Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant KevinMale/Canada Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 48 Deviations 5,340 Comments 13,521 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Groups

Activity


Thought I would give the dA app a second chance. Still no access to notes. This is designed for people to look at dA not use it.

This is rather long, so I hope I do not get too many” tl;dr” (too long; didn't read)

(July 02) Today is my birthday. It does not show up on anyone's notices because I do not care that today is my birthday. I do not celebrate it. Birthdays are a reminder of the ticking clock. Another year of your life gone. It is not how I want to remember my life. This is not some reverse psychology attempt at attention or something. It really does mean very little to me. Some people are all “today is your day” and “it is all about you”. I live alone. With a dog. Every day is about me. I take the day off from work when it is not on the weekend. That is the extent of my observation. Just because I do not celebrate it, does not mean I want to work on it.

For some people, on their birthdays, I write a short letter. Something that I hope they will read and appreciate. I think through the year and my involvement in their life during that year or what I see as their accomplishments which they may have taken for granted.

For me, personal messages like this are so much more important. Anyone can look at a calendar or be reminded by however many apps that now track your social contacts (on all of which I have set my birthday to private) just to send a half thought out “Happy birthday” to be immediately forgotten. It is different when you get a sudden message from someone who was at a store and saw something and then “oh my god, I was at this store and I saw this shirt and it reminded me of you so much. Remember that time we.....” much better. When a person can show that they actually have thought of you, then the day is not what is important. Any day can make you feel special when someone you care about shows you that you are important to them.

So today, being my birthday, I am going to share a few random memories of some people.

One weekend in first year university I took off from campus with my friends Sara and Julie and trekked out to Bewdley. We stayed at Sara's family cottage house and ate junk, watched movies and talked for the night. I got to introduce Sara to my favourite theatre themed movie All That Jazz. Julie kept eating the raw beef while we all argued with each other over how a proper hamburger should be made. Julie believed in a burger being a half cooked giant meatball. That was our weekend and many things happen that bring it back to my mind all these years later.

One evening during second year, in the midst of an emotional crisis, my friend John came walking into my res room with his acoustic guitar and a bottle of tequila. He came in, opened my cabinet, took out my bottle of Crown Royal and said, “If I am drinking, you're drinking.” He strummed on his guitar while we sat and talked for hours about how our lives had changed since starting university. I had never spent much quiet time with John, but that moment stood out. He needed someone to talk to and in a residence building where everyone knew him, he turned to me. When his bottle was empty, he thanked me for the talk and walked off down the hall.

For three years, I lived in a house with a number of friends. Like in all such arrangements, there were good moments and bad. When things went really bad, I ran away to Spencerville and, for a few years now, have regretted that move. But when things were good, we had some great times. Living just a short block away was my friend Andrea. Every now and then she would come over for dinner and we would drink many bottles of wine and talk away the evening. Some bottles were so horrifically bad that we kept drinking them just for the laugh at how bad they were. Those were what dinner parties are meant to be.

Last season, I got the tickets to an Ottawa Senators game when I had the next day off. A very rare thing for me to luck into. It is often difficult for me to find someone to go to a game, since it is usually short notice and often on a Thursday that I get the tickets. Work night and short notice usually leaves me scrambling. My friend Brendan was able to go with me that night. And it only got better. Since neither of us had to get up in the morning and I did not have to rush home for Duncan, we went out for something to eat after the game. We talked for hours. And by hours, I mean it was 3 AM when I finally got home. It was a perfect evening with the perfect company.

It is moments like these that mean so much. A short while spent with people you care about and in those moments you can feel so important. I want people to know that they are important to me. There is no treasure, no dollar value, worth more to me than those few people with whom I want to share my life. So, while “Happy Birthday” just reminds us that the clock is ticking, there are so many random memories that remind us that we can live lives worth living.

  • Mood: Content
  • Listening to: Nadda
  • Reading: This page.
  • Watching: Zilch
  • Playing: Zero
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: The liquified souls of the damned.
Because apparently this week has been Depression Awareness week, I thought I would share something.

Everyone who knows me knows that I love to share anecdotal stories about life.  Not just my life, but stories I in which I may have played a small role or even only witnessed. They can be funny or serious, casual observations or emotionally charged.  There are literally millions of stories which make up all of our lives.  I just happen to enjoy sharing some of the ones that make up mine.

A number of years ago, I sliced my wrist open on a piece of broken Pyrex at work.  Yes, it was an accident.  I spent over six hours at the hospital, had plastic surgery to reconnect the artery and tendon which had been severed.  I have a large scar on my right wrist (photos in my gallery), numbness and reduced function of my right hand. The occupational therapist sat me down to have a talk when I was nearing completely of my therapy.  She wanted to talk about public perception of a wrist scar.  I replied “No one who knows me would be surprised and I do not care what others think.”

I bring this up for a couple of reasons.  The first and most obvious reason is that it only took a short while before the reactions of strangers did bother me.  I would wear long sleeves all the time, accept change with my left hand, make snarky (though amusing to me) comments about the looks on people's faces, etc. Although the scar is still clearly visible, it is no longer red/pink and so for the short period of time it takes to accept change, shake hands, and other small social interactions, I no longer hide it and rarely get “reactions” to it.

The second reason is more serious and more personal.  

One thing I am not so talkative about is my own personal struggle with depression.  Many people know that I suffer depression,  it is simply not something that I talk about. Over the years, I have tried to open up about it to a few people.  I say tried, because most often, they were not the type of friend I had hoped they were and “dealing” with my condition wound up pushing them away.  Just because you feel some bond between yourself and another person, does not guarantee that they feel the same.  Even if people do sympathise, they do not want to get that involved with others.  So I wind up hiding it, even lying about it just so people don't have to be inconvenienced by me.  I know I am not alone.  I have a few friends whose conditions are far worse than mine and they all have similar stories.

I started on antidepressants when I was 16 years old.  Over the course of four years, I overdosed twice. Not seriously enough for anyone to raise alarms and both times were written off as “accidents”.  I went to a psychiatrist, really did not like the experience and only went that one time in high school.  There was no discussion of triggers or causes for my depression.  It was all “Here, take these pills.  You will feel better.”  The doctor seemed convinced that I was having some sort of identity criss.  That wasn't it at all.  I knew who I was.  I knew what I was.  I was and am relatively comfortable with that.  I wanted and still want to address the causes of my depression cycles, not mask them with drug induced blandness.

I had some great counselling when I was at university and eventually, with a few small relapses, got off the pills.  There was no cure or solution, but a bit of management that helped me cope without giving up a sense of living.

I am certain we have all seen those social media awareness campaigns attempting to bring attention to mental illness.  The “You wouldn't tell a cancer patient to “get over it”, so why would you tell that to someone suffering mental illness?” ones.  And yet, dismissal is likely the most common response, even from family and friends.  The people you most want, and perhaps expect, to be there for you, to support you, to see the signs that you are spiralling, simply aren't. Instead, it's “Oh, you are in one of your moods” followed by a prolonged silence as they wait for you to “get over it.”

Everyone gets depressed sometimes, but suffering depression is not the same as “getting depressed”. Everyone has that “I am depressed because <insert rationale here>”.  But there is also the “I am depressed.” There is no “because”.  It just is.  Many people will never understand the struggle of trying to break that cycle.  Many people will not understand the effort of time and again trying so hard to not break down and let it all end.  Many people will never know personal impact of being in a perfectly good mood one moment and feeling completely empty and on the verge of tears the next.  They will never know how it feels to pull out of a parking lot with a smile on their face and singing along badly to some song only to pull over a short while later because they aren't sure they even want to make it home.

This is a small glimpse of what I have gone through off and on for most of my life. It is similar to what many of my friends go through every day.  I do not speak for them because we all have different experiences.  This is a part of my story.

This is rather long, so I hope I do not get too many” tl;dr” (too long; didn't read)

(July 02) Today is my birthday. It does not show up on anyone's notices because I do not care that today is my birthday. I do not celebrate it. Birthdays are a reminder of the ticking clock. Another year of your life gone. It is not how I want to remember my life. This is not some reverse psychology attempt at attention or something. It really does mean very little to me. Some people are all “today is your day” and “it is all about you”. I live alone. With a dog. Every day is about me. I take the day off from work when it is not on the weekend. That is the extent of my observation. Just because I do not celebrate it, does not mean I want to work on it.

For some people, on their birthdays, I write a short letter. Something that I hope they will read and appreciate. I think through the year and my involvement in their life during that year or what I see as their accomplishments which they may have taken for granted.

For me, personal messages like this are so much more important. Anyone can look at a calendar or be reminded by however many apps that now track your social contacts (on all of which I have set my birthday to private) just to send a half thought out “Happy birthday” to be immediately forgotten. It is different when you get a sudden message from someone who was at a store and saw something and then “oh my god, I was at this store and I saw this shirt and it reminded me of you so much. Remember that time we.....” much better. When a person can show that they actually have thought of you, then the day is not what is important. Any day can make you feel special when someone you care about shows you that you are important to them.

So today, being my birthday, I am going to share a few random memories of some people.

One weekend in first year university I took off from campus with my friends Sara and Julie and trekked out to Bewdley. We stayed at Sara's family cottage house and ate junk, watched movies and talked for the night. I got to introduce Sara to my favourite theatre themed movie All That Jazz. Julie kept eating the raw beef while we all argued with each other over how a proper hamburger should be made. Julie believed in a burger being a half cooked giant meatball. That was our weekend and many things happen that bring it back to my mind all these years later.

One evening during second year, in the midst of an emotional crisis, my friend John came walking into my res room with his acoustic guitar and a bottle of tequila. He came in, opened my cabinet, took out my bottle of Crown Royal and said, “If I am drinking, you're drinking.” He strummed on his guitar while we sat and talked for hours about how our lives had changed since starting university. I had never spent much quiet time with John, but that moment stood out. He needed someone to talk to and in a residence building where everyone knew him, he turned to me. When his bottle was empty, he thanked me for the talk and walked off down the hall.

For three years, I lived in a house with a number of friends. Like in all such arrangements, there were good moments and bad. When things went really bad, I ran away to Spencerville and, for a few years now, have regretted that move. But when things were good, we had some great times. Living just a short block away was my friend Andrea. Every now and then she would come over for dinner and we would drink many bottles of wine and talk away the evening. Some bottles were so horrifically bad that we kept drinking them just for the laugh at how bad they were. Those were what dinner parties are meant to be.

Last season, I got the tickets to an Ottawa Senators game when I had the next day off. A very rare thing for me to luck into. It is often difficult for me to find someone to go to a game, since it is usually short notice and often on a Thursday that I get the tickets. Work night and short notice usually leaves me scrambling. My friend Brendan was able to go with me that night. And it only got better. Since neither of us had to get up in the morning and I did not have to rush home for Duncan, we went out for something to eat after the game. We talked for hours. And by hours, I mean it was 3 AM when I finally got home. It was a perfect evening with the perfect company.

It is moments like these that mean so much. A short while spent with people you care about and in those moments you can feel so important. I want people to know that they are important to me. There is no treasure, no dollar value, worth more to me than those few people with whom I want to share my life. So, while “Happy Birthday” just reminds us that the clock is ticking, there are so many random memories that remind us that we can live lives worth living.

  • Mood: Content
  • Listening to: Nadda
  • Reading: This page.
  • Watching: Zilch
  • Playing: Zero
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: The liquified souls of the damned.

AdCast - Ads from the Community

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconfruitsoflabour:
FruitsofLabour Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2014  Professional Writer
Ah, my friend! Thank you for the rewatch.~ 
Reply
:icongallagher1454:
Gallagher1454 Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2015
As long as I have a way to follow you, I will. :)
Reply
:iconfruitsoflabour:
FruitsofLabour Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2015  Professional Writer
<333 Aww, that's so very kind of you! Thank you!
Reply
Hidden by Owner
Add a Comment: