On Anger

My mother used to tell me that I had a temper like my father. He was – and in ways still is – prone to being angry, short-fused, impatient…many qualities I seemed to have inherited by being his child.

My mother used to tell me that I had a temper like my father. He was – and in ways still is – prone to being angry, short-fused, impatient…many qualities I seemed to have inherited by being his child.

My anger would get me in trouble a lot with my parents, teachers, and others. It would range from me acting out, yelling, refusing to do any sort of work or chore, to – on my worse days – physical fights or striking things (I think there’s still a few dents in the walls at my parents’ house). Once I got past a certain point, I would lose control…even at times not being able to remember what I did when I was angry. I’ve ruined relationships because of it, hurt people, and it got to the point where I had to make some changes for my own sake and before I went too far.

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I asked a few people on Twitter and Instagram if they’ve ever been really angry. Here are a few responses.

Thankfully, I am not as quick to anger as I was then, and I’m not the same person. I’m more patient, less frustrated, and can handle my now extremely rare bouts of wrath much easier than I could as a younger man. After having a conversation with someone recently – both of us describing incidents of violence brought on by rage or finally lashing out – I decided to do some research into why some people are more prone to these sort of reactions, and help others the way I helped myself move past that part of my life. That being said, with the rest of this post I’ll try to answer a few questions about this topic.

What is anger? Why do we get angry?

tweet2In all of my reading, anger is described as a “basic” or natural emotion that everyone will experience. It is also described as, often, a secondary response to either a primary emotion: being in a situation of sadness, feeling threatened, if one of our basic needs like food or sleep are not met, being frightened, or experiencing loneliness. If you’re following so far, that tells me that we’re supposed to feel angry at some points in our lives. I’d also add that we shouldn’t feel upset or ashamed that we do, at points, feel angry. Rather, I’d say how we react to or in anger is probably more important.

Some researchers also think that anger later in life is the result of childhood or past experiences. For example, if you were subject to some situation where you couldn’t adequately express your anger in the past (e.g. bullying, abuse, or trauma)…you may still be coping with it at present. This may mean that current situations where you feel frustrated or ones that may evoke similar emotion can make you react with anger. Also, some people think that if you witnessed a parent or other adult express their own anger aggressively or violently, you may be more prone to do the same – or even be so afraid of becoming that angry that you suppress it. Eventually, that anger may surface in other situations.

So, why are some people more angry than others?

I think we can all agree that everyone is different. The same goes with anger and how an individual may react to it. So, what can make some people seem more easily angered? Reasons can include higher-stress lifestyles, genetics (yes, there is evidence that if your folks are more easily angered, you may be as well), and our own individual ways of assessing situations. With that last point, some articles I’ve read suggest that if you’re more sensitive or are more emotional in general than someone else, you will be more prone to reacting angrily (since anger falls under basic emotional response).

img_4365-1Another reason, as described in the section above, could be socio-cultural or socio-economic. By the former, I mean that anger is often looked at as being very negative in society. Because of this, there may not be very many resources to help an individual learn to express and deal with their anger – thus making them more prone to outbursts. By the latter, I read a study that suggests that Americans with lower social status expressed more anger because a lower social standing was associated with greater frustration – stemming from leading more adverse lives. On the other hand, the same study also concludes that Japanese people with higher social status experienced more anger  because, as being part of an important group or relationship is seen as self-defining and central to what it means to be a person in this culture, expressing anger is frowned-upon due to such expressions having the potential to ruin these relationships.

How can I tell if I have an anger problem?

This list is not comprehensive, but here are a few items that could point to someone having anger issues:

  • Inability to take criticism
  • Feeling that anger needs to be hidden or suppressed
  • Arguing with others constantly
  • Holding grudges
  • Feelings of impatience, irritability, hostility, or resentment that lead to outbursts when angry
  • Becoming physically violent to people or objects when angry, or being short-fused
  • Avoiding situations where one knows one may become angry/angrier
  • Lack of ability to control anger escalating

Some of the symptoms above may even be worsened by alcohol or drug use. While – as mentioned before – anger itself is not a problem, expressing anger during and in ways like the items in the list above could lead to a lot of problems for someone who can’t get their anger under control.

Are there things I can do to help with my anger?

Let’s take a quick look at ways to help control and manage anger.

One of the best ways I found that helped me was to first own that I had a bad temper and that I had a problem. I would realize and accept that I was angry in certain situations, but chose not to let the situation escalate nor get the better of me. I also would continually remind myself that it is very difficult to make smart choices when feeling a powerful emotion like anger, so I chose to let the anger subside before doing anything else.

Another method, as I preach to myself in sports, is the concept of having a “short memory”. If I missed a shot or dropped a ball, I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it nor think about it while setting up another shot or play. In the same way, I didn’t let a past event dictate how I would react to a present event. Also, I did not allow myself to sit and steam about an event that made me angry – it just didn’t make sense to stay angry at the past or something I could no longer change.

img_4366Another very important step in managing anger is recognizing one’s triggers, and figuring out exactly what can make you angry and how to work through them. This may mean avoiding the trigger altogether (for example, I dislike traffic…so I leave for work earlier and either leave the office early or later depending on the day) or attacking it head-on (e.g. if you have disagreements with another person, trying to iron out your differences in a civil manner). This isn’t an easy process, and I think I’m still working on some of my triggers to this day.

Finally, and probably the most helpful for me, I found that improving my thinking, communication, and relaxation skills became an invaluable asset in helping me recover from my anger problems. Instead of rushing to reply or get the last word in, I began to learn how to express my thoughts and feelings (even if they were coming from a place of anger) in a calmer, less aggressive way. When this became too difficult to do in a situation, I’d let myself walk away (or politely excuse myself) to cool down and then re-approached the situation later.  You’d be surprised what taking a good, deep breath before speaking can do for you.

I hope this post has been both insightful and helpful. If you or someone you care about is struggling with issues with anger or other mental health conditions, there is always help. While I did not address (and have never been to) counseling or ever saw a professional for anger, I know these resources exist and would definitely recommend them if someone chose to take that route.

I’d love to hear your stories, comments, and opinions as well. Feel free to reach out to me 🙂

As always, keep fighting the good fight (shout out to my friend Kyle),

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Phil.

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On Suicide

I once read a quote that suicide doesn’t end the pain, but rather it passes it on to someone else…someone you love, someone you care about. If you’re reading this and have been going through pain, please reach out to that someone. 

To be honest, I’ve been trying to write and finish a blog post like this for a while – over a year, at least. I would start writing, then stop, then start again…always being torn between wanting to share one of the most personal and darkest moments of my life, and wanting to not pick at that scab again.

I was ready to move on, to move forward. I had survived the longest and most difficult period of depression I had ever faced, and was ready to never go back to it. Ever.

Then, almost immediately after I had resolved to leave it in my past, the world lost Chris Cornell.  Then Chester Bennington right after that.  Reeling, I came back to this post, got halfway through, and stopped again. Cue June 2018, where we would lose Kate Spade, and then Anthony Bourdain. I decided that maybe it was time to spill again, to own what I had been through and share just one more of my experiences with the hope that it can help someone struggling.

This isn’t an easy story to think about or tell, but I’ll do my best. With disclaimers for the possibly triggering material, here’s “The First Time I Ever Wanted To Kill Myself“, by Phil.

It’s a warm day in April 2017. My day started as they usually do…wake up, shower, eat, pill. That evening was Easter supper at my aunts (a welcome break from being alone in the suburbs). My car was out of commission, so I rode my bike from my house to the train station. I remember feeling just fine at dinner – it was great to be in the company of family and people who care, and nothing was out of the ordinary. I would have never guessed that later on that night, I’d go through hell.

On the bike ride back from the train, I felt a huge wave of hopelessness set in. I got about halfway up the overpass near my house, and stopped. I felt like I couldn’t go on, both physically and mentally. All the negative things that I’d been through leading up to that point – the breakups, the fights, the car accident, asking my doctor for medication, the lack of direction I felt at my job – were taking turns flashing in and out of my head, and I felt an overwhelming urge to jump and end it all.

Thinking about killing yourself is a horrifying thing, and for so many reasons. I felt all the strength and determination I had previously built up over so long just wilt away, and my will crumble. I wiped tears and sweat from my face and I thought about just how I would go: I’d just leave the bike there and topple over the edge with my eyes closed. Would I hit metal or pavement first? Who would find me? What would my parents think? Would anyone else care? These thoughts and questions flew in and out of my brain at rapid pace, and I eventually physically crumbled as well. Feeling my legs give out from under me, I dropped to my knees and then just sat there leaning against the concrete barrier separating me from the fall. I spent the next several minutes convincing myself that I needed to press on, and that I wanted to live.

Talking yourself down from something like that, and having to convince yourself that you are worthy of living, is both a shameful and humbling experience. In what felt like the hour that had passed, I realized that I wanted so much more out of life. That there were so many goals and accomplishments left to achieve. That I wanted those dreams way more than I wanted it to end. I was ashamed that it had come to that point, but I felt proud that I had survived yet another low. With that, I dusted off my jeans, wiped the sweat from my forehead, got back on my bike, and pedalled home.

I don’t think I ever flat-out wanted to die before that moment, and I don’t think I really wanted to die at all. Rather, I just wanted the pain I felt to end. I once read a quote that suicide doesn’t end the pain, but rather it passes it on to someone else…someone you love, someone you care about. If you’re reading this and have been going through pain, I know it’s difficult to, but please try to reach out to that someone. You deserve to live.

I am happy to say that since this experience, I am doing well. Through a lot of hard work, a dash of therapy, and the belief that I can do better, I have been doing just that. If you are like me and aren’t currently struggling personally, but you care at all about someone else…check on them. Sometimes it’s the ones who seem the strongest that need it the most.

 

Continue reading “On Suicide”

On Medication and Mental Health IV

I’ve always considered medication to be an aid, and not a fix-all solution to treating my depression. Over time, I slowly began to replace meds with other things.

So it’s been a little while since my last post. I’ve done some traveling, made some changes to my diet and fitness routines, and generally have been busy with the 9 to 5 grind.

Before I get into the content, I’d like to thank everyone that asked about the blog and when the next post was coming. If this is your first time reading, please feel free to check out the other posts.

If I had to pick a different title for this post it would probably be “Why I Stopped Taking Medication For My Depression”, or something similar.

Now before we get into the “why”, I want to be clear. I’m not giving up, ever. My choice to end medication as a form of treatment for depression didn’t come overnight, nor was it an easy one to make. I do think, however, that I made the right choice. What follows next is the shortlist of why I decided to stop.

My regular side effects never really went away. While they did get easier to handle over time, there was never a long stretch of time where I didn’t feel some sort of effect from the medication. These included constant fatigue, the occasional numb feelings, weight gain, and libido changes. It really hurt my productivity, and I never really fully felt like myself. I didn’t want to continue feeling that way without any sign of it getting better long term.

The meds would eventually stop “working”. While I do feel like the medication did help in stints, there were a few occasions where I felt like they stopped doing their job. I’m not sure if my body had adjusted to the dosage, or if they simply weren’t effective anymore, but there were periods of time where I felt worse than before I was on medication. My doctor and I agreed to increase the dosage each time, but eventually I would experience the same issues. I did not want to continue taking high doses of a prescription med, and I didn’t want to try a new/different medication (complete with new and possibly worse side effects).

I sometimes felt “that” feeling. I’ll talk about this more in another post, but on occasion (especially the time following a dosage change), I felt like I wanted to check out. I had never really had suicidal thoughts or feelings before, especially before I decided to take medication. Eventually, I decided that the risk was too high for me to continue. I wanted to live.

It’s important for me to note that I didn’t (and one shouldn’t) go cold turkey. I spoke to my doctor about stopping, and we agreed to slowly and gradually reduce the dosage. Even this process was difficult for me, as I felt like the symptoms got worse during this time. I was constantly dizzy, felt light-headed, and very, very irritable. My depression felt worse at points, as well. Eventually though, things got better and now I’m doing very well. Minus a few recent (and minor) hiccups, I’ve been maintaining a pretty stable mindset for the past several months and – save for the occasional joint (more on that later) – have been drug-free.

In conclusion, I’ve always considered medication to be an aid, and not a fix-all solution to treating my depression. Over time, I slowly began to replace meds with other things. These include more physical activity, more regular sessions with my therapist, and being more mindful of my sleep and what I put into my body – including food. I still have the occasional “off” day, and I know it will be a while before I’m completely symptom-free (if ever), but I plan to stick this out the usual way I do – one day at a time.

 

On Grief and Loss

Getting “over” any loss – whether it be a death, end of a relationship, or otherwise – takes a huge toll on me, and I’m not sure I’ve fully moved on from some of them. For some, I’m not sure I want to move on.

My maternal grandfather was born and raised in Greece. He grew up in a small village, survived a war, married my grandmother, and moved his family from Europe to Toronto in search of a better quality of life and opportunity.

Before I moved to Canada permanently, I’d stay with my grandparents during every visit. While his English wasn’t perfect and my Greek was basically non-existent, we forged a bond between papou and grandson that was cut way too short about eight years ago.

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Papou manning the grill.

I lost my grandfather in the middle of what should have been my final exam period in university, and got the call that he had passed right before walking into an exam room. While I knew that he wasn’t doing well, I don’t think I would have ever really been prepared to lose someone close.

Needless to say, I never took the exam. Still reeling, I was forced to essentially re-live his loss every time I had to talk to a professor, ask for a death certificate, or apply for some sort of extension allowing me more time to get things done academically. In the end, I would spend an extra semester in school making up for classes and exams that I just could not get myself to sit through. I still dream about my grandfather, and there are days when – even though it’s been years – I still feel the loss deeply.

Grief doesn’t always occur with a death. It can happen with a breakup or divorce, loss of a job, death of a pet, or even financial hardship. Sometimes, the loss doesn’t even have to be your own.

Around a year ago, a friend of mine lost their mother. I had met her in person only once, well over a decade ago when I was still new to Canada. It was a cold fall night, and I boarded a GO bus from York University to Streetsville, Mississauga (which might as well have been a flight to China – I didn’t know what direction I was headed in and nothing looked familiar) to visit my friend at her house.

If you’ve followed my posts so far, you’d know that that period of my life was complicated to say the least. While I was still struggling externally with adjusting to a new country, and still battling with an internal need to belong, a woman invited her daughter’s friend into her home with a large smile and open arms. I don’t remember many of the other details of that night minus a grand tour of the house and a hot meal, but what stuck with me was the way I felt there – welcomed. To see and experience that sort of kindness, offered to a complete stranger…that’s something that, for me, would be very hard to forget. I can only imagine how her loss must have affected (and still affects) that family, and they’re in my thoughts and prayers.

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Papou and I, early 90’s.

Everything you read in life about grief and loss will probably tell you that losing someone you love is one of life’s biggest and most difficult challenges. Most sources may even tell you what the symptoms of grief are, or that there are several steps involved in the process of grieving, or that there’s professional help for that sort of thing. What you may never read, but definitely may experience at some point in life, is just how long it takes to get to the other side of grief. Sometimes, you may even feel fine for a while – even years – and then that one song plays or someone brings up that thing you used to do together, and you’re back to where you were before.

Getting “over” any loss – whether it be a death, end of a relationship, or otherwise – takes a huge toll on me, and I’m not sure I’ve fully moved on from some of them. For some, I’m not sure I want to move on.

That being said, if you’ve got someone in your life that you love and appreciate…don’t wait until they’re gone to show them that you do.

Until next time,

Phil.

 

Continue reading “On Grief and Loss”

On Medication and Mental Health III

Life has a funny way of coming full circle. I suppose I needed some closure, some sort of sign that I made the right decision with my mental health, and life sorted that out for me.

Hey all. Sorry for the delay.

In the last few posts, we looked at medication for mental health – from the various kinds to reasons why some people choose to (or not to) start a treatment plan involving medication. In this post, I’ll get into why I personally decided to give medication a try.

Now for the heavy shit.

Just about a few weeks shy of four years ago, I was driving home from a night out that involved a work Christmas party, as well as a few bars in Hamilton, ON. I had had more than a few drinks at the party, but stopped drinking several hours before a friend and I left to go out to the bars. I barely drank there (maybe a Heineken or two), and after another few hours, left the area to go home after dropping my friend off at his house.

Before we get into the rest of what happened that night, let’s preface it by summarizing my last few months leading up to it.

To start, I had gone through a rough (but amicable) breakup, and while we did talk often enough I was still struggling with the fact that she had moved more than half a world away. I had just begun to really get back on my feet again emotionally, but regardless of the reasons – losing any kind of support system is a bitch.

The romantic part aside, I was having a rough time with my life in the professional sense. Unsure of what I really wanted to do (or even if I wanted to stay where I was working), coming into the office everyday was a struggle. Once I would get there, however, there was enough work to keep the mind busy – at least until the end of the work day. To top things off – I was still adjusting to a move from the city to suburban living, and had to keep adjusting in the middle of the coldest winter I could remember. It was the first year that I really started believing that seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a real thing.

Now back to the night that would change my life, thankfully for the better.

Overnight, the weather had become incredibly colder and even icier. As I’m driving home, my thoughts are racing. What could I have done better in my failed relationship? How do I feel more fulfilled at my job? Do I even like it there, or am I only really actively going because I know it’s a distraction? These and what felt like millions of other thoughts shoot through my mind to the point where I don’t notice that the lane I am in is rapidly ending, and I need to switch over to the left-most lane to get on the highway.

I must have hit a patch of black ice, because my car just won’t slow down. I pump the brakes rapidly, but no luck – my car is sliding sideways towards the ditch between the on-ramp and the highway. A sign on the side of the road (one of those directional arrows that line the ramps) crashes into and through my driver-side window and nearly ends up in my lap after missing my face. My car careens off of the on-ramp, and ends up sideways in the ditch.

I have to escape out of my mangled vehicle through my passenger door, crawling through snow, ice, blood (from superficial cuts, thankfully), metal, and glass. I make it to the top of the on-ramp, where eventually a police officer shows up and helps me into his car and out of the cold. I admit to having a few drinks earlier, and blow and pass a breathalyzer (I still get a ticket for driving with alcohol in my system – didn’t have a full license at the time). Sitting in the back of a police car, regardless of why you’re there, is a sobering and humbling experience. Given what I had already went through though, I was just happy to be alive and warm.

I still had to get home, though. I ended up having to tow my car back – where overnight a branch from an iced-over tree fell through some power lines and cut power to my side of the neighborhood. No power meant no elevator, so that meant at least eleven flights of stairs just to get to my freezing apartment. I quickly change and jump under a blanket, still a bit shaken and absolutely done with that night.

At this point, I was already seeing a counselor every few weeks or so to try and get help with my mental illness. After these events, though, I decided I needed (scratch that, I owed it to myself) to give myself more of a fighting chance. Cue the medication, which I spoke to my family doctor about and have been on since.

Flash-forward to just over four years later, I’m driving back from Hamilton. Same sort of on-ramp (no booze this time, though – I’m still watching my intake very mindfully), same shitty weather. This time, the thoughts are different. I’m content and hopeful. I am excited to finally fly out and head back to The Bahamas for a few weeks to see my parents and friends I don’t regularly get to see. Same slippery black ice too, unfortunately.

I hit this patch at a much slower speed, but still couldn’t get my car under control enough to slow down and avoid a collision. This time, however, I don’t end up in a ditch. I hit a guard rail, break a fender and bend a rim just enough to where driving it home wouldn’t be safe. Not so bad, all things considered.

I end up having to tow my car off of the highway and back home again, but this time it’s to a house I own. There’s no power outage this time. I sort out the payment details with the tow-truck driver, step into my warm townhouse, take off my shoes, walk up one flight of stairs to my master bedroom, and fall into my comfortable bed.

Life has a funny way of coming full circle. I suppose I needed some closure, some sort of sign that I made the right decision with my mental health, and life sorted that out for me.

I hope if you’re reading this and are struggling, that you’ll make my advice and try and take care of your mental health. It’s always worth it.

On Medication and Mental Health I

In this and following series of posts, I’ll try to tackle why many people decide to or not to go on medication, as well as a few things one should know should they decide to make medication a part of their treatment regime. 

As some of you know, a few years ago I decided to begin taking an antidepressant in efforts to treat my depression and anxiety after years of exploring other methods.  It was not an easy decision, nor did I arrive at it overnight. Deciding to start taking an antidepressant took weeks of research, talks with my counselor and family doctor, and a long battle within myself to finally say “OK, I’ll try it.”

I’ll save my personal experiences with making the decision for another time, but in this and the following series of posts, I’ll try to tackle why many people decide to or not to go on medication. Also, I’ll attempt to discuss a few things one should know should they decide to make medication a part of their treatment regime, as well as medication for mental health as a whole.

So, why do we avoid medication? Here are a few reasons.

  • We want to do it all by ourselves. Regardless of what type of medication and what it is treating, some people will ultimately always avoid the doctor’s office. This mindset tends to be especially harmful for mental illness, as doing it “on your own” tends to lead to isolation, ineffective coping mechanisms, and other decisions that can ultimately lead to worsening symptoms. Regardless of a person’s view on medication itself, I will always suggest seeking medical advice to someone going through bouts of mental illness.
  • We don’t want to rely on something “unnatural”.  There are some people who will always believe that medications are unnatural and/or will introduce undesired changes in the mind and body. While this is understandable, more often than not, various forms of mental illness can be worsened by less-than-ideal chemical levels and imbalances in the body. These are conditions traditionally treated by medication (diabetic, anyone?).
  • We want to try more external options first.  Most people tend to believe that making external changes to lifestyle will help. While it is true that getting enough sleep, staying active, improving work-life balance, etc. can and will help with mental illnesses, it is often very difficult to overhaul your lifestyle during bouts of depression, anxiety, and other mood disorders. Medication can and may help with that little boost we need to get going.
  • Taking medication means acknowledging the problem. There is still a lot of stigma around mental health and mental illness, and unfortunately seeking help and turning to medication can (but shouldn’t) be a shameful and embarrassing experience. To this point, I always like to say that the first step to implementing a long-term solution for anything (mental health included) is to admit that you have an obstacle in your life that you can overcome, and to do so things need to change. These changes may or may not involve medication, but admitting the need for change is the best start.

Alright, got it. So why do we ultimately make the decision to try medication? Some reasons include:

  • We’ve been affected by mental illness for way too long. At some point, many people will say enough is enough and will want to make the decision to begin structured treatment which may involve starting a prescription med. Medication may be the first avenue pursued, or (see below) one of the latest.
  • We’ve exhausted other options. Often, people deciding to start medication have tried nearly everything else out there, and what they have tried has either not helped or only helped minimally (or for a time). It’s important to note that medication is not a panacea or fix-all solution, but it can help when combined with other treatment methods.
  • It’s worked for someone we know. There’s a good chance we know someone that has tried or is currently on some form of medication for mental illness. While it is always a good thing to know someone who has first-hand experience, it is also worth noting that medication affects everyone differently, so what works for one person may not necessarily work for someone else.

In conclusion, while the tone of this post may suggest that I am entirely pro-medication (I’m not, I just know what works for me), I must stress and reiterate that at the end of the day going on any form of medication is a decision that is not to be taken lightly. If you are considering starting a prescription medication for mental illness, I urge you to do your research and reach out to as many sources as possible. Learn what you can and cannot expect from the med, and be prepared for change.

I hope this post has been informative. Next time, I’ll attempt to delve into (from the layman’s perspective) the various types of medication out there, what they do chemically, and what you can expect from them.

Any questions, comments, concerns? Feel free to reach out!

10 Things I (Sometimes) Hate About Me

I couldn’t stick to just ten, so here’s a bunch of random things about me. Maybe you can relate.

I initially had a longer and more emotional post lined up for this week, but I’ve been having a rougher-than-usual last few days (even by my standards). That being said, I decided to post something with a bit of a lighter mood.

I couldn’t stick to just ten, so here’s a bunch of random things about me. Maybe you can relate. I may make a “Part 2” sometime. Maybe.

  • Sometimes I’m uncomfortable with small talk. Like…do you actually want to know about my day? Because I accidentally spread a mask on my toothbrush this morning instead of toothpaste…Clarins tastes like shit.
  • Are we still talking or can I, you know, just walk away now. No? OK cool I’ll just stand here. Wait, was I supposed to say “You too!” or just “Thank you.”? Fuck!
  • I really love dogs and every one I ever dog-sit becomes my child. Sorry my son peed on your hydrangeas Kathy.giphy[1]
  • Being a neat freak and caring for animals is an interesting mix. I love dog sitting but do not love cleaning enough hair out of my vacuum to stuff a decorative pillow. Wait, do people do that? *Googles ‘can I stuff a pillow with my dog’s hair’*
  • I used to be a morning person. Then I became a night person. Some days it’s debatable if I’m even a person at all and I need a coffee IV to function like a human being.
  • One of my fears in life is not having a future or making a terrible decision and ending up alone and homeless and never being able to make beautiful, emotionally-and-financially-supported mixed babies.
  • Sometimes the most anxious moment of my week doesn’t have anything to do with my future, but ma’am you are ringing in that guy’s groceries way too fast and I can’t pack mine fast enough aaaahhhhh…
  • Ma’am I really do have two dimes just give me a second *shuffles in pocket* – NO it’s not OK I have it I really do just give a second *awkwardly places condoms on counter* – What? Yes I have an optimum card.
  • I’m usually very good at eating healthy, but sometimes I have a setback emotionally, can’t be bothered, binge eat, and immediately hate myself. #OxfordComma
  • I quit drinking for 4 months earlier this year. I lost a bunch of weight and it really helped the pockets. Since then, I don’t drink heavily or regularly…but will have a beer or a rum here and there.
  • After an eight-month layoff due to various personal ills, I finally made it back to the gym last week. Now I just have to make it back.
  • As of late, most of my depressive days have been manageable. Some days though, I just want to go home and hop into bed for an eternity. Sometimes, instead of bed, I make a blanket fort in my kitchen by draping a duvet over the bar and hiding under it.
  • Managing my medication and activity have been pretty good as well. Some days though, I forget and I’m just a mess the next day…which is a struggle. The recently-increased dosage isn’t helping the cause either, I’m sure.
  • Sometimes I leave my mom’s voicemail messages on my phone longer than usual…just in case I ever need someone to tell me I’m handsome.
  • Sometimes I use my sister’s Instagram account to check up on people I no longer am in contact with. Not because I’m stuck in the past or am holding onto something I shouldn’t…sometimes I care more than I probably should and am always back and forth on how I feel about that.
  • Most of my closer friends are a significant distance (e.g. a plane ride) away and sometimes it sucks (Hi Hanna). 
  • I think it’s cool that more and more people are opening up about mental illness, especially men. I hope this trend continues.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this insight into my life, and the blog as a whole so far if you’ve been following.

Until next time,

xoxo (my love is very special),

Phil