I don’t know who I am. Seriously. I don’t. I can’t even say anymore anymore. Thanks therapy. A lot of folks say shit like that, then a lot of other folks speak of having experiences and adventures where they discover important details and insights and see the obviousness of the new direction that has since fulfilled their life. I seem to be a leaking faucet of purpose and constitution. The more I go on the less I seem to grasp anything that closely resembles wisdom or reason.

During our recent trip to Jamaica my family and I visited the so-called “luminous lagoon”. Fresh river water mixes with salty ocean water in this lagoon and it’s filled with this bioluminescent bacteria that thrives there and is chemically similar to what’s inside fireflies. When disturbed it glows a beautiful haunting blue-green colour, so as you tread in the water or swim and move the bacteria illuminate. As dumb analogies often do come to me during such experiences, and I’m sure the full moon and the liquor fog having finally lifted helped, I began to feel like this was the visual explanation to what having mental illness is actually like. It was as if something in nature actually understood the dance of the Mad Hatter and wanted to ebb and flow with me, to caress the truly random choreography that is life.

I made the decision to start taking medication again for my depression. It’s okay, I’m not causing any duress this time, nor am I angry with myself for needing it like before. it just is. I suppose that’s sort of been the evolving theme of my life. It just is. I don’t always have explanations or reasons for all the moods and their extremes so if I’m not crazy like I keep being told I’m not then I guess it just is, and I need help managing it. There. I fucking said it.

Air Canada has this program that my wife found out about where they give you a green lanyard with sunflowers on it to let staff know that you have an invisible injury and that you may need a little extra patience and time from them (I’m wearing it in the photo as we’re sadly preparing to leave). My wife spends her time finding ways to help me live while I sit around dead in my head thinking about car accidents and jumpers. It’s not hard to see where my feelings of guilt and craziness come from. Somehow she just keeps helping and trying and all I can do is keep trying too, even if I do fall short of what she deserves.

I grew a little more in Jamaica and luckily left some more useless things behind while I was there too. I always feared acceptance of my injury as it seemed to be good friends with indifference, but I’m learning those things aren’t that close after all. Thank you for providing our family one of the happiest times of my life M’Lady! I hope one day to do it again! I love you all dearly!