It Wasn't A Career Choice.

You may have noted, if you are somebody who has kindly been reading my last few postings, that they are bordering on surreal.  An attempt at lateral thinking humour.  Not that I constantly think about laterals.  Although I did take a lateral once from the quarterback and ran over one hundred yards for a touchdown.  I was good at that type of football and we played according to Canadian Football League rules.

I rearranged my bedroom a short time ago.  Moved the wardrobe to a different location.  Put the bed by a different wall.  Went to my bedroom that evening and never bothered to switch on the light.  I jumped into bed.  That would be the bed that wasn't there because I'd forgotten I'd moved the bed.  I crashed to the floor.  On the way to the floor, I knocked my left shoulder on the wardrobe I suddenly remembered was also in a different location.  Yes, ouch!   The next night, I remembered to turn on the light switch.

Writing is my therapy.  There are times when life is at its most challenging and discouraging.  I attempt to instil a bit of light-hearted banter.  I hope that the distractions I thus write are also a bit of comfort to anybody who might be having a struggle.  Trying to make sense of what might seem a senseless situation.

I didn't make mental illness a career choice.  When the teacher asked us, "What do you want to be when you grow up?", one said, "airline pilot", one said, "doctor", another stated, "nurse".  I did not declare, "I want to become mentally ill and become a virtual recluse!"  I actually said , "I want to be an entertainer!"  The teacher smiled.  The class laughed.   An overwhelming negative environment can take its toll on the most resilient of us.  I have and continue to challenge elements that would have the audacity to sabotage my right to a peaceful, positive life.

Recently, I endured a most frightening time with a series of hospital visits.  I endured being summoned in for a face-to-face medical assessment that was to question my illness.  An assessment that occurred only a few hours after I'd had a biopsy in a bummer of a location. I proved my case and the benefits I wish I didn't need,  were awarded to me.  Two months later, the forms I had to fill in to get my benefits, have started all over again.  It's like being in a benefits nightmare "Groundhog Day".  Just when I was starting to feel better, the anxiety starts again.

And with the gentle music of nature's orchestra playing through the wind chimes, I ponder....I calm down..  Thank you for being here.