Lately, I have been struggling to understand God, or Goddess, or Being, or whatever you want to call a Higher Power. For the sake of simplicity, I will refer to this Higher Power as God for now, if only because the word "God" has only three letters. I don't know who or what God is exactly, and I probably cannot know, but I do believe in God. The problem I have is the concept of a loving God, one who looks out for us, and wants us to be happy.
I talked to Jodie about this, and she said something along the lines of "spirituality and faith aren't something you can analyze or understand on an intellectual level. You have to feel your faith, not think it." Forgive me if those weren't her exact words, but that was the gist of it. Then she said that faith is a lot like love, in the way that you just feel it.
I thought about that on the way home last night, driving along the 403, and it suddenly made sense. When I love someone, I don't analyze it, question it, or try to understand it, I just feel it. I know it's real. Either I feel it or I don't, and when I do, I just know. I think she's right. I think that faith is the same way. I don't question the existence of God anymore, I just know that there is a God. I can feel it. So instead of questioning God's motivations (like, is God supposed to operate the world like a triage?), or wondering why he'd help some ordinary, average Joe like myself when there are people who suffer more than I do, I should just try to feel my faith in my heart.
I'm not sure how to do that, but I get the feeling meditation is the key. Tolle says it is. The answer may really be inside, rather than outside me where I've been looking for it. One thing is for certain - I can feel that I made another small step along the path of my spiritual journey. It feels pretty good. It's another step away from my abyss of despair. I couldn't have pictured myself writing any of this two years ago, but I seem to have made progress. I can't help but be a little happy about that.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Purpose
I am mostly happy these days. My life is going pretty well right now, financial problems aside. However, one thing gnaws at me. What am I supposed to be doing with my life? I may be where I am supposed to be (and I think I am), but that doesn't tell me where I am supposed to go in the future, or what I am supposed to do.
I would love it if the gods would give me some sign, some clue as to what, if anything, I am supposed to do. Have they already given me a sign, but I wasn't paying attention? I don't know.
Sometimes, though, I think I already know. No matter what I do, there's always that little voice in my head that says I should write. I haven't been able to write much for a long time, and recently, I don't even have the desire to try, and yet the voice persists. "You should be a writer. You should be writing." Is the voice in my head the sign? Are the gods trying to tell me something?
Perhaps they are. I don't know if my desire will ever return, or if I'll ever get any good at writing, but I am open to the possibility that I should give it another shot. Maybe, just maybe, that's my purpose. I mean, apart from caring for and loving all the important people in my life, of course. The problem, apart from being mostly unable to write, is that I'm not sure. I just don't know...
I would love it if the gods would give me some sign, some clue as to what, if anything, I am supposed to do. Have they already given me a sign, but I wasn't paying attention? I don't know.
Sometimes, though, I think I already know. No matter what I do, there's always that little voice in my head that says I should write. I haven't been able to write much for a long time, and recently, I don't even have the desire to try, and yet the voice persists. "You should be a writer. You should be writing." Is the voice in my head the sign? Are the gods trying to tell me something?
Perhaps they are. I don't know if my desire will ever return, or if I'll ever get any good at writing, but I am open to the possibility that I should give it another shot. Maybe, just maybe, that's my purpose. I mean, apart from caring for and loving all the important people in my life, of course. The problem, apart from being mostly unable to write, is that I'm not sure. I just don't know...
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
What To Do With Anger?
My life is pretty good these days. Sure, I had to borrow a lot of money from a friend to cover a bunch of stuff, but it doesn't bother me. It's just money. I'll pay him back bit by bit, and all will be well. The fact that I have money problems no longer stresses me out.
Everything else is going well. My psychiatrist and I continue to make slow but steady progress, my depression is largely under control, and my mood is quite good. I'm actually happy a lot of the time. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be happy. It's pretty cool. And in some other areas of my life, there's a lot of hope for the future. I've actually caught myself singing a few times lately, and not the usual "Paint It Black" stuff. There's just one thing I'm still really struggling with, and that's anger.
I'm angry at both my parents, but mostly my dad. My shrink assures me that much of the anger is legitimate. I won't bore you with the things my dad has done over the past five or six years to make me so angry, I'll just say that I'm not sure how to resolve it.
The right thing to do, of course, is to forgive him. Accept that he is a deeply flawed human being, accept that I will probably never earn his respect or approval, and then let it go and move on. I'm having tremendous trouble forgiving him, though. It would be easier if he would acknowledge, just once, that he has done me wrong and done things to hurt me, but he won't admit to anything. This is not unexpected. Not once in my entire life have I ever heard my old man admit he was wrong about anything, ever. He's often a jerk to everyone, but if you call him on it, he'll claim that he never said anything like that, or that you just didn't hear him correctly. I'm pretty sure he'll go to his grave never once admitting that he did anything wrong to anyone, but that makes it difficult to forgive him. Part of me holds out the hope that he'll say something apologetic, but the rest of me knows better.
I guess what I'm saying is that I can't seem to resolve my anger. It's impossible to punish him or get revenge, and I can't seem to find the strength to forgive him. Most of the time these days, I don't give him much thought, but when the subject comes up, I often vent about him, and friends have told me that I seem very bitter about it. The anger is rarely at the surface, but when it is, it does get kind of intense.
Like I said, the rest of my life is going pretty well, and most of the time, I'm happy, and I really want to let go of all this anger. It's a burden I've carried for too long. It would probably be good for me to just drop it and move on. How do I do it? How do I forgive someone who stubbornly insists that he never did anything wrong? How do I forgive someone who won't take responsibility for his own actions? I just don't know.
When I see my psychiatrist on Monday, I think we'll have to talk about this. I'm angry and bitter, but I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to be angry anymore. I want to let this go, I just don't know how. Hmmmmm....
Everything else is going well. My psychiatrist and I continue to make slow but steady progress, my depression is largely under control, and my mood is quite good. I'm actually happy a lot of the time. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be happy. It's pretty cool. And in some other areas of my life, there's a lot of hope for the future. I've actually caught myself singing a few times lately, and not the usual "Paint It Black" stuff. There's just one thing I'm still really struggling with, and that's anger.
I'm angry at both my parents, but mostly my dad. My shrink assures me that much of the anger is legitimate. I won't bore you with the things my dad has done over the past five or six years to make me so angry, I'll just say that I'm not sure how to resolve it.
The right thing to do, of course, is to forgive him. Accept that he is a deeply flawed human being, accept that I will probably never earn his respect or approval, and then let it go and move on. I'm having tremendous trouble forgiving him, though. It would be easier if he would acknowledge, just once, that he has done me wrong and done things to hurt me, but he won't admit to anything. This is not unexpected. Not once in my entire life have I ever heard my old man admit he was wrong about anything, ever. He's often a jerk to everyone, but if you call him on it, he'll claim that he never said anything like that, or that you just didn't hear him correctly. I'm pretty sure he'll go to his grave never once admitting that he did anything wrong to anyone, but that makes it difficult to forgive him. Part of me holds out the hope that he'll say something apologetic, but the rest of me knows better.
I guess what I'm saying is that I can't seem to resolve my anger. It's impossible to punish him or get revenge, and I can't seem to find the strength to forgive him. Most of the time these days, I don't give him much thought, but when the subject comes up, I often vent about him, and friends have told me that I seem very bitter about it. The anger is rarely at the surface, but when it is, it does get kind of intense.
Like I said, the rest of my life is going pretty well, and most of the time, I'm happy, and I really want to let go of all this anger. It's a burden I've carried for too long. It would probably be good for me to just drop it and move on. How do I do it? How do I forgive someone who stubbornly insists that he never did anything wrong? How do I forgive someone who won't take responsibility for his own actions? I just don't know.
When I see my psychiatrist on Monday, I think we'll have to talk about this. I'm angry and bitter, but I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to be angry anymore. I want to let this go, I just don't know how. Hmmmmm....
Sunday, July 26, 2009
GRAPEFRUIT!
I was grocery shopping late this afternoon, and I went to the section with fruit juices. As I grabbed a jug of orange juice, I gazed longingly at the Tropicana Ruby Red Grapefruit juice. I thought, "I miss having grapefruit juice. I love grapefruit juice". But I couldn't have any for years because there's something in grapefruit juice that messes with modern anti-depressants. Then it struck me.
I'M NOT ON ANTI-DEPRESSANTS ANYMORE.
I haven't been on them for almost two months! I CAN HAVE GRAPEFRUIT JUICE! I laughed out loud as I put a container of the stuff in my cart. I laughed with glee all the way to the register. The checkout girl said, "how are you today?" I grinned as I replied.
"I can have freakin' GRAPEFRUIT JUICE!"
The checkout girl laughed out loud.
I opened up that container the second I got home and took a swig. Oh, man, was that ever good. Sometimes, life is sweet. Sometimes, joy can come in the form of something simple you missed. Sometimes, happiness comes in one liter containers in the juice aisle, and all you need to do is just grab some.
I'M NOT ON ANTI-DEPRESSANTS ANYMORE.
I haven't been on them for almost two months! I CAN HAVE GRAPEFRUIT JUICE! I laughed out loud as I put a container of the stuff in my cart. I laughed with glee all the way to the register. The checkout girl said, "how are you today?" I grinned as I replied.
"I can have freakin' GRAPEFRUIT JUICE!"
The checkout girl laughed out loud.
I opened up that container the second I got home and took a swig. Oh, man, was that ever good. Sometimes, life is sweet. Sometimes, joy can come in the form of something simple you missed. Sometimes, happiness comes in one liter containers in the juice aisle, and all you need to do is just grab some.
It's Just Money
Until recently, I have been stressed out about money. It began in earnest a couple of months ago, when my ex-wife wanted me to pay for my daughter's summer day camp. I have no problem with being asked to cover that, I was just stressed out about where the hell I was going to come up with almost $1,800.
Then money problems like that became a full-blown catastrophe. The car I'm driving has required several expensive repairs (front wheel bearing for $360, for example), and now needs its suspension replaced. Great. Another $900 or so. I've bought my own car, but that bad boy's going to need at least $400 to get it ready to drive. There's a bunch of other little things I won't bore you with. I did some math, and the bottom line is I need about $3,000 that I don't have, and I need all of it soon. This means going back into debt, not that long after finally getting out. Crap. I was intensely depressed about this until I realized that it's just money.
I thought about it, and realized that if I have to get a friend to co-sign another loan, and I have to make small monthly payments for two years again, so what? Who cares? It's just money. It comes, it goes, I have to pay the bills just like everyone else, and if I'm left with $200 at the end of each month, what difference does it make? It would be nice to be able to save up some real cash or contribute to an RSP, but in the end, I have the big, important stuff.
I have my health. Sure, I'm no spring chicken anymore. I have a few aches and pains and I don't heal as fast as I used to, but other than insomnia, I have no terrible, chronic health problems. Since ditching my anti-depressants, I've lost 15 pounds, so I even look okay. I still struggle with depression sometimes, but I have learned to do things to combat it, and most of the time, I'm okay. Much better than just a few years ago.
I have a lot of great friends, and I enjoy hanging out with them. I have my share of fun, good times and laughs with my friends. I have a wonderful daughter who's smart, sweet, and is developing a twisted sense of humour, just like her old man. I get along with my ex-wife and her husband (for the most part), and I know a few people who don't. Sure, some of the members of my immediate family suck - I'm talking to you, Dad - but most of them don't, and I have some really cute nieces and a nephew who's adorable.
I'm not loaded with cash, and I don't have a lot of assets, but my refrigerator isn't empty, my bed's pretty comfortable, and I have a job. I often find myself wishing I had money to travel or for cool sports cars, but it's just money. I'll get by, one way or the other, and gettin' by is what matters. Things could be a lot worse.
So I've decided to stop worrying about money or letting myself get depressed for not being rich. I've decided to do my best to stop complaining every time something expensive happens, and to try to stop being envious of others. As long as I have the important stuff, I'll be okay.
Then money problems like that became a full-blown catastrophe. The car I'm driving has required several expensive repairs (front wheel bearing for $360, for example), and now needs its suspension replaced. Great. Another $900 or so. I've bought my own car, but that bad boy's going to need at least $400 to get it ready to drive. There's a bunch of other little things I won't bore you with. I did some math, and the bottom line is I need about $3,000 that I don't have, and I need all of it soon. This means going back into debt, not that long after finally getting out. Crap. I was intensely depressed about this until I realized that it's just money.
I thought about it, and realized that if I have to get a friend to co-sign another loan, and I have to make small monthly payments for two years again, so what? Who cares? It's just money. It comes, it goes, I have to pay the bills just like everyone else, and if I'm left with $200 at the end of each month, what difference does it make? It would be nice to be able to save up some real cash or contribute to an RSP, but in the end, I have the big, important stuff.
I have my health. Sure, I'm no spring chicken anymore. I have a few aches and pains and I don't heal as fast as I used to, but other than insomnia, I have no terrible, chronic health problems. Since ditching my anti-depressants, I've lost 15 pounds, so I even look okay. I still struggle with depression sometimes, but I have learned to do things to combat it, and most of the time, I'm okay. Much better than just a few years ago.
I have a lot of great friends, and I enjoy hanging out with them. I have my share of fun, good times and laughs with my friends. I have a wonderful daughter who's smart, sweet, and is developing a twisted sense of humour, just like her old man. I get along with my ex-wife and her husband (for the most part), and I know a few people who don't. Sure, some of the members of my immediate family suck - I'm talking to you, Dad - but most of them don't, and I have some really cute nieces and a nephew who's adorable.
I'm not loaded with cash, and I don't have a lot of assets, but my refrigerator isn't empty, my bed's pretty comfortable, and I have a job. I often find myself wishing I had money to travel or for cool sports cars, but it's just money. I'll get by, one way or the other, and gettin' by is what matters. Things could be a lot worse.
So I've decided to stop worrying about money or letting myself get depressed for not being rich. I've decided to do my best to stop complaining every time something expensive happens, and to try to stop being envious of others. As long as I have the important stuff, I'll be okay.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Today is the Fourth of July, and since it is an American holiday, I would like to take this time to remind Canadians how great our neighbour to the south is.
God Bless America.
I'm serious. Hating the USA and making fun of Americans seems to be Canada's national pastime, and I am sick of it. Canadians forget which side their bread is buttered on, or who we have to thank for our continued freedom. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson from "A Few Good Men", Canadians go to sleep every night under the blanket of freedom that America provides, and then they use that freedom to criticize the manner in which it is provided. Few countries in the world have been so helped by the United States, and few countries are less grateful for it. America buys more than 70% of our stuff, provides us with countless jobs, patrols our coastline, and sticks up for us when the rest of the world hangs us out to dry, and how do we thank them? By making fun of them and treating them like crap.
Too many Canadians think we have it so bad living next to America. Think again. We share the longest undefended border in the world. Our government and citizens can criticize America, but Americans don't respond by bombing our cities or rolling the tanks in. Ask the people of Tibet how much fun it is living next to Communist China. People around the world wear "Free Tibet" shirts, in the hope that one day, the Chinese might stop their brutal repression of Tibet. Nobody has to wear "Free Canada" shirts, do they? Ask the people of Chechnya or Ukraine how much fun it is living next to Russia. Chechnya elected a president who was openly critical of Russia, and the Russians responded by invading Chechnya and ousting the democratically elected government in favour of one that was prepared to kneel before their Russian masters. The Ukraine elected a government that wanted more independence from Russia, and Russia responded last winter by cutting off all natural gas shipments to the Ukraine. Meanwhile, Canada regularly gives the USA the finger, and the worst we have to endure in retaliation is strong words.
I'm not saying America is perfect, or that they've never done anything wrong. Certainly they deserve their share of criticism. We've had trade disputes with them, and they've been guilty of unfair protectionist rules. But let me tell you what the good ol' USA is like when the fucking chips are down. Too few Canadians remember, or even know, these stories.
Last year, our government decided that in order to continue our mission in Afghanistan, we would need some of our allies to provide some troops to back up our guys. Don't give me the argument that "Canada shouldn't be there". The argument is irrelevent. Whether we "should" be in Afghanistan or not does not matter. The cold, hard fact is that we ARE there, and we need to deal with the fact that our troops need help. Our government asked our European allies for help, and they all came up with excuses as to why they could not commit any combat troops. We asked the USA, and what did they do? They sent us 12,000 marines immediately, with another 10,000 to be deployed over the next year. They sent us helicopters, unmanned flying drones and night vision equipment to make patrolling the countryside more efficient and less dangerous. They did this without hesitation, conditions, or demands for compensation. The rest of the world sat in the dugout, and America went to bat for us. Candians forget this, don't they?
In 1994, the 50th Anniversary of D-Day, some rat bastard French hotel gave away the rooms our veterans had reserved to Swedish tourists. When our government complained, the French government said they couldn't interfere in the business of a privately owned hotel. Fortunately, America stood up for us, threatening to cancel the whole ceremony if something wasn't done. Under pressure from America, the French government forced the hotel to give the rooms back to the men who fought to liberate their ungrateful asses from the Nazis. Once again, America stands up for her friend Canada, and once again, Canada forgets the whole thing five minutes later, and goes back to taking pot shots at the country that may be her only friend in the world.
It's true that Americans don't know much about Canada. I understand that it annoys Canadians when America doesn't pay much attention to us. They have said and done things we didn't like over the years. Well, so fucking what? In the big scheme of things, America has been a pretty good neighbour. We don't live in fear of an American invasion, the way Chechnya lives in fear of Russia. Canadians don't live under brutal oppression, the way Tibet lives under the Chinese jackboot. When MP Carolyn Parish said "damned Americans, I hate those bastards", America didn't respond by massing tanks on our border and threatening us with violence. America buys our goods and raw materials, and overall is pretty good to us. A lot of Canadians have jobs because America is our biggest trading partner. So I, for one, say "God Bless America". I love them.
The bottom line for me is this: when the shit hits the fan, America has our backs. Maybe it's time we had theirs, too.
God Bless America.
I'm serious. Hating the USA and making fun of Americans seems to be Canada's national pastime, and I am sick of it. Canadians forget which side their bread is buttered on, or who we have to thank for our continued freedom. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson from "A Few Good Men", Canadians go to sleep every night under the blanket of freedom that America provides, and then they use that freedom to criticize the manner in which it is provided. Few countries in the world have been so helped by the United States, and few countries are less grateful for it. America buys more than 70% of our stuff, provides us with countless jobs, patrols our coastline, and sticks up for us when the rest of the world hangs us out to dry, and how do we thank them? By making fun of them and treating them like crap.
Too many Canadians think we have it so bad living next to America. Think again. We share the longest undefended border in the world. Our government and citizens can criticize America, but Americans don't respond by bombing our cities or rolling the tanks in. Ask the people of Tibet how much fun it is living next to Communist China. People around the world wear "Free Tibet" shirts, in the hope that one day, the Chinese might stop their brutal repression of Tibet. Nobody has to wear "Free Canada" shirts, do they? Ask the people of Chechnya or Ukraine how much fun it is living next to Russia. Chechnya elected a president who was openly critical of Russia, and the Russians responded by invading Chechnya and ousting the democratically elected government in favour of one that was prepared to kneel before their Russian masters. The Ukraine elected a government that wanted more independence from Russia, and Russia responded last winter by cutting off all natural gas shipments to the Ukraine. Meanwhile, Canada regularly gives the USA the finger, and the worst we have to endure in retaliation is strong words.
I'm not saying America is perfect, or that they've never done anything wrong. Certainly they deserve their share of criticism. We've had trade disputes with them, and they've been guilty of unfair protectionist rules. But let me tell you what the good ol' USA is like when the fucking chips are down. Too few Canadians remember, or even know, these stories.
Last year, our government decided that in order to continue our mission in Afghanistan, we would need some of our allies to provide some troops to back up our guys. Don't give me the argument that "Canada shouldn't be there". The argument is irrelevent. Whether we "should" be in Afghanistan or not does not matter. The cold, hard fact is that we ARE there, and we need to deal with the fact that our troops need help. Our government asked our European allies for help, and they all came up with excuses as to why they could not commit any combat troops. We asked the USA, and what did they do? They sent us 12,000 marines immediately, with another 10,000 to be deployed over the next year. They sent us helicopters, unmanned flying drones and night vision equipment to make patrolling the countryside more efficient and less dangerous. They did this without hesitation, conditions, or demands for compensation. The rest of the world sat in the dugout, and America went to bat for us. Candians forget this, don't they?
In 1994, the 50th Anniversary of D-Day, some rat bastard French hotel gave away the rooms our veterans had reserved to Swedish tourists. When our government complained, the French government said they couldn't interfere in the business of a privately owned hotel. Fortunately, America stood up for us, threatening to cancel the whole ceremony if something wasn't done. Under pressure from America, the French government forced the hotel to give the rooms back to the men who fought to liberate their ungrateful asses from the Nazis. Once again, America stands up for her friend Canada, and once again, Canada forgets the whole thing five minutes later, and goes back to taking pot shots at the country that may be her only friend in the world.
It's true that Americans don't know much about Canada. I understand that it annoys Canadians when America doesn't pay much attention to us. They have said and done things we didn't like over the years. Well, so fucking what? In the big scheme of things, America has been a pretty good neighbour. We don't live in fear of an American invasion, the way Chechnya lives in fear of Russia. Canadians don't live under brutal oppression, the way Tibet lives under the Chinese jackboot. When MP Carolyn Parish said "damned Americans, I hate those bastards", America didn't respond by massing tanks on our border and threatening us with violence. America buys our goods and raw materials, and overall is pretty good to us. A lot of Canadians have jobs because America is our biggest trading partner. So I, for one, say "God Bless America". I love them.
The bottom line for me is this: when the shit hits the fan, America has our backs. Maybe it's time we had theirs, too.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A Glimmer Of Hope
It's been a bad couple of months. I just finished paying off a loan, only to find that I may have to apply for another one. Things keep happening to suck all the money out of my bank account. I dream of getting my own car, but sadly, I am no closer than I was 18 months ago. On it goes.
There is a glimmer of hope, though. I stopped taking the antidepressant I was on. I stopped partly because it wasn't doing much for my mood, but mostly because I was sick of the side effects. The drug seemed to be affecting my memory, concentration, and worst of all, my creativity. My brain felt numb, and I felt as if I were walking around in a perpetual fog.
I've been off my antidepressant for only four days, and already my brain seems to have come back to life. I feel more alert. My memory has improved. My appetite has decreased, so maybe I'll lose a little weight, too. It's too early to say if my ability to write creatively will return, but for the first time in nearly two years, I have hope that it will.
In spite of my never-ending financial problems, I have a little bit of spring in my step. Now that I'm free of that prescription drug, maybe, just maybe, my ability to write will come back. It will probably take time, and may not return all at once, but I have hope that it will. The rest of my life sucks, but if I can write again, then I can put up with all the rest of the crap.
I want everyone to know that I made the decision to stop the medication with the help of my psychiatrist. After talking about it at length, he agreed that it was okay for me to stop, and we're both going to keep monitoring my mood, in case it craters. If you are taking an antidepressant, please DON'T stop taking it without consulting the doctor who prescribed it. If the side effects are intolerable, your doctor may want to switch medications rather than have you stop taking them altogether. What to do about your medication is a decision that requires the advice of a professional. Please keep that in mind.
I don't have a lot in my life, but I do have a few things, and now I have a wee bit of hope. In dark times like these, that feels pretty good. I'm going to keep plugging away. I hope you do, too.
There is a glimmer of hope, though. I stopped taking the antidepressant I was on. I stopped partly because it wasn't doing much for my mood, but mostly because I was sick of the side effects. The drug seemed to be affecting my memory, concentration, and worst of all, my creativity. My brain felt numb, and I felt as if I were walking around in a perpetual fog.
I've been off my antidepressant for only four days, and already my brain seems to have come back to life. I feel more alert. My memory has improved. My appetite has decreased, so maybe I'll lose a little weight, too. It's too early to say if my ability to write creatively will return, but for the first time in nearly two years, I have hope that it will.
In spite of my never-ending financial problems, I have a little bit of spring in my step. Now that I'm free of that prescription drug, maybe, just maybe, my ability to write will come back. It will probably take time, and may not return all at once, but I have hope that it will. The rest of my life sucks, but if I can write again, then I can put up with all the rest of the crap.
I want everyone to know that I made the decision to stop the medication with the help of my psychiatrist. After talking about it at length, he agreed that it was okay for me to stop, and we're both going to keep monitoring my mood, in case it craters. If you are taking an antidepressant, please DON'T stop taking it without consulting the doctor who prescribed it. If the side effects are intolerable, your doctor may want to switch medications rather than have you stop taking them altogether. What to do about your medication is a decision that requires the advice of a professional. Please keep that in mind.
I don't have a lot in my life, but I do have a few things, and now I have a wee bit of hope. In dark times like these, that feels pretty good. I'm going to keep plugging away. I hope you do, too.
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