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    Survival

    I was once told that I am a survivor, I consider it an insult. Merely surviving is no way to go through life.

    I had a violent childhood, the unfortunate circumstance of being an immigrant who didn't know how to fit in. I prevailed by being even more violent than my tormentors, the lone wolf among foxes. Just when sunshine started to bring warmth to my life, I got cut down by PTSD. My life went downhill very quickly. I got struck with panic attacks so severe that I lost my ability to breathe. I had social anxiety that turned me into an abject loner. Loss of co-ordination, loss of concentration and the brown icing on the feces cake - perpetual depression. When I reached high school, pushed along by an indifferent system the choice was clear, drop out or die. I chose to drop out with a Grade 9 education. While my life was becoming hell, I also had to deal with the rape of my older sister. My parents, more so my father, handled the situation badly. I felt guilty that I wasn't the older brother - then the lone wolf could have hunted again.

    Life after high school was rough and austere. I took risky jobs to make money, possibly to gain some self - respect. I got professional help from a compassionate social worker. From that point on I was never unemployed again. The PTSD was still there but it's severity got blunted with Mary Jane. Eventually I earned enough to pay for the completion of my education. I attained my high school equivalency, then got a Technologists Diploma sweetened with two ACAD Certificates. It didn't take me long to pay off my student loans, I've never had a problem earning. Eventually I gave up the Mary Jane, the newer strains actually sharpened the panic attacks. Gone was the euphoric effect. It was difficult at first, I acutely sensed my loneliness. However I came to realize that having a clear mind had its advantages.

    My salad days had finally arrived, I finally had physical and mental health to go along with my financial expertise. Time to tackle the last mountain and chop it down with the back of my hand (Jimi quote), that long elusive life partner. My social life started to improve....and then the car accident - through no fault of my own. I got lucky, my thick upper body and lack of neck cushioned the collision, and I was driving my Forrester not my Civic. These facts kept me from becoming wheelchair bound. Being used physical pain, my injuries did not faze me. However the concussion was an entirely different beast, never in my life had I experienced physical head trauma. The symptoms were many and I was prescribed a drug that rendered me bed bound. I felt like an ant in a Goya painting, helpless in the path of The God of War.

    So here I am, five years later, still recovering and attempting to make sense of my life. The only reality that is certain - survival sucks.

    #2
    I should mention that after I got off the Mary Jane I got into weight training. I went from Woody Allen to James Gandolfini. Much to my despair, Gandolfini was bi-polar and vented with food.

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      #3
      Tony Testa I just wanted to welcome you to the forums. Life can suck, but in spite of that, I seem to always choice to persevere. I have moments of peace that keep me going.

      I have been labelled a survivor, as opposed to a victim. However I want more than that in my life. I have hope of more. A life that has meaning, and an ability to move forward in spite of what drags me down.

      I hope things get better for you.
      AJ

      Humans punish themselves endlessly
      for not being what they believe they should be.
      -Don Miguel Ruiz-

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        #4
        Hi Tony Testa - welcome.

        Life can most definitely suck. Sometimes I wonder if that is kinda just the way it is, the way it is supposed to be. You have been through a crazy load of stuff - I think anyone would agree that you could rightly say 'life sucks'. But then there is me... my life has been a plate of cheese and crackers compared to you... yet here I am, depressed, thinking what is the point of all of this??

        I sometimes wonder how I got the impression that life should be grand... that I could be anything I wanted to be.... accomplish whatever I set my heart on. I think maybe adults told me so... I see now that I really didn't have enough life experience at that point to put into context what they were saying.

        I had it really good as a young child... safely, shelter, love... what more could you ask for? Then things started falling apart... tough challenges... I didn't know what to do... I'd look around at other people and there 'perfect' lives and think... 'what is happening to me?' Life was't what I thought I had been promised, so I suffered.

        One thing I appreciate about getting older is developing an understanding that others suffer too. Suffering is normal... suffering will find everyone eventually.

        And those dreams of grand accomplishment that I once had... I now see that I can have an idea... work towards it... maybe even achieve it... Ultimately, however, huge hurdles can pop up at any time. And sometimes it isn't a hurdle, but a mountain that can't be climbed, an ocean too expansive to swim across. Time to make a new plan, a new goal.... or maybe just enjoy the view from where I am.

        I am letting go of so many of my former dreams. Life clearly has a much different plan for me.

        Take care,
        Kaight

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          #5
          Thank you for your support folks.

          The struggle continues. You reach a point in your life where you have to take responsibility for your actions. Being relationship phobic, I'm now paying the price.

          I was given a sequence of prescription drugs to help me cope but they turned out to be something of a minefield. I started with Citalopram, I thrived on it. It cleared my head and sharpened my wits, I was able to take on more responsibility at work and reaped the rewards. After the car accident, the neurologist prescribed Topamax. That drug turned me into a zombie barely able to get out of bed - maybe I should have kept the history of stroke in my family to myself. Topamax rendered Citalopram useless, the psychiatrist prescribed Cypralex. It was a complete disaster, turning me into a raving lunatic. I took the samples given but, after a particularly horrific dream, I chose not to expedite the prescription. The drug left weakened both mentally and physically, I was forced to take a medical retirement. Then came Cymbalta - it had no effect. I stopped taking that in the spring of 2016, I've slugged along ever since. I don't enjoy retirement, I sense that I'm a drain, I've become more isolated.

          With James Gandolfini being consumed by his bi-polar disorder, which drove his food addiction, I needed a new role model. Liev Schreiber impressed me to no end by speaking fluent French at the Montreal premiere of Goon. Being super cool, he became my new role model I wasn't expecting him to show me the meaning of life. Correction just my life.

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