or I have an issue with me. There is a third option, of course. I could always try and be a different person. Nah. I kinda like the crazy, neurotic me. I like the fact that I care about people. I like the fact that I am fascinated by our similarities. I fear people who act crazy because of their differences. I like that not being able to provide for my family and friends needs drives me nuts, because I fear people who are not driven crazy by this. This is just the first installment of the blog about me. I hope that we may be able to find more that we have in common and share in this beautiful and difficult journey of life.