The Bloody Doors Off

A day past Christmas, and I can look back on it with some fondness. I wasn’t in the best of moods leading into the day. And it took a while to get into the spirit of things, but once at Wayne and Donna’s, things took an upswing.

There was me, Kevin, Wayne, Donna, my nephew Brad and his girlfriend Carissa (both home from university in Calgary); Donna’s sister Angie, husband Don and daughter Amber; and my dad. We’d exchanged between Kevin, dad and myself before driving out to Oshawa (Kevin gave me an awesome light therapy device and dad got me a couple of appreciated gift cards) so the time out east was spent mostly talking, drinking, and eating. There was also mini ping pong tournaments in the basement (a new table; it reminded me of years past when we played when the nephews were younger). You couldn’t beat Kevin though. I came close, as did Brad. Funny thing though; it felt like I was just getting into the swing and a really good headspace when my dad decided he wanted to go home. As Kevin was driving he and I, that was pretty much it.

Got home and settled in to watch the Doctor Who special. I enjoyed it, but it was kinda packed and a little convoluted. So many plot points from the past 3 years that got wrapped up in 60 minutes. I would’ve liked to have seen it stretched out, but I’m not the showrunner…

I couldn’t sleep last night. Not for lack of trying. Crap I was tired and ready to crash by 1am. Had taken my pills and laid down, but the mind raced and refused to shut up. It didn’t help that the couple living on the top floor were playing their music loudly. Could hear the thumping of the base right in the basement. A bit of a pisser. Don’t know when I actually fell asleep, but it was with all 3 cats curled up on my legs. At some point I had to kick ’em to the side so I could turn on my side and pass out. Woke up at 10am and said “screw this” and set the alarm for noon. Hey, it’s Boxing Day, I’m allowed.

So up at 12, coffee and tv, etc. Around 2pm, decided “you know what? I need a new surge protector”. And that was it, I had to go out and get one from Future Shop. The old one was over 10 years old and with the new light box, I didn’t want to overload it. And ya know what? There ain’t no Boxing Day sales this year, not really. And here’s all these people with big ticket items, and all I could think was “you’re buying only because you think it’s on sale today”. I’d seen the same items 2 weeks ago with the same ticket price. A friend on Facebook made the same comment today. How right they were…

The rest of the day’s been uneventful. Got the cables somewhat straightened out (and then of course once you lay it all down it all goes back to a tangled mess) and am just trying to relax. Hoping for a better sleep tonight.

Too tired from turkey and Doctor Who. The day started off kinda blech but ended on a nice note.

Will write more tomorrow.

Right now, in this moment.

Fuck Christmas.

This outlook may change any moment.

But in this moment. I’m tired. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. Livid. Oblivious. Dangerous.

I want to cry. Sleep. Throw things. Shut off.

It’s chemical; I know that. The highs and lows this month, as the holidays approached, have been more pronounced. The holidays last year were bad. And this is a repeat. Add in the blackout, and the struggle gets worse. I don’t doubt I’ll have a new diagnosis, and new medication. But I have to push through to 2014 before that happens. And I’ll have moments where everything is:

Amazing. Charming. Glorious. Strong.

I just wish I was feeling that right now.

So the past 36 hours has been hell on this city, and for 24 of them, it’s preyed on my psyche.

You ever watch post-apocalyptic thrillers and wonder how you’d do in that scenario? I’d crumple. Too reliant on electronics for one. I did have a huge-ass lantern I bought back in the summer, and plenty of tea candles. And for some interesting reason I can’t explain, the gas heater in the living room continued to work. But I had no other real ’emergency’ supplies, no patience to sit still, and not enough bravery to face it for the first couple of hours.

I did think back to the last time Toronto had a blackout. That was an August date and much warmer. And I couldn’t wait to go out and ride in the darkness, to explore a city by torch light and look at the stars. I traveled from University and Dundas to Yonge and Finch that time. It was awesome and haunting. I had to use that memory to get myself out the door. So I bundled up and prepared to meet the city in the dark.

Which went on for a block and a half. So weird. A lot of the neighbourhood had power. I went down to Queen and Coxwell, got a bite to eat and charged my phone, and then up to Greenwood and Danforth for a coffee.

I spent the night trying to sleep (emphasis on trying, without my CPAP I was constantly waking up) and couldn’t sleep on the couch where it was warm. In the morning I had a diet coke and plain bagel. My brother Kevin called and he had power. He picked me up and I took the electronics up to his condo and recharged everything while I napped on his couch. He, my dad and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching soccer before we dropped off my dad (despite our protests as he still doesn’t have power) and we got food.

This is when I saw the extent, and the randomness, of the ice storm. Gridlock everywhere. You could go blocks with power and then be in complete darkness. Sometimes buildings would have power but no streetlights or traffic lights, or vice versa. And the coating of ice on everything was astounding.

I am thankful for having power tonight. I’m thankful for the men and women putting in the time and effort to fix this for everyone else. I am embarrassed our Mayor won’t declare a state of emergency in order to expedite the process. But most of all, I hope this problem gets rectified sooner rather than later.

I’ve been trying a little aversion therapy the past couple of days: the rubber band snap on the wrist. If my brain goes dark, if I feel like crap, I snap the band hard to snap me out of it. It’s still early days, not entirely effective yet.

It was a decent afternoon. Conversation with a new friend, comfy and warm apartment, all was good. Decided the weather was not going to stop me from going to Subspace tonight. Friends would be there, a lot of holiday cheer and kink. It’s a Wonderful Life.

Only my brain just couldn’t shut down. Or rather, the emotional cloud reared its ugly head. My friend K noticed I was doing the slow shuffle to the door for a quiet, unnoticed exit (which obviously was noticed) and engaged me in a great talk. N and R joined in, and before I knew it, another hour had flown by.

But sadly the cloud wasn’t willing to dissipate so easily, so I made my goodbyes and headed off through the rain. And I was on the streetcar, my brain began to think about relationships: specifically, the definitions of polyamorous relationships. Primary, Secondary, Tertiary. And a piece of the puzzle slid into place.

But it wasn’t about me. It’s about my dad.

He cheated on my mom with another woman. After the divorce, he spent years chasing her. He’d be in a relationship with her for a couple of years, she’d break it off, he’d chase her, she’d come back. This was a vicious cycle for over 20 years, until one day she finally left for good.

He wanted a primary relationship with her after the divorce, and she treated him like a secondary — and sometimes tertiary — partner. Her own family came first (children and grandchildren should be top-most in your mind and heart) but she never really made room for him. And he sacrificed everything for her.

Even now, 2 years after the last break-up, he’s still looking for her. He’ll never sell his townhouse and convert to something smaller and more manageable, because I think he’s afraid she won’t “find him” if she ever changed her mind. (I hope she doesn’t. He’s better off.)

He never found happiness because what he wanted wasn’t what she wanted.

And now I need to ask myself: what would make me happy? And how will I find it?

Good questions.

Being from German and English descent, I like to joke that I’m constantly at war with myself.

And when we’re faced with certain choices, there are at least two voices we listen to when making a decision. The one that tells us to be good, follow the proper path; and the other, that says give in to temptation.

This is gonna be one helluva battle.

On my way home from a friend’s Christmas gathering. I’m on the streetcar at Broadview and Gerrard. I get the distinct feeling that, if I look south around the corner, I’m going to see that there’s no power. That there’s a blackout. Even east, across the street. I expect it, but it’s not there.

Then I get home and learn city officials are worried that an ice storm is approaching that might knock out power to parts (or all) of the city on Saturday.

Yeah, sometimes I know stuff in advance.

• I was at a high school party and not enjoying myself. When a friend asked why, I told them my grandfather had died. He was sick in the hospital at the time. I got home and fell asleep. The phone rang early that morning with the news.
• I once had a vivid dream of a girl I had a crush on accompanying me to my friend Doug’s wedding, where we got in a fight and she flirted with our friend George. The dream skipped ahead, and we were married. Allison came with me to the wedding. We had a fight. She flirted with George. We didn’t get married.
• Before an office Christmas party, I saw my ex and I gravitate to each other.
• Four days before 9/11, I told my then-girlfriend Suzi that something was extremely wrong in the world, but didn’t know what.

I’m often wrong. But I hate when I’m right. I don’t talk about it much.

It doesn’t matter if I see it coming. I can’t stop it from happening.

I knew in the spring that I’d be in H-Wing. I just didn’t know when.

I’ve had this window open for hours, looking for inspiration.

That’s a common theme this week.

I’ve been writing in the RPG. Those characters are active. Discovered last night that I’ve been writing them since 2003 (thought the first evidence of that online game has long since faded into the ether). Going through some of the old entries, two things occur:

1. I wrote some funny shit
2. I wrote some horrible crap

And that’s the truth of writing, isn’t it? You’re going to write some putrid stuff. But inside of that, there are gems. Like hard-pressed coal, you can find little diamonds. My issue right now is not wanting to write the crap to get to the good stuff. Which is stupid. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and while I turned a draft of my play Song for Rachel in 2 weeks, it took me a lot longer than that to get to a worthwhile draft. The first version was, in hindsight, pretty awful. I was trying far too hard to be poetic. And that’s not me. But when I finally realized it was semi-autobiographical, delving into my struggle with depression… that’s when it started to resonate.

The two characters I write in the role play game? They resonate. They’re a reflection of my Id and my Ego.

Maybe I just need to write free-form for a bit. Let the Id and Ego take over. And within all that coal dust, maybe I’ll find a tiny diamond to polish.

I wrote this in an RPG 9 years ago. Warning: this is EXTREMELY smutty. Not for the vanilla; definitely NSFW.

(more…)

I wish I had something interesting to write about tonight. Pretty boring day: got comics, did laundry. Have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow with my GP.

It’s the silence that’s toughest to handle right now. Trying to find things to do, to write about. And it doesn’t help that Christmas is next week. I don’t want to go near the malls.