Does it mean to be to evolved, to be mature, in a sense, we have to be broken?
Mental illness is highly misunderstood and difficult to admit. While it is as
debilitating as any serious physical illness, embarrassment and denial make it a
closet epidemic. While no one has a problem admitting that they have a broken leg,
admitting that part of one’s brain or emotional abilities is broken is much
harder. The uncomfortable silence that surrounds diseases of the mind leave
those who suffer (and those who suffer with them) with few resources.
Without professional involvement, how does the average person determine if
someone they know is clinically depressed or is merely depressed because of a
bad day? Persons who suffer from mental illness are sometimes the last to notice
that something is seriously wrong. The deeper the sufferer sinks into
depression, the less able he or she is to rationally judge his or her own
behavior. The warning signs are ignored.
One night about a year after my diagnosis, I walked out of my home and disappeared. Because I was an adult and had left willingly, the
police would not aggressively search for me. The fact that I was seriously
mentally ill did not seem to matter. Unfortunately, the lack of proper education
regarding mental illness affects all of society. Even the police
felt that this was my problem. The sad reality is that a person
suffering from mental illness is everyone’s problem. Not only is this person a
danger to him or herself, but is often a danger to society at large.
After living on the streets for 4 months, I forced myself to go to a facility for help. For the next 30 days I was hoping to learn the skills I needed to repaired my broken soul. It is something about being fragmented, tainted by scars, that we as people learn more about ourselves and about others. What does it mean to be broken, however in a sense, it means not to go
through the conventional path of life. It means, seeing different
perspectives and understanding how people live their lives. We cannot be
immune to the ravages of time, of old age, however what
is broken within us will remain, concealed.
The broken have always been more evolved, because they have evolved through what is broken.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Saturday, May 05, 2018
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Saturday, April 21, 2018
I was woke up early by my 16-year-old dog, who was coughing and gagging due to being in congestive heart failure. Even though my heart breaks for him, at times I wish he would just lay down and quietly pass away in his sleep. Death is not always that way. Instead it is drawn out in suffering and ugliness.
After letting him and my other two outside, I cleaned up where he had wet on himself and the floor, then I jumped in the shower. I was meeting people in different locations to sell them items I had posted online. I was hoping to make enough money so I could pick up a few things I needed from the store. The first person I was meeting always stressed me out, so I decided to smoke some weed before I left, so by the time I was to meet with her, my anxiety was low. As usually, she was late, but also didn’t have all the money, so she only got $5 worth of things from me. She said she would have to get the rest next week. I politely smiled and told her it wasn’t a problem and that I understood. If I wasn’t high, I would have probably choked her, or at the least cussed her out for making me drive half way into Tulsa for just $5… waste of time and gas.
I stopped off at a Q-Trip to pick up a drink and get some gas, and then messaged the next person I was to meet. By the time I finished filling my gas tank, they messaged me back saying they couldn't meet for another hour. I didn’t want to drive back to Glenpool, so I called a friend to see if I could drop by for a little while and kill some time. When I got to her place she welcomed me in with a big hug and told me how sorry she was to hear about my brother, my mom, and my cousin all passing away. She asked how I was doing and I said what I said to everyone who asked… ‘I’m doing okay’.
We sat in her living room in front of a 60 plus inch TV while she rolled up a big joint of the high dollar weed she had gotten from Colorado. We passed it back and forth while we talked about how unfair life is sometimes. I told her about how all I wanted to do was sleep. It was easier that way. I didn’t have to think about life if I was asleep. When I was awake, I had no energy, no motivation, I didn’t care. I just wanted time to pass quickly.
She talked about how strong of a person she thought my brother was and how he never gave up on anything, even when he was faced with a difficult challenge. He was shot when he was just 8 years old and never again got to experience running, playing baseball, playing tag late at night, but that didn’t stop him from doing other things. He loved going fishing and hunting, and when he got old enough he learned how to drive a car, he went to college, and also taught at a college. Even though he couldn’t walk, he did some things that other people could not do. He didn’t let the cards he was dealt, defeat him from enjoying life.
We also talked about my mom and how she always encouraged everyone she met. In her eyes, everyone was perfect just the way they were. She never yelled at anyone, and always had a smile on her face. She had devoted her entire life to taking care of my brother, so she often forgot to take care of herself. Maybe that is where I had a hard time forgiving her, even though it really wasn’t her fault, she rarely spent time with me. Back when I was young, I didn’t understand why, but now I finally did.
By the time we finished the joint, I was more relaxed and okay with things that I had been in weeks. She gave me one more long hug before we said goodbye and told me things were going to be okay. I smiled and thanked her as she handed me joint for later after I got home. I finished meeting with 2 other people, and then stopped off at the store for a few things before heading home.
I unlocked the door and was stopped by my dog that always laid in front of it when I was gone. Though the partly opened door, I called out his name for him to move and gently pushed him with the door. It usually took him a few seconds to get up because his hips bothered him, but after a few tries, he still wasn’t moving. I peered through the opening enough that I could tell he had passed away. I had to go around to the side door to my garage and go inside that way. I’ve seen enough death recently, so for whatever reason, this didn’t faze me. I gently rolled him up in the small floor carpet and took him out back for my son to bury him after he got off from work.
It’s after midnight now and I just smoked the joint I had gotten earlier. I don’t think I could have made it through this day without it. It has helped me deal with all the emotions, the stress, and the depression of dealing with life and death. Tomorrow I will make though the day, the best I can.
You have to forgive anyone who has caused you pain or harm. Keep in mind that forgiving is not for others; it is for you. Forgiving is not forgetting; it is remembering without anger. It frees up your power, heals your body, mind and spirit. Forgiveness opens up a pathway to a new place of peace where you can persist despite what has happened to you.
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Friday, April 13, 2018
Walking into a nursing home, the smell is what seems to always hit you first. It invades all the fine hairs that are found in your nose, and lingers even after leaving the building. It’s an unforgettable smell that seems to seep from the bodies of the old. I think it’s so unpleasant because the smell is associated with death.
On Monday, that smell was stronger than usually when I walked into the nursing home to see my mom one last time. She had died several hours before my arrival, so her body has already begun to stiffen, and her mouth hung open as if she were still trying to grab one last breath. Her body almost didn’t look real, so I felt the need to touch her one last time. Her body had already gone cold and the color around her eyes had changed. She was gone, leaving behind a body that seemed like an empty envelope.
I wasn’t sure what to feel; relief that she was no longer suffering, or sadness that she had left too soon. I had helped her bury Rusty at the end of January, and here I was again, burying another family member. I think that is partly what led to her departure. She had put 100% of her time into taking care of my brother after he was shot, leaving no time for herself. When he passed before her, I think she gave up her reason to keep going.
After the people from the funeral home arrived, they spoke with us briefly about her wishes, and then asked us to leave the room before taking her body. I glanced over at her one last time and then turned to follow my sister outside. My sister had been with her, when she took her last breath. I was glad she was there for her, because I don’t think I could have.
We stood outside talking for a few minutes, before they rolled her body out to the awaiting hearse. Sadness slammed me and I had to swallow hard to hold back the tears. We loaded up the few things she had at the nursing home and drove to her place in Alluwe. I was shocked when I walked into her house to see everything gone. My sisters, my nieces and nephews had already been in her house and taken everything. I really didn’t care about having a lot of her things, but I wanted to be there to help take down our baby pictures, to put things away, to say one last goodbye. I was so disappointed that again they didn’t care enough to include me. I felt it was one last fuck you.
Sunday I will make a final trip to Alluwe to say good bye. I haven’t broke down into tears yet, but I know it will come soon.