Feelings, Nothing but Feelings

Feelings

It is a funny thing when I find myself talking with others, about “Feelings” I’ve noticed that “my feelings” are people, and that I contrive my life around the fact that other people are my feelings.

For instance I mention to someone I was feeling down, and they will reply with; “But you have those beautiful Grandchildren!” I smile for a moment ( my mood goes up ) and politely say; “Yes I do…, but I don’t see them near enough” (My mood goes down).

It is as if — because they’re out there, my world is better, and it is — but they can’t stopped what is going on in my personal life anymore than I can theirs. My grandchildren grow, learn words, sentences, draw, eat with a spoon and all this without me being there, don’t get me wrong, because they are the best things that has happened to me in the last 5 years!

Like the smile that comes across my face when my Grandchildren are mentioned — the lines deepen and the anguish shows on my face when the other “feelings/people” in my life present themselves — the emotional bank account so deeply overdrawn by these feelings/people that they succumb any thought of a happiness.

This reliance on people for my happiness has caused me to have insecurities that have been very debilitating. These people are the main cause of the anxiety attacks that I fight though, not everyday but some every week, and Xanax is the stabilizer that I use to combat the anxieties.

I have my own feelings don’t get me wrong, but by the time I get to them they’ve become very cynical, untrusting and unhappy feelings.  Alone my thoughts become scattered and struggle to find any sense of peace, so how can my feelings be anything but unsettling.

That word — Alone… When you get to my core alone is seems to be the feeling most prevailant, a sad commentary for a person thats seems to have all he needs. I was a only child and it and I always had to work things out alone, so as a adult what has changed?, nothing really…

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Kind of a scattered conclusion to this post but “Feelings” are just to hard to put a finger on, and are always just so damn personal to the person feeling the feeling. None are the same, my sad is different from your sad, and so it goes.

Hurt…

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Something happened to me, it was unintentional and innocent, but even-though it was; it was one of those things that stop a person cold – hurt deep – a pain that only words could cause. I – am – no – angel, and I have thrown many word daggers in my life, and have without doubt caused pain to others, but this time – it was me, the recipient of a well place dagger, and still at this moment the pain is unbelievably great. I have thought of even going to the Emergency Room to see if there was anyway to stop the flow of emotions from my body.

My world has been rocked by this, and change is inevitable, and where I go from here I cannot say, but change has to – “I mean, Has to” – come from this. With that change I am sure the pain will be great, because nothing in life that shapes our psyche ever come without pain. “I am 57 years old,” – I keep saying; “I am 57 years old,” and using it as a “No I don’t think I can” statement, but for me to move on and find those things that are missing in my, “My” day to day life, that Mantra has to stop.

I need to live again, something that for years I have barely been doing – I have been;  just – getting – by. This will not be easy and for those who know me all I can say is; “Hang on if you can, and if you can’t, I understand”….

Find life – Fall in love – or Die trying….

A long couple of weeks

I don’t want to turn my blog into Facebook where I report upon the day in the life of me. But the last month has been just one thing after another, leaving me unable to focus on any writing, as if I am “So good” that people are missing out. But what I feel is that I have been missing out, by not doing any writing I loose the chance to improve, and all of the emotional help that writing here has brought to me.
Then to you people that actually made comments and critics “God bless you”

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I believe that quote, to be true. I need your honest opinion and input, on the writing, the content and your deferring opinions. Then it may be possible for all of us to get something more from this blog.

Thanks Dan

The End (a suicide story) Part 3

“Your father isn’t coming home any more  – he didn’t love us enough, so he killed himself” 

Last Part — In the Middle (a suicide story) Part 2http://wp.me/p1Pe22-ca

I had a support group that was watching, and listening for anything that just didn’t make sense come from me. But remember one more thing about my support group at that time, Doctor-housethey had been warned about my state of mind by those who was administering to me. (Doctors, Counsellor, etc.)
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family, but that I was no longer in control mentally and I may as well have had a brain tumor — the death sentence was the same. Now I am so glad that I didn’t end my life that day, but the reality is that life — itself — is not easy — has not been easy, and probably will never be — at least for me.

Those people that show up at your door after the loss of your loved one due to suicide, don’t — know — anything, and never will, until they have walk down that dark hallway in route to their own suicide. These people, are people, who come to judge, not to help you find peace, they are the people that love nothing better reality TVthan to watch you fall on reality TV. No one — I mean —NO ONE— on this earth is in a place to judge a person in the case of a suicide, because no one can know what is going on in another person’s mind.

god handsOnly god knows, and god is the only one that can make judgement in the event of a suicide. (Yes that was a religious statement, and my belief.) But let’s think about it, if there wasn’t a God could a human know the events leading up to a person committing suicide? Again this is one death that is not easily understood within the confines of human ability.

We humans think that we are a lot of things, but mind readers we are not. Whenmind reader we as friends and family go and visit the survivors of death there needs to be compassion for the family; a good ear to hear them, and a good shoulder to bare them up during this time, not our opinions, and conclusions.

So with that, I am done with this soapbox… for now… Stay tuned…

In the Middle (a suicide story) Part 2

coffin in groudAnother day in America, another funeral, and the statistics again are counted, confirmed, and written down somewhere for everyone to see. But for the survivors of the suicide the tragedy, or should I say travesty has yet to begin. To the friends and family it now becomes their duty to fix the survivors  in the ways that they understand . So for the left wing righteous among us according to their  Religion 101 the act of suicide is one of the greatest sins against God, and going to 

hellhell is the judgement on those that commit suicide.  All that was eternal is now stripped away from that lost soul to suffer in anguish for all time.

CAN I GET an AMEN!!!AMEN

NO!!! No amen here, I cannot believe that God would be so unjust, but then again some of the stories in the bible are kind of scary. The God that I believe in knows that the majority of suicides are made by the clinically depressed, mentally unstable in a world that gives birth not to Gods but mere humans — 490000 human babies every day!

Now to step back to Part 1, and that path that I was on. In those last days before I was institutionalized I told you of a peace that came over me, and in my self-talk I had committed to the idea, and had formed a plan. A Psychiatrist once told me that; “There is nothing more dangerous, or incredible; than when a Bi-Polar has come to a decision” and I was there. It is all a blur to me leading up to that night, and it was time for me to act, me wife knew that something was up and confronted me, and all hell broke loose, I do remember some of this, and that every immediate family member came with my family doctor to the house breaking horsesthat night. They, my family and the doctor talked me down it was like saddle breaking a new horse, I was then taken to the mental hospital, yes I said it; “mental hospital”

The noises that came from the hallways as I tried to sleep that first night was everything you would come to expect from a good asylum horror movie, but I asylummade it. I awoke in the beginnings of a drug induced lobotomy and made my way to the sitting area, where a gathering of patience’s where sitting, staring, and worse.  As I sat there, all I could think was; “Oh — my — God, this is a mistake” I wanted to scream but who would notice and they would just shoot me up with more drugs. I remained calm and waited for a chance to call my wife.  That day she came and got me, then moved me to a closer hospital that could care for me, it was there I spent the next few weeks.

“Your father – he didn’t love us enough, so he killed himself, and isn’t coming home anymore”

I hear statements like that all the time from those that have never been, or refuse to admit being depressed. I shudder at their comments, and want nothing more than to slap those speaking silly. I know now, that I was very close to the ending my life one night a long time ago, but I was lucky, I have a family that believed differently than those people do, I was luckier than those that made the statistics list that day.

Stay with me only one more post to conclude this series. “The End” (a suicide story) Part 3   — Will be coming soon…