My name is Pamela

If I were to communicate with someone via words on a page, I would know if they were a family member by the way they address me. My given name is Pamela. Most people call me Pam and I'm not quite sure why. Every document I sign as Pamela and I always introduce myself as Pamela, but still it gets shortened to Pam. Perhaps it is because I'm of short stature myself, or maybe I just don't look like a Pamela. On occasion I get “Pammy”, which usually sets my teeth on edge. There are few people walking the face of this earth that can call me “Pammy” and not cause feelings of immense hostility.

I have tried to correct people over time and still I end up as Pam, so I have given up trying to correct people. The other day, I was scrolling through my facebook (as we are all want to do) and I paused at one of my friends posts. She is an amazing individual, author and avid reader. Quite often I take pause to read her words, savour them, and embrace them as they seep into my eyes and warm my soul. I had to tell her how much I enjoyed reading her daily posts, kinda like my compliments to the chef. I was actually surprised that she addressed me as Pamela and had to thank her again. It seems a silly thing to be impressed by, but when the general public can't seem to get something so simple as my name correctly I have to stop and take pause.

To name a thing gives it power. With out a name things are left to the persons imagination. You can say, I bought my love a bunch of flowers and it doesn't hold as much value as I bought my love a dozen long stemmed red roses.

I was the baby with no name. I was adopted at 7 months of age. They cooed things like, precious and princess in my tiny little ear. The stroked the hair on my head and called me pumpkin. (probably due to the orange colour of my hair.) My grandmother decided that after a few days with no name that my parents should call me Pamela.

In my mind when you shorten my name it says to me that you simply can not bother with extra syllables, the extra letters, that I'm not worth that effort of two vowels and a consonant. I don't mind the nick names that people give me, and sure enough I give nicknames too, but to automatically shorten my name is presumptuous and mildly insulting. I tend not to correct people when they use Pam incorrectly, for some reason it sets people on edge. I'm pretty easy going and if they can't fit their lips around the extra letters really it isn't my problem. So rarely that I am addressed properly that it's almost foreign to hear my actual name.

To name a thing is to give it a place in life, power and existence. My name is Pamela.

A week in perspective

This week has been a roller coaster of ups and downs. Last week end started off with a yard sale. My child has been after me for years to have one, and since I was purging stuff I though what the heck I might as well.

Monday it was supposed to continue, but the sunshine and MS caught up with me. I spent the day in bed sprawled out. Well as much sprawling as someone as short as I can.

Tuesday I was summoned for jury duty. I arrived early and wished I had arrived even earlier. I got frisked at the door by the guards because darn it I just can't live with out a belt, which was more action than I had seen in years. The line snaked around corners and down hallways and I was amazed at the hundreds of people who were called. What was more amazing was my place in line was right beside a set of chairs with a sign that said “no sitting”. Tease. One rebel was sitting down, and who could blame him, he had a walking cast on and sported a pair a crutches. I struck up a conversation with him and realized he had been here for a while, but was waiting until the line died down at the end to join the line. I promptly told him that at the least his place was in front of mine and that he could rest there until I got to the front and would summon him. I was amazed that the 200 people in front of him could allow someone to suffer so. About 20 minutes later I rounded a corner and spied some chairs right inside the office that was a ways off. I informed the ladies in front and back of me that I would be right back, I was going to get the guy on crutches, which I promptly did. I collected the man and he sat down in the comfy chairs in the office. I was let back in line and pleased when they processed him quickly. I found the process quiet interesting, but was very surprised how selfish people actually are. I could have opted out for medical reasons and not even had to show up at the courthouse, but I want to do my duty for the country that I love and I figured as long as the case wasn't too long I would be able to handle it. Some of the excuses that people tried ranged from the pitiful to the completely asinine.

Wednesday I got a reprieve from weapons class and busied myself sewing the weapons bag for my Sensei Flowers. I promptly stuck the needle halfway into my finger and had to wipe the blood off the leather.

Thursday and Friday I was in a terrible mental state. I took the days to myself for some reflection and alone time.

Saturday was the MS fundraiser. I spent the morning outside in the cold playing my guitar (only in Canada can it go from -3 to 24 degrees in one day!) I didn't make anything, but the picture of me playing inspired a dear friend to send a donation to the MS Society.

For a 25 dollar donation I was able to get a MS Ribbon tattoo.  I got it on my left calf which had given me some trouble this week.  Not everyone can have a natural pimp walk.  The colour looks amazing, especially considering how uber white I am!  I'm surprised the artist didn't go blind doing it from the glare!

 My brother even showed up and got one to support me and bought his girlfriend a ribbon tattoo to show her support for cancer... hers wasn't 25 bucks though.

I woke again this morning with a renewed spirit and laughed so hard I thought I might have torn something. My friends had dropped some donations off at my house. I always know someone to donate stuff too. I tried on some of the dresses. My poor child was trying to take pictures while keeping the camera still. Most of them looked like I was in a blender she was laughing so hard. BUT I did get a few really epic funny ones which I'll spare you. I think one of them was a shirt. Life is wonderful when you are fun sized!

Cathartic Gardening, because it works.

A friend of mine was upset. She truly is a beautiful person. Bad things keep happening to her and she was starting to feel like Job. She just didn't feel beautiful even though people told her how beautiful and amazing she is. She just couldn't see it and she didn't feel it. I explained it this way. Your life, body, mind and soul are like a garden. It is over run with negative things like weeds. The problem with weeds is that their roots run deep and they choke out all the wonderful flowers that want to grow. They steal their sunlight and water and starve them out. No one can tell what a beautiful garden you have if it is covered in weeds, not even you. Pulling the weeds is hard, they have prickles and deep roots and spread like wild fire. Negativity in your life is like this, including negative people. We can call them psychic vampires if you will or weeds or what ever you want, but if they take up all the space in your garden nothing that you want to grow will, because you won't have room. Sometimes when you are done weeding it feels like your garden is empty and barren and you almost want the weeds back just to see a bit of green and the odd blossom. That's why we have to plant good things and wait for them to grow taking care to weed out the bad so that the healthy things can grow. Good things take time to mature and blossom, weeds are unhealthy and grow like crazy. Relationships are this way too. Sometimes something grows in the garden and looks to be pretty, but it grows to fast, too soon, and takes over the garden. Weeds can be pretty sometimes too, but they still are weeds and will take over your garden and have to be removed. Healthy things take time to grow, they need care and nurturing. A garden won't take care of it's self. When you stop over running you garden with weeds, you will see how beautiful it is. The reason I can see it is because I'm a gardener too.

This isn't the first time, nor probably the last time I used this analogy. I have made room in my garden and have planted wonderful things.

Forgetting that we are human

It's amazing this thing called the internet. With it I can follow my friends next door or reach out to someone across the country. It really is a useful tool, but I think sometimes it is a dangerous one. It's easy to forget that behind those pixels on a screen is a real live breathing feeling human being. This modern age doesn't make us accountable for what we do. We can say what ever we wish, do as we please and if we hurt someone over the internet or through texts we can shut off the computer, block them out, ignore their texts and shut them out. Eventually they will go away because after all who really cares they were pixels anyhow. We can justify it by throwing ourselves into our work, school and into our lives and go on with the tangible. The computer is just a tool and the things on it don't deserve respect, it's just a machine and just pixels. Nothing esoteric there.

I think it's DE-evolved us as a race. We can hurt people, do real damage to them and not have to face the consequences. Regardless if you are Christian or Neo-Pagan the rule of three applies. It doesn't matter if you say, “you reap what you sow” or “What ever you do good or bad will come back to you three fold.” We can't think of ourselves as enlightened human beings when we turn a blind eye to our actions. We are accountable for our actions. In this life you are free to live your life any way that you choose, but you are not free from the consequences. Those of us who are truly enlightened aren't so fool hardy to think that we don't make mistakes, because we do. We just know that when we do, we have to make reparations. Evolved people value life and energy, spirituality and harmony.

One of my favourite quotes: “Everything you do is based on the choices you make. It’s not your parents, your past relationships, your job, the economy, the weather, an argument, or your age that is to blame. You and only you are responsible for every decision and choice you make, period.” — Brenda Slavin from Elements of Your Life

To my friend who was so hurt badly by someone she thought loved her. Chin up. You are an amazing person, strong, brave and beautiful. I know that you have spent the day in tears, but that just proves you are human and not pixels. You can lean on me, I've got broad shoulders. I heard this song and thought of you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afWWtNOLeQs

The girl with golden hair

“Once upon a time…
in a kingdom far, far away…
there lived a young girl…
whose hair was made of gold.
When the people
in the village saw her, they said.
“Oh, how beautiful she is.”
And they showed her
a beautiful house…
on the planet Mars.
And they said,
“Come and live here forever.
And the young girl said…
"Oh, Mars is a planet
where life’s different…
safe, clean and pretty.”
But– But how do you get there?
Where do you find a taxi? Which bus do you take?
Right? And how do you know you’re there when you’re there?
Once upon a time…
Once upon a time,
there was a very pretty girl...
who lived in a beautiful box
and everybody loved her.
“Once upon a time,
there was a girl with golden hair…
who went to live
in a beautiful house.”
Always the same story.
Always different,
always the same.
Always the same.
And she went to live
in a beautiful house…
and all the people loved her,
and she was very, very happy.
But the people in the village
were very poor…
and every night, they crept
into the house where the girl slept…
and they cut off a piece
of her golden hair…
and they sold it for money.
“She’ll never even notice,” they said.
And so, all the gold
was gone from her head.
“And the people said…
‘Oh, she’s not beautiful at all.’
And they took her from
the beautiful house…
and they drove her
into the street.
And she went away…
and she never came back.
And soon,
people became hungry again…
and they went back into
the beautiful house…
Iooking for gold,
but there was no one there.””

If I stop today,
it was still worth it.
Even the terrible mistakes
that I have made...
and would have unmade
if I could.
The pains that have burned me
and scarred my soul.
It was worth it...
for having been allowed
to walk where I've walked...
which was to hell on Earth...
heaven on Earth...
back again, into, under...
far in between, through it...
in it and above.  

Gai the movie 1998

Things to try to help people with depression that really aren't helping

We all have a friend who suffers from depression. According to the Canadian Association for Mental Health one person in five suffers from mental health. The latest research from the World Health Organization states that one in four people will suffer some form of neurological disorder or mental health issue. If you have Multiple Sclerosis your odds increase to one in two. That means that half of the people who are diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis will end up suffering from depression.

I find it ironic that I worked for so long in the mental health field just to end up battling my own mental health issues. I would be one of those 50% who suffers from it. Some days are better than others. Some days are much worse.

I understand people want to help those who suffer from mental illness, but they just don't have the tools or have no clue how to help someone with depression. I try very hard to remember that these well meaning people aren't trying to be offensive, or to do more damage. Sometimes it's very hard. These are some of them:

1. At least you have your health. Ah yes. Such as it is. Just because I'm not whining about my “condition” every 5 minutes doesn't mean it's gone away. I've got MS for life. Sure I may LOOK like I'm doing okay, but I have this terrible disease that won't ever go away. Just because I may be walking okay at the moment doesn't mean there isn't a plethora of things going on physiologically. I'm just not complaining about it.

2. Just try to think positive. Really? Thank you for assuming I am not intelligent enough to try this on my own. If you saw someone in a wheelchair would you tell them hey just think you can walk and eventually you will be able to. Has nothing to do with severed nerves it's a state of mind.

3. We all get sad some times you just have to cheer up. Why don't you go out and have some fun? This statement is completely asinine for so many different reasons. Yes everyone gets sad and gets over it. Depression isn't like that. Imagine someone dear to you died. Everyday. For the rest of your life. Now get over it. That is the kind of “sad” that someone who has depression feels like. If a close friend died would YOU want to go ride roller coasters?

4. You are just having a pity party. You are just feeling sorry for yourself. You are making a mountain out of a mole hill or something of the ilk. Instead of dismissing what the person has to say perhaps listen to them. If someone with depression trusts you enough to talk to you it says a lot. Maybe to you because you don't understand the illness or can't see things from their paradigm they appear to be having a pity party. To a person with depression you just clarified to them that their feelings don't matter, and that you aren't willing to listen to what they have to say. On top of that you have told them that they are not worth enough to listen to and the things they feel aren't valid.

5. You'll get over it. No. Someone with Multiple Sclerosis won't get over having MS. No someone who suffers from Depression won't get over it. Sure we all hope for a cure, but even if they did cure MS tomorrow what about the 50% who are depressed?

I know it's exhausting to have a friend with any sort of disability. Is it a wonder why people with disabilities isolate themselves? Think before you speak. If you want to say something, check out the picture on the top of the page.  Try one of those, but only if you mean it!

Karate and Fishing

I've been immersing myself in martial arts again. I always feel better physically and more grounded mentally when I do. I'd been working hard all week and my dear friend and I decided that a little fishing would be good. I learned a few life lessons fishing this week end.

Since we were early morning fishing I decided to bring a dozen muffins with me. No one wants to be hangery while trying to catch the illusive trout we were fishing for. We had just started to cast when a boy around the age of 10 came along. He was chatty and seemed to enjoy our company as much as he did fishing. I like to hang out with my friend as he's quiet a bit older than I am and he doesn't need to attached at the shoulder when we hang out. As long as we are with in bellowing distance of each other we are doing okay.

My friend went off down the creek to see if he could scout out a better area and my young friend went off the opposite way to scout out a couple fishermen who were to the opposite side. Muffins were offered to both of the boys. I was meditating deeply and leisurely casting while I had my alone time. I suppose the conversation he found with me was better and he returned shortly. “Where did your husband go?” he inquired. “Pardon?” I asked, not because I couldn't hear what he said, but I was a little bit in disbelief. My “husband” years have LONG gone and it was odd to have someone refer to me as such, not that the kid was in error. How was he to know I am a lesbian. It was a non judgmental statement, which I chose not to correct. “Where did your husband go?” he repeated. Yup he said what I thought he said. The man I was fishing with is 67 years old and I am 37. I would have accepted the mistaken father, but husband? My meditation was complete lost. What on earth made this boy think that my dear friend was my husband? Perhaps I have not aged as well as I thought. Perhaps my friend looks younger than he actually is? Ah yes a lesson in humility can be gotten any where not just the dojo floor. “He's not my husband just a very dear friend.” I corrected.

Shorty there after my “husband” came by and headed down the other side of the creek. I was failing to see the humour in the statement at that point and believed that my “husband” didn't need his ego inflated just yet. We all began to fish when out of the corner of my eye I caught a blur. There are a lot of people walking dogs in that area and often times you see the dog well before you actually see the person. It took a moment to realize that it wasn't a dog nosing in at my freshly baked blueberry muffins it was a fox. The young boy spotted it as well. I called for my “husband” to see this incredible find, hoping that my bellowing would perhaps startle Mr. Fox from my breakfast. The fox pulled his head out of the bag keeping a close eye on the boy and I. The boy hauls out his knife and says, “I'll get him”. “NO dear Lord don't! Shoo fox shoo”. I bellowed again for my friend as he started to saunter over the fox took the opportunity while my attention was on the boy and my friend to take the entire shopping bag of a little over a dozen muffins in his mouth and run away spilling muffins left and right as he ran.

I explained the situation to my friend as he came up. “Darn it I was just coming back to grab one! At least we all had one!” he said with a bellyful laugh. “Not me! I hadn't had one yet!” I said in dismay. The boy left his gear in our safe hands and headed home to retrieve his phone. He returned with a bag of snacks and offered it all to us all. The fox got a belly full and our friend provided us with a meal, which was good because we didn't catch a darn thing. While the young lad was off exploring I informed my friend of the lad's mistake. “Ah hes just a boy, to him anyone over 16 is ancient.” He said obviously amused with the situation. I still don't buy that explanation, but I do see the humour in the boys statement now.

In the end I did get a blue berry muffin. My friend bought me one at Tim Hortons later on. It perhaps wasn't as tasty as the ones I had made, but then again those blueberry muffins didn't have the stories attached to them.