Our daily choice.

I read an article that had something that struck a cord with me. I have heard the saying “just be happy and you will be happy” or “why don’t you just feel happy” or my favorite “you are choosing to be depressed”. I read the following and I was taken back. It fits so well.

If I told someone who was happy right now to be sad, they would likely have a hard time doing so. The opposite is quite true. 

I do want to give credit to the writer. The rest of the article is here.

https://themighty.com/2016/04/happiness-as-a-choice-meme-feeds-stigma-around-mental-illness/
I think we need to shout this out more for the people in the back to hear.

#hugapony my friends

Something New

I have been working on a project for a bit now and I am finally ready to share it with the rest of the world. I have started a Patreon page. This is a website that helps support artists and writers, like a kick-starter or crowdfunding, and allows people like me income to support what we do.

https://patreon.com/user?u=3817496

I have been struggling with doing this for a bit now. I have never intended to monetize my blog (it will always be free if I can help it). However, with the time it take to do panels at conventions and speak (which I don’t get paid for) and the time and money it takes to work a blog (which also I don’t get paid for and I actually pay money to maintain) I have felt a need to move towards a support system.

It hasn’t been easy.

So I invite all of you, if you read what I have and enjoy what I do either online, in person, or at a convention, please feel free to donate! Thank you all!

#hugwp-1459723822817.jpgapony

Contentment v Complacent

I have been know to be complacent from time to time. I get caught in a rut and just coast through my day as best as I can. While not good, I have felt that it just gets me through another day and I am able to hope for a better one tomorrow.

Contentment is something I am striving for now. I want to be content in what I have and what I live with. Contentment is feeling happy regardless of your life at that moment. It is looking for the joy in your life and the small things that help make it through the day.

I find that a lot of people confuse the two. They are not interchangeable. Complacent is lazy. It allows people and events around you to control you. It forces itself on you. You become Complacent. Contentment is looking and choosing to accept what is going on around you. You can still have bad days and be content. It is a state of being.

I have tried always to go from a human doing to a human being.

I am by no means perfect. My wife likes to comment on how people try to be perfect and strive for that perfectionism; people who try, always fail at being perfect. I agree, no one will ever be perfect. But you can be content. People who are content live better lives with less stress.

Now please don’t mistake contentment with complacency. You can be content and still strive for a better life with more in it. Here is where people veer off and think that by being content they do not strive for more. Complacency does this. You accept your lot in life and that is all you can hope for. The cards dealt you a hand that is horrid and you got to play on through. Contentment is realizing that you might can win with your cards already but, if not, you get another round the next deal.

Complacency is stagnant.

Contentment is found joy.

I have had to do serious thinking about my life and my mental and physical health in the recent months. I have had to make choices that will affect my life. I have had to recognize my own complacency. I have just accepted my fate and I have to live with it. We all have to live my mental illness and disability. I am making those around me, nay, forcing those around me to accept me and my condition.

Selfish no?

I now acknowledge that I started that path. I am not proud of it. I am now working towards contentment. I am working on helping others; either through panels or my blog or even a phone call from a friend. In a most recent panel, I talked about how my life has given me a superpower, my condition. It makes me more aware and effective in helping others. If I can show compassion and help others, who else will it inspire? I am choosing to be a better person and be content.

So I ask you, are you content or complacent?

I choose joy. I choose to find joy. I choose my soft plush ponies to hug and help me through bad times and am thankful for them. I am thankful for my family and friends who accept me. I am choosing to be grateful for my life. Complacency is a breeding-ground for bitterness and bitterness helps no one.

What do you choose?

#hugapony my friends.20141024_131856

To the East side.

image

A quite post today. I am just putting it here for my followers that we, because you join me dear readers, have been published on http://themighty.com!!

I want say that hope to grow with experience and that I will be able to help more people. It has been awesome.

Enjoy the revels!!

Link to the post.
http://themighty.com/2016/04/depression-thinking-about-failures/

On the mark.

I come across stories and pieces that hit close to home or near the mark when it comes to depression and anxiety. The past few days I have been taking my meds with clockwork timing as my mind has not had a moments rest tormenting me.

The little man in my head has been clawing at the walls.

I came across a story on Facebook (something I believe is a boon and a curse) and wow it hit the mark.

Hard.

I almost felt I was reading a story about my self. The words and feelings used were on point.

And they were sharp enough to cut me.

The article which is commented here, http://themighty.com/2016/03/when-youre-suicidal-but-you-dont-want-to-die/ , tells about living with those suicical thoughts and what you face day in and out. I applaud the bravery it took to write this. Telling people your thoughts like this makes people worry about you to the point of locking you up. But even if we don’t say what we are thinking, does that make it go away, or does it make those around us feel better about themselves?

Is it better to ignore the thoughts so they don’t mess up someone else’s day?

I feel that being open and honest about these things does several great things. First, you are being honest with yourself, a great way to admit there are issues to deal with. Second, it lets other people know what is going on. Now that has a side effect of being either an attention grabber or someone to stress and worry about. However, I feel that if I am publicly talking about it, its me admitting my flaws and faults. I am saying, “Yes there is a problem and I am recognizing it”. Third, it brings out support and help from others. Building that support group is critical in saving yourself from anything that someone might do to themselves. Again, this isn’t the “Lock them in a rubber room.” but a “I understand and this helped me” type of support. Last, it brings out your humanity. The one thing that is lacking in most depression/anxiety people is just that, they do not look at themselves as people. They see themselves as burdens, and too broken to fix. By saying or writing (better because it is a solid evidence that can be brought up later) that you are feeling this way is a way to humanize yourself to the point to save yourself. It is a gateway to seeing that you are a real person and not just a shadow.

http://themighty.com/2016/03/when-youre-suicidal-but-you-dont-want-to-die/

Well written, well said.

#hugaplushie

The big D & A

Living with depression and anxiety is hard. I hear a lot of people who tell me, and others, just get over it. If it were that simple, I would have been cured a long time ago. I know that some people think they are helping by trying to motivate or drive those suffering but I want to take a moment to describe some ways a person acts the way they do and what they are thinking while suffering.

Randomly during the day you have the crushing weight of ALL your failures hit you all at once. It’s like having a personal highlight reel of worst moments set up in a compilation video playing through your brain over and over. Most depressed people are very intelligent and have a good memory. Because of this, your flaws and failures are branded and seared into your brain for you to remember. I still remember the time when I was 7 and I burnt my thumb on a hot iron right after my mother told me not to touch it. I was so excited to be going to a friends house down the street right after that happened and I was so scared that I would be in trouble I hid my pain and went to my friends house. Soon upon arrival my friends mother noticed my tears of pain and looked at my thumb. She was surprised that my mother would send me down there without doing something about my thumb. She called my mother asking about and surprised my mother with something my mother didn’t know anything about. It was no surprised that I was promptly sent home to both be healed and to be in trouble.

I tell this story because I am still embarrassed about trying to hid it. I still have it in the back of mind of what I did wrong. I still remember the pain of my thumb on fire. It pops in my head about every other week to remind me of how I have failed. I live with that memory and every other mistake and failure I have done in my life. I wish I could stop those memories from drowning me and some days I do great.

Other days not so much.

And its not just your mistakes.

When something goes wrong with someone else, you react two ways. You question if you messed something up, EVEN IF YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. You cannot stop yourself from wondering if you could have done something to have helped them or if you could have changed something. The second way you react is you overreact by being overly sorry for what happened, again even if you had nothing to with what happened. You try to comfort and help that person in such a way that you end up looking like a “freak”.

It makes for a hard time trying to deal with other people’s failures while having your own failures play constantly playing in your mind.

It also makes you paranoid. You question everyone’s jokes and teasing. You are observing all the things going on around you and analyzing it. You wonder how much is true and what is a joke. You live in constant fear of what you say and how it could be taken wrong.

And this makes you tired.

You carry the weight of that around with you. The reason it is hard to get out of bed for a depressed person is two-fold. First, you are tired from carrying yours and everyone else’s burdens (even if they didn’t ask for it). Second, you know the only relief is sleep. Sleep because it is when you finally get a break.

It is hard to be depressed. It is hard living with anxiety.

I saw a post on social media that inspired this post and I want to share it now.

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Fear. You live in constant fear.

“What if?”

The next time you see a depressed person or know someone who is depressed, take two seconds and think on these things. I could save a life.

#hugapony my friends.

Roller Coaster Ride.

I find myself growling at everyone and everything. The mood I have been in has been terrible for the past week. I cannot find a way to shake it. I am taking everything hyper personal. The world is out to get me.

Or at least that is how i am taking it.

I am tired of being told that i take things to personal. I am a person. You tell me something. How am i supposed to not take it personally? I am getting real tired of people telling me things that “I take the wrong way”. Why can’t it be someone else’s fault? I am tired of baring the burden of the world.

My shoulders are tired.

I should be happy. I got my car working again. I am looking to sell it now. Not too much luck there. Everyone else can sell their cars in a day for twice the asking price, but i get told that my heap is worth $137.

I am trying to dig myself out of this hole i am in. I feel buried alive.

I hate myself.

I feel bad that I am having trouble caring about things.

I feel guilty that I can’t feel better.

My heart sags under the weight of know that I am a burden to others.

I feel I cannot speak my mind because my opinion doesn’t not hold weight.

People say they care, and they want to listen. I sit quietly and hold and comfort them. I wait patiently for my turn. But when my turn comes, I just am complaining.

My opinions don’t matter.

My ponies don’t fix that,  no matter how much I hug then.

Trapped in my head screaming but no one can hear me.

My Fellow (wo)man

I love helping people. I have done so in my life as many times as I have been able. I will go out of my way to make someones day, if it is in my power to do so. Customer service has been part of my life. I have done quite a bit of counseling in my life as well. I have always felt I have done my part to help my fellow man.

or woman.

or Brony (especially this one)

Case in point. I had to run to the bank the other day and take a deposit for my store. On my way back I stopped to get some water for my guys (we do not have a water fountain or anything at the store so I buy some bottles so we don’t go thirsty). On my way to the car, I found myself stopped by a gentleman in another car who pulled right up next to me. The man started to talk to me but was having trouble getting words out. He kept stopping and putting his hand to his mouth like he had bitten a rotten apple.

Nice way to try and talk to a stranger.

He finally calmed down enough to tell me that he was a hydraulic engineer and he was on his way home from work in town A (an hour south of me) and was going another 30 minutes to town B (30 minutes north of me). He had left for work that morning and he had left his wallet at home. He was almost on E and just needed some help getting home.

Now, I had to stop myself because I am not a fan of panhandlers. Where I live it can be a serious problem. I have 2 uncles who have lived the transient life style and I know quite a few do so by choice. Before you start bombarding me with messages about homelessness and the problems, let me tell you I agree that this is a serious problem and should be addressed. Just, not by panhandling. But this guy pulled up in an Acura Legend. Not the kinda car (or anything) that a homeless person would drive.

So I listen carefully to his story and he is stuttering trying to tell me that anything I could do so he could get home would help. He offered me his hoody, his crossword puzzle book he had, anything he had in his car. He stopped at that point and choked back tears.

He was ashamed to ask.

I stopped him there and told him that I would give him all the cash I had (more than a dollar less than a hundred). He face lit up. He started muttering a thank you as he tried to get his hoody off when I stopped him. I told him to keep it on. No need to give me anything. He offered his crossword book and I said to keep that too. I told him to just pass it on to someone else. He thanked me profusely and drove off.

Now, this is not a story of kindness, as much as I would like it to be. This is a story of a society that has come to a point that people have forgotten the random acts of kindness. The self-centered nature that has become embedded in us is separating us. Sure we hear of the news of a Starbucks who did a “pass-it-forward”. But seriously, what good is that?

“I paid for the coffee that I would have purchased anyway to give it to someone behind me”

You want kindness? You have to give it.

I only hope I can give enough.

Hug a pony my friends.

Day zero.

I am writing this post in a few separate days as I wont to document my self and questions and thoughts that I am having without having to post it just yet. I feel that doing this will help me get through this week or at least these past few days.

48 Hours remaining:

I am laying in my bed and I can’t sleep. I go to the doctor on in three days for depression. I had swore to myself I would never take any drugs or do therapy with a psychiatrist. I don’t want some head doctor who gets kickbacks from Zoloft to recommend the latest, greatest pill popping solution. I have never felt fear about this like this before. Thoughts race through my head.

What if I get taken away?

What will happen to me?

Will it change me?

How will it change me?

I don’t want to give up my ponies.

Will my friends and family still recognize me?

It wasn’t until about a month ago that I was talking to a friend while working at a convention that I realized what my fear is. It is not the drugs per se, like I thought it was. It was the fear of being fixed. It is the fear that “Yes, I am not well” It is hard to acknowledge that you are broken.

I am still scared.

24 hours remaining:

I am in pain.

I find this a good thing. It is odd but whenever I plan on getting help is when my body starts to do better and makes me second guess myself about seeing a doctor about anything. I got the call to confirm the appointment tomorrow.

I confirmed.

I have had such a rough day. I was woken up by an alarm call at my store at 1 am, requiring me to go check it out. I was trying to go to bed early because of meetings all day the next day. I sat in over 8 hours of meetings, along with a 2 hour car ride to get to said meeting and back. My body has been through so much stress with this meeting (lots of work changes) and with seeing the doctor tomorrow. I have been just holding on.

And then, life happens.

We are during our lunch break when my boss comes up to me and asks if I remember an old coworker. I told him I did but that I hadn’t seen him in about 2 years. My boss gave me his phone and said read this. I read through some messages from an old manager peer who was informing my boss that the employee I knew had committed suicide last week. He had sent pictures from the funeral.

That kinda tumbled my day the rest of the way down the drain.

I am now home, resting, waiting.

This final day of waiting…

Day zero:

I awoke to a knot of anxiety in my chest. Cold sweets and pain are my bed fellows. I have a few hours left. Even now i second guess myself. My throat and mouth are cotten dry. My back aches and groans.

And yet, I still wonder if I should see the doctor.

I am still emotionally with friends who are reeling from the lost of one of us. We all talked about how fine he was when we last saw him.

Suicide is never painless.

Zero hour:

I am in the waiting room. They have just taken my paperwork. There were several times I almost turned around driving here.

My arms locked on the steering wheel.

My breath is erratic.

I am beyond stressed.

Oh, my dear foe. We meet again.

I promise myself, I will not cry.

We have done this dance for 15 years. At last, we will see if I can get some help.

It is time. They have called me. My last feeling is:

Too many to describe. I thought i could find one but i can’t.

Hug a pony my friends. I know mine is clutched tight. I will see you in the aftermath.