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Went to Rogers to pay my cell phone bill, came out with this...

My Journey Pt 7: Backtracking, my first time.

I can remember the first time I smoked pot as if it was yesterday, it was March 2003, my dad had just been diagnosed with cancer and I was at my sister's house with Bryan and his friends, we sat around the kitchen table while her boyfriend lathered a rolling paper from a jug of oil, he then broke up a cigarette, gathered up the tobacco and rolled it into an oil joint. I didn't realize that it was oil joint; I wasn't paying attention to the process I just hauled long and hard on the joint when it came my way. I don't smoke cigarettes so needless to say the smoke hit me like a mother fucker and everyone in the kitchen laughed with wildly, my eyes watered, my chest was on fire, the room started to spin. I thought I was going to puke so I bolted to the washroom just in case. Nothing ended up coming up so I left and went back into the kitchen to see that everyone was now in the living room watching a special about Tank Abbot on pay-per-view. My sister's boyfriend was busy rolling up another joint, this time it was pure pot, they lit it up and we began to pass it around.

My world was turned upside down earlier that week, I can remember the doctor calling our house while my mom was out, I asked if I could take a message and he just asked me if he could get her cell phone number. I blurted the numbers out, hung up the phone and went back to watching television in the living room with Chewi. When she got home a couple of hours later there was a look in her eye, she asked our friend to leave the room, I knew something was up then, because she never asked our friends to leave the room while talking to us. She sat down on the couch in her coat with her purse still slung over her shoulder but resting in your lap.

"The doctor called," she said.

We all knew that he had called, we were waiting on pins and needles about Dad's condition, he went into the hospital with a sore back, they had to run tests and so we had to play an unbearable waiting game.

"You're father has cancer," she said with tears in her eyes. "There's a tumour on his lower back and in his lungs, and they can't operate."

It took a second for that first nail in his coffin to hit home, when someone tells you that the man you have most admired for your entire life is going to die, you want to reject what they say, and you want to push the words away as if not hearing them would make them untrue. A massive lump began in my chest as if someone had knocked the wind out of me, it climbed up through my trachea and tried to escape in a moaning wail, I swallowed the grief down to the deepest pits of my stomach but it surged forth anyway, tears and snot flowed and I howled until my throat was raw. What I remember from that night the most is my friend's shoulder as he held me and let me cry.

Sitting in my sisters living room on the floor just in front of a wooden coffee table and just below their television set I hauled on the joint, it burned my already scorched throat but not as bad as the tobacco, I inhaled again and then once more for good measure. It was the first time I sensed the euphoria associated with weed, I laughed at every little joke, my cheeks hurt and my eyes were pied. A happiness washed over me that I thought would never come again it blocked out that soul wrenching sadness of the horrible news that my father's death loomed just beyond the horizon. I lie down on the floor and let my body and mind do its thing, my legs jerked and hands twitched sending vibrations of colour dancing and twirling just before my eyes.

I went home that night, said a quick I love you to my mom and crawled into my warm bed, all of my sensations heightened to the extreme and when I woke up in the morning, that devouring sadness crashed back into me like raging wave upon a coastline as I remembered that my father was still dying.

Love yourself, be kind to yourself.

J-

My Journey pt 6: Valuable Lesson on Loving Myself.

Happy Halloween folks! I hope you all get a good haul this year and are safe at your parties and whatnot. If you're staying in check out AMC, a new zombie television series premiers at ten o'clock tonight. The Walking Dead, I will not be able to watch for I am working, so I`ll have to wait until morning to check it out, nonetheless, check it out.

There wasn`t much to do at Homewood in the downtime but read and smoke cigarettes, so I did the former, however when my eyes were crossed from focusing on hundreds of words for hours on end I fled to the sanctity of the smoker`s pit. The sun beat dazzlingly down on me as I sat next to a woman named Shauna, who`s laugh I can remember to this very day, it was like a titter of a small bird and I tried to draw it out of her as often as possible. It was there while I held and caressed The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, shooting the breeze with Shauna while she smoked that she taught me to love myself. Crows chase one another through the clear skies and I was prattling on about how one cannot truly love someone if they did not love themselves, (advice I picked up from the Buddha book) and she agreed with me. It was then that I declared that I did not love myself, she was the first person I told that I could not bear to look at myself in the mirror for I did not like the man that looked back at me. He was haggard, sunken eyed, mean, and most of all sad, and when I looked into his blue eyes I often wondered where his smile went.

She told me the secret to loving myself was every time I saw my reflection in a mirror, a picture or puddle on the ground, wherever, to tell myself that I love myself. Soon enough that man that you didn`t like to look at would find his smile. She said no matter how foolish you feel, just do it and after awhile you`ll notice a difference. And so I tried it, why not, I was in there to get better and I was willing to do anything, so the next time I had to take a piss, while washing up instead of avoiding my own gaze I looked into my eyes and said "I love you jay." I cannot begin to describe how silly I felt, I was embarrassed and felt like a true knob, however I pushed on with this test and in a few days time I felt an ember of love light in my heart for myself. I walked around the hospital with a smile on my face, people smiled at me, most of all women, I wasn't afraid of what people thought anymore because I was happy with who I was for the first time in a million years! To Shauna, I say thank you for teaching me this valuable lesson, I'm glad I met you and you will always have a spot in my heart.

Be kind to yourselves, love yourselves, you're worth it.

J-

My Journey Pt 5: Lunchtime Mishaps & Grief and Loss

Had a rough week, decided to call it quits with Ashton. Out of respect for her I won't go into detail about it let me just say that I think I need more work on myself. And no, I'm not just brushing the matter aside it is the right thing to do. On a brighter note I submitted The Ward to Apex Book Company earlier this evening, it got to the point where I've read the story over and over and drilled it into my mind and can't think of how to make it better than it is. I am very proud of this one; I put a lot of work into it. It is about a young kid who wakes up in a psychiatric ward to be assaulted by zombies. Cross your fingers and pray that they like the story enough to publish it in their Zombie Anthology. If not though, I'll just have to write something they will take next time.

Anyway back to the summer.

The first day I was allowed to eat in cafeteria was a bit of a mix up, I awoke with my stomach yelling at me to fill it with some breakfast, see I was supposed to head down to the cafeteria however no one told me so I ate one of the breakfasts that was set out on the dining room table, when I finished and my belly was content a nurse told me I was supposed to be down in the cafeteria eating breakfast and at that exact moment a woman in curlers walked into the room and wondered what happened to her meal. Turns out I ate it...well honestly, how the hell was I supposed to know? I went to groups and eventually lunch rolled around, I entered the cafeteria feeling very much like a new kid in high school. I stood nervously in line and waited for a smiling lunch lady to fill my plate with Mediterranean salad and walked away to sit by myself. Ever cut up a piece of chicken with a plastic knife and fork? That shit's tough, the chicken scooted out from under my fork and fell straight into my lap, my face flushed and I looked up to see if anyone had witnessed my buffoonery, a blond girl not three seats away snickered into a napkin. I finished my meal in a lonesome silence and got out of there as fast as possible. I told Matt the story of my woe and he told me that I'd never eat lunch alone again, after that I made new friends an older gentleman from England, his name was Tim, he was tall and had a long purposeful stride. One day, shortly after starting my medication I was eating something that was supposed to be spaghetti and meat sauce, supposed to be! Anyway half way through the meal my stomach started to gurgle, my anus started to pucker up, I had to take a massive shit. I excused myself saying that my medication's side effects were kicking in. Tim laughed and told me to go, and so I did, I ran out of the cafeteria holding my ass in hopes that it wouldn't explode in my pants, the first public washroom that I made it to be locked. Fuck me running I thought, so I hightailed down a long corridor where I knew there was another bathroom, sweat broke out on my brow, my stomach was roiling and the poop was threatening to spill out. I reached the bathroom, it was unoccupied, I slammed the door shut, fumbled with my belt, ripped down my pants and we had touchdown. At that very moment I had never felt such joy, let me tell you. I went back and Tim chuckled as he asked me if I made it, to which I replied barely.

I started a group called Grief and Loss, and yep you probably guessed it, it was a group to show me how to work through the grief of the loss of my father, how to deal with the all of the misery I let build up like rust on the hull of an abandoned ship. I met with the facilitator the same man who ran Spirituality, he was the type of guy you could let all of your walls down and just talk to, an amazing man full of serenity and peace. He told me to show up at group with a letter written to my father, telling him where I was at, at that point in my life and he gave me the permission to become unglued. So I did, he told me that it was going to be one of the hardest groups I've attended and boy was he right, I wasn't ready for the agony that my letters to my dad would dredge up. I've been debating this for some time and decided to share with you my first letter to my dad. I still write to him to this day every once and awhile.

( To Chewi and Bryan if you read this, that anger and resentment I felt toward you is gone and I hope that you aren't mad, but this was how I felt at the time. )

Hey Dad,

It's been awhile since you left and well it seems that I've become lost. I know that you were going to go yet it still hit me like a ton of bricks. I've been buried in depression and have tried to self medicate myself with drugs and alcohol. I guess it didn't work because here I am, seven years later with a habit and in the Homewood. I don't know that I know how to let you go. I think that I have but your sweet face just keeps creeping, front and center into my mind, bringing with it this great sadness that I cannot shake. I still carry anger and resentment towards Chewi and Bryan because as you were passing they were hardly there if at all and I was left to take care of you myself. Don't get me wrong, the last eight months that we spent together I would not trade for anything in the world, for I feel that they brought us closer. I am working on my demons and am hopeful that one day I will be able to remember you as you were, the loving man who swore around a lit cigarette and smiled as you untangled the lines on our rods, not the bag of bones you became at the end. I do miss you with all my heart and soul, for your voice was always one of support and encouragement. I hope that you are happy where you are and I'll see you when I see you.

All my love

Jay.

Be kind to yourselves; love yourselves, thanks for reading.

J-

My Journey Pt. 4: Family Visit and Spirituality

Well Happy Thanks Giving ladies and gentlemen, had a pretty awesome long weekend so far, went to a friend's birthday party got pretty drunk, and came home with wet floor sign and a random Halloween decoration. As I write this the sun has started its decent into the night and ignited the already fiery trees. I want to say thanks to all of you who have emailed me or commented with well wishes, your encouragement and kind words give me the strength I need in these hard times.

Anyway, back to it.

I was granted privileges I was allowed outside for an hour at a time, however every hour on the hour I would have to check in and sign back out just so the nurses knew I hadn't split on them. I began to read, I picked up the Complete Idiots Guide to Understanding Buddhism. It was an interesting concept; it showed me the art of breathing, meditation taking control of situations. The best thing I took away from the book was that nothing is permanent, to the leaves on the trees, to the new born baby, all shall wither away. So I looked at the depression I was fighting and the anger that consumed me in that manner as well, in hopes that those too, would one day go away. From the day I finished that book I started another called Night Watch by Terry Brooks, instantly my love of reading came back to me, I was lost in stories, I devoured novel after novel, it was rare that you'd see me on the grounds with no book in hand.

I started going to groups, although surrounded by a room of people that I had started to build a connection with, I still felt utterly alone. I didn't want to go to groups, because I didn't think I was good enough to participate nor had anything of worth to say. My first group was spirituality, it wasn't about telling me which religion to believe in, it wasn't about brainwashing me into believing in an all powerful God, it was about letting me find out what spirituality meant to me. I walked into the chapel, a tall black man sat on the middle of a table next to a burning candle, and he was bald and had a serene smile on his face as he welcomed people in. Other than a soft "hello" he waited quietly as people filed in and the room filled up. Tranquil music filled the room along with the quiet murmur of people talking amongst themselves. When there were no more seats left, he turned down the music so that it was barely above a whisper and began to talk.

"How many of you," he stood and held up a cell phone. "Have sat at home doing nothing, the phone rings and your friends call you, you answer it and they ask you to do something. And though you aren't busy you tell them you are because you'd rather be alone?"

I looked around the chapel, afraid to raise my hand for fear of being thought odd, however when the entire room put their hands in the air a piece of my heart cried with joy. For the longest time I thought myself alone in my illness, it was right then and there that I came to the realization that there were other people going through what I was going through. I began to share and every time I wanted to share something in the group, I took a deep breath to quiet my pounding heart and spoke, my face flushed and my ears turned hot. Then the oddest thing happened after I spoke; no one laughed at me, no one said that I was a "loser", "dumb", or an "idiot". Relief went through me in waves as I found what I had been searching for, a little piece of my confidence and acceptance.

My brother and Cherice showed up with Lydia along with my mom a few days after that revelation. They came through the front door with smiles that lifted my heart, Lydia climbed out of her stroller and I picked her up, she clung to me with the massive hug only toddlers can give and we walked into the ward. I passed the nurse's station and stopped in the middle of the door way and said "I found a baby," one of the nurses jumped up with concern on her face, she was ready to take Lydia from my hands as if I shouldn't be holding a small child. I laughed and announced that she was my niece; the nurse looked at my brother and began to laugh along with the rest of the staff. Their visit left me cheered, it was the first interaction I had with my big brother where I didn't snap at him, where I didn't blow up and say hateful things, and it left me feeling hopeful that maybe getting better was something that wasn't so far out of my reach. That maybe we two could carry on like we once were, brothers.

It wasn't long after that I met someone who stole my heart, who made my breath catch in my throat with her every smile, it wasn't long after that, that I met Ashton.

To those of you that do, thanks for reading, I finished this at one-thirty-three in the morning full of turkey and pumpkin pie, I took a few breaks in between I guess. I hope you all love yourselves because no matter what, it's what you deserve. Much love to you all.

J-

My Journey Pt. 3 First Days.

So no fancy dance introductions, I'm well, checked out the new vampire movie, Let Me In and am planning on going to do some glow in the dark mini golf today. Okay with that all said and done let's go back.

From here on out the dates get fuzzy so I'll try my best to keep everything in order.

My first weekend in Homewood was uneventful and boring as hell, I thought many times that I'd preferably drive rusty nails into my skull rather than sit around in the lounge with people I don`t know and watch movies, or sit in my room all weekend long and look out the window at a boring brick wall. I was on lockdown, I didn't have privileges and I found out really early on that privileges were like gold. I played backgammon with this young kid, he was shy and soft spoken and I had to get him to repeat everything he said so I could understand what he was saying. The sun shone almost mockingly through the windows as other patients came and went freely with smiles on their faces. The only things I had to look forward to were meal times and visits from my mom.

She was amazing; she showed up everyday tears and all. At first I couldn't talk to her, I was embarrassed by the way I acted, ashamed because I wasn't stronger and heartbroken when I watched tears spill down her cheeks. I had no idea what was going through her mind, I didn't know what she was feeling, she, like me was a tough nut to crack. Yet she came everyday and slowly we made plans to rebuild the relationship bridge that I'd burned down between us. She was my one constant thing I could depend on there and I love her with all of my heart for that.

I wasn't allowed my cell phone; that was cut off from all of my friends, I asked my mom to call some of my peeps and let them know what was going on. No one came to visit and I fell further into depression, I thought that they didn't care; I thought that they had given up on me because I had alienated all of them. The thought that some maybe just didn't know what to do or say never crossed my mind. I received a call from my brother Chewi's (my brother) friend John, and that was the first time I broke down in there, he told me he was where I was at one point in time he told me that it would get better if I listened to the doctors and nurses and did the work. Though my soul was gloomy and I despaired; my heart was lifted.

Mercifully the weekend ended and on Sunday night I met a guy my age that would teach me the way of looking at life positively. He didn`t sit me down and say listen man you have to stick your thumb up your butt and wiggle your tongue just so, or anything magical, he was confident and it rubbed off on me. He walked in like a thunderstorm, his voice was low and straight as a razor and everyone cheered up at the sight of him. He was a bull; and walked like a baseball player. To be honest, at first I was intimidated by him, however as I was walking down the hallway feeling sorry for myself I saw him unpacking his bags, I took a breath introduced myself and learned that his name was Matt.

The next day I was taught a skill invaluable that I still use to this day, journaling. My doctor, the same man with the turban, showed me how to thought journal, every time an event happened and I felt down or angry or happy, I was to write it down and we would discuss if my anger or sadness was justified or whether or not it was all just bullshit. At first I didn't buy into this, I thought it was all malarkey, but I remembered John's words, do the work. And so I did, I chipped away at my mental illness with my pen and note book, I filled those pages every day and I walked around with smile on my face even though I still felt like dying. Some folks had a saying 'Fake it till you make it.'

That was what I was doing faking it, but I longed to be as happy as Matt, I wanted to be the reason everyone smiled again, I was that guy at one point in my life and I don't remember when I strayed from that path. All I know is that it became increasingly difficult to hang out with my friends, I was always stoned, I always worried about what they were thinking about me, thoughts raced through my mind and clogged in my throat so that I couldn't breathe. I must have looked so lost, and I wondered as I realized this, how could no one see it? And if anyone did see this happening, why did no one do a damn thing about it? Yes I was extremely bitter; yes I hated the world and seriously thought about running off and taking my life. However that all changed the day my mom Chewi and Cherice (Chewi`s wife) came to visit with Lydia.

That`s all for now but I`ll be back next week, remember to love yourself and it all will fall into place.

My Journey Pt. 2 Into Rehab I Go.

Freshly showered, sprawled in my bed with Maggie snoozin' beside me I am content. Hell I'm more than content, I guess you could say I'm happier than a pig in shit and it all has to do with the weekend I had. It started off with a long night of work that never seemed to end; however when the sun began to lighten the sky my heart rose because I knew that in just a few short hours I would get to see my love. When I got home, I raced around, showered and urged Maggie to shit as I took her for a short morning walk. With all that done, I hopped into a cab and caught a train to Brampton where Ashton met me and we took off to Orillia for the weekend. It was a weekend full of games, PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon) and fireside adventures. I ate so much food that my ass filled with a gas that smelt of sewage and had people gagging.

June 23, 2010, I was about half way through Jurassic Park when a man walked in dressed in blue jeans, a black polo shirt and a navy blue turban. He had a big black beard that bordered a sweet smile and kind, understanding eyes. He was a doctor; he sat across from me and asked me the same questions that I had answered at least ten times before. So I fired off the answers verbatim, my story didn't change, I still wanted out, I still didn't think I was fit enough for this world. He asked me what I thought about admitting myself into Homewood on a volunteer basis. My heart jumped into my throat and for a second I couldn't breathe. Homewood, the building has a nasty stigma attached to it. "It's for crazies; you only go there if you're insane." He must have saw my hesitation and explained that Homewood was filled with a different variety of people, and where I would be going, the people would be going through the same things that I was.

I was sceptical, I was terrified, and I wanted to cry. What would my friends think? What would my family think? What would I think? I let everyone down, including myself and I think that is what hurt the most. He could see me struggling with the decision, and said, "How about this, how about you go in, check it out, and if you don't think it's for you, you can leave." I let the suggestion hang on the air for a few moments before I answered and he didn't seem to mind, those kind eyes assured me that this was the best thing that I could do right now, and I thought that since I had come this far I may as well go the whole way, so I agreed to admit myself. I didn't know it then but it was the smartest decision I had ever made in my life.

Even though it was only a couple of blocks to the institution we had to cab there. I walked in, I thought that everyone was looking at me; my heart was a jackhammer. The walls were green a woman with greying hair and glasses gave me a tour of the ward, showed me my room and told me that dinner would be served in a few minutes. I was in a room by myself; I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my bearded cheeks. I had never felt so alone in my life, the woman came back to let me know that dinner was served, I walked into the lounge where a bunch of people gathered around a table. I sat at the only chair left, introduced myself to everyone and ate in silence while the movie: The Colour Purple played on the television set to my left. With dinner finished I went back to my room to write. Poetry flowed through my pen.

TEARING APART MY INSIDES

It's no surprise these tears are in my eyes,

grey clouds envelop the skies,

my soul is being pulled from all

different sides.

 

It's tearing apart my insides

 

No matter how hard I try,

can't help but cry, my heart

washes away with the ocean's tide

all I want to do is die.

 

Its tearing apart my insides.

 

The wind howls low and morose,

steals away all my hopes

I'm left clinging to thread-

bare ropes, trying desperately to float.

 

Its tearing apart my insides.

 

I slept in that room alone, when I woke the sun was trying to break through the blinds. My mind was sore from a fitful sleep and I lay in bed wondering what to do next. Well the answer came when the door opened, a small woman announced that breakfast was waiting for me and my stomach cheered. I quickly got dressed and hauled ass to the lounge.

I just loaded my stomach with pork chops, mashed potatoes and cauliflower. I'm listening to the new As I Lay Dying album and enjoying the memories of the weekend. Eggs' exploding everywhere, water balloons cannoning through the skies and bellowing swears at bocce balls didn't quite do what they were commanded to. Memories I will cherish always and that will keep me going through hard times. All through the weekend I grew to know Ashton's family and am so happy and glad that they welcomed me with open arms. I look forward to the next one! As for now, this bear hears a couch calling and the current book I'm reading. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Take care to whomever reads this and love yourself, I'll be back next weekend, I'm sure of it.