Tag: Friday 500 (page 4 of 10)

500 Words on Family

I’m with my family for the holidays. It’s been a refreshing and recharging trip so far, mostly just me and my partner in my childhood home with my parents occasionally checking in with us at they go about their daily lives, preparing for the big events of Christmas. My sister and her family descend upon the house this afternoon, bringing a whirlwind of excited activity, barely retrained delight, exuberant emotion, and probably a tantrum or two. That’s life. That’s my family.

I know not everybody has a family like mine. I know the experience of gathering around the tree on Christmas morning in matching pajamas and watching children tear away bright paper from new toys isn’t something everyone gets. A lot of people have families who aren’t this in touch, who don’t have this connection. Some people barely talk to their families at all. Others wish they didn’t have parents. Still others wish their parents were still with us.

For me, I wish this house was big enough for me to invite everyone who may be alone or who might feel isolated this year, and have them join in this atmosphere, if they’d feel comfortable doing so.

I long ago swore that I would do two things when it comes to my family: I would not take their love, generosity, or honesty for granted, and I would do my utmost to share the gifts they continue to give me with those around me. Considering how my family continues to support me, I think I’ve got that first part pretty much nailed. As for the other… let’s just say there are times in my past when I wish I’d been better at listening, being receptive, and taking a moment to pause and reflect before choosing my response, rather than simply reacting.

At my last family reunion, I saw a lot of small humans reacting rather than responding. Upon reflection, it seems that there are some folks who never really grew out of that impulse. It took me quite a while to get to a point where I can do that semi-regularly, and I still have my share of mistakes and knee-jerk reactions. Hell, at times I wonder if a tweet I send out or a blog entry I post is too much, or goes too far, or needed to be worded better, if sent at all.

Family, at least my family, understands that. They’re good at holding space for me. They see me and all I could be, rather than what I’ve failed to be. They’re patient with me, as the parents in my family I’ve seen are patient with their children. I’ve been forced to grow up a lot in the past year. When the people I’d chose to be part of my family turned on me, I had to grow up even more. And my blood family was there for me, behind me and loving me, every step of the way.

Everybody deserves this kind of family and love.

On Fridays I write 500 words.

500 Words on Getting Better

Getting to a point where I can post here on even a semi-regular basis has been a very long road. Even before my most recent traumas, just a few months ago, I was climbing my way back to a place of relative stability from the rock bottom I’d hit last year. My focus has been sporadic, my productivity inconsistent, my motivation coming and going along with the swings of my mood. I’ve questioned my actions, doubted my sanity, and struggled to hold onto things like joy and hope.

But I’m getting better.

“That’s all everyone wants for you,” someone told me a few months ago. “We want you to get better.” I feel that they’re one of the few people who meant it. A bunch of folks paid lip service to the idea of Josh getting better; in retrospect, more than a few of them saying “We want you to get better” really meant “we want you to get lost.” Especially if the anonymous, threatening messages I got were any indication.

For a while, I was incredibly concerned about how I was being perceived and, moreover, why individuals I continued to try and imagine complexly refused to extend me the same courtesy. Instead of holding space for me and trying to understand me, I was demonized and made out to be, if not as bad as, worse than Donald Trump. “A broken stair,” said one individual. “A monster,” said an anonymous message. These aren’t people who want me to get better. These aren’t people who care about me. This was a feeding frenzy of drama. This was a mob of perverts for failure. This was gaslighting, plain and simple.

So I’m getting better.

While it was unnecessary for me to get raked over the coals in this abusive manner, the aftermath of this brutal annihilation of my Persona, as well as my social life, meant I had all the more bandwidth and capacity to step up my game in what I have come to embrace as “the Work.” Like all of us, I am a work in progress. In retrospect, a good portion of that work leading up to the gaslighting was half-done or, like the accusations of the mob, built on sand. So, I scrapped it. I started over, diving into new areas of research and growth, to get better.

In doing so, I’ve realized three things.

1. The perception of others is secondary to my perception of my Self.

2. Representing my Self as authentically as possible is the best foundation for my Persona.

3. The more I try to unearth my honest Self, the more the insecure and false will rail against me.

Even now, writing this out, part of me worries that it comes across as pretentious; you, reading this, may think I have my head up my ass. But I have worked very hard to be introspective without putting my head up my ass to look within. And I won’t stop now.

Because I am getting fucking better.

On Fridays I write 500 words.

500 Words on Chaos

Chaos.

I really can’t think of another word that adequately describes my life of late. I’m still looking for a dayjob, something to pay the bills and give structure to my days. I am now looking for a new place to live. I’m counting out pennies to make sure I can eat, my partner can eat, my cats can eat, my car has gas, and my ORCA card is active so I can get downtown. And on top of all of that, I’m needing to stay on top of my writing, my gaming, and taking care of myself in such a way that I don’t go completely off the rails.

This is why I don’t do well in start-ups. It’s why I’ve never gotten a business of my own off of the ground. Chaos of this nature – persistent, pervasive, day-to-day uncertainty – doesn’t jive well with me. Running a show or helping with an event is fine. Short bursts of chaos I can help manage is very much in my wheelhouse. But not knowing where my next client, article, or meal is coming from? It’s hard for me not to panic in those circumstances.

Other people thrive in those environments. I’ve seen it. I’ve sat with people who revel in the uncertainty. They’ve asked me hard questions about what I want, and blinked at me when I’ve struggled to keep up with them. I’m just not wired the same way they are, I guess.

I’ve had difficulty imposing my own structure upon myself due to a lack of stability and income. It’s hard for me to put mental cycles towards the creation of a schedule when I don’t know where my next meal or fuel refill is coming from. It’s probably a failing of my own brain, and it’s something I really need to work on.

I actually miss working in an office. I miss the structure, the community, the certainty. I was comfortable at my old job back east. Sure, I made some mistakes (don’t we all?) but I worked hard to improve on my performance and contribute as much as I could to the workplace. As much as I needed to move away from software development, since my strengths lie elsewhere, I’d like to think I made a difference. It’s a difference I’d like to make again, for a new firm, a new group of co-workers, a new office.

I’m writing this from the home I’ll be leaving in less than a month. Hopefully, I can keep going downtown to write at the Library, as I have no distractions there to keep me from making words happen. And I’ll try to get back on a regular blogging schedule. Even if I have to put the post up from Starbucks. SPL’s wireless can be spotty, and as much as I might get dirty looks from certain parties, Starbucks’ signal hasn’t let me down yet.

And their tea lemonade mixes are astounding, as well as not terribly expensive.

What? Hydration is important.

500 Words on Suicide

Courtesy The Telegraph

I’ve long had a great deal of respect for Sir Terry Pratchett. His novels set on the unique and impossible geography of Discworld have spoken to me for more than a decade. Good Omens is one of the best novels I’ve ever read. His prolific and unrelenting schedule of writing and releasing his works simultaneously inspired me and made me feel woefully inadequate to the challenge of being a published author.

And then, later in life, my respect for him only grew due to the following statement, made in 2009:

“It should be possible for someone stricken with a serious and ultimately fatal illness to choose to die peacefully with medical help, rather than suffer.”

For the most part, suicide has little to do with making a statement or getting attention. It’s about pain. People want to make the conscious choice to stop their pain, or to remove a perceived pain being inflicted upon others. Those afflicted with a terminal illness do not wish to become a burden to their loved ones, nor do they feel strong enough to go through a protracted, withering, slow death, especially if they suffer from a condition for which there is no known cure.

Those of a similar mindset to the one Sir Terry entertained have a desire to have a peaceful, quiet, dignified death, an opportunity to clearly and completely bid farewell to their loved ones. I can’t see anything wrong with that. Especially if someone has lived a full and productive life, and brought joy and enlightenment to others, perhaps even the world, I think they deserve to be empowered to make that choice. Our brains are how we process the experience of our lives, and in most cases, the engine that drives our dreams and our ambitions. If that is going to fail you, and you know that you must face months or years of slow deterioration of everything you and your loved ones once held dear, can you honestly say that choice should be denied to you?

Thoughts of suicide often accompany mental illnesses as well as terminal ones. There is often a perception that things are worse than they are. The result of ill-advised actions or incomplete communication result in distrust, damaged relationships, even the devastation of rejection, loss, and abandonment. Be they the victim or the cause of it, the individual feels their pain keenly and perceives the pain in others. They want it to stop. Especially in the cases of those who have been through one similar experience too many, ending their pain once and for all presents itself as a viable option.

This is not something I can objectively comment upon, save to say that help is available, and things are rarely as bad as they seem. If you or a loved one suffers from a mental disorder, and self-harm is imminent or feared, the index of suicide hotlines in the United States can be reached at (800) 273-8255. The counselors can help you.

Trust me – there is hope.

500 Words on Porpoising

Courtesy the Telegraph

I’ve had the privilege of seeing porpoises in motion on whale watches, keeping pace with little tour boats as they make their way into the deeper waters. It’s a fascinating sight, seeing sleek gray bodies appear and then disappear beneath rapid waves. They whistle and cackle to one another as they go. It’s fun for them. It’s fun to watch.

It’s not so much fun when it’s your emotions or mood doing the same thing.

The chemicals in the brain of a victim of bipolar disorder are in flux, on a nearly constant basis. Sometimes, in spite of things like medication and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), the moods of the victim will fluctuate with rapidity, ranging from ‘okay’ down into depression and then up into hypomania with little to no warning, then back down again. This can repeat itself several times, at irregular intervals and with varying degrees of intensity, for hours or even days.

In bipolar circles, it is referred to as “rapid cycling”. I call it “porpoising”. And it makes being productive, positive, or even functional very, very difficult.

I’ve said on multiple occasions that I don’t like going into detail about my internal struggles or mental health issues in this particular blogging space. At the same time, I know this is a venue from which some people get updates and entertainment, so a lengthy silence bears some explanation. I’d much rather be honest about the situation than just pop back in like nothing happened. It prevents ambiguity and confusion.

I’ve been working more on my honesty of late, anyway. Omitting key facts from a discussion for fear of hurting feelings or making interactions awkward only makes things worse. Regardless of motivation, fact-omission is, in truth, a lie. And I do not like, condone, or accept lies. I mean, as a novelist and a storyteller, I do lie in that I write about things that never happen involving people who don’t exist, but that is different from hiding the truth about a situation or being in denial about my feelings.

And my feelings have been all over the place. My days are lacking in structure and my bank accounts are in a constant state of near depletion, whine whine etc. It’s difficult to maintain focus without structure or stability, and that difficulty increases when a mood swings or a fear manifests or an old wound gushes.

I’m looking ahead, though. Next week is a new week. Steady posts, streams, and plans will be hammered out and adhered to as well as I can. I hope to hear good news about some form of income which will help with the porpoising. The best you can do when something like this happens is learn what you can and put it behind you.

Thanks, everyone, for reading. I encourage you to check out my fiction, my streaming, and my other projects. I hope to have a Patreon up soon, if I can focus it right.

Don’t forget to be awesome today.

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