April 13

The inspiration of death

Ambulance

On a lovely summer night, three days after I moved into my beautiful new house, back in July of 2018, the most wonderful soul left this earth. After that, I drank more alcohol, smoked more weed (it’s cool – totally legal here), watched more TV, and ate more junk food. My niece overdosed on Aleve, but she realized she had made a mistake. She wanted to live, and held onto life the best should could, but a paramedic accidentally gave her morphine, instead of the life saving drug he meant to give her, twice!

She was the kind of person who would make fun of you then snuggle right up into you, the marshmallow with barbed wire on the outside. She seemed tough, but she just loved you completely, and that was all she needed. Close your eyes for minute, actually close them and imagine how you would feel.

Although I would do anything to take her death back, it has given me a lot of perspective, changed me. I don’t turn into a giant ball of stress when work piles up, and I know that every moment counts. I’ve been given purpose by her mother, my sister. We are starting an amazing organization together to help children and prevent future deaths. The weird thing is, I don’t even want to watch TV anymore. I don’t want to smoke weed or drink. I love junk food though, but hopefully that will decrease as well.

I want to work on being the best person I can be. I want a life of purpose and meaning. I want everyone in my life to know that I fucking love them so damn much, and the people I don’t love and don’t care about – well you’re probably assholes. You know who the fuck you are, so GFY.

So what will the last half of my life look like? I don’t really know, but I’m excited to find out. I’m helping to start an organization that will improve the lives of people, especially children. I’m writing, which is something I’m very passionate about, and I’m getting a lot of very cool technology projects for my day job.

People often ask: “if you could go back and give advice to yourself as child, what would say?” That child and the young adult who came after that, they taught me everything I know. There is no bit of wisdom that I’ve gained that wasn’t because of them. I’m nothing more than the sum of their knowledge. I should be asking myself: “what can I teach my future self?” The answer is everything. If I realize that I’m the teacher, and I’m responsible for who I’ll be, it makes me think in a very different way. My future self isn’t going to just bail me out of a miserable existence; he’s just going to keep doing whatever I’m doing.

My niece’s death was a clear sign that everything changes. I won’t let circumstance change me in an uncontrollable way. I’ll change how I want to change.

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January 15

Chapter 1 | Sitting with the therapist | Present time

Therapy

“I sit there staring into the distance, crying, balling, gasping, and short of breath. I can’t fill my lungs. I might suffocate, and I might welcome that. I’m completely defeated. I have nothing to live for, but I lack the courage to kill myself. My father beats me whenever he is in the mood, and I’m an easy target for bullies. That’s how I was everytime I wanted to run away but didn’t have the guts or everytime I stopped eating for days but nobody even noticed or everytime he gave me a black eye. I mean, he put my sister’s head through a fucking mirror one time, and he told us that if we ever called the authorities on him, they would take us away and put us with people who would molest us. What the fuck did I know? I was just an abused child. I believed what I was told. I would rather be with someone who beats me than someone who rapes me. I wish I could go back in time. I wouldn’t love him anymore. He never really loved me anyway. I would do things much differently. I would go back to when I was a child, and I would change everything. I would take his power away, every chance I got.”

“What moment would you start at? What would you do differently?” she asked.

“I might go back to the moment when my sister called the police on him so she could get her clothes. She had moved out, and he wouldn’t let her have her own clothes. I would tell her that she is brave, and I’m proud of her, instead of being ashamed and angry that she left. I might go back to the moment when he called the police on my mom because he was annoyed with her. I had come home thinking he had killed her, seeing police cars in the driveway. The cops asked me if he ever hit us or my mom. I lied for him, even though I thought my own mother might be dead. No, I think I would go back to the time he called the police on me. He told them I was on drugs, even though he knew I wasn’t. It was one of the few times I tried to stand up for myself. The fucking floor was dirty, and I said that I didn’t do it, but I would clean it up. He wanted me to admit that it was me and clean it up. I just left, for hours and hours. He was doing that weird thing he would do when he was stressed out. He would tense up his shoulders and start pulling at the back of his pants. I didn’t want to get another beating, so I left, but I wasn’t about to admit to something I didn’t do, and that’s why he called the police on me. He wanted to make sure he always had absolute control over me. That’s the moment I would go back to. I would change everything.

“Close your eyes, breathe deeply, imagine you are there, and tell me what you see,” she instructed.

I start to hear the dull sounds of a machine.

December 23

No TV – Attempt #3?

TV

I’m on day 4 of no television. I think this is the third time in my life that I’ve seriously attempted it.

The Rules

  1. No Netflix;
  2. No YouTube, unless it is for instructions or work;

That’s pretty much it.

Exceptions

I can watch Netflix if I’m with people who have for whatever reason chosen to watch Netflix, and I can’t really get out of it or find anything else to do, but in good faith, I have to try to avoid those situations.

Why?

Why the hell would anyone ever want to give up TV? I had successfully given it up in the past, and the other two times I did, I wrote novellas. They were highly productive times for me. The longer I give it up the more things I’m able to achieve. I even had a budding, paid, fiction writing career.

What Happened Before?

The reasons I failed to stay away from TV in the past are pretty much the same reasons that people get back to alcohol or heroin. I just wanted to be happy again. I get out of my own head – don’t have to think, feel, and do. I can just checkout at the end of the day.

What’s different?

I guess I will find that out in the days, weeks, and months to come. I’m getting a lot more done now, and it’s only been 4 days. Let’s see what happens!

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October 28

First Snow Fall

With the first snowfall, a snow-white beauty.

An anxiety over the end.

Excitement over a new beginning.

A season of darkness, fires, and new gifts.

What more could I ask for as I lay bleeding in the morning snow.

The reddish slush around me will give life to a new snowman.

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October 22

Suicide Fucking Sucks!!!

TV

My youngest daughter is suicidal. I’m managing it well, and I think she’ll be all right, but this is easily the worst time in my entire life, likely hers too.

It makes me wonder about how I spend my time though. Is there any value in watching TV or porn or whatever other bullshit ways I spend my time? Hell no! I’ve never given up TV for more than a year, but every time I give up TV, amazing things happen in my life. I make new friends, write a book, change careers. Why am I watching TV? Why am I doing half of the stupid things I’m doing. I don’t have free time, nobody does. All you have is time and how that time is spent.

I love you youngest daughter. You know this already, and I will make significant changes in my life because of you and because of my niece who ended her life earlier this year. I want every minute of the next 40 years to mean something, and it starts right fucking now!

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July 26

My Only Niece

My only niece, who was wonderful, kind, caring, good to her family, and loved horses, took her own life recently. It’s the only death I’ve experienced that has impacted my life in a very negative way. Other people I cared about have died, but they were older, and I was prepared for it. Suicide isn’t an act of selfishness. It isn’t a crime. It’s something that happens to a desperately sad person who just can’t continue on living. They don’t understand how much everyone aches after they are gone.

To my niece, I would like to say that I love you, and I forgive you for all of the pain I feel right now. To anyone else who is contemplating suicide, you don’t know it now, but people will hurt for the rest of their lives the moment you die. The pain you feel as someone who is suicidal is the pain that people who knew you feel after you die, except it doesn’t go away for them.

The words that I write are coming from a person who has been suicidal, has had a father attempt suicide, has had a friend attempt suicide, and has had a niece kill herself. In every single case, they were sure that death is what they wanted, but after the attempt, every person, even my niece, decided they wanted to live.

In the end, everyone wants to live. That’s the strange thing about suicide. You can never be successful in completing suicide because all people truly want to live. For those who do complete suicide, they just died before they got a chance to come back from near death. My niece, in the end, wanted to live. She, like every other suicidal person I’ve known, begged for her life to be saved. She went from being sure she wanted to die to sure she wanted to live, but it was too late for her. Her family and an excellent medical team couldn’t save her life, even though they did everything right.

Her parents had recognized the signs and were doing absolutely everything they could to improve the situation. Everyone did everything they could, but in the end, it is the suicidal person who makes the decision. If anyone who is suicidal reads this, please know that there is a better way out than ending your life. Realize that, although you don’t feel it now, you do want to live.

Now, I try everyday not to cry, but the tears keep falling.

To my only niece, I love you, goodbye forever.

Suicide Prevention

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May 10

Juggling Expired Yogurt

Expired Yogurt

Yesterday, I had this magically funny moment where I was with my daughter, and I was juggling three small containers of expired yogurt. One of the containers had slightly opened a bit. My daughter was nervous that the expired yogurt would open or splash everywhere if I dropped it, but we shared a moment that was fun and kind of hilarious.

Life is juggling expired yogurt. Once in a while a bit of bad will leak out. You’re definitely going to drop something every now and then and have a big mess to clean up, but if you never take chances, you’ll never have fun. You’ll never live life!

Leave a comment then go juggle some expired yogurt.

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May 7

Not until May the 8th

Tomorrow

On May the 8th, I will be everything I want
Everything I know I can be.
I’ll be wiser, strong
More confident.

I’ll be nicer to people
Less reactive.
I’ll be smarter
I’ll be everything I ever wanted to be.

But not until May the 8th.

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May 6

Profound Fucking Sadness

Profound Sadness

What man needs to cry? Maybe all men need to cry. I’m going through couching right now, a type of couching that looks inward. It can be a bit like therapy at times. Other times, it can look like business coaching. My coach tore open an old wound. The years of stress and unexplained anxiety that I feel everyday was washed away with sadness and tears, just like that. Instead of being stressed and a little bit angry all of the time, I’m just very sad now. Maybe I’ve always been sad. Not maybe, definitely. I’ve always been sad. At least now I can deal with that sadness, instead of the unexplained stress.

I suffered from childhood trauma, and all of my life I just seemed like I was a little bit angry and maybe a little bit dead inside. I’m just as emotional as anyone around me. I have the soul of a poet, and I’ve finally realized that while I’m rough and strong on the outside, I’m still gooey and mushy emotionally.

I know I’ll come out the other side as a better more enlightened person, but this is really fucking difficult and strange. Luckily, the sadness makes me want to write more.

Has anyone else out there gone through emotional transformation?

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May 1

Transformational Writing

Transformation

At the Ottawa Writer’s Fest, I had the pleasure of hearing Cherie Dimaline speak. She restored my faith in fiction, saying that it can be transformational. I take that to mean that it really changes a person in a core way. It’s not like when you see photos of chocolate then you eat nothing but chocolate for a month. I mean, that will transform you, but not in any positive sort of way. Transformational fiction is writing that makes you think about real life situations, and sometimes you’ll want to help people or join a cause because of it.

I didn’t really think of fiction as transformational in the past. I love to write it and read it, but I often think of it as a bit of waste of time. You can write a story that parallels modern day horrors on this planet and subtly or even brutally put your readers in a scene that causes enough discomfort to spark a change in ideology or practice.

From now on, everything I write is going to start with the condition that it’s transformational, and I hope you’ll give it a try too.

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