Tag Archives: talking

On Hating Yourself…

Let me preface this with another TED talk.  Watch it if you wish, it is rather sad, but informative...The Depressed Comic.

I watched this and what it truly did was to bring back memories.  Memories of my youth, my 20s, my 30s, my 40s, and even some of my 50s.

A lot of the blogging world knows me.  They know Scott, the guy who had the NDE when he stroked out at a restaurant, and who came slowly back to life and health to be who I am now. Yep, a lot of you whom I call friends know that me.  Some of you out there know some about that earlier me.  Some of my friends around me know that me; some of my family even, however, I don’t think anyone knows the early me very well.

I say this because of a discussion/confession I had with my Mom not too awfully long ago.  This was a discussion about my late Dad.  We were talking and I spoke up (finally) about how Dad only gave me two options in college:  Doctor or Minister.  I went to high school with only those two opportunities under my belt.  I dreamed of other things, but those were it.  Dad said either make good money or serve God.  I said this to Mom and her response was, “No, he didn’t.”  My response back was, “You weren’t there.”  This went on just a bit and I told her there were a lot of things Dad told me that she, most likely, didn’t know.  I always assumed she was in agreement with him (why wouldn’t I?).  I told her about how mean Dad often treated me (actually, to him, it was just manly, the way you were supposed to).  She didn’t believe me, at first.  She just kept saying, “You know your father loved you.” It was almost a question.  I told her that I know that now, but then?  I was little and it didn’t feel like love.

I tell you all that so you can understand that I went to college as a young man who knew nothing of sex (it wasn’t talked about), little of life, and studying a subject that I only thought I wanted: religion.

I saw God as “our Father”, mean (for our own good), merciful (to a point), and punishing (if you didn’t follow His ways).  He was my father, and, to be truthful -it scared me- but I didn’t really like Him.  There was a side to me that was wanting to know about sex, about young women, about life, about death, about everything – you know, normal.  And, I had become so scared of what the world might think that I gave it all up to be the “perfect” giver, doing everything for everyone except myself.  Because of this, I didn’t sleep, got sick often, had stomach problems, was nervous, and had a deep complex about myself.  I wanted to go to Heaven, but “knew” I didn’t deserve it.

I got married, raised two wonderful children, got divorced, dated, remarried, took care of two other children, saw mine on scheduled times, tried to please everyone, and was tired, miserable, still sick, and heading toward a reckoning.

That reckoning had begun when my local doctor had prescribed Prozac, the wonder drug, for me.  I felt the difference the very next day.  Life lifted, colors were brighter, I was better, a little happier.  I stayed on Prozac quite awhile, quite a bit during my first marriage. I went off it, without asking my doctor, and, about a month later, had a bad episode.  Now, things get fuzzy in this time, so I will just summarize:

I began to get worse, my marriage was falling apart, I started to see a counselor.  He passed in the last couple of years and I wish I had seen him one more time to tell him all of the good he did me. Anyway, I continued working, went through my second divorce (one that took longer and was harder on me), got to the point that I threw up every day after work and would walk miles until I could handle being home and still.  I was constantly afraid of nearly everything and had high blood pressure (partly handled) and just a mess in general.

Finally the break (not a break, but an episode) where I had to call my parents to come get me and, over dinner at Pizza Hut, talk them into taking me to a Stress Center.  Actually, had to go to emergency ward and tell the doctor that “No, I had considered suicide; I just had times when I wished I weren’t around.”  I checked into a Center and stayed two weeks.  Did me a lot of good, but the doctor who treated me was later found guilty of Medicare Fraud, lost his Indiana license, and I don’t know about jail or fine or whatever.

I went back to work, within a few weeks I went back to the Center for the weekend (I was told this was quite normal), then lived very skittishly at work and home.  Actually, I had moved back home with my parents and made a 45 minute commute daily to work.  My routine was to get up, work, drive home, watch TV till 10, go to bed, and repeat.  On Friday evenings, I immediately began worrying about Monday morning.

I quit my job after about 6 years over stress and all, tried to write a book, then went back to school to teach elementary school and thought my dreams had come true.  I got to teach special education for 6 years, but had never handled my stress, depression, and anxiety very well.

On May 7, 2010, in the evening, I was on a date with my girlfriend.  We were having a discussion/argument over staying together and I had a stroke.  She took me to the hospital and, for the next 15 months.  I went through rehab and counseling before trying to go back to teaching.  I made it 7 months,stopping in Feb of my 7th year, and became disabled.

I have found that, becoming disabled, has been the best thing for my life.  I have also learned that Life works this way, God works this way.

The stroke reset my brain, as is often the case, and I became settled for the first time in my memory.  I have problems: issues with balance, trouble with double vision, a bit of weakness here and there, and short-term memory issues.  However, my OCD disappeared, as did my depression.  My counselor gave me that diagnosis, saying that while I still had a little anxiety, she found no depression!  I take a small anti-depressant/anti-anxiety (always good to cover both, I am told, as anti-anxieties can bring about depression), but am just very happy, positive, and see life as loving.  I am upbeat, outspoken, and unafraid to talk about anything (sometimes a bit too much so, I am told).  I am a new person.

And so, I started my blog after leaving teaching and here I am: whole and happy.

Now, you know a lot more about me.  Do you need to talk?  Do you want to share?  I am here bookman23@comcast.net.  I am not afraid to take that step with you.  Read other posts…you will see.

Namaste,

Scott

Looking Life in the Eye and Really Seeing It…

Read this post to get where I got my thoughts… 4Am Writer: Life Without a Mom

Okay, now…I visit Dad in the nursing home 5 nights a week from about 8:15pm-12:30am or so, whenever he falls asleep or I have to leave…because 3 days a week I take Mom to see Dad at dialysis.  We go to see him at 10am, then eat at Cracker Barrel, then do some errands, see Dad leave dialysis about 3pm, then back to the nursing home.  Mom goes in for awhile and I go home, nap, eat, then go to see Dad.

Interesting life from the person who didn’t much care for his Dad until lately.  It isn’t that I didn’t like him; I just didn’t see him much and we didn’t talk much.  As it is, we don’t talk much now.  Dad enjoys watching sports and I sit there, looking at the TV sometimes, commenting or listening to him, and I watch the tablet – poker, Facebook, CBS, NBC, whatever…

He seems to like just having me sit there.  I am told that nearly every night, about 15 minutes after I leave him sound asleep, he calls for the night person, to get him something or other.  I think he is just lonely then and wants to see someone else.

I visit Dad and I sit there and we just know each other is in the room.  Tonight, however (Saturday),  there was no ballgame on, no real sports at all, so, … we talked for awhile.

We still don’t have much to say.  A lot of it is Dad retelling me jokes and stories for the millionth time.  But, he doesn’t remember that he has told me, and, frankly, it does me good to hear them again.  Cause someday, someday maybe soon, he won’t be around to tell them and I will have to remember them.  I should write them down, but I won’t.  I don’t do things like that often.  I will just have to hope I remember them enough to pass them on.

Realizing that, someday, his life will be a sketchy memory because Mom, Sis, and I will be gone, is a bit unsettling.  I am not ready to go.  Ever since the stroke in ’10 I don’t really fear death, but I am not in a hurry to see it either.  I have a lot I want to do.  Some of it is just beginning to materialize and I am sorry for that.  I kinda wish I had started on some things earlier, but I guess we are all that way, too.

Well, Kate Johnston, author of 4amwriter, look what your post inspired.  Thanks…I need to say all of this.  I will need to say more, I imagine.  Life is always asking us to do things – this one will be eternally on the net soon…

Namaste,

Scott

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Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!

North Noir

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