Crossroads

 When is it time to leave?

I've pondered this question a lot lately. The past 9 years have been good to me, I've made a good solid career in one place. But things changed when my boss got cancer. I've been trying to tell if it was the cancer that did it, but then, can one person be the make-or-break of an entire organization? Maybe the negativity was always looming, and we just needed instability to unleash it fully.

Today, we celebrated Cam's life after his passing.

Do I owe it to what he built to carry on and try to pick the pieces back up? Is there a chance things will be on the upswing now that we've given ourselves that closure?  How long do you wait before your morale is boosted again?

Cam always wanted me to grow professionally, and I always thought it would be with this workplace. But maybe his encouragement for my growth can move on without the namesake of what he built. 

The real question is

Am I happy? And will I be happier if I make a change?

Grief.

"What do you think happens when you die?" he asked.

The girl shrugged. "I hope nothing. You'd just turn off like a T.V. There's comfort for me to think nothing happens, all that matters is what you make of your time alive."

"I'd like that," the boy answered.

They had been talking online for past a decade. He often prompted conversations with philosophical discussions, pondering life's mysteries. That day was a little different. There was a sadness hanging onto his words.

"Why do you think you did it?" The girl interrupted the silence.

"Hmm?" he knew what she was asking, but he'd make her say it. That was his expectation. Say what you really mean.

It was minutes before she spoke again. "When you tried killing yourself." 

"I was really tired, I wanted to sleep." He offered, aloofly.

She stared at her screen, shaking her head. "You know that isn't why."

"Have you ever played a video game?" He gave into the back and forth. She wouldn't let it go. She never let anything go. "You know when you finish all the levels, and you can still keep playing the game, but there are no goals left to achieve? You just keep wandering around and finding little side quests, but the story isn't going to evolve further. At some point, you get tired of doing that and want to turn the game off and stop playing."

"Why not play another video game, then?"

"Because it was my favourite video game and I keep wanting to go back to it to experience it for the first time, but I can't. The other video games just don't measure up and I always want to go back to that one."

She contemplated this, and part of her understood. Who was she to dictate what made life worth living? Still, she cared for her friend. "Could you do me a favour?" She asked. "I want you to get better, but if you can't, could you at least tell your family I exist so I don't wonder where you've gone for months and never find out what happened?"

He didn't give her that favour. Four months after he died, she came across his obituary. She had missed the funeral. Nearly ten months prior, he had started to push her away from their friendship. The conversation wasn't exciting anymore, he had grown tired of her usual complaints. Her husband was annoying her, people were generally stupid, work was overwhelming. None of it was relevant to him and he didn't want her negativity around him those days. She worked to give him the space he asked for, reaching out only a few times a month. After some time had passed and where no response was received, she stopped checking in on him. One day, she told herself, they would talk again on a daily basis like they had used to. It was just a crossroads for now.

Yet, still, the thought had crossed her mind. Was he isolating himself because his mental health had taken a turn for the worse? In one of the few answered texts she sent, she expressed worry for his wellbeing. He confirmed he was still busy living, and proceeded to ignore her friendlier greetings.

It is difficult to piece together those last moments. Why did he travel back to his home country? What prompted him to plan his exit? How long would it have taken for anyone to know he was there? What were his final thoughts?

Did he know she loved him? Platonic intimacy, she called it. Some kind of kindred spirit. She wouldn't find a friendship like his again, not for fifty lifetimes. At some point, she wondered if they could be romantically entwined, but she became glad for the lack of complexity to their part in each other's lives. She could express the ugly sides of herself to him without fear of a loss of attraction. They could share their emotions without feeling responsible for fixing the other. person His rigid lifestyle wouldn't interfere with her lackadaisical one. They didn't have to meet each other's difficult family members. They would grow old together, as friends, neighbours, across the hall in a senior's lodge, like they had once spoken about.

Except now, she will grow old alone, without her best friend across the hall.

A Picture of Poor Mental Health

In the last two months, I have planned five different successful events: two holiday craft fair fundraisers, two visits to senior homes over the holidays, and a community sleigh ride night. I have started publishing my community newsletter. I have been an ambassador for my volunteerism. I have set up Christmas trees four times. I have completed all of my Christmas shopping and wrapping. I have applied and successfully received grants for my day job. I have expanded my role at work to areas I love. I have dabbled in starting to drive again and have even started my own savings towards a new car. I've maintained a weekly social outing. I have also managed to reach out to friends I haven't seen in a while to catch up.

This is the picture of somebody who has poor mental health.

By all means, I am succeeding. I have found ways to do well for myself. This doesn't mean I don't have days I have to consider a write off because my energy has vanished. It certainly doesn't mean I don't need to continually work on my mental health. I have a therapist, whom I speak to daily. Without her, my mental health would consume me as it has before. With her, I manage it. Life goes on, as they say, and with it, I continue to pick up my socks and chip away at it. However, a human's mental state is so fragile and cannot be something that once 'fixed' always remains that way. What took 29 years to reach out for help for will not fix itself over night.

Not everyone with poor mental health walks around with a neon sign that labels it as such. Please, reach out to those you love and let them know, whether they show they are down or not.

Transition: A Period of Rediscovery

It's been a bit since I've shared insights into my life through blogging. I've been silently (or as silently as an over-sharer can be) going through the motions of this period, sorting through a convoluted series of thoughts. Perhaps the most prevalent is that I am not special, so why would I share? I've lost a bit of my way. I've had to re-organize where I really want to be, what, and who I am. Not an uncommon pattern for me, but I think introspection has been at its strongest in the latest months. I silently went through a birthday, in which only four people outside of my family noticed. I've retreated from passions, because I had lost the good parts of myself in them. And so here I sit, in this period of transition, waiting to rediscover my pulse.

Tracing the makings of Jillanne

I finally willed myself to read again in September. I haven't picked up a book for pure leisure in about five years. I had turned to other creative outlets, but the ability to imagine from words on paper is a pure innocence that I had forgotten. I first learned to read when I was 3 years old, and wrote my first 30 paged book at the age of 8. I continued to write, but no writer can exist without appreciating the written prose of others. So I built a little library for my front lawn, and it still took three months to pick a book from inside of it. I read the book in two days flat, and I now have three more that sit on my shelf. It's felt good to re-trace my steps and get in touch with the first source of creativity I've known.

Purification

I also decided to go on a rampage of plant hoarding. I have a 9 foot tree in my living room, and added two more plants a week later. I've cleaned out and reorganized my home, getting rid of (some, but not all) the junk I've been holding onto. I believe clutter is a sign of depression - a sign of the inability to rid yourself of the stress and chaos that builds. Slowly, the clutter will become less, and I will be able to purify my house and my mind.

Relaxation

This one is a hard one for me. For the first time in five years, I've given myself the freedom to have zero obligations in my evenings and weekends. Sure, there will still be plans I've made for some weekends, but I have worked to silence those voices that chant "do something" at the end of my day. I can choose to do something, or do nothing. Doing nothing is the hardest - but most necessary - thing to do.

Therapy saves minds

It took a very long time for me to open myself to therapy. Some days, I don't need therapy. Some days, I just want to talk about my day, and I know that there's somebody there to listen. Some days, a suppressed memory hits me, and I need insight on it from somebody unbiased, who doesn't invest their emotions in me. I found a way to talk to a person through texting on a phone application, and it's helped me slow my brain down. My thoughts are not mine to burden all on my own anymore, although I continue to work through them; now, I have a toolbox to help me in that journey.

Reflection is the key to re-rooting your feet in the direction you want to be. At some point, I stopped thinking about who I want to be, and stopped believing it was achievable. However, the only place to get somewhere is to start by putting one foot in front of the other. If I happen to only make it 3/4 of the way, then I guess I'll get my exercise.

A Year as a Missus

A year and six days ago, I became Mrs. Jillanne Fay Bowler-Veltman. The title alone didn't change very much - nobody refers to me as Mrs. anyways. Nothing has changed in my relationship either - I'm still just as much in love with my husband as a year ago. The newlywed high didn't wear off just when my year expired. The last year has been one that I feel is representative of a healthy marriage: not the easiest, with a bit of work, but worth the effort.

A friend of mine, who was married at the time, got up on stage at my wedding and started her speech with "I don't know much about marriage..." Today, I share that sentiment. Here is what I do know:

I never get bored.

Perhaps the thing I love the most about my husband is the feeling that I can continue the conversation. I always have somebody to talk to - who I want to talk to - and with whom I always have new things to talk about. I'm introverted, which often prevents me from being social with friends or family. However, most of the time I don't really feel the need to leave the house, because I get my social fix right at home.

It's never not going to take work

Life is unpredictable, and as such, you can't control everything that's thrown your way. This last year, my husband was suddenly laid off work. I could have thrown a temper tantrum, put up a wall, and reverted to feelings from a previous relationship where I was being manipulated financially. However, I chose to actively support my husband. Not everything will be easy, but being supportive of each other helps you get through the difficult times.

I'm secure in where I'm at

He chose me as his wife, and I would choose him as my husband again if I had the choice. Being married hasn't changed how I feel about my husband, but it has changed how I feel about my future. I'm excited to move forward, and now I have a partner who will help me do it.

If I'm so smart, why do I feel so dumb?

If I'm so smart,

Why do I feel so dumb?

If I'm so smart,

Then why is the best feeling

feeling numb?

I'm fine,

I've always been just fine.

Life couldn't be greater,

It's my favourite story,

In the worst time.

When everything is working

just as it should be.

The only thing I can think

Is why, poor

poor me.

I'll push you away,

I'll push them away

I'm only book smart,

I look smart,

It's only straight A's

If I'm so smart,

Why do I feel so dumb?

If I'm so smart,

Then why is the best feeling,

feeling numb.

Choosing a Career Over Diet

After 19 months of practicing pescetarianism, I made the decision to re-introduce meat into my diet. I've been relatively quiet, as I'm sure there is a world full of judgement out there, but as people slowly start questioning my decision, I wanted to highlight some of the factors that have lead me there:

Adolescence

When I was 16, I started having fainting spells. For a period of three months, I was fainting up to eight times a day. I fainted walking upstairs after waking up, fainted in the shower nearly every morning, fainted a few more times at school (which my teachers chalked up to sleeping in class), and then promptly came home to sleep, be woken for dinner (trying not to faint), and then go back to sleep again. I was working a part-time job at Zellers, and even had the unfortunate incident of dropping to the concrete floor in front of a customer. I was tested by doctors for a variety of things: drugs (no matter how much I insisted I had never even had a sip of alcohol), STIs (no matter how much I claimed I wasn't sexually active), lyme disease, thyroid deficiency and epilepsy. Out of everything, the only factor that proved to contribute to my fainting was a case of anemia "that shouldn't cause you to feel that weak". Over time, the fainting spells became less frequent, but were still happening once or a twice a week. That was just my life: I knew what to watch for and would go find a nice place to sit down with my head between my knees until I at least wouldn't lose consciousness.

When I was 18, I got a prescription for birth control, and miraculously, the fainting was limited to once or twice a year. I could handle that, and chalked up my previous incidences to lady problems and hormone inconsistencies.

Being an Adult...sort of

I live most of my 20s just getting by on my naturally low energy. I was chronically low on iron, but was "functional". I went to work, came home, napped, and spent my evenings on the couch. I was very unhappy, but I was functioning.

When I was accepted into University in 2013, I slowly became happier. I worked less, and thus avoided the draining days at my job. University allowed for mental breaks, but also more naps, so I was a little perkier when I needed to be.

Cutting the Meat

In 2015, I was suddenly cut hours at my horrible job (shout outs are given in previous posts). I was a full-time University, and found myself suddenly needing to switch my schedule around so I could take on a day job, as opposed to the weekend shifts I had been working. The day job I found was part-time, and involved sitting at a desk. My University classes were 3 evenings a week, and the rest of the time was mine to own. I found myself with more free time, and a ton of energy I needed to spend. 

That's when I decided to take care of my body. I dedicated myself to working out, and putting in the effort to meal plan. Vegetarianism was something that had crossed my mind previously, but I just never put the effort in. I decided to first cut out red meat from my diet, followed by chicken (which I never liked eating), and that was where I stayed for the next 19 months.

I felt less bloated than ever, and lighter in my physical activity. Cutting the meat also helped me really pay attention to what I was eating, because I had to watch my protein intake. Prior to this, I just was stuffing my face with whatever suited my mood.

I was still napping nearly every day (albeit shorter naps), but I chalked this up to simply just having a 12 year habit that was hard to shake.

The Decline of Iron

This past January, I accepted a full time position at my work. Again,schedule changes demanded lifestyle changes. I wasn't fitting in naps anymore, and I was completely exhausted by the time I came home. My iron levels plummeted again (a ferretin level of 2mg, when the minimum requirement is 12mg). I stopped being able to meal plan appropriately, and the fainting spells returned.

I realized that while my pescetarianism was relatively healthy prior to the recent iron plummet, I was still substituting the fat I was missing from meat with junk food. I was still carb-loading more than I was loading myself with protein on my long days, and one of the reasons I still had energy in the prior 19 months was because I had the luxury of recharging with a nap. It dawned on me that I wasn't being a "good" pescetarian who was really paying attention to what her body needs.

At first, I tried introducing beef broth to my diet for the added protein. However, two weeks ago, I was experiencing such a strong dizzy spell, I caved and went to get a Big Mac. Now, I know a Big Mac is likely the worst source of meat protein on the planet, but I was surprised to find I wasn't sick, and the texture of meat didn't throw me off. For the last two weeks, I have re-introduced red meat into my diet (I still hate chicken).

Right now, I'm choosing the diet that works for me. I can't keep up with changes in my lifestyle and expect to maintain similar results. I commend those who choose a meatless diet and find ways to maintain it, and perhaps one day, I will return to it myself. However, for now, I've had to part ways with some of my meatless dishes (I still intend to have a few vegetarian meals in my day).