The Wild Ones

Some may question “the Wild Ones?”

As a group we never actually hung out…. Not really. Each of them may have crossed paths and interacted on the occasion for brief moments, but mostly their lives and friendships with me remained separate from one another. In my mind though, this awesome lot of super dudes and I walked, and still walk, among each other quite often. The prerequisite for these guys to be classified by me as awesome consisted of “Hey Mark, let’s hang out.”

I mentioned all of these dudes in my Memoir, “Challenging Barriers and Walking the Path”, as they were all significant to my life in one way or another, helping to fill this confused and shaky life with some cherished memories and what I think of as great adventures and fun times.  Peter, the Finn, Surfer Dude, and Kevin.

Where are they now? The Finn is still in my life, I occasionally correspond with Surfer Dude, Peter has moved onto his own big moments, and Kevin I remain connected to through memories and family. But I often feel that we are all still together and always will be.

They have all meant more than can actually be put into words because they have helped this lost boy grow and accept. I am comfortable with my life for many reasons, but these boys, they gave, and continue to give, (even in absence) a calm comfort.

Music, theatre, dreams, fun, laughter, rebellion, mischief.  

Sitting on the surface of a half built foundation to a home while crackin’ jokes; lounging by a campfire in the rain or stacking on more and more wood to raise up the flames; singing along with eighties tunes belting out from the car radio at one AM in the morning; baking in a sauna and then running out into the dark and jumping into the cold water; surfing Styrofoam boards on three inch waves; taking a long journey into never land to recover a theatre set with little knowledge of our return and therefore throwing caution to the wind. The list of memories is long and in my heart they all run deep.

This foursome brought into my life times that presented me with laughter, clarity, meaning, excitement, tears of happiness and acceptance. They helped me rise from mistakes, overcome challenges, and feel comfort through sadness. Regardless of where we’ve gotten to now in present time, the impact is still strong. For me, these are the "Wild Ones".

Buttons

I have an assortment of buttons in my room, different sizes and shapes and colours. No one button reminds me of a particular person, per se, but looking at them does take me back to a time of a little discomfort and embarrassment. Though it is one that I also do not wish to forget.

I remember the brown shades of the gymnasium floor during a high school dance, the lines that ran from one side to another. I had been staring at it probably for most of the night which would be why I remember it so vividly, though I’m sure most gym floors pretty much bare a resemblance to one another. My heart palpitated as I worked up the courage to ask her to dance, and even though her explanation was more than one word, all I heard was “NO”. After she spoke my gaze fell back to my feet and the surrounding floorboards as I returned to hugging the wall from where I came. My eyes remained looking downward as I did not want to see the laughing faces that I knew, or thought of in my mind, were watching.

The rest of that night was a blur as the morning, and my return to the same school but in a different location, came to quick. The torturous teasing I endured from some of the boys in that hallway of being shot down the night before brought me to tears.

*****

It is many years and moons later now that I realize those tears were a defining moment, a challenge and a building of an inner strength. Those small boys I recall in my mind I imagine are still in that hallway laughing at other people’s expense and making crude fart noises with their lips. I grew up and I learned. My tears became my memories and memory of that moment in time became my first button.

The girl from the high school dance, a beautiful angel from my mid-teenage years, is now most likely married and living a good life. Since that time in history I have crossed paths and acquired new buttons, but none will ever be the same as the first. Perhaps I will eventually encounter another button, and that button may become THE button. Maybe that time has come and gone. Who really knows? But I keep walking a path with my head held high, cherishing the experiences I’ve gained along the way.

Since understanding and coming to terms with the brain injury I now live with, I have learned to feel, carry and appreciate every moment and every button, even if she turned me down and brought on sorrows. Because maybe the sorrows were meant to happen; they made me realize I can be stronger, even with tears. I can grow. The emotional rain I had felt, then and over the years since, has helped in laying the foundation of who I am.

Though I do not physically carry buttons with me, they are there in my mind; and she is still there. Whether I ever come across another button like the one I offered up courage to on that old gymnasium floor, I don’t know. But those small boys, my streaming tears and everything since that moment, has taught me, all of it matters only as much as you want it to. It is your choice and if you want it to mean anything or nothing at all.

Some things I let fizzle away; certain Buttons though, I hold dear.

Why??

Maybe it is just like when we were children asking too many questions.

Having worked with young children in various settings that include volunteering as an assistant with junior and senior kindergarten school kids, working with Kinark Child & Family Services, and more recently spending time with my Niece & Nephew, I can safely say that sometimes I really want to answer the umpteenth question about why the water is wet, is simply by saying, Because.

******

Through life, the questions get more intense

******

There is this story I know of, it is of a young lady who dealt with breast cancer, and through a drawn out and tiring battle with the disease, went into remission. She now runs for the cure every year.

In a job I once held some time ago, I met this guy who was born with this condition that for the life of me I cannot pronounce. He lives every day in a wheelchair with no legs and only one hand with only two fingers. He has probably one of the best attitudes I have ever come across.

There is this girl I know that lives with a brain injury, sustained from a motor vehicle accident, and has mobility issues and a speech disorder. Yet this girl, this strong and beautiful person, takes time to go and visit schools and hospitals to share her story and bring about awareness and understanding.

I have met people who live with mental health issues and struggle through some horrible situations. I know of people who have lost loved ones and walk the path of life with little more than their own shadow. Their concerns, they are for the well being of others.

There are stories of people living with some serious disfigurements or survivors of a disease, and these people are motivational speakers with golden hearts.

Tales of caregiver stresses and depression, dealing with misunderstandings and even abandonment; yet they they are steadfast and powerful!

From working in a hospital setting to non-profit organizations, I have seen what should be the worst of circumstances become the most inspirational hope.

******

There are struggles, challenges, let downs, disappointments, heartaches, illness, and tears... I have seen them all around, from the young to the elderly... and still, people go on to achieve the remarkable. Frowns turn to smiles; hands are extended; words of wisdom shared; crying becomes laughter; lowered heads rise up to the clouds. Being lost turns to being found and a yearning to succeed; to spread kindness.

Omnipotent, monolithic, majestic, impressive, eminent. Words like these can define the unexpected.

So the answer to why. Why doesn't he give up? Why is she helping out? Why does that person care? Why continue the fight?

Sometimes, just maybe, the answer is simply, Because.

Stuff

We all have stuff which we accumulate over the years, and as time goes by, some stuff comes and goes. We sell things, we trade things, we throw things out. We buy things, we collect things, and sometimes, we hoard things.
All of us have, or had, reasons for the stuff that we possess. Some things fall under the basic need category; things we need for day to day living, like the fridge to keep our food in, a bed to sleep on. Some things we have for decoration, like pictures on the walls of our homes. Some things we have for memories/sentimental purposes, such as photo albums or a cherished childhood stuffed animal.

I have a lot of these things, but  I'm finding that as new stuff comes in, old stuff or used stuff that doesn't get used anymore doesn't necessarily go out. (The definition of "new" in this context, I realize, can vary and mean different things to different people) Acquiring stuff seems to be easy, even when/if we can't afford it, getting rid of things, well, that can be more challenging; and in turn, easier to simply ignore and forget about.

I'm not one to make new year resolutions, but this year I decided that cleaning, organizing and purging was something I needed to do. I have always been one to clean and organize, but I was missing out on the purging; and that one is key. I would get rid of a few things, but I'd mostly just move stuff around into places that gave the illusion of getting rid of and creating more space.

I have a rather spacious home with quite a bit of room for stuff and I can't necessarily empty it bare, nor do I want to, but I'm giving serious thought to what is important and meaningful (useful) to have. Making life livable for myself, my mom, my dog, my niece and nephew, and the rest of my close family and friends has always mattered. But I think, it may all become more enjoyable with less stuff crowding us.

Clearing the cobwebs requires a broom and vacuum, but also garbage bags and eventually in the coming months, (because this winter weather is unpredictable and hard) a garbage bin, is what I need to arm myself with. Because it seems having too much stuff allows the cobwebs to slowly creep into not just my space, but I think also my head. It can become unhealthy.

There is so much filth out there that I cannot control. But my stuff, the things I own, I can, or at least should try to get a handle on, before it consumes me and I forget what is actually important.

I Am

So on a cold November night in 1978 I was rushed to the hospital with a viral infection known as Encephalitis, and this led way to growing up and living with a brain injury. I was six years old. Years and years went by before I was actually diagnosed with this by a Neuropsychologist; meaning that the result of my hospitalization was me simply growing up and spending most of my days living under a shadow, a mysterious presence; a combination of isolation, confusion, and fear. Not knowing why.

Still, I kept my head up (figuratively at times) and moved ahead.

I never gave up, even if I may have wanted to.

I have been referred to as “stupid” and I’ve heard the phrase “You can’t do that” many times, (though I’m sure in my mind it happened a little more often than it actually did) I was held back a few times in school and I failed some classes, or most usually just squeaked by. Since school I have had trouble through the years with employment; though I have always managed to get back into the game after being pushed out of the ring. I have had difficulties with relationships as well… whether any of it is related to my disability or if it is just me, I don’t know.

I never gave up though, even if I may have wanted to.

I keep my head up (figuratively at times) and move ahead.

Being quiet and reserved is me, but I still have some strong beliefs and values and I will always fight to do the right thing. I will always try my best, even when tired, and if my best is not good enough, then perhaps it is your loss.

I may not always voice my emotions, but I do wear them on my sleeves and for this reason I guess sometimes I act impulsively.

I am smarter than you may think but also a bit naïve to the world around me, because as much as I may see and understand that evil things happen, I still don’t believe in it.

I can love perfect strangers and am willing to give my life to certain family and friends.

I want to be there for others more than you know; perhaps maybe (foolishly) more than I am capable.

My memory is shady at times and may play tricks on me every once and a while, but I still know of isolation and confusion and fear too well; and it hurts me to know that other people feel and live with those things just as I did… just like I do.

It brings me pain to know that I can only do so much to help; whether you believe that or not doesn’t matter.

Even though I may want to give up at times because of the frustrations I feel, I don’t.

I keep my head up (figuratively at times) and move ahead.

When I was six I experienced my first big traumatic event, there have been others since then. Along with a multitude of good and great times, I have gained and grown so much.

It is a new year, for new experiences; new loves and new heartaches… but some just as old.

And I will keep my head up and keep moving forward; for both you and for me.

I am who I am… for better or worse… like or not.

I love life.

I am happy;

I am sad;

I am everything in between.

 

I am…

 

Reflecting

There is something about this time of the year that makes me sit down and reflect. I guess maybe it is because we are getting close to closing the book on one and preparing to start another; or maybe it is the Christmas and Holiday spirit that spreads its way throughout my veins. Whether it is both or something else, my mind travels to the past days, weeks, months.

Having written and published a book on growing up and living with a brain injury and trying to promote it (although promote for me is a loose term) as well as selling at various book fairs, is quite a bit different than writing a blog or magazine article, or even delivering a presentation. It is a one on one, more intimate setting, where I talk a little about my journey. Opening up and disclosing, whether to someone I already know or a stranger, (though talking to someone I know personally can sometimes be more difficult) still at times shortens my breath and quickens my heartbeat. I tend to relax as I am asked questions and explain, but not always. There are occasions I am overwhelmed, and whether it is innocence or arrogance, I am sometimes stumped at the questions or thoughts of what brain injury is.

All I want is for brain injury to be accepted and understood, not stigmatized or misconceived.

All I want is for me to be accepted and understood. I think I am; I know I am; am I?

And this when the travels of thought go beyond me and onto family, friends…. life.

Through my work in non-profit I hear so many stories of compassion and giving. We should be a compassionate and giving, as well as inclusive society, but are we?

I feel like I have given a lot of myself over the year; yet I never feel like I have given enough.

We all need bigger hearts and bigger pockets. There are so many who could use our support.

“And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say – that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day. And then – the true meaning of Christmas came through, and the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!”

I don’t want to necessarily compare people to the Grinch, and “Christmas” could easily be replaced with “Life”, but I think Dr. Suess had something there.

I sometimes think this world uses too much and loves too little. I feel it within. Society is in too much of a hurry, and the broken, troubled, challenged and scared, get left behind, walked over… or even just ignored. These patterns need to change and I don’t even know where or how to start? I don’t even know if I should start or if I have the confidence to start; but I can try... all I can do is try.

Is this silly of me? Is this a silly thing to want bigger hearts and bigger pockets? Is it silly to be reflecting on life this way? On everything and everyone and not just on me? Is it unreasonable to ask for things, people, to slow down and get along?

We should all be loved; we should all be accepted. (Well, you know, unless you’re just a meany up to no good… but maybe even then. Is that crazy talk?)

I want to erase loneliness; I don't want anyone to feel that there is nothing left and no reason.

My reflections come back to me in the moment and I am dumbstruck of what to do. Maybe write another Cheque or stick some cash into a Salvation Army kettle; lend verbal or emotional support; go to a food bank and help stalk selves; deliver presents or food hampers. Hmm… there is just so much that we can all get involved and work together.

~~~~

 

While I cannot be physically present with so many, my heart goes out to them all. My words are for everyone, in this post and in others; from social media and in person. My sincerest love, best wishes, empathy and compassion go out to all family, friends, the less fortunate and in need; to those fighting with an illness and those caregivers affected by it.

Merry Christmas! Merry Life!

 

 

Mirror

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" But it is not Snow White's wicked queen saying this, it is me.

Almost every morning when I wake up, weekday or weekend, I drag myself out of bed into the bathroom to gaze upon my reflection in the framed rectangle glass that hangs on the wall above my sink. It is a cabinet I had to move up a few inches for my tall six foot five inch self to be able to properly look into as this bathroom was not always mine and therefore not everything was originally installed for a guy like me.

More often than not I don't see a smile beaming back at me but instead tired eyes that scream a combination of "what's the point?" and "go back to bed!" But instead I ignore those words and look at the crevices and shadows and lines and I think about all of the struggles, challenges, accomplishments and victories I've had. I see all of those tears, the ones I shared and the ones I kept to myself. I see all of the laughter and feel good moments, again, the ones I shared and those I kept to myself. The mirror shows me scars and rejuvenation. My battles are, and have been, so different, but maybe a little similar, to what others go through. The mirror shows me that I am not alone.
I exam the shape of my nose and go over the outline of my mouth, down to my chin, around my ears, and up to my shaved head. "Not a bad looking dude; why am I single?" And I remember my choices and my experiences. Good and bad, it was all worth it I think. And I can handle the hurtles that lay ahead. I can face the challenges, like I always have, head on. Okay, maybe a little hesitation and thoughts of running for cover. But I would always move forward, for better or worse, regardless of inner whining.

The mirror shows me strength and opportunity.
The mirror helps me see and remember the blessings of loved ones.
The mirror offers reflections of guidance and wisdom.
It shows me pain and cruelty and how to face that fear.
The mirror me understand.

But what now? Go get dressed and brush my teeth and move forward. That is when I realize that I know the answer, well, I think I do anyway. The answer to the question "mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" It is me; it is you; it is all of us;.... at least if we want it to be. Because it is my choice. This is when my reflection begins to slightly offer a smile in return, and I can continue through the day.