Today is the last day, which means I will be giving a presentation in a few hours about the language we use and the labels we place on people with mental challenges.
My presentation will be judged upon my knowledge of the subject as well as my delivery of the information. I am not nervous to speak in a roomful of people. I’ve done this more times than I can count. The only difference here is I am being graded on my performance. Best that I stick to the books and keep my subject with the facts, which is fine
Either way, the truth here is simple. The truth is we all have challenges of our own. Truth is everyone is trying to outrun something in their life at least once; whether it be a simple thing or more complex; everyone has something to tangle with at some point.
Yearly Archives: 2020
Day 2 of 5: They Pulled a Switch
This is day 2 of 5 which has officially been shortened down to 3 days, to which I say “Fine” without any protest so long as I reach my goal and become certified.
However, first and foremost, I must remember that first and foremost, I began this trip for a reason. I came here because my reasons are true. I am here because my reasons for understanding mental health are true as well.
Day 1 of 5: Wish Me Luck
Today is day one of a new endeavor, but yet, none of this is really new to me at all. I am writing to you from a hotel room in Orlando, anxiously awaiting the start of a class that will certify me to become a mental health first aid trainer.
Continue readingFrom Letters: Old October
Old October and I was young on cold morning and the rain came in rushing in. The streets of Midtown West, the 7th Avenue Garment District woes and crazy times, rushed with people in quick hurries to beat the out-of-nowhere storm, which came in suddenly and without warning.
And me, there I was in a window seat at a coffee shop, writing a letter to my Mother, looking out the window and watching everyone scatter and run for cover.
I watched businessmen with briefcases put their newspaper over their head to shield them from the heavy rain.
Large gulp-sized drops fell from the sky and spattered on the ground in a chattering sound that could be heard from my place inside, safe from the rain.
Some were readied with umbrellas and some just ran through, trying to avoid the downpour, to avoid the curbside puddles, and the dirty splashes from crazy cab drivers, swishing through the street, eager to pick up a fare and make their ends meet.
Quickie
There is a strange buzz about the place now, the city, I mean, and the scared emptiness I see of a pandemic experience, which no one asked to have but “Surprise,” it is here anyway.
And this could just be me —I know this is me and my anxiety, my old familiar friend, and companion, which I call this out for what it is, because it is what it is, which is “Just another day,” because after all; it is in fact, just another day. It’s just another thing. It’s just another concern among a list of many, but I mean come on now, really? Did we really need this right now?
Loss
They say loss is part of life. They say into each life, a little rain must fall. Some lives will only drizzle and others may pour, but either way, we all go through the rain. They also say that dying is part of living and death is part of life. They say that all things, do, and must change. Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end. There is no avoiding this. The only thing that cannot, will not, and does not change is fact.
Continue readingA Piece Out of Sessions From The Balcony: Just A Dream
There is no real difference between now and then, except for you and me of course and the age of our existence. There is no more difference between us and then, except for this, us, still being the way we are, —still hoping to be the way we dream to be, which is young, always young, and always hopeful, eager to feel and eager to laugh.
I want to feel the way we do when the sun comes up and hits the garden at Central Park near 116th street on a summery morning, where, in the middle of nowhere in the city life, there was a scene, which could have been from a movie; —as if New York City became this totally different world because of a little garden with a slate-stone walk-around, lined be specimens of trees, the kind that seems royal and regal; enough to give someone the feel of storybook reasons to walk around and love someone so much that you’d though time could stand still.
Another Turn Around The Sun
And here we are, Project Earth, the world’s biggest conveyor belt, literally, as it moves around the sun. Things will be mild soon, up here on the northern hemisphere. We will lean in and move closer to the sun.
Why, it was just a year ago today that Project Earth was at this very same position. Time sure flies when you’re moving through orbit. We age and we grow, and look at it this way, a year has gone by since this very day.
But what does that mean?
Remove The “If”
If it were up to me, we would never grow old.
If it were up to me, everything would feel as good as the first time my Grandmother told me a bedtime story or fed me a meal. Nothing else in the world ever feels like grandma’s bedtime stories. Nothing tastes as good as when Grandma makes it.
If it were up to me, everything would be as easy as an afternoon I once spent in the autumn months. The air was neither too warm nor too cold. The sun was on its way down and the world was quiet. I could see the golden hue from the sunset reflecting against the trees in a field as I walked home from a moment that was (shall we say) less than comfortable. But yet, the afternoon was somehow by a beautiful moment before the sun went down. God, that was perfect.
To Parents: A Note Of Explanation
As parents, we have hopes and dreams. We have ideas of what we want our children to become. We wrap them in their little blankets and we tell them bedtime stories. We hope, and we pray to keep them safe.
We teach them all they need to know to the best of our ability. We teach them their A B C’s, the 1 2 3’s, and all about the itsy bitsy spider and the wheels on the bus that go ‘round and ‘round.
The Written Addiction 