Keep The Faith

There’s things I’ve done I can’t erase

Every night we fall from grace

It’s hard, with the world in your face

Try to hold on, try to hold on. . . 

~ Bon Jovi, ‘Keep the Faith’

 

I believe in the Holy Trinity, and I believe in the Blessed Virgin.

I believe in God, and I believe in science.

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Hello 2015

Click to read SSG’s bio

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s March already. But I was basically incomunicada. For more reasons than one.

But! I finally have internet at home!

So, I’m back…

Barely.

WordPress looks completely different. It took me a few moments to find my way back to Canvas from my personal blog.

For those of you not familiar with my saga, I am just emerging like a cicada, after three months of the most unreal and not believable crap you can ever think of. In Windsor, Ontario.

Toughing It Out

Click to read Cate’s bio

From where I was seated, it seemed that no one cried at my father’s funeral.   It seemed to me that it was stoicism all the way.  Most of them were pretty good at it.  My 12-year-old nephew was looking a bit shaky for a while, parents wondering whether he would ‘make it’ to be part of the party to walk the casket it out.  And I can tell you that I was definitely shaky.  I was all but crying, but everyone was so stone-faced that I was determined that I wouldn’t ‘fall apart’.

Breaking Down The Walls Of “Can’t”

Alright, kids, confession time.  I have been feeling incredibly sorry for myself recently.

Oddly enough, it was another person validating all I have been going through this year, telling me I’m not getting all worked up over nothing, that I have had it incredibly rough that snapped me out of my funk.  This person was trying to help me, they said sometimes we all feel sorry for ourselves, we can’t help it.

This is absolutely true.  And I have been dealing with — let’s just keep things short and say a whole lot of crap

Should I, Or Shouldn’t I?

Click to read Laura’s bio

In a perfect world, all doctors would know that people with psychiatric issues are regular humans, just like everybody else.  They would not look at our diagnosis, our health history, our med list, and automatically assume that we are drug seekers.  They would not automatically write off our symptoms as being “psychosomatic.”  I use quotes there, because the word “psychosomatic” means that the mind is causing a disorder that is expressed by the body.  I happen to be of the school of medicine that believes that virtually all physical illness is caused, ultimately, by imbalances of body chemistry that are initiated in the brain; therefore, all illnesses are “psychosomatic.”  And guess what, folks: they’re real illnesses.

Christmas With Mental Illness

In my country of New Zealand, I think it’s fair to say that most people celebrate the occasion of Christmas, and that those who choose not to do so, don’t on religious or cultural basis.  There’s been a few years in my past when I have chosen not to celebrate Christmas, and that has been all about mental illness.

A Work In Progress

I’m going to tell a secret:
All things that breathe, that grow,

It comes out of nowhere

Sigh.

Here we are again.

Remember this: I’m NOT flaky?. Written almost a year ago.

Nothing has changed. But I found myself feeling the bite this week more than usual.

The reason, a series of non-related FB statuses.