tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38201856086507556382024-03-04T12:18:51.675-08:00I Have Depression. Now What?Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-4609879312463444272020-02-16T17:50:00.000-08:002020-02-17T03:36:12.148-08:00Wait. What? God?God, Depression, Prayer, Anxiety, The Good Book and Suicide. Yep, all sorts of words that can cause one to be quite uncomfortable or feel quite awkward. If you're feeling like you don't want to read on, I respect that, but you know I have to double dog dare you!<br />
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I talk to God. Now this has looked and sounded differently over the years. You see, my mom is a prayer say'n person and she taught all of her kids how to pray. And being that I was one of those kids I learned how to pray. My dad would have taught us how to pray as well, but he went to be with God when I was young. As a kid, the only time I really talked to God was when I was scared, needed help really bad or even now and then I would tell him sorry for some of the crazy mistakes I made and truthfully that did not change much until I was a teenager. It's kind of funny how when life got a bit more heavy for me I found myself talking to God a lot more.<br />
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Going to church I was taught that I could talk to God anytime. My mom taught me that it was a good thing to kneel down to pray or if you couldn't kneel to at least bow your head and fold your arms. Putting these two together kind of felt a bit restricting at first. I found that there were more times than not that I was talking to God when I couldn't kneel or fold my arms and bow my head. Let's say for example during the times I was chased by dogs while doing my paper route. I can't think of any happy outcomes if I would have knelt then. It's kind of interesting though how when you talk to someone more and more how you become comfortable with it, heck even like it.<br />
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One of my favorite things I learned when I was starting to talk to God, was when life was just awful for whatever reason, I always felt good after talking with Him. Heck, I would even open the good book and read because that is what I learned at church. I sure didn't understand most of what I was reading at first, but I tried. Over the years and even to adulthood the equation was quite simple when the dark clouds of life hung low. I would pray and open up the good book. When I felt I wasn't quite right with God because of how I was living my life and that awful feeling that came with it, I could always talk to God and feel good afterwards.<br />
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You see, lately I have had something on my heart that has been worrying me. I have been fighting mental illness now for eight plus years and am only starting to understand a very crucial point. Before I go there though I need to visit some dark times. Here we go.<br />
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When I began having all sorts of dark feelings and suicidal thoughts, I had not a clue what was going on. This was before talking with the guy that had the comfortable couch and before visiting the guy that could give me meds. I remembering when I first began to feel those dark feelings I began to really search why I was feeling them. The closest thing that I could compare it to was the bad feeling I had felt in the past when I wasn't right with God ... yep the "g" word; guilt. I couldn't remember anything that I had done wrong, but I must have done something because I was feeling so badly. So, I put my trusty equation to use and talked to God about it and even opened the good book ready to fill the flood of relief. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I remember one time even kneeling down, which would have made my mom proud, talking with God and telling him how much I hated feeling like this and asked why he wouldn't help me like he had in the past. Nothing. I thought maybe he was waiting for me to read more of the good book to show him just how serious I was, so I did. Nothing. This went on for months and sadly years. One can get quite tired and worn out after trying to talk to God all those times and feeling nothing. It wasn't like I didn't believe in him any more. I had too many experiences with talking with him in the past that I knew he was there, but I just couldn't figure out why he stopped talking back. After a while I began to feel that I just wasn't important enough anymore or even good enough.<br />
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I did end up visiting with a Psychologist and still do and yes he does have a comfortable couch. I ended up talking to a Psychiatrist and began taking meds and still do. Still no God. I wanted to stick it to the man of stigma so I went public with my mental illness opening up the vulnerability doors wide open. I received advice from someone that I just needed to pray more and read the good book more. I wanted to talk to God more, but I was beaten down from not feeling anything anymore. That kind of advice actually made things far worse than better. How could that be though? My whole life that equation worked and it was still taught over and over. I was simply shrinking into nothing because the more that time passed that I didn't feel anything from God, it was telling me how much I really wasn't worth anything anymore. And if I'm not worth anything anymore, what good am I to my family? And if I'm not worth anything to my family making things worse, why am I still alive? I fought that reasoning for years.<br />
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When a person is literally hanging on to survival by the hour at times, you can only imagine the damage that comes when you hear people say you just need to get over it. OR ... mental illness is just something made up in your head. OR ... only the weak are mentally ill. OR ... if you were just more righteous you wouldn't have to deal with just being blue. OR ... you just have forgotten who you are. OR ... you just need to keep busy. The one that I fought and still fight the most comes down to the principle of self-reliance. This is something that is taught in the church I go to, which I totally agree with ... when you are healthy enough to do so. Yes, my employ came to an end as I began to work through this. But you can only imagine the pain I felt hearing over and over how important it is to provide for your family, when you are trying to figure out how to make it through the day alive. Why go to church and be reminded of how badly I am doing for my family? Like I said, dark times.<br />
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Now to what has been on my heart. I fear that too many people are going through what I have gone through and aren't getting any help being left in a dark place. I fear that too many people aren't getting or try to learn of how to help those good people left in a dark place. I fear that people feel that God has given up on them. I fear that people haven't felt love for far too long. I fear that people are scared to take that step of getting help because of the stigma out there. I fear for those people that think that the world is better off without them. I am just starting to see and understand that even though I did not feel close to God in all this, that did not mean he was not involved in my life. I have no idea why mental illness feels like it closes the windows to heaven, but I can tell you the work from heaven never stops for you.<br />
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<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-42998151187027834512019-04-04T10:13:00.003-07:002019-04-04T10:18:15.549-07:00Waiting To Enjoy The Moment!If vampires were real, I think that I would be safe. You see, I have blood that has a tendency to clot every now and then. So I'm thinking it's not the run of the mill type of blood vampires would go for. Or perhaps, it's even more enticing. Oh crap, now I just convinced myself I'm in more danger from vampires. Nice job!<br />
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But it is true, my blood likes to clot and yep I've had a couple of them and I've got to say that they really aren't my favorite things to experience. There is definitely the discomfort, but it is the med treatment that I wasn't liking so much when I had one in my leg. I was introduced to lovanox shots. They should really be called, "I'm going to bring you pain" shots. I'm in the category of being able to handle shots every now and then, but these little beauties needed daily attention ... and the attention had to come from me. I had to give myself shots in the belly every day for fourteen days. There was one thing that I had going for me in all this. One of the instructions was to pinch an inch on my belly and then proceed with the shot. Hey, I'm a pro at being able to pinch and inch. You want two inches? No problem! After a while your belly not only feels like, but looks like a pin cushion. I would usually do this brave event in the afternoon, which usually meant early mornings were okay, but not so much for the late mornings. That meant I was getting close to the pain time. The nerves would start saying hello and who knew what the butterflies were doing in my stomach ... not flying in a circle or the same direction, that's for sure. I'd go in my room, prepare a shot, make that face like "I am so not liking this, but hang on for the ride" and then go for it. Pain. Pain. Pain ... relief. Done for the day! I can't tell you how much extreme joy I felt after doing the fourteenth shot. Not missing that situation at all!<br />
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My mom did an awesome job with teaching me about enjoying the moment. Looking forward to exciting events or things is always fun, but can be so fleeting. Poof. Gone just like that. I liked that philosophy and tried to live it a lot, even in not so much fun times. However, what about when times are just awful ... you pick the scenario. I could not wait until it was over so I could get back about enjoying the moment.<br />
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What happens when the awful scenario lingers for years? What happens when it's the darkness of depression or the pain of anxiety? No joy. No happiness. Being taken back when someone comments how long it has been since they have seen you smile. Not wanting to really be in that moment over and over and over. Who wants to concentrate on a moment when you're not sure if you are going to make it through the day or trying to decide if you can remember who you even were before this destruction began? Not me! I wanted to disappear from it all! I wanted to distract myself with anything as long as it would take away the pain, the suffering ... the not wanting to be.<br />
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The darkness has a way of robbing you from those "enjoy the moment" moments and that sucks! I wish I could say that I was able to figure out the magic answer when I was in my darkest of times of how to enjoy the moment, but I didn't. Oh did I try, but I didn't. I can tell you this though. It is not about having enough "willpower" to make it happen instantly It's about being brave, about being fighting mad, about being determined that you won't lose. It's about crying your eyes out, being knocked down, but pulling yourself up for another day. It's about not giving in to the demons of depression. It's about holding on to a love that you can't feel, but are being told that is there. It's about holding on to that hope, that someday you'll be able to have the choice to stop and enjoy the moment. I can only you tell you from my experience that it will come! How? I have fought daily! I have cursed at the demons! I have worked and worked and worked with my psychologist and still take meds. I held on to a faith in God that I was angry at for not giving me peace in all this and wondered where He was in all this. I fought and still fight. Making it through the day is a victory. Making it through a tough night is a victory! Making it through an extremely bad situation is a victory! Making it through heaviness of an unwarranted guilt and taking a deep breath is a victory! Those victories are your moments!<br />
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<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-26801686696328564812018-05-18T16:29:00.000-07:002019-11-20T09:39:41.209-08:00You Can't Play Football TodayI have three amazing older siblings with the oldest being a lovely lady. As you can imagine, growing up being the youngest was, shall we say full of a variety of emotions and experiences. All in all great though. And yes, my sister did dress me up in dresses and put make up on me and even introduced me to a new level of pain from the use of eyelash curlers. I'm pretty confident that the CIA uses that tool for torture techniques. In her eyes, I was supposed to be a little red headed sister for her. Now before all sorts of conclusions are jumped to, I will simply digress. Love you sis!<br />
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When it came to my older brothers we played a variety of sports from basketball, softball, football to kick the can. Okay, so some may not say that kick the can is a sport; however, I think it has some hope for being an Olympic sport someday. Fingers crossed. If I had to pick my favorite sport with the overall best memories, it'd be football. The chill in the air with the leaves starting to change colors. The smell of grapes coming from our back yard. That was the sign that football was here. It was kind of a magical thing when my brothers and I would go out to the front yard to play football and other guys from the neighborhood would just appear. It was like we all new it was time. We would play touch football, which really meant we would start with touch and then gradually turn into tackle. Being that we played mostly with my older brothers friends, I learned how to either get away fast or feel the pain. Let alone be the last one to have the chance of tackling someone before they scored. My strategy was to always grab one leg and hope my team would get there fast.<br />
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Now with football coming in the season of fall, there was always the chance of catching a cold, which seemed to always happen. One had to be strategic about it though. If we had to cough, we did all we could to muffle it so our mom would not hear it because if she heard it that could only lead to a bad ending. I recall I made the mistake one time of coughing in earshot of my mom. My instructions were to lay low and here it came, "No Football Today." That was almost like no Egg Nog with Christmas. Oh the sting! Just the thought of missing a potential game was hard, but if there actually turned out to be a game, it was simply devastating! I remember falling into that scenario once. All I could do was stand by the front door and watch the joy and pleasure my brothers and friends were having. Every now and then I would ask my mom if I could go out and play and I got the same answer, "Not until you feel better." I could tell her that I felt great all the live long day, but it was that pesty cough that gave it away every time. All I could do was stand and watch the fun.<br />
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My family and my wife's family love to get together and do the family thing ... from games, watching movies, sports, just chewing the fat, to even singing songs. Yep, I usually do shy away from the singing songs bit and I never hear any complaints about that. After I had been diagnosed with some mental heath issues, my family and I were out of town attending a family function during one Christmas. There was good food, good Egg Nog, good music and oh the decorations. Heck, there was even snow. In the midst of all of this I knew something wasn't right in my head. I felt the heaviness on my chest and felt like someone was trying to put on an extra small turtle neck on me and was being successful. I did not know what was happening, but I sure did not like it. I felt like I was losing my control of how to handle these emotions and losing control fast. I remember someone coming up with the idea of the kids putting on the Nativity and somehow that was the last blow of feeling so stifled. I remember standing up and walking to the room by the front door trying to gain any control and simply trying to catch my breath and mentally shake away what I was experiencing. The noise of it all got so bad I left the house and told myself I was just going for a walk. Needless to say with it being dark out and a good amount of snow on the ground one would think I would have grabbed my coat, nope!<br />
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I remember being startled with how far I had walked and also realizing I was starting to lose my way ... not only with directions, but mentally. I'm not sure why, but I wanted to throw my wallet and my phone away from me and just not be. I was not who I was. I missed him. I walked with my hands in my pockets in the dark on some street not knowing where I was trying to figure out literally what the living daylights was going on. There came a time where I thought it would be all over and my body would be found some days later. Thankfully, I fought off throwing my wallet and phone and my dear wife called me and asked to describe what I saw where I was and she was able to find me.<br />
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I've learned that sadly there are events and even family functions that are too hard for me to attend. Why? I guess that's why I meet with a Psychologist and Psychiatrist to figure out and work on. Meds and therapy have helped some, yet I still struggle. Having that experience that Christmas still haunts me when I think about getting together with a bunch of friends, family or even large events. Yep, I've made long strides and know how to cope better, but I'm still not ready for certain things. I hate how it impacts people and their lives. The thing that really pulls out the ultimate suck factor, is that these are things I want to attend and attend badly. I don't like sitting on the sideline watching all the fun and not being able play. Perhaps someday.<br />
<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-91971767297507361442017-11-18T19:07:00.000-08:002019-11-20T09:36:12.631-08:00SuicideI, Ken Morgan, fight suicidal thoughts all the time! Wait for it ... and I just made a lot of folks very uncomfortable. Before you go, thanks for stopping by ... and they are gone. I don't blame them, it can make many so uncomfortable. Why? I think a lot of it is not really understanding it. I know, what is there to understand, right? The thought comes to kill yourself. How hard can that be to understand?<br />
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I read a quote the other day that may shed some light on it. Forgive me for the terrible paraphrase, but it goes something like this, "Depression is when your body is fighting to live and your mind is trying to kill you." You see, the bottom line for me, is that I really don't want to die. I want to live! I want to live fighting to feel hope and joy. I have felt them before, so I know that I can feel them again. Not sure how long it will be, but it's worth the fight!<br />
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I can't tell you why my brain strives to convince me to just end it all. I can tell you that for me it is the farthest thing from being a selfish act. It's not when life is just too hard that I just want to give up. It's really not that at all. For me, the thoughts come that all would be better off without me. Let me open the doors wide open to my soul and share a thought. Before I do, I want to state just how difficult this will be because being open and vulnerable is like me bending over yelling, "Thank you sir! May I have another!" Waiting for the hard swat of a wooden paddle. If it helps someone suffering, it will be worth it.<br />
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Life for me is a struggling roller coaster. I've learned what triggers cause the spiral effect of depression, anxiety and even ocd. Seems like there are always new triggers I'm learning though. When a bad moment or day hits, I'm quiet. I'm not mad at anyone or anything, I'm literally fighting for my life at times using coping techniques I've learned from my psychologist. Or just fighting to find a place I can hold on to waiting for the dark storm to pass. How long do these dark storms last? Some an hour or two, some a day and some several days.<br />
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When I'm quiet "working through things" as I call it at times, which really means I'm not doing so hot, I tend to not handle "life" situations well. I tend to get upset or not deal with the situation at all. When I get upset, things aren't the best in the household. Dad, husband, family member ... you name the title, is getting mad again. When I get mad or don't handle things well I see how it effects others. How it effects family. How it effects relationships. How it effects folks I deal with just in passing. Needless to say, it's not the most happy times in my eyes. How I'm not measuring up to who I want and need to be to others and really causing them more pain than anything. See how the brain can kick my tail. These are the times that the suicidal thoughts are constant body blows, beating the life out of me. These are the darkest of times.<br />
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So, why don't I just reach out for help or tell people how I'm really doing? I feel like painting a scenario here. I see a "friend" and they say, "hey you good looking dude, how ya been?" I have a choice here to either say, "Pretty horrible! The thoughts of suicide are consuming me and I'm not sure how much more of a beating I can take. I can't feel hope or any sense of purpose. I'm trying, but I just can't." Or I can say, "Great man! Thanks for asking!" Any guesses which one I pick. Confession time. I'm the biggest liar of all! I have actually answered honestly a couple of times though and it freaked them out. They didn't know what to say and were scared that if they said something wrong it would be the thing that would put me "over the edge" and I would take my life. First of all, if I'm still trying to figure this out I don't expect someone to know what to say. A bit of advice though. Don't try to give advice, just put your arms around them and tell you that you love them. Second of all, and this sounds bad, but if anything is going to put me over the edge it's my dark mind not something said wrong by someone. There are only two folks that I talk wide open and honestly and that's my psychologist and psychiatrist. And really there are times that I just don't want to be open with them. It's dark and painful.<br />
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Will the suicidal thoughts ever end? I sure hope so, but who really knows. I'm trying to use anything that I can to quiet them at least. Like I mentioned, I meet with a psychologist and talk about how things are going and how to strive to handle things. I meet with a psychiatrist who has me on meds. In fact, we are changing up the med concoction, which is always a treat. My favorite line by him is "let me know if any interesting side effects kick in." I do all I can to lean on divinity. That my be another post some time. I'm trying though.<br />
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I'm sad when I hear of those that came to the point that they felt life would be better off with out them. That they lost feeling any sense of value, of being important to someone, of having purpose. They felt they brought more pain than good. I completely understand those feelings though.<br />
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The point is I have to tell myself that I'm important even if I don't believe it. I have to tell my self over and over even though I'm not sure how, but I am, even though I feel like I'm my only friend most of the time. I'm important. I'm important.<br />
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Understanding brings clarity of how to help. So if mental illness is so misunderstood that speaks volumes.Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-860696212250638132017-04-14T16:53:00.000-07:002019-11-20T09:34:17.495-08:00When The Bombs FallWhen I was a lad I really looked up to those in my family ... my awesome siblings and my incredible mom. My dad died when I was quite young, but I will call him incredible as well! Being the youngest, I had all sorts of examples to follow ... mostly good of course! Now, this doesn't mean that we didn't fight or have times when we didn't see eye to eye. I sure didn't see eye to eye with my older siblings as they tried to see if I would fit down the laundry chute. I definitely know my sister didn't see eye to eye with me when she came to know how I found out some of her nail polish was flammable! It was awesome! The bottom line though is that my family was my world. That's all I knew when I was young. When times were rough, I still had my family to hang on to .. to be my strength.<br />
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As the teenager years came, I began to surround myself with those that I felt comfortable with. That were friends and would be there for me when times were rough. My family was still there, but with my finite teenage understanding that looked through know it all glasses, my clarity of who really had my best interest in me at times was clear as mud. Thankfully I made it through the young teenage years.<br />
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With years passing getting me closer to adulthood, I had friends that were good solid people. I had my family to give me strength, but there came times that my friends gave me strength as well. Strength and support that I will never forget about. I throw credit their way for partially being who I am today. You can thank them or curse them.<br />
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As I began to embrace that mental illness was something I was going to deal with and fight with, I leaned so much on my wife ... my rock. I know how badly she wanted to help me, yet I knew if I was trying to figure out this whole mental illness thing, she was struggling just as much. That and is a struggle for me because I want to lean on her so much, which I can, but there are some things she just can't help me with and that's okay.<br />
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While fighting the feelings of not being good enough, not having any value, not being important enough, will never amount to anything and so much more, I tend to reach out to those that fight the same horror and lock arms with them. I lock arms with them to have more strength to fight the daily battles. Some of these friends are close and that I know and others are miles away and don't even know me, yet I gain strength from them seeing them fight the fight! Some days the fight goes well while other days I wonder if there is enough strength left. And then there are those days when the bombs fall. When I find myself on my hands and knees looking around dazed to see what the hell happened. I shake my head hoping I can figure things out while I look around in the fog around me looking for those that I had locked arms with. Like a surprise punch to the face I find that some of those that gave me strength are gone. They lost the fight. Too many bombs have been falling and too many people have been losing the fight. My heart bleeds for their close ones and their family. I feel selfish for focusing more of how it has impacted me. How I crawl around looking for someone to lock up arms with again and hope that the bombs will stop long enough for me to find the strength. Too many are losing the fight.Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-81933898049529824232017-01-28T14:54:00.000-08:002019-11-20T09:29:51.205-08:00And the dancing elephant falls, landing on the ...When I was a lad I had a difficult time talking to girls, especially ones that I thought were quite cute. Throw having a crush on them and the chances of me chatting with them was not too good! I may cough out a "hey" or "hi" and if they would respond "what?", I would just explain that I had coughed.<br />
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Now see, when I was around 10 years old I had a HUGE crush on a girl that lived in my neighborhood and went to the same church I did. Oh, and went to the same school too. So needless to say I would see her a lot, which was fine by me! I simply just couldn't talk to her! The crush was pretty strong, so I wasn't going to let something like not being able to talk with her get in the way. I had to be creative! My little 10 year old mind came up with an awesome plan! I had an older sister that loved to get jewelry, so I figured my crush would as well. But where would I get the money to buy jewelry? And then the epiphany hit me! My sister had tons of jewelry, so if I just took something small from her room she would never notice. Sadly, I did this several times. But how would I give it to my crush? I couldn't give it to her in person. That would mean I would have to talk with her and that wasn't going to happen. So I would take a nice decorated box with the jewelry in it and leave it on the porch and run like the wind after I rang the doorbell. This plan was going well until my sister started to notice missing jewelry. I could simply deny knowing anything, but it got very difficult when my crush began wearing the jewelry to church. Needless to say my sister wasn't too happy and all that hard work went for not with my crush.<br />
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Now that I'm "old man Morgan", which will have to be another day to explain that, I love playing "play list" with my oldest. It's quite simple, I get to play a song off of my play list and she gets a chance to name the artist and vice versa. I have to say I'm quite proud that my oldest can recognize the Who, Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Journey, Styx ... I could go on. She usually ends up winning too because yep, a lot of the artists sound the same. I never thought I would say that. I will have to admit though that she has introduced some amazing artists to me. <br />
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I've been on meds for three years or so to help with my mental illness, primarily for depression and anxiety. I'm on some meds for bipolar as well even though I haven't been diagnosed of it. It's supposed to even the peaks and valleys as much as possible. I have to say though that I fought taking meds for quite a while. I was terrified of side effects and I didn't want to become numb to the world. No one pushed me one way or the other. My psychologist was supportive either way as we talked about what the outcomes may be with each decision. I got to the point though of being so frustrated for what I was dealing with. Mental illness had turned my world upside down while spinning carelessly this way and that way. I came to the point that I wanted to do anything that would help me handle it better. I remember the day of holding the meds in my hand thinking, "here goes nothing." I was waiting to wake up with six fingers on one hand or losing my appetite for my favorite food. That never happened, but I will admit that I had some side effects. One was that I would hum or sing and not know it. Not the best when you're in an environment where you're supposed to be quiet. A hoot for those around you though. The other dealt with something a bit more private. Nothing that I'm embarrassed to talk about, but for the sake of this writing venue I'll just say it simply went away after adjusting the meds. If you absolutely need to know, reach out to me and we'll chat. The interesting point is that meds taken for mental illness can actually take three to four weeks to completely take effect and may take a couple of tries of different combinations before finding the ones that work best for you. Bottom line, do I regret taking meds? Nope. It's important to understand though that taking meds isn't the end all answer. Taking them doesn't automatically make you "healed." Like I mentioned, they even the peaks and valleys that allow you to cope and handle the mental illness better.<br />
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"Great info Ken, and kind of boring, but now I have no desire to take meds," one may say that is trying to decide if it's the best thing for them. I actually came across and heard of some recently that were trying to make that choice of meds or not so much with the meds. I can simply tell my story and let them make the choice that is best for them, but to me it's important to be completely honest. I could easily say something about how awesome they are and I had no side effects. Butt that's like saying, "enjoy your ex-lax! It's great with no side effects." And yes, I did intentionally put two t's on the last but I used. Seemed appropriate!<br />
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Lately I have had a new side effect hit me. Does it make me question taking meds? Nope. It's a frustrating side effect, but I've chatted with my psychiatrist and we will be making some adjustments soon. I've learned that is just what happens. So what's the newest side effect? I struggle at times remembering the simplest words. I can be looking at an every day object and I just can't come up with the name. Or I'm in the midst of a sentence and draw a blank. It's cool when it's with my family, but a bit of a struggle when talking with other folks. I even at times draw away from folks lately because I'm nervous I'll make a fool out of myself, kind of like my fear of the ladies when I was younger. You can only imagine how the game of "play list" goes with my oldest too! Oh, and try telling a joke and forgetting the punch line about some dancing elephant that falls and lands ...<br />
<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-59938168464645139012016-10-20T12:32:00.000-07:002019-11-20T09:26:45.004-08:0020 Items or Less!I enjoy grocery shopping. Heck, I will even whistle every now and then and even do it while trying to find an elusive product. I even stick to the list, unless I want something that calls out to me. I'm even okay with waiting in the check-out line if needs be. But you know, every now and then I just want to get a box of twinkies and a Frank Sinatra cd and get in and out. That's why I have a friend, I like to call the "Fast Lane" or "Express Lane" or even "20 Items or Less." Now let's address my pet peeve ... and I'm not talking about my pet, if I owned one! I have my box of twinkies in one hand and good old Frankie in the other while I walk up to the "20 Items or Less" check out with a big old grin. Most cases my friend and I get along, but then there's the time I walk up and someone is there with a cart full of groceries. I pretend to smile and start counting all the items in their cart. I'm cool with some overage. That can be expected. Yet, when double or triple the count of twenty occurs I find myself looking at the clerk, still with my huge fake smile now. Don't worry, I get it. There was probably no one in line and the clerk let the customer with the plethora of groceries come on over to them. If that's the case, it should be called the "20 Items or Less, Maybe or Maybe Not" line! Don't worry, I get it. I can hear the calls now of needing to be patient or taking the opportunity to be patient. Just a thought though, what if I did the "Express Lane" because that's what I needed or simply could do? What if there is man out in the parking lot with a fever and a cowbell isn't working, so the next best thing was twinkies and Frank? Ah, but just take a deep breath and you can handle it. Right?<br />
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I'm not a big fan of having a cold or some type of sickness that kicks me in the backyard and keeps me in bed for a couple of days. I like to be up doing things, accomplishing things ... just getting them done with. Every now and then I will try to get up, but the strength is gone. Even making it to the bathroom can be the mission of all missions, because there is no energy! Then that glorious day comes when the sickness has done its thing and it is gone! It's like hearing angels sing!<br />
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One area in my life that I let define me far too often is simply getting things done. Cleaning around the house, projects, the to do list (that I've created), even finishing orders for the little company my sweet wife and I have going. The list could go on and on. What I see me do, is usually how I define my value. Then the rollercoaster of mental illness kicks in. There are days when I just sit around thinking or bonding with my bed letting the hours slip away watching show after show on TV. Why? Because I'm lazy? Imagine walking around the house looking at every little thing that has to be done and you just can't do it. Thinking about every little thing that needs to be done and you just can't do it! I can tell you that sitting around just thinking or watching TV all day is like trying to take a shower because you've had the stank for four days, and all you get is a drip here and there of cold water. Some may look up at the shower head and say, "hey, work!" I bet that would do the trick.<br />
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For me, there isn't the feeling of weakness or no energy when you're ill. Or when you have that lovely sweaty feeling of pain. My energy level is up, it's just the will that has taken the blow. Will Power! Will Power! Is all I can hear when I search for any will to do anything. It's hard to suck it up and increase the level or power of "will" if it's simply not there. How demeaning and destructive when you want to do something so bad, but your mind tells you nope! Add to that the defining of me is by what I accomplish. Not a fun game to play! It may seem hard to grasp. I know it was for me at first, but now that I live it I can tell you it is real and is awful!<br />
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I'm still alive though and I plan to be! I'm learning and have learned to redefine what I call accomplishments and acknowledge what each day is looking like of what I can do. There are days that I get a lot done and I feel good about every simple one. There are days that I get a few things done and that's okay! Even though the judgement of society may label me as lazy on some days, I give them the finger (the pinky of course) and know sometimes it's twenty items or less and I'm fighting for that to be not only okay, but awesome! <br />
<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-31508584719558694802016-03-20T17:06:00.002-07:002019-11-20T09:23:07.587-08:00Wait for it! Wait for it ... and Christmas is gone!Putting up the Christmas tree with the smell of pine in the air. Having a rare fire in the fire place with stockings hung. Baking and decorating sugar cookies getting clever and competitive. Eating all the cookies my sister made for someone else and feeling the consequence. Listening to Christmas music as much as possible. Going to the mall and doing some shopping. Watching mom putting the final touches of Christmas around the house as she hums with a big grin. The first drink of Egg Nog. The second drink of Egg Nog. The third drink of Egg Nog and so it goes. Christmas Candy including chocolate kisses. Laying under the lit tree with all the other lights off in the house. Flying Lego Space ships around the tree pretending the tree lights were blasters. Listening to the "Christmas Fairy" record in the living room with all the lights off except the tree lights, on Christmas Eve with hopes of getting tired and sleepy ... knowing it won't happen. Laying in the bottom bunk watching the alarm clock, the old kind where the numbers aren't digital but flip when the minute or hour is up. Counting backwards from 500 to 1 hoping to fall asleep, but no chance. Hearing mom walking from her room down stairs and back up stairs doing that over and over wondering why she is tidying up at this hour. Seeing a red light in the sky not moving but swearing it's Rudolph. The anticipation growing and growing! Waking up realizing you had fallen asleep looking at the clock radio and only 13 minutes has past. The night that felt like 20 years. The anticipation almost beginning to hurt. Then miracles of all miracles, 6 am is here. Mom is awakened. Sister takes what feels like 7 hours in the bathroom. Youngest to oldest heads down to the living room. The anticipation is the strongest, but will be over soon. Presents are opened and thanks is given. No more presents are under the tree ... it's over. The anticipation ends and begins to be filled with sadness that Christmas is over ... it's gone. Back to "regular" life. The magic is over.<br />
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When I began this journey of mental illness, I was asked a lot how I felt. I had no answer for that question. I know I felt different in a dark way and really wasn't fond of it. Answering "sad" or "dark"just didn't seem to put it right. When talking about suicidal thoughts I was asked to rank the thoughts from 1 -10, 1 being the weakest and 10 being the strongest. I was always curious what the difference was between 6 and 7 or 9 and 10. How was I supposed to know? Oh, and then the meds. They can take 2 to 3 weeks of taking before any difference. So when it came to 2 to 3 weeks, I began to be asked if I had noticed any difference? And of course, I would be searching for that right answer because it's not like a pain killer, where BOOM you start quickly feeling better. I learned the best way to see if it was making a difference was to ask those around me. I remember trying several different medications to find that right mix to help me and one I took apparently influenced me enough to hum all the time when I really didn't know it was happening. That was kind of fun, but it had to go away. Finally, the "right mix" was found. Then I was beginning to be asked to think about my week and determine if I had more bad days than good days. Most of the time there were far more bad days than good days. More days than I want to admit me and my bed bonded and bonded and bonded wondering if the good days were gone. I can't recall if it was a year or two that I began to have more good days than bad. I liked those weeks, but they were few. As the years went by I continued to measure my weeks by bad days vs good days and it really went back and forth, but the constant was the dread and fear knowing the good would be over soon and would be back to the "regular" darkness. </div>
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I was talking with a good man and friend the other day that has gone through what I am and he shared a thought with me. When fighting mental illness, your brain and the darkest of demons strive to convince you that life is all about the bad and dark days ... that is the norm. The good days are the anomaly. Hearing that reminded me of all the times I have had good days, but "knew" they would be coming to an end quickly or that they were numbered. Not a fun time! Back to "regular" life of suffering. Why even work on coping or fighting demons for just a little feeling of goodness knowing it would go away? Why? For me because it's worth it. If I can fight and have a victory of enjoying a good day that is a memory I can keep and no one can take that away! If I fight again and have another good day ... more in the memory. I'm not a big fan of saying, "just focus on the positive and all will be well." That luxury of life is either greatly weakened or gone with mental illness. Just saying to focus on the positive is really ignoring the illness and believe me, if you ignore it eventually it will get to the point you can't ignore it any more. Build the memory of good days!</div>
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I love Christmas and you bet I put my Christmas tree up before Thanksgiving! I love the Season and everything it offers and gives! I do remember as a kid being sad that Christmas was gone, but my mom was/is awesome! She had an incredible way of making Christmas more than that. As I grew older, Christmas was about every magical thing during the season and not just the day. Being older, when my siblings and I talk about Christmas memories it isn't recounting the sadness when presents were done, it is all about everything else we enjoyed and the crazy stories ... maybe another day I'll share some of those.</div>
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I really don't keep track of good days vs bad days any more. I fight to keep the memories of the good days and when the good days come I personally label them the norm and tell my illness and darkness to suck lemons ... you bet, lets stick with that, "suck lemons." When the darkness does come and fight me hard and kick my butt at times, I won't let that be the norm. I simply won't let it be the norm. One last time. I simply won't let it be the norm! The darkness will go away and the norm of a good day will come back. Another good day to build my memory of good days! </div>
Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-1532732827640730272016-02-26T17:08:00.000-08:002019-11-20T09:03:22.618-08:00The Force Doesn't Work Jerk! Next?!I remember learning about faith in church when I was a young boy. To me and what my awesome little brain took in was quite simple; if you have enough belief in something it will happen. I thought this was the coolest thing in the world! It was like the force from Star Wars. Yep, I am honored to have been old enough to see those incredible movies when they first came out. Well, I remember sitting in the congregation as a meeting was getting ready to begin. I figured it was time for me to try this faith thing. Thinking about it I really can't tell you why I didn't try my new "faith" magic power at home. Anyway, the time was here. A song had been sung and a nice lady was getting ready to say the opening prayer. I bowed my head and closed my eyes preparing for this first great experience of faith. I closed my eyes tighter and began to repeat something over and over, "she will fall down the stairs. She will fall down the stairs." Yep, my first act of this great power was to make a lady fall down some stairs. I'm thankful the man upstairs is very forgiving. Now, I'm not sure if it was the anticipation or this kind lady was saying a lot, but the prayer went on FOREVER! Finally, she closed the prayer and graciously walked over to the stairs preparing to walk down back into the congregation. I watched on kind of nervous, but excited. She finally took the first step and nothing happened except walking graciously down the stairs. I was shocked! I was stunned! I was greatly disappointed! I looked around for another little minute and figured that was that and moved on to something else.<br />
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I have read numerous articles, blogs, thoughts, quotes, etc about mental health. I have experienced an epiphany here and there, have been frustrated, have been angered, have laughed til I about wet myself, and the list goes on. The point about mental health is that it is different in so many ways and so different from individual to individual. There are A LOT of opinions out there, and of course the lovely stigma that goes with it. At times, it's like I don't even want to read or study about it. Usually, I will just shake my head thinking, "wrong!" when I come across something so left field. And of course, it's my opinion on that. I get that. Every now and then I come across a line of thinking that actually makes me cringe when I read it. I actually feel compelled to comment about it every time I read it. Usually I don't, but then .... there is now. So the line of thought goes like this, "If you had enough Faith, you simply wouldn't suffer from Anxiety." Or, "If you had enough faith, your depression would be far less extreme." There are other variations out there, but I think you get the gist.<br />
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First, let me step aside for a moment and spit out some thoughts. IF and only IF, one is defining "Anxiety" in this line of thought as a little fear of something, or, IF and only IF, one is defining "Depression" as a little sadness, then I can give a little head nod here. However, and oh man do I mean however; if one is talking about mental health Anxiety and Depression they are carelessly bringing harm to many!! Why? Let me shed a little light here. Those that fight anxiety and depression and really any mental health problems think they really aren't worth that much. You may think I'm exaggerating, but the mind simply tells you over and over that you aren't worth much at all ... even a burden. It doesn't take much at all to explode any self worth that one has mustered up and fought for. Also, those that fight mental health problems have spiritual side effects. What do I mean? Imagine not being able to find a heavenly peace at all doing all the things you have done in the past to find it. "Man, God must be mad or must think I'm not worth anything at all as well" is the darkness of depressions biggest tool. So, if I'm told the reason I have these mental health problems is because my lack of faith ... boom! The impact is devastating to say the least!<br />
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Some other thoughts here. My take on this life is that we have hurdles, walls, skyscrapers to over come or even deal with the rest of our lives and having faith helps. Yep, that learn and grow thing. If it was all about just having enough faith though to make them simply go away there really wouldn't be a lot of growing going on. To me, faith is actually an act of love that we do. See, I simply can't close my eyes believing for something to happen, hopefully better than falling ladies, and do nothing. There has to be an act and it's an act of love because the faith is in the one with the greatest love, which is God. Making it through another day for the mentally ill is a huge act of faith! In fact, making it through a dark lonely moment is a huge act of faith! Saying one suffers from mental illness because of a lack of faith is simply a slap in the face from someone that simply doesn't understand. So, those that know someone with mental illness, remind them they are taking great acts of faith everyday! Remind them that over and over! And those out there that are fighting mental illness, you are awesome! You have an immense of amount of faith! I know it sure doesn't feel like it, but you do! You do! And that alone, makes you have infinite worth!Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-41059061862636963872016-02-17T19:31:00.000-08:002019-11-06T10:01:27.976-08:00Hot Green LavaThere was a period of time when I was a young one that I simply couldn't wait to get up on Sunday mornings. My mom would like to think it was because of my excitement to go to church, but that would come later ... how much later I will leave a mystery. Now mother nature played a crucial role if Sunday mornings were awesome or merely an "oh man" moment. If you know me, you may think I would be leaning to a snowy morning. I would roll the dice on that one too; however, not so much on this one. You see, if mother nature was playing nice letting the sun do its thing, the sun would shine through a narrow window by the front door creating a long line of light about a foot or two wide on the living room carpet. Of course the carpet was a shaggy carpet and in this case green. As the sun would shine on the carpet the Hot Green Lava came to life. My older siblings and I would do all we could to stay away from the lava not wanting to get burned. In fact, my older siblings would help me ... yep, I said they would help me. After a while, like 5 minutes, we would begin to get careless walking closer to the lava, even pretending like we were going to step in it; yet, we would not go passed the invisible barrier. Now when the sun came through the big front window and pretty much lit up all the carpet, all bets were off as we danced on the furniture striving to deal with the Hot Green Lava chaos!<br />
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Through these past five years as I have met with my psychologist and psychiatrist spending a lot of time on the lovely leather couch, I have started and am still working on what I call my trigger map. My fine docs are really big about journalizing and when your done with that, journalize a little more. Why? Well, when the severe depression or anxiety kicks in you are able to write down what has been going on to see if something triggered it. Basically, you are finding the landmine of triggers out there and when you find one you know what to avoid. See, when one touches a hot burner, and I'm not talking about a cute person doing drugs in the 80's I'm talking about those things that get hot on the stove, you know that you don't want to touch that ever again. In fact, loved ones teach and help with knowing not to touch it. It will do damage. It's that simple! You don't hear a loved one encouraging one to work through the pain of the burn or will yourself through it. They tell you to stay away! So, for the past five years I have been building this map of triggers. Some that I simply have to stay away from and others that hurt, but am working hard on learning to cope. I have built huge barriers and or boundaries striving to protect me. Sadly, I wish that I could say that I have learned all my triggers, but I have found that is not the case. One example of my triggers is a quick change of plans. Sounds weird I know, but if something is planned and is changed the last minute or something just comes out of the blue I've learned ... well, let me just say that is like putting firecrackers in the fire. Imagine living a lifestyle or vacation like that. BOOM! </div>
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I've also learned that these triggers don't play nice at all! What happens if they start showing up at places that you enjoy like church, movies, sports events etc. Nothing like going to church and having a trigger show up out of no where. You think Fight or Flight, right? 99% of the time is getting the heck out of dodge. Makes for a great conversation with your kids about the importance of going to church while you haven't gone for a bit and when Saturday rolls around the anxiety, depression, guilt ... you name it, starts coming in the game. What do you do? Survive and strive to learn how to cope understanding there is no time table. </div>
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One last thought that I've been thinking about over and over. Lately I've come across the, "he's just acting like that because of his mental illness and he must be in a valley of his peaks and valleys." This comes after someone has carelessly knocked down a barrier or boundary. So, let me see if I have this correct. Someone has carelessly handled one's trust, which is GOLD to those that have mental illness, and their reaction is due to their mental illness. Apparently, their feelings have no meaning or value? "Oh, your acting like that because of your mental illness." So, if I like you is that due to my mental illness? </div>
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Okay, so maybe one more last thought. Finding happiness while fighting mental illness is ... I'm really not sure of the word. I wanted to say tricky, but that just doesn't feel right. See, if you rely on people reaching out to you or letting you know they are thinking of you to make you happy, you never will be. Not because people are bad, but because you are relying on other's actions to make you happy. It will never be enough. This is an illness that no one can step in and do for you. You have the help of the docs and the meds, but they are there to support. You have to take the steps though and it's okay if a step takes a week, month or months. It's your battle, let no else give you advice they know nothing about. I know all this because it is what I have fought and am fighting through. I fight, but the support is not only nice, but important. Too many fall in "not doing anything because they don't know what to do." Does that mean the onus is on them for my success or getting better? Nope. Loneliness is a heavy burden for those with mental illness and feeling love and support can make a huge difference. Simply honor their boundaries. Let them know they are loved. </div>
Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-84185213938688078602016-02-10T17:16:00.001-08:002019-11-06T09:51:33.792-08:00Last Day for ShoesYep, I think I did it again ... came up with another cool band name. "Last Day for Shoes. Opening up for the Foo Fighters this Fall!" Okay, maybe not so much. Foo Fighters would have been an incredible concert though!<br />
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So it's been five years now since mental illness made it's big debut in my life. Early February is always such a treat reminding me of that great fact. Severe Depression, Severe Anxiety, OCD and PTSD is what I've been diagnosed with. PTSD? Isn't that for military folks only? That was my thought too, but I can tell you from cruel experience that its not. I usually keep that diagnosis close to the chest, because I feel like such a putz for having it. Thankfully those episodes are far and few between now. OCD is a merciless monster. Imagine being terrified of hugging your kids when they come home from school because of the countless germs that are on them. Imagine using a towel to turn off the faucet after you wash your hands. I mean you turn it on with your dirty hands, wash your hands and then turn the dirty faucet off with your clean hands ... I'm just saying! Imagine fighting to convince yourself that when you leave the house it's not going to catch on fire because of something you left on or did. Just to name a few here.<br />
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Well, five years has brought countless learning moments. As the time goes on and you're still fighting mental illness you see people start to think that you aren't doing enough and need more treatment. Especially those that are far away in miles or relationship. How does one get to make that call when they really have no idea what is the whole truth? Can I tell you how hearing "more treatment" is a kick to the gut! All that one has fought for, all the hell and dark demons one looks in the eye and keeps fighting simply goes poof. What you're doing isn't good enough. Great. Thanks! As the time goes on people turn more into the "fix it" mode than loving, caring and listening. Don't they know that as the "fix it" gear gets kicked in that the comfort of opening up is gone. It gets to the point that the only person that you can trust is your psychologist and he gets paid to do that. As the time goes on you can see how your loved ones are getting worn down by your inability of "doing your part." That being a blessing turns more into a burden. That knowing that the moments of not knowing how much more of this can be handled is growing ... hearing it verbally solidifies the burden knowledge with complete clarity. As time goes on, the principle of "they don't know what to do so they don't do anything" grows to all you know. You find that those that are "dealing" with you get more comfort and support than the one that is fighting mental illness. As time goes by, you find that when you are on your own for hours, a day or days that when the morning comes and you begin to put on your shoes, you may wonder if that is the last day you put on shoes ... if the beast will win.<br />
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I can promise that there are countless people that feel this way. I am more verbal about it, but so many aren't and suffer without anyone knowing it. Fight for them! Love them! Don't be part of the plethora of people that don't do anything because they don't know what to do. Don't be part of the group that thinks everything will just be okay. Fight for them!! Fight for them!!Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-31544801480753714162016-01-17T09:58:00.000-08:002016-01-17T09:58:08.489-08:00What Happens When 2+2 Doesn't Equal 4 Anymore?Yep, I have to admit that in Elementary School I had a deep love for math. Most of my friends at that time would say "lunch" or "recess" was their favorite subject. I would say that too if there were any cute girls around, but truth be told I loved math. I actually looked forward to "larger" problems. Bring on the four digit or five digit long division! That's right, I said long division. No calculator or anything. There was a guy in my class that had a calculator watch, which was cool in theory, but when he let me take a look at it and try it, those buttons were just too small. So on came Junior High and I was taught that the letters "x" and "y" wanted to participate in math. A little weird, but it all worked out. As I climbed the educational ladder, my love for math started to decline quickly. It seems like the whole alphabet wanted to participate in math and numerous "laws of math" came in the picture too. I think numbers got the raw end of the deal. Letters seemed a bit like a bully. I mean when do you see numbers becoming part of a word. Sure they are part of codes and things, but you don't see a word like 7hello5. It may give truer meaning, one may say. What about pronouncing it? Well of course, the numbers are silent, one may answer. Really? Oh and my absolute favorite reasoning by a teacher to do math, "You will use this on later in life." Most of the painful theorems and laws ... not so much for me! Now I know that many folks use math in their careers and that the "laws of math" have helped create incredible improvements in life. That's cool. For some, it bogs down and clogs the reasoning of math and for me at times even question if 2+2 truly equaled 4 or if some letters could be used to even give more meaning.<br />
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I miss being happy. I truly have learned to appreciate in a profound way the emotion and feeling of happiness. Before mental illness set in I was asked a lot why I was happy. That and being called "mam" in the drive through a lot ... that will have to be another story. When asked why I was so happy, I really didn't have an answer, except that I loved life. It was that simple. Sure, I feel happiness now ... mostly spotty glimpses, some longer than others and I believe there are numerous reasons why. Anxiety and Depression are always unwelcome guests that show up whenever they want and don't politely tell you when they will leave. When they come, it's so much more about being sad. I read the other day one of the best descriptions about the feelings and emotions they bring. It's like the feeling when you trip losing your balance and you don't know if you are going to regain your balance or fall and get seriously injured ... that feeling of despair. Then throw on the feeling that every decision you make carries the heavy weight of it being life or death ... that permanent. When I began fighting Depression and Anxiety I felt like I was doing something wrong putting my life out of sorts. I wasn't happy so I must being doing something wrong. I would evaluate my life and think about the things that make me happy. I would go through every single one and couldn't find happiness. I even made sure my life was in order with my Maker and still no happiness. It had to be me and man I must have really messed up if I'm not feeling happiness with my Maker. That was and is the one truth I always hang my hat on ... and if that starts to shake, well let me just say the word despair doesn't give it any justice of meaning.<br />
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Man, I really painted quite the uplifting picture there, but mental illness isn't about feeling uplifted though. I don't have all the answers, but I can say that I've learned to know that when despair and darkness come from my depression and consumes me, it's not my fault! If you are fighting mental illness, please know that those feelings of darkness are not because of you! Mental illness is just that .,. it's an illness. Give yourself a break of feeling responsible! When you do so, it doesn't mean that "poof" it's gone, but I can tell you for me it's allowed me to focus more on spending the energy on coping and working through it. And sometimes coping is taking everything down to just the basics. For me it's I'm human and have a Maker above. Even this though is just a fight in itself. But that fight is worth it! As in any fight you get kicked around and beaten up, but there are also moments when you are winning! When you're winning enjoy those moments of happiness! If you keep fighting you begin to learn through experience about the demons of depression and how to handle their different strategies. There is no time clock on this though! It's different for everyone. Yet, through the experience of the fighting means more glimpses of happiness. There may be days, weeks or even months between these glimpses, but they come! Oh, the fight is real and I know it's a brutal fight that no one really sees. At first I wanted to have it all figured out and fixed in one day and really still have that desire when I get frustrated, but it's overwhelming. Starting the day with taking it back to the basics and even doing that 10, 20 30+ times a day is helping me learn how to cope ... not get rid of, but cope. For me I'm finding that when I focus more on coping and not focus on fixing "this" or getting rid of "that" , there are more glimpses of happiness. Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-79331071436831348912016-01-04T11:32:00.001-08:002019-09-27T09:30:00.445-07:00But I want to Play Now!There are a lot of incredible sounds out there in this lovely world. I won't list my top ten, but I will say that one of them is hearing the snap of the net from the ball perfectly making it through the hoop. The swish. The nothing but air in a good way. The moment of pure bliss. Playing ball was a huge part of my life growing up and hearing that sound never gets old. It seemed like every spare moment I had I was wanting to shoot hoops, be it on my own or with my friends. If I had to pick though, I would choose shooting hoops with my friends. We played with anyone that we could ... those in our neighborhood, those that were at the park and even played more structured ball among our church. There were many years playing together, which meant we knew each other in and out of what we would do in different situations ... basically reading each others minds. What meant more though was we became close as brothers playing all those years.<br />
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The last year of church ball for us was sneaking up and man were we looking forward to playing, but we knew it would be bitter sweet. We knew we would all be going our separate ways from going to college, church missions or whatever was planned. This was the big finale. A couple of months before the season started I had a "medical procedure" done. I was told that it would be minor, yet it ended up a little larger than minor keeping me in the hospital overnight. It's always fun when folks ask me what I had done. I like to tell them it was just a medical procedure trying to dodge the embarrassment. But truth be told, it was truly a pain in the butt. Yep, if you play the game, "where is your largest scar," I get to say by my tailbone. The real pain though was that it would take longer than two months to completely heal. When I asked the doc about playing basketball, he told me it wouldn't be the best idea. Hey, I was young. I can't even come close explaining all the things that I did back then that weren't the "best ideas." So, in my mind I was shooting hoops. The season began and I was so excited. In practice I took it easy and noticed a couple of things that were a lot harder to do, but I wasn't about to tell anyone. The coaches knew what I had been through so I was told over and over to take it easy. Needless to say I didn't and man came the flood of frustration, anger, embarrassment ... you name the negative emotion and I felt it. I was awful! I was horrible! My go to move got up and left! I was ignoring what was glaring at me and that was I had to sit out. Not only for me, but for the team. I remember being so close to tears throughout the season as all I could do was cheer my brothers on and not participate on the court. I was able to heal, but just like we knew as the season ended we all went our different ways. <br />
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Next month will be the five year mark when my world turned upside down. I was getting close to the ten year mark of working with the same company. I was able to provide for my family in a way that their needs were met and my sweet wife was able to stay home with them. That had always been something so important to me. I believe that is why I held on so strong to not tell anyone about the suicidal thoughts and the extremely painful ocd and anxiety that began to consume my life. I was beginning to feel smothered with no place to turn. If I told my wife about what was going on, it would open up a future that I had no control over and really wasn't fond of the possibilities of the outcomes. If I didn't tell my wife, I knew my life would end up shorter than expected. To this day, I am extremely thankful that my sweet wife saw that I was spiraling down out of control and did something about it.<br />
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Well, I'm here experiencing that unknown future. I can tell you that it's hard and there are days that I truly hate it ... and I don't use the word hate lightly. Am I getting better? I will always answer, "sure" with a smile on my face. Two steps forward, one step backward is what some say. Sometimes it feels like one step forward and nine steps back and I couldn't tell you why. I guess the good times is when there are more good days than bad days. This whole "healing" time challenges me daily. I'm not the bread winner anymore, which means there are times my sweet wife isn't there for my awesome kids as often as before. One can imagine how my whole soul feels when I hear the importance of the moms being at home for the kids. I think I would rather have a colonoscopy daily. So yes, there are times when I jump back into the game wanting to do more than I can and I end up realizing that I can't do the things I used to be able to do and sitting out is important. Notice the word "can't" and not "want." The stigma of mental health is all about folks thinking that we simply don't want to pull up the boot straps and work through the pain feeling the burn. Truth be told, we feel the pain every day. Oh, and let me poke you in both eyes and tell you to just see better. I miss going on family trips. I miss the feeling of "providing" for my family. I miss being healthy. I miss the old me. Sitting on the sidelines taking time to heal at the right speed is hard for me. I have a hard time with either going way too fast wanting to do everything and do it perfectly compared to going way too slow hating the world and giving them the finger.<br />
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The bottom line for me is that if I know that I need to heal, then I know and recognize that part of me is not healthy. I've recognized it and am taking the right steps. Sitting on the sideline though watching loved ones struggle because you're not in the game can be a weight simply unbearable. The slippery slope comes when you feel like a burden if you're out of the game or in the game and have no sense of meaning or worth. If you get to this point or feel like you're getting close to this point, find a loved one and just spend a little time with them ... even making eye contact. They love you! They need you! How do I know this helps? I've done it myself more times than I want to admit. They may look at you a little weird as you make that eye contact, but let me say when I have done it somehow the love that is felt from them helps me heal. Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-85161066458680754002015-08-13T18:41:00.002-07:002019-09-27T09:18:26.279-07:00Better and the But EraserI enjoy organization. One might say that I love being organized. One may say that I love it a bit too much. If you were to look in my closet, not only would you see the shirts separated by short sleeve and long sleeve, but actually organized by color. Yep, I'm that type of guy. You could say that I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Want another example? Okay. When I first got married I was the one that kept track of the finances. I was the guy that knew down to the penny how much was in our bank account. I could tell you just how much we spent on expenses and such. Mind you that this was all before Excel. I used good old ledger sheets. Not bad so far, right? Well, I had all sorts of fun using different colors of pens and such on the ledger sheets I used to keep track of the bank account. It was awesome! The rub is when I would make a mistake. Some may say to just cross out the line and use the next line below. Well, I couldn't do that. I would start a new sheet all over again. Yep, one simple mistake and a new sheet had to be done. Why? Looking at the pristine sheet, all I could see was the mistake, over and over again. All the other lines where everything was correct was simply not good enough. My sweet loving wife would try to convince me that it was okay, yet I would still fix it. After a while she knew that was just what I did. The funny thing of it all is after I filed it away, the next time I saw it was when I was throwing it away years down the road. I will have to admit that when Excel came out I was like a kid in a candy store, like a kid on Christmas Morning, like a 43 year old handsome man named Ken drinking the first Egg Nog of the season! It was awesome!<br />
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In the past years or so as I have fought mental illness, I have come to really dislike the word "better." I mean really dislike it! I'm not talking about the use of getting better or healing, I'm talking about "doing things" better that others bring to my attention or tell me what to do. I have talked with others, sat in meetings, etc where the topic is doing things better. Like, "hey, lets talk about how you can be better at" ... fill in the blank. Pretty petty right? Let me introduce to you to one of what is called an "Error In Thinking" that is found in people with depression. Things are "all or nothing." If your telling me that I need to be better at something, that means I am not only failing in that topic, but also everything else in my life. My brain is already doing a bang up job of convincing me of that, so when others start telling me about being better, I simply feel and think that my life is not good enough. Then, there are those rare, yet devastating times when someone does use the words, "not good enough." I simply don't want to admit how long it takes to fight to get rid of that darkness. The coveted ability of being able to distinguish or break down things in life of doing awesome at or others that need a bit of improvement, is not there for me more than not. So, you may be thinking, "Holy smokes! What word do I use than better?" I personally like the word "stronger." It implies that there already is a strength be it how small it may be. Now if you were talking about my biceps, there would be no need to talk about the need of being stronger ... in my dreams.<br />
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Then there is what I call the but eraser. Note that I am using one "t" here. If you thought I was talking about shrinking the backyard, I'm sorry. Have you ever noticed how the word "but" can be used when talking to someone about something they did? Before I had a plethora of training on giving "feedback properly" I noticed it and really have to say I wasn't a fan and am still not. So here is an example, "I love how your hair looks today, but man it sure is greasy." What do you think the person that received the compliment is thinking about ... yep, greasy hair. Everything before the word "but" is gone. Poof! Bam! Adios! ... and any other words like that. In my loving training of giving feedback, it is drilled in your head that you have to give a positive and a negative. "Man that was an awesome throw, but it missed the receiver by a mile." Get the take? As I have battled depression I have been amazed that more times, far more times than not, all I can see is the negative ... especially about myself. You're simply not good enough! Why try if you're going to fail?! You not being good enough is pulling so many down!<br />
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Now that I've scared you about your use of "words" around those with depression, let me say that this is me sharing what I've learned. I had NO idea myself before going through this. We all say wrong things at times and really don't know better until we learn. PLEASE KNOW that it is far better to talk with one that has depression and learn what words may cause dark feelings than simply not talk at all, leaving them all alone left with their thoughts.<br />
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Now to those that fight the "all or nothing." This is one of those things that I have learned and can see "logically", yet getting there is the fight. If you fail at ABC, that doesn't mean you fail with the whole ALPHABET. If your dishes stay in the sink over night, that doesn't make the rest of the house a disaster or all the other dishes dirty. If you aren't able to buy every new gadget for your kids, that doesn't mean you're a horrible parent. If you aren't able to buy Ken Egg Nog, you are still his friend. Simply, it's totally okay to have the line crossed out and start again.Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-38840931242748871042015-07-25T19:51:00.000-07:002019-09-27T08:59:07.716-07:00You're Only As Good As ...The big day came and I graduated from a fine University. During those ten years for a Bachelors Degree I changed my focus on studies like a bazillion times. Okay, maybe not ten years and maybe not a bazillion times, but sure felt like that. During those enjoyable years of study, I would be asked what I "wanted to be." My answer would usually start off with intensely informing them that I would do anything but sales and then share the flavor of the month or months. I was always intrigued by the responses I would get when I shared what I wanted to do. If it wasn't under the umbrella of what everyone thought was a good move, the negative remarks would come. My favorite was, "well be prepared to be unemployed." Thanks for the confidence, right?<br />
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Another big day came and that was taking my first job out of college. Any guesses? Yep, a sales job! Why? Well, I had this incredibly beautiful wife and two young gorgeous girls that wanted a place of their own to live and wanted to be able to eat and stuff. Well, to sharpen my interviewing skills I would go to job fair events and one of the companies that interviewed me wanted me to sell their stuff. So, I said, "Okay."<br />
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I had the "privilege" of attending a two week training to start things off. The training made me smile now and then because of all the "secrets to sales" they shared, like focus on building trust, finding things in common and striving to find out any concerns. My all time favorite "secret of sales" was what I call the "stare and don't care." How this worked was when the sales person finished their incredible presentation they would pull out the contract, get to the signing page, put down the pen showing where to sign, ask for the business and then stare at the pen. Here's the big secret ... the first person to talk "lost." So if the sales person talked first, they wouldn't get the sale. If the "potential client" talked first, they would usually buy what was being sold. Yep, imagine the awkward lengthy silence; thus, the be strong and don't care. You can only imagine how fun training was when we working on this big secret. Let me just say, oh the sounds of silence. Oh, and by the way, it turns out that most of the business folks I tried this on laughed while saying something like, "your little trick isn't going to work on me."<br />
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Fresh out of training, I quickly learned I was solely defined by how much I sold. That was it! Morning sales meeting was entertaining, confusing, full of anxiety and full of anticipation. How your sales for the month determined how you were treated. If your sales were horrible, you were treated not so good. If your sales were awesome, you were treated like a king. I have to admit that I did have an awesome month or two and you bet I enjoyed being treated like a king. It felt awesome! I was asked more about my opinion in sales meetings. I actually didn't have to worry if sweat was showing through my shirt and I began to feel this strange feeling called relaxation. After my first good month was over I walked into the sales meeting all happy and joyful, because I had been the king. Then it happened. I was introduced to a saying and line of thinking that I really don't like ... "You're only as good as what you are doing for me this month. Last month doesn't matter!" More than naught, even the saying "What you did for me yesterday doesn't matter!" Or my favorite, "You're only as good as your last Sale", and that good sale better have happened today!<br />
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As the years passed going from one company to another, I found that twisted mentality still lived. I was finding that if I wasn't King of the Month or King of the Moment then something was wrong with me. Not a little wrong, but extremely wrong. Experiencing such opposite ends of emotion from "you're incredible" to "I can't believe you're still here" by the same person brought me to question the sincerity and integrity of that person. I got to the point after every reprimand I wanted to answer while bending over, "thank you sir, may I have another" just to get them move on.<br />
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Worthless, no value, no good, a liability ... are dark feelings that come with depression. Feelings so strong that they do an incredible and merciless job of convincing you that you are worthless, having no value, no good and being a huge liability to everyone you know and don't know. To the point that the world truly would be a better place without you. Not because you are feeling sad or sorry for your self, but that your brain truly has convinced you are simply nothing, hindering the world and those around you. This set of mind is not a fun place to be and frankly, quite scary. There is no tip toeing through the tulips here. So just have people tell you how awesome you are, how handsome you are, how you are in such high demand, etc. Sure those things are fun to hear, but I can only speak for myself that when that stuff is being said and I'm in that mind set ... I don't believe a word.<br />
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The fight here, is truly understanding worth and <i> being able to accept it. </i>I don't want to admit how long I've been working on this and really how far I have to go. I really don't want to admit how often I feel worthless compared to not. But, here's my take on worth. The bottom line is that it is NOT conditional. Don't let other folks, events or whatever there may be out there define your worth. You have purpose because you are here. You have worth because you are here. If no one reaches out to you today, that doesn't make you worthless! I know the thoughts that come along with that ... "but if I had worth or was important or loved, someone would reach out." Worth is not conditional. If one of your close friends goes down the road of not telling you the truth, that doesn't make you worthless! Worth is not conditional. If people look at you differently because you aren't playing the "norms" of life, that doesn't make you worthless! Worth is not conditional. Getting the picture? If "everything" went wrong in your life, could you still be worth something? YES! Worth is not conditional!<br />
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Ah, but now the "accepting" part. Can I tell you how many times my psychologist has told me to accept me for me? It rhymes with PLETHORA! I've learned that I have created so many "labels" in my life to be or accomplish in order to have worth. These little labels have now become huge mountains that I'm currently clawing and fighting to climb one by one. If you were to ask me if I felt I had worth, I would simply look at you with a big smile and lie telling you, "of course!" Why? First because of the mask I wear to protect me. But the feelings of constant worthlessness brings hopelessness ... not fun to talk about or write about. It reminds you of what you are striving not to feel. I'm learning that being able to accept yourself is so personal, can be so different for anyone. Is there more darkness than light? Yep ... but there is light.<br />
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Friend of OBE. Thank you!! <br />
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<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-92035520465374438372015-03-07T19:09:00.000-08:002019-09-27T07:04:20.405-07:00Four Score and The Squeaky WheelI remember walking on a cold February day, thinking of what a Psychologist and I had just talked about. It was the first time that we met and words like depression and anxiety had been words to describe other people, but now I was in that mix having emotion after emotion surge through my body having no idea what to do with them grasping for some type of handle. Well, early last month marked four years since that day. Like any day, it came and went. I don't find it a day I buy balloons, bake me a cake and enjoy a Coke while throwing confetti in the air. I find that I do more thinking about how the journey has gone ... thinking about what I've learned realizing that the score is more wins than losses. How do I know? I'm still here breathing. Okay, so I had a bit of levity there using Four and Score ... I know it's eighty years, but I've always wanted to say that or write that. Mark another off the bucket list if you will. With that said, here are just a few thoughts about that last four years. Yep, they are my thoughts ... take the risk of reading, I dare you!<br />
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Why do people go to the hospital to visit others with some sort of ailment? I can only speak from my own experience, but for me it was to show support and love. Heck, even maybe bring a balloon, card or flowers. Who am I kidding? I was never good at bringing stuff, I just wanted to come and say hello and try to bring a smile. Never in my mind was I going to the hospital to "cure" or "fix" my friend. I didn't want anything to do with touching anything. Even touching the remote to the TV or adjusting the bed made me very uneasy. I had the opportunity of being in a hospital for a couple of days when I was a teenager. They can be lonely times. This was a time before "texting" or the other plethora of other social media ... I know I am old! Having visitors was huge! The smiles came easier. The loneliness seemed not so heavy. The act of love was simple, yet had a powerful effect. Those with the ailment of mental illness should be no different, but it is. The irony is that the simple acts of love is what those with mental illness need more than anything, yet stigma, fear of not knowing what to say or do is strong. When people came to visit me in the hospital when I was young, they didn't talk about my surgery, or how the procedure was done. They were there to support, love, bring comfort and joy.<br />
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Can I tell you how much I loathe, "The Squeaky Wheel gets The Grease." I have witnessed so many experiences of people getting the promotion, the sale, the last item, the good booth, etc when so many others deserved them more ... and of course the reason is they made the most noise or stink about it. For whatever reason, if a stink or noise isn't made about an issue then that person must not have one. Let me share a little secret here, those that have mental illness will not squeak. In fact, you will be lucky if you get them to make any sound. The heaviness of the stigma wins too many times. I've gotten tired of hiding my mental illness and have opened up, yet I will admit my shoulders get tired often of the stigma. Meeting people for the first time is always fun. Telling them you are fighting a mental illness is like a fart at church ... you get many different reactions. There's the "wow I don't know what to do, so I will ignore it." Then there is the "wow, can you believe the nerve!" This one is usually folks that don't really believe in mental illness. Rarely does it turn into any type of concern. I know of many that are fighting daily their mental illness be it meds or talking with a person with a leather couch. Those that haven't made any steps and are suffering are the those that truly need the "grease" ... love and support.<br />
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Taking a step can take a day, months or years. This isn't because of denial or not wanting to progress, but has to do with how horrific the darkness can be. Spiralling down grasping for any hope of truth or principle and not finding it is horrifying. How can one lose sight of such things? I can only speak of my experience here ... for whatever reason, I have had to go through questioning everything. Not a pretty sight at times. There is such a helpless feeling like your "anchor" is gone and you're being tossed around. I know it has been since Nov of last year that I have written anything. I wish it was because I had made huge progress. Let me just say, I'm in the middle of making a step. Patience by others and by those fighting mental illness can be so hard, but is as crucial as eating some good fiber after eating rice and cheese.<br />
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My Psychologist once told me that relying on others acts of love and comfort to bring a sense of happiness will do more damage than good ... the acts of love will simply not be enough. I think of that everyday. The days that folks reach out to me means a lot, I won't lie about that. Sadly, there are days though when I am left to my thoughts. The true battle of depression is striving to find happiness on your own. The darkness is real. The feeling of literally being pulled down is real. Thus, the difficulty of finding happiness. Please note, I didn't say you will never experience happiness. I know when I experience the glimpses of happiness the peace it brings is unreal! Finding those glimpses is the fight.<br />
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Lastly, I look at the world in a different way now. It's not because I'm hanging upside down. It's not because I'm shorter or taller. It's not even because I'm on the verge of getting bifocals. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I'll take a swing. I'm far more clearer on what defines me and what I let fall on the ground leaving it behind. Depression has made me so insecure, which is such a pain in the backyard, yet pondering for hours and even days on the emotions insecurity brings has in a strange way brought some kind of clearer understanding.<br />
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I share these thoughts and ideas not to bring on any light to me. I share them with hopes it will help those fighting depression or anyone with mental illness. I share them with hopes to teach those without mental illness how to be helpful and know that your acts of love is like gold. I share them with hopes that the stigma will lose it's strength bringing more smiles and peace.Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-58759260121608690182014-11-06T19:45:00.000-08:002019-09-27T06:36:02.207-07:00Looking Through The GlassI have to admit that I am a people watcher. Yep, I don't deny it one bit. I'm curious about folk's backgrounds and why they do what they do. Needless to say, I have to be careful when I go out to dine with others, that I don't spend all my time watching folks and turning out to be a dreadful mistake and waist of time. I don't know if I have always been like this or if over the years with my employment that required me to do A LOT of observing, if it just became part of me. I actually spent some time where I observed and worked with teachers that were teaching missionaries. At times I would be asked to have a class meet in the "observation room." What did this mean? Have you ever been in one of those interrogation rooms where they have the mirror/window like on TV? Don't worry, you don't have to answer. Well, that's what this room had. At times other teacher supervisors would want to meet and be able to discuss what was happening, but not be a disturbance; thus, the one way mirror thing. There was a device that we could turn on to be able to hear those in the room, but it did not work the best. It's amazing how much you miss when you can't hear what is being said being left up to your own judgements. Working at night in that little dark room did wonders with me getting to know the sandman.<br />
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Later in my employment life, I got to be the guy that people got to "discuss" their concerns with how the company I worked for handled their money. I learned rather fast that one of the most important things I had in my office was a comfortable chair because of the great need of being able to sit back and relax and simply listen ... not judge, but listen. These little get-togethers could be very quick with the client getting to the point, be it yelling, red faced or calling me names I later had to look up. Other times I could be tied up for a while listening to a family history lesson of sorts. When I was first introduced to this type of employ I had no clue how to handle these situations. I did a lot of smiling while calling on the powers above to either get me out of that situation or let it come to a quick close. Looking back, one of the most beneficial things I learned was that everyone is different and wears all sorts of masks of emotions to hide truly how they are. I had people that came in threatening me and when all was said and done, they were in tears. It wasn't because I gave them a good beat down ... even though the temptation grew strong at times. The most powerful thing I learned that had people open up was when they felt I cared and they could trust me.<br />
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Have you ever stopped for a moment and really thought about the people that you trust? I mean really trust. For me, I think there are different levels of trust I have with folks, but those that I truly trust with all my heart is few in number. Depression has brought me what I like to call the twin stooges ... Insecurity and Vulnerability. Never in my life have I felt these so strongly and they consume me. That is why I am the king of masks. Unless you're in my small group of folks I trust, and even then the times are few, 100% of the time I'm wearing a mask of smiles and joy. Why? I've really got to be able to trust you. I've really got to feel that if I open up, you won't laugh at how I describe my emotions and claim they're not valid or don't make sense. Believe me, I know they don't make sense. I've got to believe that you will have my back ALL the time. I've got to know that you won't push or probe if I simply don't want to talk about the illness and just want to have company to help support me. I've got to know that you care about me. I've got to know that you won't think less of me. Yep, that is a lot of stipulations. I think that's why I trust few and am lonely a lot. It's like getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel that has been on the towel rod too long and does not smell divine ... it's quite unpleasant. <br />
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I did an experiment this past week about the phrase, "how you doing?" Not like how Joey says it on Friends, but simply asking. In my experience, it has become more of a greeting than actually a sincere question. Some don't even finish the question until after they have walked right by you. One of these days I want to answer something about a unicorn that is smoking maryjane and see what kind of response I get. So I know there are those that are thinking, "what do I say?" Try, "nice to see you."<br />
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One last thought, and then I will try to make some type of conclusion with all of these thoughts. I've grown up in a culture where I'm asked, "is there anything I/we can do for you?" Most times I reply "nope" when I know there are things I need help with and it's because of the stupid man pride thing. I've been taught that if I need things I need to ask, which again was hard. As mental illness walked in my door it was new to me, my family and those around us. The common reply was, "let me know what you need." That is one of those putting the square block in the round hole scenarios ... it doesn't work. That trust thing is in the way. I even tried one time getting brave letting know what I needed ... it didn't happen.<br />
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All right, I have put all the ingredients in the bowl. Let me see if I can pull it all together now. When I hear someone say, "Oh, I SAW him the other day and he looked great," responding to how a person with mental illness is doing, I cringe. You "saw" but don't have a clue. You looked through the observation glass, but didn't hear anything. When I hear someone say, "I'm just waiting for them to ask me for help," regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. When I hear, "I asked them how they were doing when I walked by them and they said 'great'", regarding someone with mental illness, I cringe. Please know that I'm not getting on a soap box and saying everyone is like this. I see some energy and focus on being more aware of those with mental illness. To me, that is half the battle. Having and idea of how to use the energy and focus is crucial. It reminds me of four year old children so excited to play soccer for the first time, but have no idea the best way to approach it except run around in a group all trying to kick the ball. As they learn what works best, the outcome is greater.<br />
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Okay, so if you have made it this far reading ... thanks. I didn't mean to write a book tonight. Loneliness hurts and when you feel it's your fault it seems to stink worse. I can promise, and I don't use that word "promise" lightly, that there are folks in your circle of friends or that are close to you that are suffering. Be that friend they can trust. Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-14321957082950129192014-11-04T16:53:00.001-08:002019-09-27T05:33:07.403-07:001 Day Til Death1 Day Til Death ... sounds like a great metal band doesn't it? Who knows, there might be one out there. Boy, starting off with a tangent is always a delight isn't it? Alright, I will try to bring it home. In my life, a question has been asked of me scattered over the years. It goes something like this, "what would you do if you knew you were going to die tomorrow? If you died today or tomorrow, are you ready to meet your maker?" I believe that in some occassions the question came trying to motivate me by fear to have my life in order, but in most cases I believe the intention was pure to have me to do some of that lovely introspection. In grade school was the first time I heard that question and actually heard it far more than once. My thoughts back then was easy. I wanted to do all the things I hadn't done yet in life ... see famous places, eat awesome things, and of course, kiss that pretty girl that really didn't give me much attention. As junior high and high school came around I was casually testing the boundaries of what I could get away with. So, when that question came about death, I usually felt fear because in my heart I felt God wouldn't want to be with me due to my "exploring life." I truly did not understand the mission of the Messiah. As I got married and my incredibly cool kids came along, I would think if my family was set up financially. That quickly was taken away as I thought about how badly I would miss my beautiful wife and amazing kids. In my heart, I felt and still feel I would see them again after my turn was done on this earth ... I just would miss them terribly.<br />
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Living a life of thinking about if today was the day it was over is not a great way to live. That to me is like looking constantly down placing your feet ever so carefully while missing the view of the Grand Canyon or majestic Rocky Mountains or seeing the incredible healing waters of any beach. I think you get the point.<br />
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Let me shift gears here a bit. What if you knew that someone was trying to kill you? What if you knew that the person was going to try every day? What if you knew that person? What if that person lived close to you? What if that person lived in your head? Please note, I did NOT say it was you. "You" is the heathly person ... the person in your head is illness.<br />
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As the dark abyss of depression began taking over my life and suicidal thoughts began to become suicidal battles, I was getting my tail kicked, but not beat. I learned quickly that I was in the battle of my life, literally. In my darkest of times, I would honestly wake up in the morning wondering if that was the day I was going to lose. If that was the date that would read on my tombstone, with some clever comment about enjoying some Egg Nog by the big Christmas tree in the sky. See, that's the kicker about fighting the illness trying to convince you that things are better off without you ... all it needs is only one time to win.<br />
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Being with sincere loving people that I know care about me helps me. Being on meds help me. Meeting with my psychologist and psychiatrist help me. A loving God helps me ... yes, I honestly let him know how I feel, which at times is mad at him and at this; yet, I know He loves me. What do I mean by helps me? It's easier to win a battle with more people on your side ... people you know that are on your side. People that know you know they are on your side, not those that assume weekly. There are times when I'm approached by the suicidal thoughts that seem like an ant amongst giants. Yet, there are still times when suicidal thought is a warrior and I simply run by distracting myself, while "calling all angels." I'm not affaid to die, I know my Savior and God. I just want to die when it's the right time ... not because I lost. <br />
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Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-2160113263470880852014-10-26T18:01:00.001-07:002019-09-26T08:59:38.391-07:00The Wall of Who I AmI grew up in a split level home, which brought all sorts of possibilities for a mischievous young lad and his siblings. My personal favorite were the stairs, both sets gave limitless enjoyment. Now my mom was a teacher and she had tons of boxes ... some empty, some half-full and some filled up all the way. There was a time when we took great pleasure setting up empty boxes on the stairs creating a wall. We also had beds and couches, so if we weren't feeling too adventurous we would either put a mattress or couch cushions at the bottom of the stairs hoping to prevent any injuries ... like that really worked anyway. There were all sorts of different sizes of boxes so it took some time to set up the wall correctly so it wouldn't fall over on its own. If you wanted the full blown box wall destroying experience, you would take the time necessary to put the correct size of box in the right place. When the wall was ready, I wouldn't even take a deep breath to prepare myself, I would jump at the soonest moment possible experiencing joy, triumph, bliss and of course a little pain here and there.<br />
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When given a task or assignment to do, I would attack it and strive to get it done even if it meant I had to do it myself. In fact, I usually liked to do it myself ... that way it could be done "my way." Even as a sickness or different health issues came into my life I would attack them the best I could to overcome them, even if it meant following doc's orders completely.<br />
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When depression and anxiety entered my life and I finally began recognizing something was off, I began to see a psychologist and psychiatrist. I was eager to follow their instructions so I could attack the illness and get through it quickly. I began to feel frustrated fast. I wanted to do the appropriate actions and be done with it. The hurdle, is that mental illness is so individual and can take time to figure out what to do and even what meds to take. Imagine the frustration fighting a battle when you really don't know what you are fighting. In the midst of all this, the darkness of depression and the weight of anxiety began to have me question everything I did and was, from my relationship with Deity, my wife even to any "hobbies" I thought I enjoyed. I simply mean everything. It was as if my life I had created over the years had been a nicely well built brick wall that fell apart brick by brick. I began the overwhelming task of putting the wall back together examining each brick deciding if I wanted it back in my wall or to chuck it out of my life. I began defining who I really was ... and kind of what I wanted to be. There were some easy decisions like my wife and amazing children. I have learned though that examining some bricks and coming to grips if you are going to keep it or get rid of it can take a LONG TIME ... I mean a long time.<br />
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The first big mistake I made building the wall of who I am, was knowing what bricks had been in my wall and liking them and assuming they needed to be in my wall again. In all sickness, illness or health issues I had previously fought, I was working to get back to the "healthy me." I have learned that with mental illness, I am not working to "get back" to who I was. That was a horse pill for me to swallow ... no, not a horse pill, but a huge elephant pill. I liked who I was. I learned though that not only were chemicals calling audibles doing their own thing, but some certain deep beliefs I held may have not been that healthy. I am NOT talking about my beliefs in Deity or His church, but ways I thought I needed to be. I was quite scared and empty as I saw those bricks not work with the wall I was building. Something I had believed my whole life of what I had to be or needed to be and that I enjoyed was not working well with my wall. I tried very hard to have them fit, but as I did so the process of building the wall or defining who I am stopped. I know darkness.<br />
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As I have come to grips that I am building a new "me", if you will ... kind of like the million dollar man; I would be called the infinity dollar man by the way ... enough tangents. I have made some good ground on creating the new me. I still struggle with a lot of things of life, but am making headway. I do have some bricks come out of place every now and then, that I have to examine again and usually have to put back and then figure why they fell. The extremely hard part, is when several bricks shift and fall ... bricks that were at the bottom causing a lot if not all bricks to fall down again. Yep, it happens and I don't like it. I know darkness. Yet, I sit back down amongst the piles and piles of bricks and pick them up again and start all over. The good news is that I can and I'm getting better at it. Putting bricks in the right place is important and is worth the wait just like the wall of boxes. The difference is that I want this wall to stand, for it is who I am. Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-26713883634131008292014-09-25T15:13:00.000-07:002019-09-26T06:51:53.278-07:00Past, Present and PhutureOkay, I know spelled future incorrectly. But am I the only one that thinks it would be cool if future was spelled with a "ph"? Then you could say, "aw, the three p's." It's like they were so close to making it perfect but messed up on the last word. Like traffic lights ... Green for Go, Yellow for Yield and Red for Rstop. Oh, so close. For those that need it spelled correctly, here you go: Past, Present and Future.<br />
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<b><u>PAST</u></b><br />
The past is something that is talked a lot about with many opinions. "Stop looking at the past and move on." "It's good to look back at the past and learn from it all." I guess if you go with the first theory of thought, the saying of, "do you remember when" would be something not brought up anymore. I think either thought is okay, to me it's not an either or.<br />
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<b><u>PRESENT</u></b><br />
The lovely, "now." As a kid, I would always think how fast "now" really was. To me it seemed like the quickest of the Past, Present and Future. One would blink, and the now we were experiencing had become the past. I have heard many opinions about the Present. "Live for right now and forget about any type of consequences." "Don't have your head in the clouds looking back at the past or ahead at the future and not enjoy the right now." I've learned that not thinking of the consequences is a poor choice.<br />
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<b><u>FUTURE</u></b><br />
"If you fail to plan for the future, you plan to fail." "Where will you be in five years?" "Don't be working so hard for tomorrow that you forget today." For whatever reason, I have a plethora of sayings about the future. It seems to me that they all seem so "final." If you don't do this, then you will be placed in this pigeon hole. You better do this or your family will be permanently slotted in this class of people. I've learned that clever sayings about the future may have good merit and intention behind them, but does not carry the weight to give me a horrific consequence.<br />
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Why the breakdown of the Past, Present and Future? I have been thinking a lot about these three labels of time lately and how they fit in with my depression. I can tell you that I don't like thinking about the Past. As I think about the time in my life when I wasn't fighting mental illness it brings me everything but hope and joy. I long to be there. For me it does more bad than good. I don't like thinking about the Present. My now is the fight of my life, with darkness, with guilt, with shame, with wondering who I really am. My now is wanting to be away from now. I don't like thinking about the Future. I can't tell you how much I abhor thinking about the future. If making through a day is a success, then when I even think about making it through a month or two it completely overwhelms me.<br />
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I guess I'm struggling with trying to figure out "where" to live. I feel it would be wrong of me if I didn't mention that the bright moments of living now, is the love I feel from being with my incredible kids and wife. The sadness is how fast depression can chase that away. I want to live and as I struggle to work through this, I strive not to think about the labels of time. I want to live and feel love.<br />
<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-34908039789155492412014-09-08T07:51:00.002-07:002019-09-26T06:43:43.374-07:00Choice, Part IIIn my young life, I have experienced the following ... to name a few:<br />
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- Broken Bones<br />
- Stitches (on more than one occasion)<br />
- Torn Ligaments<br />
- Blood Clots in my left leg (I had to give myself shots in the gut to fight this. Nothing like having a gut for a pin cushion.)<br />
- Pulmonary Embolism ... Blood Clot in the lungs. (I was introduced to morphine ... wo!)<br />
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Believe me, I am incredibly thankful for doctors, meds and divine assistance and that I have been able to heal during those delightful events. They weren't fun by any means, but I made it through.<br />
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I recently met with my Psychiatrist talking about adding another med to the mix that I have been taking. As we chatted, she explained to me that the brain has eight major chemicals. When any one of those chemicals decide to do their own thing and not play nice, that's when mental illness can begin. The three different meds I am currently taking is to assist with three chemicals that are rebelling in my head. How do they know, which meds to give me? Thankfully, history has given the docs an idea what helps with depression and anxiety. The "fun" part, oh the sarcasm, is finding the right mix that works well for each individual. That comes by what I call, throw it at the wall and see if it sticks. Sad to say, the medical world isn't quite to point where they can give you a test and see what exact meds are needed for mental illness and what will work. I went through several different mixes to find what worked and even just added another, like I mentioned, to try to do some fine tuning.<br />
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Why do I share this little bit of info that I have learned? One of my biggest struggles in all this is the word, "choice." Okay, maybe not the word, but the ability to choose. I hold the thought dear to my heart that one of the greatest gifts we have here on this great planet is the ability to choose ... be it bad or good. If my world was feeling negative, I would focus on positive things and I would begin to feel positive. With mental illness, clarity of thought can be so fleeting. The ultimate scare for me, is when clarity of thought is gone and I'm still left to make choices. Perhaps, that is why I profusely abhor making decisions. I've had to learn that understanding how my choice and mental illness work together. When I first started this journey I fought so hard to just choose to be happy, but I kept losing that battle over and over. I get it how people in their ignorance, just say, "just get over it and be happy." The understanding of mental illness is still in the dark shadows of society. With all the physical ailments I listed above that I went through, not once did someone tell me to just get over it. There is an understanding that those things took time to heal. Even those that never experienced them. Why? For whatever reason, there is no stigma associated with those ailments. For now, I strive daily to continue to understand how choice and mental illness interact taking it one day at a time. <br />
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<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-69125912260862421322014-08-12T18:47:00.000-07:002019-09-25T11:05:30.670-07:00Respones To Robin Williams Death/Suicide ~ Some Spot On, Some So Completely WrongI was heart broken yesterday hearing the news about Robin Williams taking his life. He was a man of quick whit and hilarious humor, amongst so many other talents. I was not sad about not being able to see new material from him though. I was sad because a brother of mine gave into the dark torture of depression. No, I wasn't related to him via blood, but I could and can relate to the demons he fought.<br />
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Yes, I spent too much time yesterday and today watching the plethora of news stations and the interviews of celebs and reactions of others via twitter or other social media. Even the President of the U.S. made a statement of the horrible event. During all this time I heard responses that actually made me think the stigma of the mentally ill may actually be chipped away with larger chunks, then the countless times occurred that placed rebar to reinforce and even add to the strength of the stigma. For one that has fought the battle of severe depression for three and a half years, I had to say something. There are simply too many points I heard to comment on, so I have picked the ones that I thought needed some comments, be it right on or so way off.<br />
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~ <b><i>"Depression is a disease, not a simple mood swing."</i></b> For one that grew up loving life and being happy, I struggled immensely when overwhelming sadness began to enter my world and I couldn't shake it off. This sadness consumed me, and no matter what I did that made me happy in the past, it was not going away. I wasn't too thrilled being diagnosed with severe depression, in fact I was embarrassed. I have learned though that there is nothing to be embarrassed about even though there is a heavy stigma. The bottom line is that I didn't one day tell myself, "I think I'm going to choose to have depression." The chemicals in my head began doing their own thing striving to convince me of all sorts of horrible things. Mental Illness is a disease and is real!<br />
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~ <b><i>"I can't decide if what Robin did was an act of courage or him just being a coward. Truly it was just selfish."</i></b> I want to purchase a shirt that says, "I'm Ignorant When It Come To Depression" for the person that said this. Sadly, it isn't the first time that I have heard something like this though. I have learned that unless you have fought depression or have been close to one (and I mean close) to one fighting depression, you just don't get it. The darkness and torturous demons of depression are real. Feeling unworthy of any one's love constantly being hit over your head again and again has an impact. Feeling like people may be better off because of all the pain you cause has an impact. Feeling dark, hallow, and miserable over and over has an impact. I have been on the ledge of suicide with my heals over the ledge just standing on my toes teetering too many times to count. Why? In the darkest abyss of depression when suicidal thoughts come strong, it's not about courage or being a coward or being selfish ... it's simply wanting the pain to go away. I understand why drugs and alcohol come into play with those that have depression. They simply don't want to feel the pain. Why haven't I succumbed to suicide? I simply don't know, but I know. Makes great sense, huh? I guess for me, I remember feeling what hope felt like before depression knocked me off my tookis. I fight everyday to feel it again some day.<br />
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~ <b><i>"If anything, I guess we could learn from this to reach out to those more that have depression."</i></b> Isn't it sad that we have to lose someone to have an epiphany like this? It's quite easy to believe no one loves you when you sit all alone all day without someone sending a text or call or dropping by. Being alone simply wears one thin. I get it though ... "what do you say to someone that has depression?" "What if I say that one wrong thing that makes him kill himself?" "What if? What if? What if?" We don't expect you to come fix us. In all reality, that is up to us and nobody else. The psychologist and psychiatrist are the ones to give advise for "fixing", even with the help of meds. We simply need a huge support group of love. The best conversation is talking about anything but depression at times ... simply knowing we have someone that cares. Any type of act out of love, that may be deemed as "small", actually speaks volumes.<br />
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Too many people wear masks hiding depression, and some too ashamed to go see a psychiatrist or psychologist about it because of the awful stigma around it. I am in shock about all the articles / blogs floating around today, written by people that haven't experienced depression, adding to the stigma. There have been incredible articles / blogs giving tremendous insight on depression as well. My heart and love goes to all those that are fighting this disease. It Sucks! I know it is dark, but the only way we know what darkness is like is because some time in our life we have actually felt what light or hope was like. For me, I will strive to keep on fighting. <br />
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<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-90786438561947271032014-08-05T08:33:00.000-07:002019-09-25T09:51:51.356-07:00Hold On, Let GoI'm the youngest in my family, which brought many perks and struggles growing up. First, let me just get this out of the way ... yep, there were times when I got a little more attention and/or "things". Some may call this spoiled. There were also the struggles that came along as well, like being the test dummy in many crazy thought up ideas by my older siblings. Do I believe in miracles? Sure do, otherwise I'm not sure how I survived and that was just what happened inside the house. We played a lot of football in the front yard and with two older brothers and their friends, I was the runt of the group. Oh, and by the way ... we didn't believe in that two hand touch stuff. Needless to say, I was always trying to impress the the giants around me by not really caring about my body by taking on anyone to tackle, or diving for a ball. At first I wasn't the best receiver, I dropped more balls than I caught. Just getting a ball thrown to me was a rare honor. One game, I was standing in our driveway, which was also the end zone, calling for the ball. I was excited to see the ball thrown my way, but it was a bit high. I jumped up with my eyes closed and the magic moment happened ... I caught the ball. I put the death grip on that ball, holding it so tight while excitement shot through my body! The person defending me was quick to point out I was out of bounds. I pretended to be upset, but truth be told I was still flying high holding tight to the ball.<br />
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My football playing days began to dissipate as I grew older, being replaced with basketball. Perhaps this was due to my older brothers and their friends being able to date and drive. Even though I missed playing football terribly, I believe part of me was okay with not being tackled so often. Basketball was tough, but there was no tackling, which was nice. My friends and I began to spend a lot of time playing and even admiring the NBA players. Notice how I said, "admiring" even though "idolizing" was not a far behind. In fact, there was a rumor that my friend and I skipped school to go to the airport to see Michael Jordan because we found out the time the Bulls plane landed. I will not confirm nor deny ... he was one tall dude though! There is a strange thing that happens when playing basketball as a kid. Most of the time is actually playing the sport, but there is also a small amount of time when you are your buddies take turns seeing who can be the closest to touch the rim. As we got older and most of us grew taller, the incredible day happened ... I touched the rim. Not far behind that day came the moment of bliss. Not only was I able to touch the rim, I was able to hang on it with both hands. Talk about a triumphant feeling. I was ecstatic and did not want to let go. This was my moment, that I had worked on over and over. My friends were happy for me at first, yet once they realized I wasn't coming down, they started talking about how they wanted to keep trying, so I finally had to let go.<br />
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As I have fought this depression war, I have had an incredible psychologist that has assisted me with learning to cope and claw to move on. Incredible people have given me advice as well. The majority of the times I spend a lot of time pondering about what has been told to me ... some advice I look at and just smile. Lately, there has been a recurring theme that I hear. The biggest message I hear is to "Hold On" while some tell me to learn to "Let Go", and then the few that tell me to "Hold On" and "Let Go." My knee jerk reaction to the last advice is to tell the person to stand up and sit down at the same time and wish them good luck. As usual in my life, the more I have thought about it the more I realize the "Hold On, Let Go" principle is spot on, but how the heck do you do that. I need to hold on so I can let go? I need to let go so I can hold on? I need to let go, hold on, let go and then hold on some more so I can let go? Now, I know the obvious is to "Hold On" to all the good things around me. That's great ... add the dark glasses of depression and seeing those things are quite difficult at times more often than I would like to admit. Then there is the obvious point of "Let Go" of the bad things in life. Well, right now that "bad" thing to me is my mental illness and getting rid of that would be awesome ... yet right now seems impossible. I used to be a huge fan of the saying, "Only Focus on what you can control. The choice is up to us how we handle the bad things of life." What happens when that "bad thing" alters how I choose at times? I can't control when falling off the cliff of deep dark despair of depression. I can't control when anxiety takes me over like a puppet holding the strings. Yep, this is how my mind works. So how do I hold on and let go? For me, I have learned that I hold on to love. That may come from divinity, family, friends, even people I have never met. Love that is shown is far more powerful than simply said. Letting go is more individual I believe. Right now, my "Letting Go" is a huge monster facing me every day. The odd thing is that I know what to let go of, but the how is the monster. I'm learning that what I have defined as something so awesome, like hanging on a rim, reaches an end. I'm learning that holding on to love is easy and hard. Seeing love can be difficult at times, compared to see a football coming at you, but either way when you have it, don't let go. Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-32608349419291596812014-07-21T09:19:00.001-07:002019-09-25T09:10:01.025-07:00The Crying and Ride of My LifeIn my teenage years, I had the opportunity to experience the "lovely" dating scene. The best way to describe that period of time would be to say, "It was the best of times and worst of times." I had my share of being dumped, which is far from the feeling of fun. I have also been on the other side of doing the "lets be friends talk." I had been dating a very good looking girl and things were going good ... did I mention that she was very good looking? Well, I'm not sure what came over me, but I felt that I needed to break it off because I couldn't really see any future. Crazy right? Was I growing some type of thing called "having character?" One evening we decided to go to a drive in movie and I was determined to break it off that night. The movie began while I got my courage up and began the "lets be friends" talk. She buried her head in my shoulder and cried the entire movie. Did I mention that the movie had just started? Yep she cried the entire time.<br />
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Though the crying was quite frightful, I experienced something quiet scarier when I was younger. A good friend of mine and his family invited me to go with them to an amusement park. I had been to this amusement park before and was quite excited. We had fun riding this ride and that ride and came to a ride that was new ... "The Colossus." This was a roller coaster that had you go incredibly high, followed by doing two loops and all sorts of sharp turns. Needless to say, I declined the first invitation to go. After much pushing and prodding and some comment about acting like a wimp, I gave in thinking that I had lived a good life. Standing in line I was able to watch two or three rides watching people scream, cry and other noises I wasn't familiar with. Let me just say that didn't help, but I was line and couldn't back out. The time came and of course, my friend and I were up by the front. After everyone was buckled in, the terrifying clicking noise began taking us to the top. I truly thought I was going to die. Reaching the top, the terrifying clicking noise ended and the coaster did a free fall down the track. I was swung every possible way and I think I even made noises I had never made before. After the terror began to come to an end I realized I was going to make it. <br />
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Mental illness is the most understandable, mysterious illness I have ever had. Yep, I know that I have been fighting depression, anxiety, ocd and ptsd for many years. Wait, did I say "ptsd?" Yep, that one I feel the most ashamed for because I never was in the military. Let me just say that it is very real and I hope someday, I may be strong enough to open up more about it. I do know that I fight these things daily, every hour, and at times every minute. I work on it every day striving to learn and apply coping techniques and am even adjusting my meds a tad striving to be able to handle "life." What I have fought lately, is the mentality of "aren't you better yet?" I find it interesting that people that don't reach out to me or want to be in any part of my support group, tells me that they have a friend with depression and they are "better, what's taking me so long?" Mental illness is just starting to be recognized that is something more common amongst us all, yet it is so individual. I would love to be able to see when this will end for me, but I don't have that luxury. Trying to do so gets very dark. Imagine going through hell not knowing when it will end. There is no vacation from it. Yes, the size of the jail cell may get bigger at times, but the bars are still there. How I wish I knew it would be over. Having a girl cry on my shoulder was difficult, but I knew the movie would end. Feeling complete terror on the roller coaster was not fun, but I knew it would end. For now, I can't see the end. I just focus on today and am thankful for loved ones. <br />
<br />Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3820185608650755638.post-29453331528853726902014-06-27T09:05:00.000-07:002019-09-25T08:58:14.539-07:00I Have Money On This GameI was fortunate enough to grow up in a family where I had cousins that lived close and cousins that visited often. On one of these great "get together" events, we went to go watch one of the local college basketball games. If I recall correctly, it was the first time I had been to such an enormous event. There was certainly two facts I learned when I walked into the arena; I was small and it was huge! I don't remember much of the game, but I do remember me, my two older brothers and some boy cousins getting permission to go get a drink, or go to the bathroom or whatever excuse it was to get a break from sitting down for so long. Apparently, we were very interested in the game. The main hall that circled the arena was empty leaving it to us to do as we please. I believe we circled the building a couple of times running and walking acting like we somehow owned it. The time came though where everyone was getting tired so we actually stopped for a break at a drinking fountain. Now being the youngest amongst this group, I was always last at doing this or doing that and at times had to forgo somethings I wanted to do. Well, it was my time to get a drink and the group started yelling at me letting me know they were taking off. I firmly held my ground and reached up and got a drink at the fountain, yep I was quite young and short. After feeling refreshed and content I held my ground, I looked up and I was all alone. I laughed it off thinking, my brothers and cousins hid themselves somewhere, but after a while it was clear that I was on my own not having a clue where to go. I must have had that "oh crap" look on my face because it wasn't long before a person that worked there asked me if I was lost. I was embarrassed to admit it, but was glad I had been found. This gentleman took me to the nearest usher and asked him to help me find my family. I will never forget the usher's response, "Really? Can't you get somebody else? I have money on this game." I can't tell you how awesome that made me feel. I can't remember how I eventually ended up with my family, but was surprised at some reactions. My sweet mom of course gave me a huge hug, but an uncle of mine got on my case pretty good for getting lost. After that he truly dropped down the list of my favorite uncles. Yes, I had made a choice to get a drink and not follow the group as they took off ... that was on me. I would take my mom's response any day though. As far as the usher, I hope he lost his bet.<br />
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Through out the battle with depression, I have found it difficult to really describe what it feels like and does to me. On some occasions as I have attempted to do so talking to some good friends, I have gotten the response, "it sounds like you have forgotten who you are?" I would agree to that at first, but always felt uncomfortable about it and didn't know why. Now, if someone tells me that I kindly inform them they are wrong and here is why. To me, forgetting who you are comes with making choices that lead you down different roads of travel that take you away from "who you were." For example, I may have been quite the gifted magician, but if I stop performing or practicing I lose my skill/touch and become more familiar with the man that used to do magic. Another example, if you are a Bible reader, The Prodigal Son is a great example. A son that gets his wealth and spends it unwisely forgetting who we was. In both examples, it was the <i>choice</i> of the individual leading them down a road where they forgot who they were. I DID NOT PICK DEPRESSION nor have I forgotten who I "was." I remember him too well. In fact remembering "that person" can hurt because I want to be able to do those things I used to be able to do, yet I have come to terms that dealing with today's battle is where my focus needs to be. To quote my dear usher friend back at the basketball arena, "I have money on this game." I've got everything riding on me that I will get this war of depression under control, by winning daily battle after daily battle and eventually win the war an enjoy winning the bet. Ken Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13744013408791332790noreply@blogger.com2