I find it interesting yet terribly unsettling how my good positive outlook can be washed away in a toxic soup of negativity within the blink of a few thoughts. Earlier tonight was such a night.
Apparently my mental state, albeit medicated, can't seem to overcome or cope with my weary well being. If I had to over-analyze the reasons, I'd wager that they're caused by my working far too much, sleeping far too little, only eat semi-regularly, comparing myself to others, fearing my future and not knowing how to be on my own. Probably not unlike you right?
I am however, learning to weigh the great and the not so great on a scale , which by the way is tipped towards great simply by the fact that I'm still alive, but I still get tripped up mentally.
I chat on a regular basis with men who sleep outdoors every night! Tonight its snowing for God's sake but Gerald will still be in Stanley Park, Paul will be near Science World, Steve will be in his tent beside the Fraser River and countless others will be in doorways, alleys, nooks and crannies all over the Greater Vancouver Regional District.
AND I'M DEPRESSED?
An infamous band of brothers coined the term "the good we do, no one remembers, the bad we do, no one forgets" and like so, there travels my thoughts down a dark and heavy street.
Focus on the positive. Think on the bright side. It could be worse. Hang in there, you'll surface blah blah blah.
I'll tell you what I'd like to do right now...I'd like to run through a forest with a DeMarini Voodoo baseball bat and reduce small trees to kindling! I guess I have anger issues and pent up energy. Better than kicking puppies I suppose.
I've worked with kids for over 2 decades. Kids in care, kids on heroin, suicidal kids, victimized kids, medicated kids, churched kids...and "normal" effed up kids. I've never come to understand why many of them (more than you'd like to know) cut themselves and engage in self-harm. That is until now.
Don't worry, by the time you read this, I'll STILL be fine.
Once upon a kid that you'll likely never meet broke up with his girlfriend...or should I say that she dumped him.? Anyway, as we were chatting about his pain, he asked me if I wanted to see HOW much it hurt. I prepared myself for a touch of the old assault as he slid up the sleeves of his hoody...
On his left harm, not unlike surgical precision, were 11 perfectly identical cuts. I applied first aid and we chatted long into the night.
I wondered why he did it. What he meant by SEEING how much it hurt. Today, many months on, I'm going to conclude that he didn't do it for attention...but rather, reality.
I believe that he, as indeed I, needed to realize that he was still a member of space and time in this thing we call today.
Today is forever. Yesterday is a memory that we can't physically visit and tomorrow often only exists in faint hope. Today is all we have. Today is all I have and I need to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I participated in it.
Within the milky haze of confusion, I'm guessing that quick sharp pain jolts a body back into today and a few scars offer proof of being there not unlike your holiday photographs.
So therein lies my dilemma. How can I be sure that I was here today without hurting myself? (remember now, if you have a sure answer, you probably don't have mental health issues.)
I'm sitting in an office at work right now and the walls have closed in on me to the point where it feels like I have a shoebox on my head. The silence is deafening and the sticky goo that makes up my brain is rushing about like a shithouse rat!
Saving grace...I seem to be able to switch off all of this negative crap whenever I'm dealing with a kid or chatting with My "invisible", marginalized friends that many of you wouldn't notice pushing around their shopping carts full of treasures.
So there's today's glimpse. Now I'm going to take this box off of my head, breathe deep, remember a few cherished times, forget about tomorrow and go be cynical about American television.