Friday, September 25, 2009

argh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is how i feel, i punched every exclamation point separately. I don't think my keyboard's number one works anymore.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Breaking Storm


Wow, I just felt the Spirit in a most unique way.

I’ve been struggling with, among other things, depression. April, July, August, September. Those are the months I’ve had major bouts of suicidal depression. I’ve seen a counselor, actually just stopped last week, cause he really wasn’t getting me. I felt like he never listened or grasped what I was trying to communicate. Nice guy, but we didn’t click well.

The one thing he did talk a lot about was getting on an anti-depressant. I’ve felt like I should, but I’ve always been confused. Partly that I would be in some drug induced happy fog, where nothing mattered, and partly because I think I have greatness in me. And I was worried that taking drugs would take away the edge off my talents. It would make me less effective in my writing. I should also mention that my bishop has really been encouraging me to take them as well.

Well tonight I got home and my roommates were watching House. It’s a show about this amazing doctor, who can figure out what is wrong with almost anyone. He is a genius, and also a cranky old man, who has no friends. In the show, the main character, House, had checked himself into a mental facility but was refusing to take meds for whatever problem he had. The Doc wanted him too. Finally they had a conversation where it was revealed that House didn’t want to take the meds because he thought they would weaken his talent. In this case his analytical skills. House brought up Van Gogh who painted amazing pictures, such as Starry Night. House asked, If Van Gogh had been on anti depressants would he have been able to paint such masterpieces? I guess Van Gogh did some of his best work in an insane asylum. The doctor responded, “Yes, Van Gogh still would have painted beautiful nightscapes, but he would still have his ears.” (Van Gogh is famous for having cut off one of his ears in a fit of depression.)

Well there is was in12 foot clarity on the screen, my concern being addressed directly. Later I prayed and told God I was going to go find a doctor and get some medicine. The Spirit was strong, and unique. If warmed my chest. The cloud that has been over my mind was temporarily lifted. I felt warm, like the sun was shining on me. It may have been a taste of what life will be like with this depression managed.

Well, there is my story. I wanted to write it down. I guess I just need to go do it.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Elder Hafen's Evergreen Talk



So I decided to go to the Elder Hafen's speech cause it was free and i had no plans. Glad I did, it was uplifting, and really helped with a good perspective on the trials. Kinda wish I'd planned for the whole conference. Next year I probably will. I linked to the full text of his remarks.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Getting this out

Maybe if I start putting some of my frustrations on here, they won't stay with me so much.

So I've a bunch of brothers, we all get along really well. In fact, my youngest two bros and I have been doing lotsa man stuff, and it really feels good. Has helped me in the whole "not feeling like a man department".

Anyways Bro number 4 out of 5, and I talk about relationships. He is on a personal mission to get me married. Not the favorite thing to talk about, but oh well. He has a girlfriend, and they've been having a little fight lately. I've been trying to see why so I can help out.

He didn't want to tell me.

Finally a couple days ago, he told me. She's mad at him, cause he said he hates gays and she is more compassionate toward them. Of course he doesn't know about me, and I don't self identify as gay, but the venom he attached to his words was tangible. I tried to help him get a better perspective the best i could without revealing anything about me. But it really hurt. I don't make friends all that easily and my youngest two bros are probably my best friends.

Luckily it things take a long time to sink in, so it wasn't for a few days that it hit me. It came to the surface during one of my depressive bouts, and it sucked; it stung; it tore me up inside.

I'm sure we'll still be friends, but this really hurt.

Just wanted to get this all out. I think I feel better just by having written it down.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Really Depressing Post

(this is fiction)

I always wanted cancer. Yearned for it actually. Cancer seems so logical. So predictable. The process for dealing with cancer is straight forward. You go to the doctor; he tells you you’ve got cancer, tells you the odds for survival, then he recommends a treatment. You do the treatment, and you live or you die, win or lose. So orderly, it just makes sense. That is how I like my trials, Cause-effect.
Its not just the cancer patients that know how deal with cancer. The friends and associates usually know what to do. Friends and family feel grief. The close family members will spend weeks, months, or years at your side. You’ll be in the hospital, and Mother will come, brightening up the room with her cheery attitude. Of course she’ll also cry. You’ll see the pain in her eyes and feel the acid in her tears. She’ll weep over all your lost possibilities. Because as a mother, everything she’s done has been for you. Father, will probably be withdrawn at first, after all emotions are never easy for men, but he will come. You’ll make small talk, about the football season, or some new project, maybe even the latest episode of “Lost” or “24.” Brothers will come, bringing the bond forged over years of stupidity together. Sister will come, and probably behave a lot like mother. Women are masters at feeling others pain. Friends will come. They’ll do something to show their support, shave their heads, when you lose their hair, wear buttons on their backpack, hold fund raising dances--something. The community will rally around your family. This horrible tragedy will spur them to action, because when a tragedy strikes, we like to do something—to fix it--and with cancer, we know what to do.
Being messed up in the head is an entirely different matter. How do you deal with it? How do you even know if you have a problem? Sure when you start yelling, calling yourself,”Stupid” or “idiot” you know something is wrong, but you can stop that, right. It’s your brain and you can tell it what to do. But you can’t. You can’t focus on anything; you start hurting yourself. Your mind swirls with poisonous thoughts, seeping into your soul with deadly potency.
You slowly lose your joy. Parents tell you to “buck up.” Friends will valiantly try to take you to your old haunts. When their efforts to cheer you up bear no fruit, they’re frustrated. They slowly creep out of the friendship. Even those who stay by you, don’t know you.
Fear comes to your parents face. They don’t understand this monster. You go to different shrinks, each one with a different diagnosis. You try to accept it, but when you’re alone, the voices howl.
There is no easy way to deal with being messed up in the head. No predetermined way to deal with this tragedy. Because it is so foreign, people will withdraw. It will try to destroy you. You won’t know if you’ve beaten it until the end. How do you know if you won?
If something else kills you.
And that’s why I feel at peace, laying on this butcher paper. The Doctor just said those liberating words, “You have pancreatic cancer, less then a month to live.”
I close my eyes, put my head down, and smile.

(Writers Note: This is a short story I wrote for my writing class. I realize its very insensitive to cancer patients. I'm not claiming that cancer is not as bad as mental issues, but I was trying to feelings of a young man with mental issues he can't figure out. While I wasn't mentioning SGA, I did draw from my experiences for some of the feelings.)

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Matis Fireside--Sept

Just got back from the Sept. Matis fireside. And man was it good. It was great to see the Matises especially Sister Matis. to see her up and about was great, and as always the transmission of love during the hug was "most excellent." The way the Matises feel about all of us, gives me great strength.

The speaker was Brother Coombs. He works on the Perpetual Education Fund. He spoke about how the program works, and the good it is doing in 3rd world countries. Nice to see; my favorite part of the presentation was seeing President Hinckley give his speech on the PEF during the video he showed. It was good to see Brother Hinckley again.

A couple other notes from teh fireside. I thought it was interesting how some people who had ancestors come across the plains during the Perpetual Emigration Fund days, were still coming into SLC and paying for the loan their ancestors took out. Also the qualities they were looking for in the people they give the education loans to: worthy, ambitious, desire to improve, and needy.

Key to Zion, one heart, one mind, no poor among them. The PEF is helping the third world saints climb out of poverty. Its breaking the cycle of poverty.

The PEF never touches the corpus, or the amount that has been donated. All it touches is the interest, and the repaid loan money. Even with the economic downturn the PEF is able to make all the loans it sees need to, which BTW is about 40,000 in 2009.

Met some good people at the fireside. It was nice to see old friends again. I felt uplifted afterward, and I guess that's the goal.