I woke up in Toronto after a great night out with Ben that involved great food. great conversation and great beer. a Tuesday night in Toronto busier than New Year’s Eve in Orangeville. why go for the safe when you can live virtually anywhere in the world? we are too safe. too dull. following dull rules made up by dull rodents. some get out alive and thrive but most die slowly. in pain. alone. once filled with hope but now waiting silently and alone for their world to end. to put them out of their misery. send them off to a better place but there is no better place. just a grave underground and filled over with dirt. left to rot. left to decay. collecting dirt. collecting ice. collecting snow. but never visited by long lost friends. long lost lovers. long lost family members. alone. cold.
I woke up without a hangover somehow. someway. I put on my clothes and walked outside into the cold air. the snowy streets. a snowy day still filled with beautiful women. young women. vibrant women. women filled with so much hope. so much fire. not beaten down by rules. by parents. by bosses. women equal to men and knowing that they are equal to men. an energy in the city that is unmatched outside of a city. an energy that has life. fire. art. soul. it was 9am. FIRE. SOUL. LOVE. CITY. LIFE.
I grabbed a coffee and read a book for an hour. then I walked back to my car and drove up to my doctor’s appointment. I was five minutes late…as usual. I was greeted with a smile by Dr. Hamidi and she invited me to sit down on her couch in her office. this was NOT a casting couch. this was a couch filled with stories of broken lives. broken dreams. shattered hearts and shattered souls. I was hoping that we were going to begin where we left off last week. searching through my life trying to find the triggers for my unpredictable behaviour. my charming and energetic demeanor masking severe sadness. severe loss. severe abandonment. severe confusion. everything severe. the highs. the lows. the boredom. the excitement. the drinking. the fucking. the exercise. the reading. the barking. the busy mind. the shameful soul.
the doctor, instead, asked me how the meds worked. what did I feel. how did I feel. I told her that my head was pounding all week. my mind more scattered. my body less still. depression beginning to sink in. frustration sinking in. lost. confused. hoping but hope fading. an absolutely phenomenal appointment last week. an absolutely uninspiring appointment this week. Dr. Hamidi contacted the rich company who owns Straterra (a stimulant drug for adhd) and asked for some samples. the rich company agreed to send them but they first had to do a thorough background check on Dr. Hamidi. so many bureaucrats. so many rules. so many desk clerks. so many jobs in this world bringing about absolutely NOTHING to this world but the peasants NEVER questioning big business and big governments so the jobs continue to exist. the ultra rich controlling the world and the ultra average allowing themselves to be controlled. what a shitty system.
anyway, I left the uninspiring appointment uninspired and drove north up hwy 404 to meet Jack for some much needed inspiration and he delivered. small talk quickly turning into positive and inspiring talk about business and working for yourself and challenging the status quo. after an hour I left alive and drove across hwy 9 with a renewed optimism. a renewed vigor. I called Nicole to check in and she was NOT in a pleasant mood. she had just picked up Rylee from school and Rylee was, once again, barking. upset. sad. down. a lingering pattern. a troubling pattern. a troubling pattern. a tiresome pattern. a great girl with so much love in her heart and so much fire in her soul is constantly upset. constantly alone. constantly sad. a girl who, on the outside, is so cute. so real. so honest. so loving. so caring. so smart. so alive. so energetic. but on the inside is filled with anxiety. worry. fears. sadness. sensitivity. loneliness. so hard to watch. so hard to see. so hard to feel. so hard to parent. parenting is so fucking hard. mental illness is so fucking draining. what to do? what to do? what to do? two parents doing their best but seemingly doing their worst. “is life this hard for other’s?” WHY? WHY? WHY?
after long winded talks and never ending discussions about mindset and “just focus on yourself” talks, I left the house to go to the gym. a much needed bike ride. sweating out all my angst. all my frustration. all my confusion. I felt great. alive. free. I drove home and attempted to go to bed with the rest of my family. one beer and a sleeping pill later, I managed to fall asleep. Rylee and Nicole fast asleep. three hours later I was awake. too hot. too edgy. I left our bed and went to the spare room. tossed and turned for the rest of the night but managed to wake up fresh. alive. I ate some yogurt and strawberries and had ONE coffee. trying desperately to get better. to feel better. to feel “normal.” whatever normal is. means. Nicole drove Rylee to basketball practice and I listened to a Tim Ferris podcast on overcoming fears. IT WAS INSPIRING. INFORMATIVE. “today is a new day.” a good day. set my intentions and GO. Nicole came home and we chatted about life. goals. Rylee. a positive talk. another POSITIVE TALK. so many “positive talks” in a relationship that has lasted almost fifteen years. I am surprised we are still together. so is she. tired. frustrated. lost. always lost. always frustrated. always having answers but the answers never working. breathe. allow. breathe. show compassion. feel love. karma?
Nicole soon left for her Grandma’s house and I was just about to leave for the gym and then head downtown when I got a call from the school. Rylee jammed her thumb in basketball practice. she needs me to bring her Advil. FUCK!!! I quickly got ready and drove to her school. when I arrived she was sitting in the office. her hand covered with an ice bag. she took off the ice and showed me her hand. swollen. red. she was in pain. real pain. always in real pain. injury prone. accident prone. already two broken wrists and two broken ankles. chipped teeth. a scar on her forehead. WHY? WHY IS SHE SO ACCIDENT PRONE??? anyway, I decided to take her out of school and drive her to Emerg. she was talkative. always talkative. she was sore. always sore. we arrived at the “check in” and it was quiet. miracles sometime do happen. we gave all of our information to the “check in” woman and then sat down in the waiting area. we waited to get called in. as we waited we saw an older man pushing an older woman in a wheelchair. they “checked in” and then sat down across from us. Rylee was still talking. still sore. after ten minutes the man spoke to me. “Do you know where I put this?” he was pointing to his information sheet. he had a very heavy Italian accent. “I will take it in for you.” I responded. I grabbed his information sheet and put it in the pile of “check ins”. I tried to speak with his wife but she didn’t say anything. she just looked at me. sad. sullen. “What’s wrong with your wife?” I asked the man. “Parkinson’s Disease.” he responded. “She has a very smart brain but she can’t talk. she can’t walk.” so sad. I looked over at Rylee and she was beginning to cry. so empathetic. so amazingly beautiful. I wish I could help her more. The man went on to tell us that the doctors messed up originally and didn’t diagnose her with Parkinson’s. a year later and she has really deteriorated. “Can you sue the doctor?” I asked. The man smiled and said, “I have no money. If I have money then yes. But no money no sue. I’m not rich. the rich rule the world. everyone else suffers.” such clear words. a clear human being. a clear human being from Italy who moved here years ago for a better life but still gets fucked in the end. the doctor has moved on with his rich life. the Italian couple suffer in their’s.
we eventually made it in for an x-ray and then sat for an hour. Rylee asking me a million questions. “is that the tape for soft casts? what is Parkinson’s Disease? what is Cerebral Palsy? Why is it taking so long? I may not be able to practice on Saturday. do you think I’ll need a cast? what is that on the wall? then she started reciting her speech to me. a speech for school that is on Yoga. Go Yoga to be precise. I kept telling Rylee to take deep breaths. we both laughed. smiled. her in pain. me in frustration. impatience. an impatient man with an impatient wife and an impatient daughter. anxiety? adhd? ocd? hypomanic? bipolar? narcissistic? just plain old depression? everything is possible. some are probable. a family seemingly filled with mental disorders but why? what did we do to deserve this?
the doctor came in and told Rylee that her hand is just sprained and to ice it and relax for the next three days. Rylee seemed disappointed. I think she wanted a cast the same way that I wanted casts when I was younger. wanting attention. always wanting attention. narcissistic? scared. worried. tired. almost broken. refuse to break. I left the hospital with Rylee and we had a great lunch. love. such love. tired. so tired.
we finished lunch and drove home. another shooting in the US. twelve years old? chaos. the facebook debates on gun control begin. they will never end. never. sad. always so sad.
I AM A HUMAN.
MY WIFE IS A HUMAN.
MY DAUGHTER IS A HUMAN.
WE ARE ALL HUMAN BEINGS.
WE ALL STRUGGLE.
WE ALL LOVE.
WE ALL CRY.
WE ALL LAUGH.
WE ALL HOPE.
why is there so much anger and hatred in this world?
greed. greed. greed.
corporate greed.
sickening.
disgusting.
fake.
phony.
help?
please help.
hours later I walk upstairs and hear Rylee telling Nicole about the woman with Parkinson’s.
“it’s not fair Mom. it’s just not fair.”
Rylee began to cry. Nicole gave her a hug. I watched with a smile.
notanotherphony. 