Figuring it out / Mom

Maybe trying to figure out life should take a whole lifetime. There are little things I worry about as I get older. My life with cleft lip and palate is an ongoing battle I worry will turn as I get older. With a hole in the roof of my mouth I run risk of infection, collapse and other little things. Not imminently, but the threat of it causes anxiety. As I have worked on myself in the last year I have learned a lot about what causes my anxiety, it’s usually triggered by a half thought out of nowhere and my brain picks it up and runs with it. Social media, specifically seeing people happy causes me a lot of depression. I was always taught that people have it worse off than me. But, at the same time I would like think that more people are happier than I could be. Things like holidays trigger my anxiety and depression. Growing up Christmas was always the home run. My mom went all out at Christmas. Still yelled and got temperamental. But there is few Christmas’ in my life I don’t cherish every memory of.

Which leads me to this. I love my family, I love my mother. I forgive a lot, I have forgotten a lot. I am truly not ready to talk to my mother. There is years of stress, depression and memories I have to try to work through. You only get one mother. My mother was a champion for sticking up for me, for looking after my health, for being what I needed as I got older. Along with that is the fights, the arguments, the swearing, and ultimately the depression I would learn that I have. I encountered depression for the first time at 6. As a kid, it was called being sad. But, I remember the feeling and it is similar to my everyday life now. As I got older I wished my mom told me what depression is, but when it is undiagnosed through most of my family, and not dealt with. It manifests, you become numb to what depression does to your everyday actions. There was a lot of love. There was arguably more vitriol and anger that filled the house. Up until the way the relationship with my mother that was put on hold. Which all of what was said to me has been forgiven and forgotten. Attacking my uncle who raised, cooked and cleaned for us is something I have a hard time getting over. The ugly, sad, and hateful language that you would lobby at your brother and his wife is what crushes me when I think about calling my mom again.

I think when I get older, maybe the anxieties and neuroses I have about talking to my mother again will ease. Christmas time  is usually my time for reflection. It was always when I was happiest and when I felt like our house of yelling and name calling was happy.

This is a blogpost I have had written for 3 years. Maybe it is my fear of disappointing my mother one last time. As I have nearly disappointed my family/mother  at every turn in my life. I am ultimately my mother’s child, with the same mental health problems, the same grudge-holding ability and the same regret when I get mad.

Love you, mom. I will be ready to talk, someday.

Much love,
Regards

Devon

Disappointment

It's getting a little tough right now. There are always brighter days, but the darker days are here. When I suffered my first bout of depression at the age of 10, I thought that hopefully this does not last throughout my life. 17 years of cyclical depression is frustrating, upsetting and... well depressing. I always have hope that eventually I will reach an age where my depression is like, "Nah, I'm done". Whenever that happens I will have finally reached my own heaven.

I am becoming increasingly more aware how depression systematically fucks with your career, school and relationships. One thing that always is a depression trigger for me is disappointing people. I am a people pleaser (still an asshole some days). However, no amount of kudos or general gratitude outweighs one instance of disappointing someone. It's never myself, either. I've been disappointing myself since I was 7. From the first time I forgot how to spell "who" in 3rd grade. I guess when being introspective, I was able to rationalize most of my own disappointments, compartmentalize and repress and move on. I guess that's not healthy, but I don't know what healthy is.

I'm worried I am disappointing everyone. I feel I am disappointing my wife. I fear I am disappointing my Mother in law. I'm worried I am disappointing my uncle and my aunt. I'm worried I am disappointing my friends, by not visiting. I'm worried I am disappointing my best friends. I'm worried that I will disappoint people enough that I am alone. This is not a cry for people to say you do not disappoint me. I know I do not, but demons are stronger than my rational mind most days.

I am afraid to make jokes, some days. I am afraid to talk. I am afraid to move some days.

My biggest disappointment in life is how my demons have controlled a lot of my future, without me realizing it in the past. I have little self-respect. It wears and grinds at your aspirations. I did not try in a lot of ways. Most days my depression would dictate something like "You are probably going to fail. You are going to get fired. You are not doing enough. You are doing too much. You do not need to do that". As long as I did the bare minimum, I would have enough mental sustain to make it through another week. I did not enjoy school, for the reason that depression crushes you when you take exams. I failed relationships because the thought of "If someone else is depressed, you'll feel better." It is a dangerous way to live life with always wondering when someone will tune you up. You isolate, you forget. You forgive but the other person does not. That is when depression has won.

I am worried that no one wants to read the depressed thoughts of a 27 year old man.

I am worried I am disappointing everyone.

Regards,

Devon.

10 years

I don't have a picture of myself at age 17. That's probably a lie, but like fuck I'm going to try to unearth it.

If you had told me when I was 17 that I would still be here. I would call you a liar. The thoughts I had at 17 were depressing and self-deprecating. Unfortunately, that has not changed in 10 years.

If you had told me I would meet the love of my life, marry her and tell me that she would still put up with me after 9 years.

If you would have told me my thoughts on climate change would skew so far into the other direction... Well I would fucking hope so with the amount of information out there.

If you had told me that I would plan my life being over at 22, and live to 27 I would honestly have been a little disappointed.

If you would have told me that I would hold a job for graduate high school, go to university and hold a steady job for 6 years I would have been ecstatic.

If you would have told me I have made some of the raddest friends who live everywhere around the world that would have surprised me.

If you would have told me that 10 years on I would become on of the most selfless persons I know. I would be shocked.

If you told me I would stop trying to ruin people's day with trolling and vicious verbal attacks I would have probably lashed out at you.

If you would have told me that my depression is dealt with for the most part, it is still crippling and makes me afraid of the world I would have probably died when I had planned too.

If you would have told me that nearly my entire family including my brothers, mother and grandmother could give two shits about what happens to me, I would be heartbroken. That my family has outcasted and shunned me, I would have probably have wept. However, that is the harsh reality of growing up angry, bitter and depressed.

If you would have told me that I would be searching for a job for 4 months without a call back at the age of 27, I'd be a little disappointed in myself.

Trying to rebuild a person who was broken, angry and afraid over 10 years has been a frustrating endeavor. I always wonder if I have changed for the better.
Wonder if I made the right choice by living.
If life will be different in another 10 years. If I will still be pain, mentally and physically.
If I will still be outcast from my family.
If I am a better person. If I have a job I'm comfortable in.
If I am still married to the love of my life, or will she grow tired of me. Because, I've grown tired of myself.
If I will stop being as grating and aggressive.
If I would become the person I thought I could be when I was 7. If I could've changed the situation for the people who have passed. That I would hope I still stick up for the little guys. If the world would seem a little more stable and cohesive. If I would finally be happy in life.
In 10 years I hope I am still here, for better or worse.

New Territory

Maybe I thought this would be easier. Maybe I thought that what I had done in my life would make sense.

At the age of 27, when you realize you have no redeeming prospects, kinda leaves you lost. I have battled, I have jockey'd for position. I have been lazy, I have watched life slip through my hands. Talking about myself has never been easy. Despite what you may think. If I were to talk about myself all the time it would be Eeyore mixed with Squidward. I have become a lot more self-reflective. I use humour as a way to distract from the true pit of despair I feel most days. I can flip any conversation about myself with a dumb joke or self-deprecating humour. Unfortunately, most of the time I am self-deprecating, I am actually expressing my feelings.

"I do nothing, I have nothing, I am nothing" Is a general theme that runs through my head. I had multiple conversations with people of some stature. When the topic of what I do came up, how do I tell them that I play video games for 12  hours and have panic attacks and manic moments where I think I am nothing, where I have gotten so good with faking my emotions. That the crushing anxiety I have I can hide it so well. There is no social cue to discuss this. "I got laid off. I applied for jobs, I sit on a broken couch and wonder if 16 year old me would be proud" Cause 27 year old me is not proud. for the past 2 years, life has put me through more than what I would've thought imaginable. I was sure I was an adult before. I am an adult now.

I am trying not to be eaten alive. My demons did not get the memo. How do I tell them that I am controlled by my anxiety and depression. The social construct of meeting new people is "Hi, how are you. What do you do for a living". It is all I can do to not say "I am 27, Unemployed, and feel like life hates me" or "I really wish I was someone else, because I am struggling"  That's not a way to lighten up a party.

I am figuring it out, step by step. My wife will support me every step of the way. I just cannot shake the feeling that I am disappointing her, because everyone around us seems more stable (up front anyways). I feel like I disappoint most people I come across. That may not be the truth, but my mind will keep rattling me.

I hope I can come back to this in a year and be happy, or at least...less disappointed in myself.

Regards,

Devon

Self-doubt

Some days are harder than others. I am constantly at a battle with my mind and self worth. I have a strong group of friends. I have family that loves me. I have a wife who only wants the best for me. I have rekindled relationships with my father and step-father. Unaware of the psychological damage that was done over 26 years. The anxiety for nothing, mostly anxiety for thinking I should feel anxious at any given moment. The increasing levels of depression I feel now. I hope eventually I will not feel anxious.

 I am emotional, I am abrasive and I am afraid. I fall back into the same patterns and same routines with my depression. I feel inadequate most days. Slowly looking back through the years and realize at 26 I am nowhere near as established as people my age. Maybe it's the fact it has taken me 26 years to learn I was not grown up. I was always sheltered from the nuances of life. Instead festering years of depression. Slowly dominating every aspect of my life; from school, home and friends. Maybe I don't want to lose friends. I want to know people. Keep people in my life. Someone to remember me. Someone to remember. 

I had stopped writing because for the most part, I do not feel like my words are worth reading. I wish I was stronger in my respect for myself and creativity. I am not as introverted as I thought; however, with depression, you become paralyzed by the fear of having no one love you. The constant struggle with telling yourself that someone's life is better because they know you. Some days I think someone's day is better because I made them laugh. The trade off of being as aggressive as I am I think more people would rather avoid a conversation with me. 

I have lived 25 years as a person who was not built for success or at least did not feel like I was built for success. For the last year I have tried to rehabilitate my mind, my convictions, my thoughts. Most of all, over the past year. I have tried to make the people around me feel happy. Something I have never done before. I have worked on my relationships with myself; at a mental and emotional level. I may not be where I want to be. I will get there. I will feel the self worth someday. 

The depression will fade one day (hopefully). Until then, I will try to overcome it and my demons. 

Best Regards,

Devon

Nostalgia (brothers)

Living with anxiety coupled with regret freezes you. In a moment, in a minute, for a month, for a year. Living with chronic anxiety is reliving every embarrassing moment and every tearful moment. When you remember most moments in your life, it is because of the emotion you felt at the time. More likely to remember the sad moments than that of a happy moment. So, when you say "I don't remember the last time I was happy", it is mostly true.

I remember a lot of my youth. I looked up to my brothers a lot. They were my biggest role models. I wanted to learn guitar for my older brother. I do not have the patience for that shit. I wanted to learn hockey, I wanted to skate (until I skated), I went to every game. I wanted so much more from my brothers. I wanted to me the punk emo Gordie Howe. Surprisingly, that has not happened.... Yet. My brother was always good at school. Even during his "I don't give a fuck phase" he crushed school. He writes with an elegance that I will never reach. I remember reading one of his essays from high school. He wrote with so much flow and eloquence. It became part of the reason why I started writing this blog. Once again, as my brother as a role model I decided to write. I have no flow, comma splices, and zero eloquence 0/3. 

There's enough that my brothers have done that have left me bruised. They were crusher in the wrestling ring and hand hockey tournaments. They were pretty much all I had growing up. Grudges held my best friends away from me. My brothers were what I knew would be around forever...

...

I became so much more aware of how much they meant to me as I got older. For just another minute of playing Mario Party in the old basement with the insulation hanging out. Just another powerbomb or suplex on thin mattress on top of a concrete floor. Just another minute of a 5-5 next goal wins hand hockey tournament. Just another minute of being brothers and talking to each other. Going to flea markets to find the latest DVD that they are underselling. Watch one last period of a hockey game that my brother is playing in. One last game of "don't play catch in the house". Just one last minute of nostalgia to make the moment stay. 

You are not given a set amount of time with your family and you are not able to see when everything turns. 

Savor each moment with your family, from the sad ones to the happy ones. Being brothers was never easy. But, they helped shape the person I am. For better or worse. 

Best Regards.

Devon

Disintegrating

I do not make friends easily, it is part of my flaws. Being afraid of having friends to disappoint. Overthink if I said the wrong joke (most of the times I did). Beginning to see after 25 years of anger, frustration and general sadness. Friends lift you up. Friends become ingrained in your culture. No matter the walks of life, race or sex. Being a friend is the best thing you can do today, tomorrow and everyday,

I also have become aware of how terrifying this blog gets. In my mind, in my life and the dichotomy of anxiety and depression. I do not hold much against the people I trust. I found it easier to end friendships before communicating. I wish I was a better friend. I wish I was a better person.

I am not an example of what I thought I would be. I am not successful, I am not well liked. I do enough to get by. I'm not sure when I stopped fighting. Everyday of my life was a fight. Eventually you get tired of fighting... Finding that switch is hard. Wanting to turn it back on is harder.

Regards,

Devon