I saw somebody the other day

He perched across from me. Looking longingly into an empty voice. He lightly curled his lip to give himself something to smile about. The lights weren't on, he looked different. I couldn't figure out what was wrong

I couldn't figure out how to help this person that I have a connection with. I've forgotten what the connection is. He looks malcontent, he looks blankly at me. I look at him. I think about how he was probably happy in his younger days. He looked as if he has seen a ghost.

"Hello? Are you alright?" I whisper

I do not get a single response, not a facial expression. Not a sigh. Just a blank stare. I repeated

"Hello, are you alright?"

I look at him differently, he looks like he has experienced something he shouldn't have. He looks like he might be grieving but cannot let it our.

"Father, son, Holy Spirit." He repeats. Kissing the beads he pulls out of his pocket and points the rosary beads to the sky.

I cannot talk to him. It is like he cannot see me. He is human, I am human? We should be able to connect. He has no idea how to handle himself in any situation now. Socially he is angry, emotionally he is void. Psychologically he has nothing to think about but sadness

I wish I knew what bugged him, who he was, where he has been. If he will ever be 'normal again.'

The face of a man who looks depressed beyond comprehension, unable to move. Unable to speak to anyone..

I do not know this man, I miss who he used to be. I want to see this guy laughing, see this guy smiling. He looks like he has been crying himself to sleep for 4 nights. How many people does he miss? Will he get those people back.

This guy, I've never met. I want to make him happy again. That's all I want

He's too young to face these challenges, to take these constant barrage of life problems.

I want this guy to enjoy his life.

You learn a lot about a person by looking at them for a few minutes.

Regards

Closure doesn't exist

In any form. You never get closure from a job well done. There is always something else to do. Can't get closure on a bad week because you know another week is around the corner. Most of all you can never really get closure from anxiety disorder. Or depression. It is something that hangs around.

No matter the medication, who you talk to, if you get money, something life changing happens. It doesn't matter. Anxiety is a stigma. You never get away from it sadly. Nor are you ever really comfortable admitting your mental health problems.

Closure is a word thrown around fair too much. Over the past 2 weeks, I've heard you get closure from finally burying a human being. You don't. In fact, it opens it more. It opens those feelings more. A persons life never ends. It has touched lives and will continue to touch lives well after they are gone. I still don't know how to grieve. I don't have an outlet. I still hear my grandpa's voice. Everyday. The burial was a closure period. It didn't bring closure.

Because of the lack of closure on grieving, I can't sleep, don't want to eat and have been very grouchy. Yet, I'm supposed to feel like it was a closed chapter.

Anxiety is never open and shut. You tell someone you have anxiety and suffer depression and they have to take your word for it. It is how they react that really affects how you react from then on.

I'm concerned for my personal health, because I can't sleep. I don't laugh, don't listen to much music. I'm frozen in the moment. Unable to move around. No one really knows what goes on in a persons head.

No one ever knows why a person feels anxiety. It culminates and manifests so quickly you are overcome by it.

I've never found closure. I'm more scared now than ever. The ones you love never last forever and that is truly the single most unfair thing about life. I will do a more detailed blogpost on my current mental state. It would be beneficial to my readers to understand my perspective.

Hug the ones you love and hug them tightly.

Regards,

Devon

Twitter: new direction and easing my mind.

What can you say about it? It is vile, aggravating, annoying, vicious and ridiculous much of the time. Others, you may meet a person who genuinely cares about the networking site and become a very important member and confidant.

You crave followers, constantly thinking of originality and always wanting validation. The tweets you make have been done in some form. Sharks waiting for you to slip up. People creating drama for boredom and more trolls you can handle.

Alas, I hit 10k and found out that I did not have quality followers. I had quantity. Which is never what I wanted. I wanted people who shared jokes and stories and supported each other. Have so many random people who make rape and roofie jokes. Foul jokes about 9/11. People who know very little about politics stating they are a strong libertarian and constantly make tweets about other ideologies. People saing they are atheist and immediately picking on people who have found some semblance of hope in this dark world. Some semblance of a handle to grasp on life. People who tweet motivational stuff and tell people who are in a rut that it is easy.

You do twitter your own way. You are entitled to that. I wasn't doing twitter my way. I will be weeding followers out over the next month. Those who read this are probably going to stay. People who interact with me are great or people who favorite anything in the past while will be saved.

I am changing my twitter outlook not to be an elite, rather a person who wants to enjoy twitter for what it should be.

It had been putting pressure on me to create jokes, to go favorite and interact with people who had no interest in it. Trophying tweets had become a chore that I have to do everyday. Alas, friends this is the end of the craving followers era and into the taking twitter easy and maybe actually enjoying the comedy. If I do unfollow you and you want a follow back, all you have to do is ask. And honestly, if you read this please do.

I am not doing this to be a dick, a cunt or an asshole. I am cleaning it and making it fun to scroll through my timeline. Do not hesitate to talk to me. Learn more about me. I am an open book and willing to learn more about you and life itself. Lord knows it could help my anxiety issues.

This is not a move of arrogance but a move of easing my mind of stressors and anxiety revolving around social networking. I am finally doing twitter my way.

Thanks for taking the time to read it, much love and respect all.

Talk to you soon, hopefully.

Thanks,
Best regards,

Devon

Missing something to chew on

I had surgery on April 19th. Surgery that required 8 weeks of liquid diet afterwards. I was told I would lose about 20-25 pounds. I've lost almost double and it has weighed on my mind more than just hunger.

Food is a habit, for some it is a habit practiced too much, for others they choose not to eat. Those people are interesting. That is a mental disorder. The constant need to feel skinny by anxiety forced onto them by the media. Anxiety and paranoia are interestingly related to food and eating disorders. Right down to if someone is watching you eat or not. How you eat, what you eat and how much of what you eat. People go through drives thrus and sit in vehicles because they don't want any constant scrutiny that they super sized a meal. People don't eat much because they think skinnier is healthier.

Me? I know much about diet now. What I learned is a liquid fast is better than nothing, but can have long term effects. It is almost like a state of being bipolar. I've never experienced mood swings.

Drastic weight loss and stress have resulted in my anxiety being skyrocketed. Don't feel like doing much, can't exercise because I will lose more weight.

The miss of the crunch of chips, even the shitty feeling of eating a burger. I've missed it all. And when eating is one of your vices. It is hard to make up for it. My grandfather dying was a great stressor that I couldn't handle. Didn't know how to handle it without some habitual behaviour. Was hungry, but couldn't eat. Since anxiety carries a lot of rhythm to it. I knew something was wrong, I could not fix it.

Now 7 weeks in, I'm frustrated, I'm anxious, I'm no longer hungry. It is a constant state of insatiability now. It is making me aware how important food is to the mind. Quite literally.

Society shows that people should be skinny or else they are made fun of. I am at the skinniest I have been. I have never felt less healthy in my life. I needed that actual feeling of eating to release endorphins. That nasty yet rewarding feeling of crushing a burger.

The anxiety is eating me alive until next Friday

 Food is necessary for human survival and healthy living.

Being a creature of habit, triggers are no longer possible to avoid.

The feeling of not being able to eat does not leave much meaning to what you are doing.

Regards,
Devon

The affects of love and relationships on anxiety

Love, heart, miss. All of these people say daily to their loved ones. How can you really tell the magnitude of those words. How they affect a persons mind? How they affect a persons heart? P

Love is important. Comfort. Security and wealth in a way. Wealth in love of those around you does more for me than money. Those around me build a shield. They support me at my lowest. They've dragged me out of the mud many of times. Times I couldn't deal, they know when to hug.

Anxiety is a different being. A person who suffers it can say the same thing. It affects your relationships in an almost surreal way. It changes you, the dynamic of everyone around you. In almost 2 splits. You go from friends to they separate from you so they don't have to deal with it, or they can't deal with it.

The other side is they have sympathy, they have empathy. They try to help you. Try to force and motivate you out of your funk. Those are the people you need to surround yourself with.

I neglected to mention those people who say "you have no reason to be anxious, or those who say anxiety is for weak minds"

Love is a big word. I love my parents, my family, my fiancée, my friends and even the strangers I've never met who wanted to know a little bit about me.

As an anxiety sufferer I constantly strain the relationship with everyone around me. I over complicate things and begin to get paranoid. It borders on insanity. But, it opens my eyes and makes me learn to love when someone says they love me. They miss me.

The people around me will never know how much I owe to them for putting up with my pure frustration and anger. I am unable to express it clearly. I don't know how. You can't put a word big enough for the gratitude of those around you.

Anxiety is never consistent. Is never constant. I've been a mess the last week or so. My family has been with me every step of the way. Love affects in many a positive way.

Without them, I would have no support. I would be eaten alive my by anxiety and probably wouldn't be here. Learn to love those around you regardless of the shit that has happened. Grudges only make the anxiety worse. Build a clear support system. Try to eliminate those sources who try to minimalize your anxiety. Talk about it with the ones you love. That's something I never did. I let anxiety eat me for 2-3 years because I thought I was weak to talk about it with the ones I love.

Don't be afraid to talk to people about anxiety. I love you all, thanks for reading.

Regards,
Devon.

The effect of death on an anxious person

Can't sleep
Don't eat
Can't eat solids
Don't drink
Feel dehydrated
Apathetic
Empathetic
Sympathetic
Don't want to sleep
I hear my grandfather's voice all but 2 weeks ago.

Hear him say he can't wait to go to my wedding, and play crib with me... Sometime after his surgery that was scheduled today.

How does one handle such a sudden death? 85 years of battling and kicking ass at life. He was taken, swiftly and what I feel is unjustly. He battled everyday of his life. For his family. He made the decision to stop drinking for more life, more laughs. At the end of life. All you can hope is you live a life full of love, he did. Live a life where you battled for someone, something. He did.

Why at 85 years 8 months do I feel that it was unjust to take him?

I'm still in disbelief, I thought he would live until 90-100. Living everyday just as stubborn as the last. It eats at me. He battled for us, we showed it. He lives through my family still. I've been heavily medicated through caffeine and painkillers from my surgery.

Which my aftercare is shot. I was irresponsible and didnt care about aftercare. I wanted to be there for my family, I thought I did well enough. Selfless and trying, it amounted to relationships built, I hope.

It makes me anxious about my own life. My thoughts on the times I thought about ending it. It is overwhelming the impact that would've had on my family.

I'm slowly reverting into a misanthrope, an angry person. It is the most common emotion after sadness from grieving. It is a natural cycle. One that isn't fair to life.

I can't go visit him. I can't do the little things like lift his walker in and out of the vehicle. Talk to him about speaking Cree. Which I had planned on since the age of 7. 14 years I had to indulge myself in his stories. Thought I would have time, lost track of time.  I never did. I think that is why I want to talk, and won't ever end the conversation first when I am talking with people. Hang onto those moments when a conversation goes too long.

My final words to him were "never going to say bye, grandpa. I'll say see you later."

I saw him later. Pale, in suspenders, with his glasses on. Seeing some of me in the reflection of his glasses. Waiting for him to get up into his favourite chair and try to engage a conversation deep enough that you don't leave. Regardless of how lifeless he looked. He in a way told his story when you saw him at peace. You could live the life he lived by touching his face.

As naive as it sounds. I felt he was in the room celebrating life, how he wanted us to.

It is the only thing that brings semblance to this mess I am trying to live through. I have a picture of him, me and my godfather, charred and composting in Kinuso somewhere. The only picture I have with him.

I carry you with me grandpa, My Mushom, my friend, my elder. You taught me so much about the meaning of life when you died.

This blogpost is to get some feelings out.

Regards,

Devon

My Eulogy for my Mushom (Grandpa)

How do I put into words what it means you are gone, grandpa? How do I accurately say what you've done for my family?
You were the head cheese, the glue for this family. You were how everyone managed day to day. Knowing you we're are home, watching sports. Making bets and drinking tea. Scratching tickets and waiting for the phone call. How everyone had to yell for you to hear them. You were wise, you were strong and you were a warrior. I know you are a crib player, a conversationalist and a hell of a Cree speaker.

I regret never being able to speak to you in Cree, never taking advantage of the fact you speak it clearly and concise. I always said " oh, I'll go see him next month and start learning." I never got that opportunity. I never got the chance to say tansi, even. Never got to play crib, I promised you I would come play crib with you at the end of April. Instead, I have to help bury you.

You hated grudges, you hated the constant bickering, you wanted your kids and grand kids to unite as a family and stay strong. That message was lost through the years. I'm very sad it took your passing to remind us how strong we can be as a family.

I hear your voice, every time I think about you. Asking me about my girlfriend. Telling me how excited you were to come to my wedding. You'll be there, one way or the other Mushom. You are the reason I battle through my anxiety and pain. You were a true warrior. You had even died and came back to life, battled tuberculosis, alcoholism, multiple bouts of pneumonia, and COPD. You were an inspiration. You were one hell of a stubborn man. Stubborn as a mule doesn't even cut it. You knew nothing could take you out. I am living the same way. Stubborn enough that you came back to life and still kicked its ass for 10 more years.

You always bet 4 dollars on sports select , bought 8 scratch tickets, but never 10,
Because 10 never win you any money. I still see you sitting in your chair, swearing at the TV because Indianapolis screwed you over.

You were the only one who recognized my voice on the phone right away. Talked to Anyone who wanted to list and fight for what's right.

You never wanted to die alone Mushom (Grandpa) and you didn't. For the time that I was alive you always had one of your kids holding s grudge and not talking to you over something. In the past 3 months. You had every kid and grand kid talking to you. With love and appreciation. You never died alone. We all love you. You carry our love and you carry

We always will love you, and you are still with us. You live through all of us.
We are going to struggle to find an identity, a true meaning to life.
I love you Mushom, see you on the other side
I love you more than life itself Mushom.
You didn't want us to be sad when you passed, so, I'm going to try. I am trying. But, I truly miss you more than anything. I would give anything just to play a game a crib with you, to talk to you.

Best regards,

Devon

God bless you Mushom Max. You're never forgotten.