From Lions Gate to Golden Gate

The year was 1972, two weeks before Christmas. This would be my second trip to California in the space of six months. I just knew this would be another great adventure in my life.

In the early summer of '72 I had travelled from Vancouver to San Francisco on a Greyhound bus. Upon my arrival in that great northern California city, this wide-eyed eighteen year old prepared himself for a wonderful, multi-cultural experience. Here I was, in San Francisco! Wow!  It looked just like it did on television. Cable cars, Fisherman's Wharf, the winding roads, the very steep hills, and of course, Alcatraz.

I spent a few days in that great city, absorbing all the sights and sounds of the bustling community. Being of an exploring nature, I found myself back at the Greyhound bus depot. I purchased a ticket for Lake Tahoe, which is located on the California, Nevada border. It was there that I met a a very friendly California family. We got along so well, that I arranged to stay with them for Christmas. They lived in a small town near San Francisco named San Pablo. Ah yes, it would be Christmas in California. This brings me neatly back around to my opening paragraph.

So now it is nearly Christmas in the year 1972. My long journey south from Vancouver to San Francisco, a distance close to a thousand miles, was going to be an even greater adventure than my first trip. For this time, an even wider-eyed nineteen year old was going to drive there in his first car. Yes indeed, I headed off down Interstate 5 in my '64 Plymouth Valiant. Fingers crossed, my pride and joy would get me there safely.

Well, somehow, I did make it. Driving through some of America's great towns and cities. I travelled through Seattle, home of Bill Gates, home of Boeing, home of Jimi Hendrix, home of that legendary band 'Nirvana'. I moved on through the beautiful city of Portland Oregon. Soon I would be in California. Soon I would see my friends in San Pablo.

Over the next two weeks, I would have some of the most memorable experiences of my life. It was an action-packed time. I social-networked with loads of people. I had a fantastic time, heck I even went snow-skiing for the first time ever. Skiing was a rather strange concept. I mean it was like suddenly strapping on a pair of size 107 shoes on your feet. It took some getting use to. I recall being covered in snow, lying on the ground and staring up at the sky. I look back on that very special, very different Christmas with warm, fond memories. Yet one memory of that California Christmas has left me with a profound sense of caring for those not as fortunate as myself.

On Christmas Day, that wonderful family that I was staying with had a Christmas tradition that I will never forget. That morning we drove off to the grandmother's house. She lived in a city named Oakland, which is located across the bay from San Francisco. Her home was in an Oakland ghetto.

Yet despite my anxious perceptions of a ghetto and the stigma attached to such places, all I felt was warmth and kindness. This was a proud lady, living in a place she chose to stay in. This was a lady, whose fair skin was part of the minority in the neighbourhood. Somehow, it didn't matter.

I was introduced to her friends and neighbours. They were part of a community that knew all too well what being underprivileged meant. The adversity that they endured seemed to unite these folks in making their lives that little bit better. Seldom have I experienced such community spirit. I left that ghetto in Oakland, with inspired perceptions. Despite the trouble and strife that was so much a part of their world, they never gave up on being positive towards each other. That day, that special Christmas Day, I was honoured to be among such caring, genuine people.

So from the Lions Gate Bridge, in that great Canadian city of Vancouver, to the Golden Gate Bridge in SanFrancisco, I had travelled down the west coast of North America. Somehow, despite the frantic driving methods of the Californians, my 1964 Plymouth Valiant survived. As I reached the Canadian border and went through Customs, I knew my journey was almost over. It turned out to be a journey of self-discovery. I have been truly blessed with some wonderful memories. What a positive focus.

A 'Fan' of Mine

I remember that morning all too clearly. The alarm went off, I got out of bed, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. My mind and now my body could tolerate no more. The incessant workplace bullying, the drinking to numb it out, the consequential destruction of my marriage, had finally overwhelmed me. I succumbed to my own inevitable demise, the onslaught of so many negative factors reduced me to a quivering wreck.

I had tried so hard to ignore my own 'warning signs'. I was stronger than the physical, financial and the psychological workplace torment. Well, I thought I was. I mean, I needed the money? So for over eight years, I endured the relentless, outrageous impositions on my wellbeing. I would block out the sinister threats. Yet, somehow I knew, my increasing paranoia had a tangible, evil source.

So on that cold, dark morning, I knew that I was plunging into a new 'ocean'. I was becoming immersed in an 'ocean of madness'. Mental illness was beckoning me on into a place I thought I would never visit. Mental illness was an alien concept. Mental illness only happened to other people. Oh how wrong I was, oh how scared I was.

Somehow, I managed to crawl back into my bed, just strong enought to pull the duvet over my head. In that darkness I began to shiver, I trembled with panic. This man was withdrawing from life. This man was turning into a frightened little boy. This man was on the verge of becoming baby-like. I needed comfort, love and reassurance. Trapped in my bed, I somehow knew, this was not forthcoming.

I peeked out from under the duvet. On my bedside table was a heater fan. In my tormented, confused, panicky state, I decided the fan would be my source of comfort. I switched it on and listened to its 'whirring' sounds. I began to familiarise myself with the fluctuations of noise it produced. My fan created 'music', a 'symphony' for the tortured soul. Hour upon hour, day upon day, I lay in bed listening to the soothing sounds. During the ensuing month, this would be my focal point. That heater fan represented my own bizarre contact with some form of reality.

Over a month later, I managed to muster up enough strength to crawl out of bed to see a doctor. So now on medication for the first time in my life, I went back to the 'hell hole' that was attempting to destroy me. The bullying continued unabated. If anything the threats and the ridicule had intesified. Living in a small town, word gets around, the 'nutter' had returned. So now I was stigmatised, labelled by small people with small minds.

I could endure no more. I went back on 'the sick'. Three months later I was summons into a meeting with management. I was questioned by people who were fully aware of what had happened to me. For it beggars belief, that management were aware of the bullying and the corruption. They didn't want to get involved, my 'face didn't fit', so I was made redundant. I left that meeting almost a shattered man. The date was 24 May 1996, it was ex-wife's birthday.

I know my situation and the ramifications that occurred are far from unique. Workplace bullying has had an adverse mental affect on many people. It causes emotional 'ripples' that extend beyond the individual. Employers must recognise and address workplace harassment. They should look at the costs incurred because of their workers becoming ill. I believe the media have a moral obligation to highlight the sensitive issue of workplace bullying and the mental anguish that can result. Enough is enough.

Yes I survived. Deep within me was an inner-resolve. Yet the scars of those painful times run deep. It has been over eleven years since I have been in paid work. So from another angle, I may be perceived as a financial drain on the economy. I have been too scared to apply for paid work. Negative speculation invades my mind, what if the past repeats itself? So instead I have done lots of volunteer work involving people who may have been subjected to a negative environment. At least this empowers me and I hope that what I do has been of some help.

These days I use bravado. My bravado can be interpreted as relief, relief that, despite it all, I have survived. I am strong, I am positive, my right to a happy and peaceful life will never be violated again.

A 'fan' of mine used to be my best friend. I look back to that time and understand that a fan is fine but a real friend is a precious commodity.

Face the 'Fax'.

Hello there. The other day I was going to make a call but I couldn't even look at

the telephone...so I'll just have to 'face the fax'.

Oh no, here we go again, I'm doing another blog because I'm bored and I'm lonely. Yes indeed, my fingers being to 'dance' on the keyboard. I merrily type away, wondering what sort of sentences will be formulated. What the heck is going to transpire in this blog? I continue on, perhaps an inspiration will come to me? Perhaps not.

Now speaking of telephones, I bravely grabbed the receiver the other day and with trembling anticipation, I dialed 1471. I'll let you in on a little secret, please don't tell anyone. The 1471 computer-generated voice is my 'friend'. When I had nobody to talk to, I could rely on her to speak to me with her soothing tones. "You have no new calls..please hang up" she would say. So imagine my surprise, when the last time I rang her, my '1471 lady' said to me "You have no new calls...now p*** off and quit pestering me!" Hmmm..is she still my friend or what?

Ofcourse part of the above paragraph is somewhat fictitious. Okay, there have been times in my life, the phone would ring and I'd think, "what the hell was that noise?" Those days of complete isolation really hurt. I let my solitude get the better of me. All I envisioned was day upon monotonous day of wandering about the confines of my home, like some caged beast. I immersed myself in wave after relentless wave of negativity. I forgot about life and its ironies, I forgot how to laugh.

"Ring, ring!" "What the heck was that?" Whoops sorry. Now then, speaking of 'rings', imagine the guy who does the announcing at boxing matches was a friend of yours. He introduces you to a stranger. "In the blue corner, wearing ripped up jeans and a baggy old sweater...from Vancouver, Canada...the man from the 'land of the beaver'...hhhheeerrrr'sss.......... Kllaaahhaaanieee!!" Now how embarrasssing would that be?

Continuing in the theme of bells, hmmm...considering I didn't have anything in particular to blog about, I have come dangerously close to almost having an actual topic. Does the name 'Quasimodo' 'ring a bell'? Now then, one of the great mysteries in my life is the following. It seems that any time I go outside to do work in my massive garden, the phone rings. So I make a mad dash from the end of my garden, rush into my living room, only to have the phone stop ringing, as soon as I get to it. I wonder why this is? Does the person at the other end know I am about to grab the telephone? Do they reckon I need the exercise? Oh well, never mind eh!

So I'm gonna' end this blog with some 'I wonder why?' thoughts. I wonder why when I drain pasta out of a pot, one piece always sticks to the bottom. I wonder why when I vacuum, one bit of fluff always refuses to be sucked up. I wonder why when I brush the dog, very little hair is on the brush. Indeed, I wonder why, using my hands works better, as great big clumps of hair magically appear. I wonder why the dog always thinks the post is for her. What a silly Jack Russell. What do you think it is? Do you think someone, or some dog, has sent you a DVD of 'Lassie come Home'?

"Ring, ring!" That's strange, the phone is ringing and I'm not typing this from my garden. Well to heck with it, maybe it's the '1471 lady' calling to apologise. Maybe it's a 'junk call' trying to sell me double-glazing I don't need. No, ignore it Klahanie, I don't even want to look at the telephone..so I'll just have to 'face the fax.'.....

Making a Positive Choice

Greetings. Well here I go again. This is another attempt at sailing into the great social unknown. I have come close before, nearly entering a more mainstream social environment. Previous sojourns encountered stumbling blocks. Partly created by me, partly enhanced by a negative environment. I became so disillusioned with society, that I retreated to a self-imposed, hermit-like world. This time, I am determined to take that path that leads me through unchartered territory. I visualise a positive adventure, not another, 'why did I bother?' scenario.

My mental health issues distorted my ability to 'go with the flow'. I was always expecting a negative inevitable. Each time I ventured into social situations , I was overwhelmed with a sensation of being dismissed and undermined. My opinion, indeed, my right to even exist, felt like an ourtrage to humanity. How dare I talk to people?

Yet through all this mental inner-turmoil, I have had this flickering hope of a positive outcome. Now I see that my negative situations were directing me towards a positive choice. For my negativity revealed a positivity. It was there all along. I discovered a wonderful, powerful resilience growing within me. I would take advantage of this untapped resource.

In a way, I am convinced my mental health concerns are some sort of bizarre blessing. Ofcourse, I'm not saying we should have to endure such anguish. Yet the turbulent times have allowed me to discover some very positive traits. I do remain undaunted, I shall continue to challenge my lingering self-doubts. I have a choice. I choose to keep moving forward. No longer will I think: "hmmm..when one door closes...another one slams in your face."

So my social adventure goes through another barrier. This time I will not fade back into obscurity, for such loneliness is not a very nice place. I will be realistic, at times, social situations will not be ideal. There will be occasions my outrageous antics will be frowned upon.

Ironically this zany form of bravado draws attention to me. Which is pretty strange for a guy who is scared of social networking. I think I am trying to convince myself that I belong, that I am a part of something..anything. I hope people understand that this bravado is very sincere. All I'm trying to do is make folks happy. I love to see their smiling faces. Now it is about time I gave myself permission to have a happier, more fulfilling life. It is time for a sense of purpose.

So Klahanie is making a positive choice. "Hello..pleased to meet you..the great social unknown." Before me lies the pathway that takes me through unchartered territory. I stroll along it, comforted with the knowledge, that this time, I will not turn back.

I thank you for your time. Warm regards Klahanie.

Blogger's Block?

So what do we want to write about? I have been told about 'Blogstipation'. You just don't know what to blog about. So I continue typing... hoping that I will come up with some semblance of a blog.
Already I have established that I can randomly type out words...hoping that something will come of this. I think that I'm very close to actually having a topic. Not bad eh? For I'm now doing a blog about not being able to do a blog. This, ofcourse, now becomes a blog with an outside chance of almost making some sense.
Perhaps we could try using various writing styles. We could go into metaphor 'overdrive'. Such as this nauseating example: "My garden is an 'oasis' in my 'desert of despair'." Maybe we could attempt some humour? I have been asked: "Am I a 'dog' or 'cat' person?" I assume they mean what my preference is, rather than me being some strange mutation. My reply: " I'm definitely a 'dog' person. If your house catches on fire, your dog will warn you. Whilst the cat 'f***s off out the catflap!" (my apologies to you cat lovers).
So to heck with 'Blogger's Block'. I just had to get in front of my computer and type. Type anything... just keep typing until my latest bout of anxiety subsides. Use this as a positive distraction from those nagging self-doubts that still try to sabotage my right to be happy.
So you see, I think I can blog, even when I have nothing in particular to blog about. I like to mess about with various styles of writing. I enjoy doing surreal and disjointed postings. Equally, I take satisfaction in thinking, that maybe, just maybe, some of my blogs give folks a little bit of comfort.
I take great solace in being a part of this Mind Bloggling community. I almost have a sense of purpose. I am most grateful to all of you for showing me an abundance of kindness. Without this support, I'm not sure I would have dared 'impose' myself on society. For such was my confidence, or lack of, that I felt I was not worthy of any form of social networking. When you have been undermined and dismissed for so long, you can begin to think that such treatment is justified. Thanks to the good people who have recently come into my life, I realise those who had the audacity to mistreat me, were the ones with the problem.
If I hadn't made that first bold step out my front door; I firmly believe that I would still be a virtual recluse, staring at the four walls and crying myself to sleep. Sadly, there was a time in my life, that sleep was the only freedom that I knew.
I had no intention of doing a blog today. Yet somehow, even with no idea what would transpire, I think I have done a blog. So I thank you for your time and know you have the right to a positive life.

Occasional Furniture

Well hit me with a wet noodle. Wasn't really sure what to blog about. So then I got to thinking, why not just start typing about the first topic that came to mind? So perhaps the above photographs and the title may be some sort of a clue. Then again, I have been known to just type random observations that had absolutely nothing to do with anything in particular. So this maybe another disjointed blog. So let's see how this 'experiment' progresses.
I've been wanting to upgrade my furniture. I have repainted most of my home. All I need now is some furniture to 'compliment' the decorating. Ah, I can visualise it now. New table enters my home, looks at my walls and says: "nice paint job!" (sorry that was a tad surreal).
I have stated that most of my home is repainted. There is one notable exception. Yes indeed, the 'inner sanctum', also known as my son's room, is a definite 'no go area'. Maybe, oneday, I shall actually get an invite into his room. Then again, hmmm...maybe not.
So what sort of furniture am I contemplating? You may well ask. I know, perhaps I should get some occasional furniture. Occasional furniture? So I am thinking: "if it is occasional furniture, what the heck is it the rest of the time?"
I would also like to purchase a 'Grandfather Clock', sadly I have searched and searched and searched some more, all to no avail. I cannot find one that even remotely looks like my parent's Dads or any Grandfather for that matter.
Sometimes things get lost in translation. In Canada, I had a shag carpet. Little did I realise that 'shag' had a somewhat different connotation , in this 'green and pleasant land'. So, forgetting about the translation differences, I phoned up a carpet shop. "Can I get a shag there please?" I asked the lady on the other end of the phone. She replied, before she swiftly hung up: "We certainly do not provide that kind of service!" Click...Doh!
So now that I have 'furnished' you with another blog, I will now end it with a bunch of disjointed, silly thoughts. Evidently when somebody here calls me the 'dogs bollocks', that is actually a compliment. I have been told that a weasel goes 'pop'. That you can be 'bright eyed and bushy tailed'. That well meaning folks tell me 'here's mud in your eye'....huh?..no thanks. Some people 'don't give a monkeys' what!? I have been told to 'keep my pecker up' (I don't even wanna' know what that means). I'm supposedly 'daft as a brush'..(how do you know how daft a brush is?). Well, well, well, I can also be 'in bits', 'beside myself' and 'all over the place'.
Right...that's it then. Just answer me this please. Who the hell is 'Gordon Bennett'? My other watch is a digital..and that's not a 'WIND-UP'.......

A Round Tuit

Greetings good people-

After my last blog, which ofcourse should not have been read for the following reasons. Nah...Stop it!
Life is about priorities. So many times I put my own issues, that needed to be addressed, firmly into the background of 'to do' lists. Heck, I wanted to be active, I wanted to be a part of something, something special. So I have started to achieve this. It has been most empowering to get involved with causes I feel passionate about. "Must not let anyone down" I thought. My physical symptoms would magically disappear tomorrow. Right?
Your car's engine is making strange noises, you suspect something is wrong. So to pretend their is no problem, you turn up the volume on the stereo. No more puzzling engine noises, situation solved? Or is the problem only going to get worse? Well now, I have finally realised that I must turn down my 'inner-stereo' and do something about my own 'engine problems'. It is time to get 'a round tuit'.
I have been to my G.P. on numerous occasions over the last couple of years. I was in physical pain every time I went to see him. Yet I neglected to mention my physical concerns. No, I preferred talking about my medication. Should I stay on it? Should I change it? Look Doc, see how well I am doing challenging my negative environment.
Well, enough is enough. The pain has not subsided, it is constant and I am kinda' scared. I have tried to concentrate on my activities but I can't think straight. These are vital times for 'Mind Bloggling' and I want to do my bit to help. Yet during the busy times lately, I have not been able to give this fine Organisation my total commitment. My concentration as a Coordinator at Changes meetings has also suffered and I hope that the good people who know me will understand.
The 'ghosts' of a self-inflicted past are starting to haunt me. I have not consumed alcohol for over nine years. However, some of the symptoms I experienced in hospital have resurfaced. Compounded with the vulnerable state of my physical being, other ailments have also started. I will stay calm, for I am optimistic. Now I'm getting 'a round tuit', I'm confident that there will be a positive way forward.
So if I seemed somewhat aloof, somewhat distant recently, I am very sorry. Please understand that I do care very much about others. I want to continue to be involved with these worthy causes. I just need to know what is happening to me and what can be done about it. So now I am going to the doctors, I will reveal the truth. At last, no more excuses, I am getting ' a round tuit'.
I hope, no matter what it is in your life, that you also, will get 'a round tuit'.
Warm wishes Klahanie.