Been so long……

Wow, it’s been ages since I’ve posted. Depression does this to ones’ soul I guess. Working, driving, filling the truck with gas, buying groceries, paying bills, these are all things I do because I have to; they are part of life though I don’t think of them as part of living. Writing, riding my motorcycle, looking through the viewfinder right before I take the picture, creating music, driving my FJ, watching the birds feed, the ducks land on the pond across the street, the snow fall, these kinds of things tell my I’m alive, they speak to my soul, my heart, my being.

I’ve read over my old blog entries today and I smiled, I wept, I felt, I lived. They are like photographs for me, they capture a time of real emotion, real feeling, of times when my soul was actively participating in the symphony in my head. I sit here now wondering where I’ve been over the time since I last posted. Tomorrow marks one week since I started an anti-anxiety med, the elephant on my chest is mostly gone, I’m sleeping again and having real dreams again instead of dreaming about work. Is the freedom to really dream a sign I am emotionally and spiritually awake again?

Chui – Our puppy.

As I watched our puppy choke last night my heart raced, I was filled with fear and dread. He’s less than 2 pounds; I’m 360 pounds and nearly 7 feet tall. How can something so small, so tiny have such a grasp on my heart, my soul? We’ve nearly lost him a couple of times before, he’s spent a night in an animal NICU. I have grown children, a 10 year old grandson. How is it that this little puppy has so stolen my heart? He finally managed to cough it up, his distress was over; for him the event was forgotten within minutes, for me it still echoes in my head. We ran him to the vet and had him checked out, she said he is fine. After we got home he sprawled out on my chest as he often does and worked on his favorite chewy. He would look up and lick my face, occasionally licking away my tears as I for a moment allowed myself to feel how much I love the little shit.

Perhaps this event is why I am alive again today, feeling, and writing instead of just living……  or maybe it’s just the drugs?

Surgery Day

I know its outpatient surgery, I understand the procedure, I trust the surgeon and staff at the surgery center. Still it’s my wife going under the knife and I feel anxious and a bit fearful. It’s a simple procedure to repair a tendon in her left wrist, her right wrist had a similar procedure about 18 months ago by the same surgeon, and he also performed both her carpel tunnel surgeries. As much as the logical part of my brain screams at the emotional part of me to ‘stay calm’ I can’t help but feel a bit scared. The anxiety, fear and apprehension is the same as it’s been through her last surgeries and procedures. I’m not alarmed, it’s not a voice telling me to have her avoid the surgery. The little voice in my head has saved me many a time, but it’s not warning me about her surgery today.

I’ll be waking her in a few minutes se we can head to the surgery center, I drive, she rides, I worry, I stress. She controls her emotions better than I do, so it’s hard to read her, to know if she has fear or anxiety. Still her temper has been a little more pronounced the last week so I know she’s thinking about it.

She’s awake now, said she would need 10 minutes to get ready. I know that ten of her minutes will be closer to 25 on the clock. I’m told all women are this way; I can’t speak to the truth of this beyond saying its well within my experience.

I like to arrive early, she is always late. Perhaps thirty plus years in the corporate world has made me more aware of the clock, perhaps I’m just anal about being on time.

So, in a few minutes we’ll be leaving, upon our return I’ll update today’s entry with her status. if you get a moment wish her luck.

Wow – somehow I missed updating this, the wife is fine, the surgery went well.