Tuesday, May 14, 2019


Great White Sharks, viewed "upside down" from underneath.

It’s over. The whole fucking mess that has been my life for the past three years, one month and four days, is over. 
April 9, 2016 is the day I went to the hospital unable to speak. I’d been having trouble with my voice for decades before that date, but that’s the date I entered the medical system and that’s what led to my mental health diagnosis. In the same way, May 12, 2019 will forever be the day I decided I was cured, that my whole psychiatric mess was over.
Why? Because I spoke at the memorial without a single stutter! Several people come up to me afterwards to compliment my speech—for its contents and not for speaking “given my challenges.” There were no challenges. I read it. 
I know it was decently written; it was light and personal, different from many of the other stories that were full of facts and pain. I got lots of laughs and that was my goal. All the speeches were wonderful—well most of them. The whole event was wonderful. Meeting Luke, Cathy’s son, was wonderful.
I breezed through my day, high on my ability to speak so well in the city. I was never mute and I didn’t stutter with anyone—clerks or friends. I felt cured. Dwight warned me that “it” could come back under dire circumstances, and I know that he’s right. But the permanence of my affliction is over.
I feel cured of my symptoms—not of anxiety. I can talk on the phone. I can talk normally to clerks. It’s absolutely phenomenal: gone as suddenly as it came. Sunday was the first “normal” day I’ve experienced in Vancouver since the onset of my condition.
When I got home, I had a love fest with the pets, of course. The I lit the fire to warm up the house—it’s cooler again—and I made a batch of cookies with which to celebrate. And all day I just kept saying to myself: “It’s over.” I’m just overjoyed.
When I checked my gardens, I got another thrill. Mybeans are up! They emerged just as I was losing faith in them. I’m really excited; now I’ll get to watch them (and the peas) scale the bamboo trellis I built for them.
I was not thrilled to find that some of my wood is down. Well, some of it. Part of one of three stacks fell down so I’ll have to re-stack it before the next two cords arrive.

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