Dragon of the Scribe

{July 5, 2012}   I Miss Being a Wuttunee…

I miss singing and dancing, I miss hearing the drums and the smell of sweet grass. I miss the language, the feeling of family. I wish I payed more attention, and took the time to remember what the culture was suppose to be. All I see now, is what it’s turned into.

My cousin Stephane posted a picture of him, playing a traditional Cree drum. The first thing that I remembered: singing(howling) at my Great Grandma’s funeral. Then I remembered the festivals and celebrations I used to dance in. Growing up, I was so proud of being Cree. I was proud of my name.

I’m part of one of the largest Cree bloodlines, many of my close relatives have a name for themselves. Winston, Wanda, Stephane, Elsie (I love you Grandma). Yet, I distance myself.

The pride I used to have for being Native, was immense when I was growing up.  I was proud to dance.  I was proud to know the language, even if it was only small fragments.   I loved and cherished my true birth name.  N,tanis (which is prounced En-taun-ce, best I can do.)  Growing up in Texas, being the only Native family – it was different.  Americans portray Natives like in Cowboy movies, very traditionally.  Growing up when I was in Canada, I only really knew the traditional Native ways.  Coming home, things started to change.

The Wuttunee family is a very large family, though I’m not sure how the numbers are now.  A lot of Wuttunee’s have had their names well known across the country and oversea’s.  Winston Wuttunee – my God father – has been producing records since as long as I can remember.  Stephane Wuttunee  – who’s picture is above – an author, adventurer and a person who has embraced the old ways with the new.  Elsie Wuttunee… my grandmother, who was commanded by Queen Elizabeth the Second herself, for tea.

Grandma (Elsie) once asked me who I wanted to marry, I was 8 years old. I told her I wanted to marry a man from France. 15 years later, give or take – I met my husband in high school. He’s the first born Canada, his family is from France.

She would be appalled by me right now.  Not because I was right, but because of what I turned into.  The little girl who had big dreams, big idea’s, and the shine that could blind – grown up into a being who has thrown away her pedigree, and turned into a stray.  If she saw me now, I don’t think she’d recognize me.  My long thick black hair, now mostly shaved, with a few pieces left behind.  Tanned skin that once was the envy, now paled and dull.  My sense of belonging, severed.  I hold no rights to the Wuttunee name, I’ve disgraced it.  Not only have I become something she would be ashamed of, but I’m only adding the numbers that want to crush what she’s tried to accomplish.

Elsie was an educational worker, with the mission to improve relations between Natives and Canada.  Funding for schooling, so that Natives had a better chance to go to post-education programs. Metis rights.  She fought for a lot of things, we now take for granted.  Money that would mean I had a brighter future, a chance to make something of myself.  I could do it, still.  So why haven’t I?

Most people wouldn’t have a clue I was Native, and those who do, are often surprised.  Why? For one simple reason.  I’m not what they expect.

Racism exists!  It will always exist! It’s not our faults.  Stereotyping exists, and this is with good reason.  These are related, but not the same thing.  For example.

“I hate how immigrant cab-drives drive.”  <— This, is racism.  This is also, stereotyping.  If you have ever been to India, you know how the rules of the road are vastly different.  It’s basically move where you can, and try to make it there alive.  It’s not surprising that many cab drivers are a bit scary.  However; let’s say everyone from India was the same race, and still drive like they do – we would still go “Stop driving like you’re in a big city!”

“Fuckin’ injuns need to get a damn job.”  <— That’s racism.  My town’s ‘homeless’ population, are mostly native.  Most ‘Natives’ we think about ,especially on reserves – are heavy drinkers and gamblers.  They rely on the gov’t to look after them.  They take what’s given, and flip off the white man for beating them down.

I can’t speak for anyone else.  This is just what I see.  It’s what I see with my own eyes, and how I watch others.

I am so afraid to take money from the Gov’t to go to school.  I want to go, I really do.  I don’t know what I want to do, but school is something I want.  All I have to do is bring my family records, and get my Metis status.  I don’t qualify for Treaty.  So why haven’t I done it yet?

My perception of what Native means – is not the same what it meant when I was growing up.  The sense of belonging, of pride… it’s disappeared.  I have physically removed myself from my immediate family.  My parents, my brothers, even my niece.   I know I’m running out of time with my father.  Every day, I know my dad is suffering, missing me.  I also know that going home, would only bring harder aches.

At least I know where I stand.  Here, I’m safe.  Here, I have options.  Here, I’m not at risk of being bullied and harassed by people who I’m suppose to love.

The blood that runs in my veins is strong, but it’s also why I’ve retreated so far away from.  How can I cherish a name, a culture – when going home to the people I’m suppose to love – send me back to the shadows?  I love my family.  I miss my family.  I don’t miss the verbal massacres from simply walking through a door.

At least where I stand now, I have a family who  I can trust.  A family who has taken the time to help me, understand me, and work with me.

I miss what my name stood for.





Not my picture! 🙂

So.  Why am I talking about this?  It’s illegal with few exceptions, such as medical reasons in certain states.  It’s considered a ‘gateway’ drug to far harsher street drugs – like crack.  It’s also one of the most misunderstood substances in the known world at this moment in time.  Why?

When I was 17, I woke up screaming.  The pain in my hip – which was very real but without any known cause – was so intense, my dad made a phone call.  He called a friend of mine, who he knew smoked pot.  My dads a Registered Nurse for Psychiatric care.  Pain killers doctors wanted to put me on were extremely powerful and dangerous.  He’d rather see me high on something that might actually help, and not risk severe complications such as organ failure from prescriptions.

I went to my friends house, and he offered me a bowl.  For the first time, I could sleep a full night and wake up in less pain.

This was a breakthrough.  I started to study it, I didn’t smoke it often – only using it when I was in severe pain or as an alternative way to celebrate – instead of drinking.

Between then, and 24 – it was rarely something I did.  A few months ago, I started losing my ability to eat, drink and sleep.  I started writing this blog, and I started to smoke up more frequently.

June 4th was my birthday.  As you can imagine, green was something that I was offered as presents.  I smoked up every day.  This wasn’t normal – and my Husband was less than thrilled with this development.  I understand his reasoning for being upset.  I never smoked up much before, and suddenly I was high at least once a day.  This IS NOT healthy, and have since been far more careful with it.  However; that does not mean he thinks it’s bad for me and is telling me to stop.

Weed has many benefits that has helped me tremendously.  It’s been getting me to eat more.  I’m slowly starting to have an appetite, and a regular eating pattern.  It calms me down faster after an episode, allowing me to focus on something different – such as a show – artwork – or writing.  It also helps me sleep regular hours.

This is not a cure-all drug.  This is not something that I believe makes all my worries go away – nor is it something that I believe is just a placebo.  Before that phone call my dad made, I had the firm belief that weed was a horrible thing, that it destroyed lives and extremely dangerous.  My dad explained that it would at the very least help me sleep, but didn’t give me a lot of details.  He said he didn’t like how it affected him, being too similar to being drunk.  (My dad doesn’t like the feeling of lack of control, so being high or drunk my dad avoids like the plague).

I knew it was suppose to help the pain and sleep, I didn’t realize how it would change how I felt completely.  I enjoy eating.  I enjoy learning. It didn’t make me change how I saw my life, it didn’t change who I was, and it didn’t change how life was.  It didn’t cure me, but it helped me.

My sleep schedule’s are something that have been an issue for years.  I wanted to talk to a doctor about it, knowing the serious implications connected to my illness.  He gave me pills that would help me fall asleep and keep me there – but not knock me out.  This is night 4.  A few hours of sleep here, 8 hours there… and last night over 17 hours.  This is not safe.   This is also with my system cleared of THC.  I’ve  talked to my first doctor about my regular prescriptions with weed, and I know that while he cannot give comment – did say that there would be no reaction.  My family doctor I knew he would give a biased answer, and chose not to risk complications.

I do not like this medication for sleep.  It’s unpredictable, and obviously not correcting the issues, but making them worse.  I’d rather take something that I know works, has no complications or side affects.  I’d rather take something illegal – safe – and works on a number of problems.  Not only has marijuana helped my pain, eating habits and sleep – it’s making me realize how dangerous some medicines actually are.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I smoke weed.  I’m not sorry for it.  It doesn’t mean I’m high 24/7, it doesn’t mean I’m a pot head.  Hell, I’m not even high right now.  This article is now starting to drag on, I’m still very tired, and not able to concentrate from over sleeping. Anyway, take this article as you may, I’m expecting comments.

{June 29, 2012}   Sleeping Troubles

One of the worst issues I suffer with is my sleeping patterns.

I went to bed at 12:30 last night, taking sleeping medication to help me fall asleep.  I was averaging only a few hours of sleep at a time a few weeks prior.  Before that, I was averaging around 12 hours of sleep.

3 hours of sleep, near 24 hours of awakefulness  to 12 hours of sleep to only 2 hours of wakefulness.  I woke up at 5:30, I was in bed when my husband came home from work.

Knowing this, I’m too tired and it’s too late for me to want to do anything.  I’m sleepy still, uninterested, and exhausted.  My biggest fear is Leina coming home and being upset with lack of chores done.  I’m insecure, scared and drilling into a whole of hopelessness.

I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to correct this either.

I know the pills are only meant to HELP allow me to fall asleep, they’re not suppose to knock me out like this.  I am going to stop taking them and seeing how my patterns change.  From there, I’m going to figure out what the pattern is and correct the inconsistancies.  For now, I am taking a day to myself to relax.  There’s no point in working myself up, and Christophe is being understanding.

Some things are easier to fix.  Personality traits such as irrational fear – I know about.  I can work on correcting.  When something like sleep is affected, it takes a lot more awareness, understanding, and analysis to try and correct.  It takes time – and it’s obvious that seeing a doctor about it was a hit and miss.

This is a positive story by the way.  It’s positive because I’m taking a proactive look into a problem, trying to understand it, and experiment to fix it.  If I’m still having serious issues with it, I’ll look for a specialist.  If I’m starting to notice change – then I’m growing stronger.

The other issue that I’m having, is why am I having such a hard time with sleep?  Why did my body not wake myself up?  Well, my dreams are a big part of this.  When I’m having a hard time sleeping – its nightmares as the base cause.  My husband leaving me, or me going to a crush, violence, horror or just plain worst fears come true.  Nightmares are often noticed by my husband.  I bark in my sleep sometimes, or chatter/talk.  When those ‘normal’ sounds turn into crying with thrashing around – Christophe usually wakes me up and moves me where he can keep tabs.

It’s a lot rarer, and harder for outside help when I’m unable to wake up because my dreams are too good.  Last night, Chris and I went to bed, strengthened our bond and went to sleep.  When I woke up, I thought the sun was setting.  Checked my phone, it’s 5:30.

My dream?  I don’t know. I remember it being more fun than scary.  It was adventurous.  Time stopped, and I didn’t want to wake up.

Sleep is important, regular sleep even more so.  I should also mention the hot construction workers outside my window tearing up the side walk and roads.  I slept through it completely.  Alarm clocks won’t wake me up, and the sound of a baby is also ignored.   No, there’s no babies anywhere near us – but I do have a Siamese cat.  His meow is the same frequency as a new born.  He didn’t manage to wake me up.

This is extreme.  The more I learn about myself, the better.

No, I’m not undermining my intelligence – so much as implying it’s to blame.  Answers to a difficult problem are often as difficult to understand as the problem itself.  Like how I’m talking right now, I’m thinking too much.  Over thinking of how to solve this, or how to explain that.  I calculate every detail of my actions, of possibilities and what I do in response.  I think “I really should clean the pages of my math.”  Then, I debate about just keep doing what I’m doing.  Sitting in front of the computer, watching you tube.  Admittedly, they were educational – not the point.


I quietly thought to myself – here’s a problem you are now aware of.  Here  is something you have just admitted to yourself doing, how many others can say that?  The ability to put words about something of yourself.  A personality trait, a behavioral quirk, an issue you want to change.  It’s not easy admitting it, and even harder to say it out loud.  Here was a unique opportunity show people how I’m growing as a person.

I wanted to take this time to write this on my blog about how I’m going to change this small part of me.  Starting with picking up the paper.

This, for most people, seems like a small change.  ‘You don’t want to clean up the papers, so you’re going to pick them up?”  It sounds rhetorical and rather idiotic.  It’s not for me.  One of my biggest problems is lack of motivation.  Lack of motivation because I haven’t been inspired.  Pain, anger, rewards – they can only motivate someone so much.  At a certain point, they need a reason – an inspiration.

I need to want it.  So I’m doing this.  I want to visually show other’s my internal structure of my feelings. I want to improve myself as a whole, by picking up the math papers, cleaning the kitchen, and vacuuming.  Beliving that by doing so, I will become happier, healthier and continue to being strong.


{June 26, 2012}   Misery Needs No Purpose

This topic is much more difficult to talk about.  Not because it upsets me, but because of it’s difficulty to describe.

Mood swings are a part of my every day life, and I’ve always accepted this notion.  I knew what they were, as most of my friends and we have all just brushed them aside as it just being part of who I was.

Several of my moods I can now classify and describe.

Episodes – periods of extreme emotional distress caused by a ‘trigger’.  Episodes cause me to spiral destructive thoughts, anxieties and lack of self-worth.  Memories of the good, accomplishments and pride are forgotten.  I’m unable to eat or drink, communication is near impossible and even the slightest gesture of good will can be interpreted as insulting, cruel or plain ignorant.  Very few people have witnessed these, and those who have are often confused.

The process often happens like this.  When something reminds me of my fears, bad memories – or self-doubt that has been building up without me realizing it – I become overwhelmed by it.  I can no longer think about anything but that, unable to stop crying from the pain of my emotional overload.  Nothing makes me happy, nothing distracts me, and I feel guilty about people trying to help me.  Chris has dealt with these for years, and has a system for it.  When there are others around, he’s programmed me to focus on him alone.  He talks to me quietly, and is very careful of his wordings.  He even takes the time to explain the situation to those who don’t understand.  To get me to eat and sleep, he encourages me to smoke weed – knowing I can’t feel hunger in the best of moods – and during an episode I’m unable to force myself on my own.  This herb is probably what has really saved my life during these attacks.  Not only does it help me eat, it helps me calm down, and allows me to focus on something different. Episodes used to last for days… now I’m able to pull myself out within half a day or less.

Episodes are rare – happening about once every few months.  I often describe them as seizures, as they have a similar unpredictable pattern – and often black out retention of what happened.  This is also why my condition is so dangerous – as without proper care – this could easily become deadly serious.

Luckily, most of my mood swings are much less intense – and because they’re not as catastrophic, they’re often ignored.  Undocumented mood swings is probably one of the reasons why people have a hard time believing they can get better.  People often think that their hard day was caused by outside influences, strokes of bad luck or just because.  I have a different theory based upon myself.  As with all my articles, everything I write is about myself and actually holds no medical value as far as treatments.

Yesterday was a good example of one of my mood swings that I often ignore, and really shouldn’t.  My lack of caring.  This is a mood swing, not a personality trait.  Why?  Because I do care about a lot of things.  It’s when I stop caring about things that I have interest in, there’s a problem.

Yesterday, for the first time in months, I spent the day with my husband together, alone.  This was extraordinary, we made love in the morning, we had tea and talked to each other – watched shows and enjoyed our energies mingling together. It was a perfect day – at least it should have been.  What went wrong?  He wanted us to go to co-op to get some food.

Now, before people go “WTF, seriously?  You had a mood swing because you were made to go out?”  this is a known fact.  It’s also why Chris forces me to go out, even when I really don’t want to.  It’s not that I’m spoiled, and it’s not that he’s being controlling – he’s pushing me to get better.  This mood also pisses him off like nothing else, it should be noted, but I don’t blame him for it.  Actually, it’s probably good he does, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the time to figure out what this mood swing really is.

When I love something – and suddenly I hate it – it’s a problem.  Role Playing is a great example of this.  I get interested in watching people make characters, and listening to their stories – but as soon as Chris tries to get me into it – Fuck no.  I won’t even listen, and often tell him to shut up.  He asks me why suddenly, and I basically tell him it’s boring, I don’t care, it’s stupid… and put him down for it.  I never really listened to myself before, telling him things like that.  It made me think about how I felt at that time as well.  I felt… heavy, withdrawn, empty and lost.  I didn’t really feel depressed, upset, angry or happy… I felt isolated within myself.  I began to think about why I felt that way.  I began to think about how it affected my husband.  While I still don’t understand the root cause, or a course of action to correct this – I do understand that the acknowledgement of how it affects me being the first step in fixing it.

It’s one thing to tell people “Just be happy.”  It’s another to actually live in their lives.  For those of us with the chemical imbalances – or those who have depression from a traumatic event, the first step to getting better is admitting it.

The second step, is of course, visiting a doctor about it -as like I said – this can be a very dangerous illness.

The third step, figuring out yourself what’s wrong.  Taking the time to evaluate your moods, write them down, and think about cause and effects.

The fourth step, experimenting with ways to overcome them.  Little steps first.  My episodes are still very severe, but we have over the course of a few years, figured out ways to deal with them.

This disease is not cured by people telling you “get over it.”  or “It’s all in your head.” or “You’re full of shit, and looking for attention.” In fact, these misunderstandings of what the disease is causes more deaths then the depression itself.  It’s not something you can cure over night, and it’s not something that’s your fault.  It’s not my fault for having bad days, it’s not my fault for not being able to do everything I want to.  It’s not my fault my brain cannot process information as easily as it should.

It is my responsibility to try and correct it.  It’s my goal to use my process and help others.

{June 26, 2012}   Education of Self

Learning is something I’ve always enjoyed, but school was difficult.  Due to distractions, lack of interest, or just not wanting to be at school made my academic progress falter greatly.

Both teachers and my parents thought I was slow, lazy or just plain arrogant towards my educational goals. The fact was, I was very smart, and very dedicated into doing something that I wanted to learn.

I never made A’s or B’s.  In fact, I got excited seeing a C on my report cards.  Final exams were a breeze for me, often getting 80’s, and even 90’s – despite having a 40% mark on my last report card.  It’s not because I studied extra hard, it’s just that once I learned something – I remember it.  I often got very bored in classes, often doodling on the paper – or staring off into space thinking about possibilities of how the knowledge would be viable in real life. It also didn’t help that during my time in high school, I was also counting down my own clock.  My depression was so deep and painful, I didn’t expect myself to be strong enough to survive.

Despite what I thought, and everyone else at the time about my failing grades – I knew I couldn’t have been an idiot.  Final exams aside.  When I was 12 year’s old, I lived in a small town named Pampa, Texas.  It’s located in the ‘Gray County’ of the Texan Panhandle, about 60 miles north of Amarillo.  In 1997, we were the first within our town to receive DSL internet.  This was massive, as high speed internet was a new innovation at the time, and very few networks were capable to deal with it during it’s early stages.  The internet at that time, was scary for me.  A few years later, my dad let me on Yahoo.  I did what most kids did, chat and play games – but then I did something that at the time, was thought to be near impossible.  At 13 I discovered Geocities.

This was a break through for me.  Geocities was the first free website builder I ever saw, and instead of templates – you could build using pure HTML.  I spent the next year and a half memorizing, experimenting, and building HTML codes.  I taught myself a new language using other peoples codes, figuring out how things work, and then customizing to my own needs.  This was also a time when finding tutorial places extremely rare.

This breakthrough however; was short lived.  I lost interest completely, I felt that my work was now far outdated in what I taught myself, as HTML was replaced by CSS, Java and other scripts.  Losing hope of ever keeping up, I never touched it again.

In grade 12, I met a most remarkable boy.  He was 15 at the time, just starting high school in Grade 10, but managed to catch my interest.  We were friends very quickly after spending a morning together in December, both of us showing up for early exams – only to find out they were in the afternoon.  From computer programming, to what we did for fun – just about everything was our subjects of conversations.  To this day, we believe that fate brought us together.

3 months after that day, we started dating.  I was on the verge of graduating, 10 credits short of my diploma and two spares with nothing to do.  Chris, now my husband, had two computer classes.  He joked and said I should go with him and did the work, see who could get an assignment done first.  I’m not part of the class, and I do believe the only female out of a class of 20.  For about a week, Chris and I challenged the courses, and the teacher finally caught me.  He looked behind me, and saw I just built a calculator in a program that I can’t remember the name of.

I believe he was surprised to see me actually doing work – not on the internet looking at puppies.  He told me to go out in the hall, and stay there.  When he came out, he told me to walk with him to the principals office.  I was terrified, my anxiety levels were bad enough as it was.  At the principals, the teacher said “I want her in my class.  I don’t want her attendance, and I don’t want her being forced.  I do want to give her credit for everything she’s done.”

I almost cried. No teacher had ever showed so much pride, acceptance and encouragement as he did at that moment.  In 3 months, I completed the entire 3 year course.

He was the first person to realize how I learned. He saw my brilliance, and even had me take an IQ test, which at the time was at 175.  Today I estimate it at around 160.  He told me I could learn whatever I wanted to learn, as long as I WANTED to learn it.  Now, keeping in mind I’m 17, very smart, extremely bored, and manic depressive.  There was no point to learning – I didn’t want to live.

7 years have passed, and a lot of what kept me back – self doubt, self hate, and the belief that I would never be anything special – is now starting to fade.  I wanted to learn again.  I wanted to have meaning, here I was, 25 years old with an IQ that was dormant.  I couldn’t even do basic algebra.

My friend Mr. Brown, who read a few of my articles in regards to Sub-Drop and Depression in the kink community, recommended a movie called “Mind Walk.”  It’s a 1980’s movie about a politician, a poet and a physicist talking about the interconnections of the world, and how they see it working.  This movie was extremely dry, and barely kept my attention for more than a few minutes at a time.  My husband joked about being stoned would keep my attention.  I rarely smoked it, with the exception of special occasions and emergency.  I thought about it though, I first began smoking weed to lessen the pain in my hip.  I walked with a cane for around 5 years or so, and painkillers never worked.  Watching movies while influenced often had me thinking of perspectives that were overlooked previously.

So, I made a theory.  ‘Watch the movie high.  Take notes.  Learn from it.’  I failed miserably.  While understanding the concept of interconnections, clockwork mechanics, and the power of thought to change the fabric of economics – I couldn’t see how I could apply that to myself.  Once again, feeling of a failure, I gave up.  Then, something remarkable happened.  I was babysitting my friends 8 year old, and when my friend came back – we started talking.  We started talking about shields, how she imagined shields being built by particles controlled through concentration of will and belief.  This was remarkable, a breakthrough – finally I had a connection to go on.  Magick explained through science.  The ability to change reality.  This radical thinking at first made me go “well, I know magick works… but can it be proven?”

My next discovery was an accident.  I had an episode a few months later, my husband and friends gave me some weed to help calm me down and eat. I stumbled on a video about “What the Fuck Do We Know”.  Stoned out of my mind, this movie was intriguing and entertaining.  Then, they mention something.  Quantum Physics and Mathematics.  Interconnections. The Ultimate Observer.

Suddenly, I had a goal.  “I want to know how to do Quantum Physics.  I want to know how to do the equations.  I want to do something incredible.”  Well, I have no post education, and barely got my high school.

 This was my salvation.  Free, comprehensive lessons that I could do on my own time, for free.  The first week, I completed 3 major math subjects, including basic arithmetic, algebra and trigonometry.  I learned more in that 1 week, than all of my schooling put together.  For the first time, I was understanding and doing mathematics quickly in my head.  My desk right now has over 50 pages, filled back to back with equations, notes and problems.  I can literally go back and watch myself learn new concepts, and connecting each one together.  This was huge.

So, what’s my goal now?

When I have completed all of the mathematical lessons Khan has to offer, I want to challenge a University Degree of Mathematics.  No classes, no tutoring.  On my own, my own time – and getting that degree.  From there, I have proven to myself that I can do anything.

{June 26, 2012}   Quick notes

Another confusing short post for remembering things.

Khan Academy Gave Me Purpose to learn


My sullen,bored and agressive trigger.  Acknowledged and talked about.

My love for my husband… When feelings are missed understood and confusion.

My happy story of the day.

Will do this tomorrow

Serious about learning.

The Science Channel :: 100 Greatest Discoveries: The Big 100.

This is my inspiration for my theory of Discoveries.  All because I noticed something that astonished me greatly.

For those of us who grew up in the 90’s, know who Bill Nye is.  In fact, the theme song still pops in my head when I think of him.  This man is also a very brilliant man.  He knows what all these discoveries are, and has a very firm understanding of HOW that applies to every day lives.  A lot of these discoveries are things so mundane to us today, we take them for granted.

So, I was watching the chemistry episode, with the Periodic Table of Elements.  The professor Bill was talking to, asked if he did indeed, carry a periodic table with him at all times. Bill chuckled and said yes.  The professor took the table, and asked Bill what element was under Nitrogen.

Bill answered Sulfur.  The professor said “No, it’s Phosphorus.  At that point you need to add 8, oxygen is beside Nitrogen – so it’s”  “It’s 7+8= 15 15 being Phosphorus… I see the pattern, I get it now!”

You could SEE the discovery of him learning something new, and while some are more subtle then his reaction here, it made me think.

Discovery is the act of learning.  This is something we have always known about – this is why most people having taken the active time to really think about WHAT CAUSES us to discover?

I believe that the process of Discovery is too fast to be considered anything more than a thought.  What I mean is, this process is done automatically and sets off it’s OWN separate part of functions in CONJUNCTION with your own personal thoughts.

I’m having a hard time putting my words together right now.

There is a saying you are never too old to learn.  Discovering new things isn’t new.  However; I’m noticing something of a bit of a pattern.  I asked my question: Why do HUGE discoveries get our attention?  Why does the discoverer get so much attention?  What makes him different?

Well, here’s some more old news.  We learn from each other.  0.0 WOW!!!  Okay, let’s put it like this – we learn from other people.  We learn from parents, teachers, books, television and other vast media’s.  All of them produced by other people.  Going back to our earliest times of evolution as a species, we also learned from each other.  This is a phenomena into itself.  World wide we connected to each other in some way or another.  We learn about different cultures, we share knowledge across the world – we trade goods with them.  This interconnection is massive.  It’s also the reason why we have a hard time accepting new concepts.  Something that could change how the connection is linked, makes it very difficult to be accepted. Not only that, most people don’t know how to look beyond it.

A genius is someone who looked outside the interconnection of human learning.  A person who asked themselves – I wonder what that is – only to be bombarded with ‘truths’ from the majority of people.  A person who is a genius is not someone who is just smart.  It’s someone who wanted to be different in a big way. It’s someone who wanted to change and create a new interconnection starting point.

Why do we call some great discoveries “breakthroughs”?  Imagine a spiderweb. A spider web consists of several guidelines, then reinforced by smaller webbing.  The guidelines represent the major subjects of science.

  • Astronomy
  • Biology
  • Chemistry
  • Geology (I know it’s Earth Science now…but I like the word 😦 )

…. and so on.  Now imagine each of the webbing strands is the rest of us learning from each other.  Most of us accept that the guide webs are solid, strong and secure.  There are some people who see something different.  One see’s the web shift in the wind… another sees other threads … and one see’s the guideline twitch. Each time they ask these questions, the web moves.

Now, when someone asks these questions and proves something so remarkable – it breaks that entire section of webbing.  It now allows for people to completely rebuild it in a totally remarkable fashion.  Now, that part of the web has been built on a foundation of a brave soul not afraid to follow that remarkable discovery.

This is what a discovery does to us.  Every discovery made by a person, changes the web.  Sometimes insignificant, and sometimes massive.

There is still so much more about the subject that I want to talk about.  I think I’m going to leave it at this.

Is Discovery a Web?

{June 24, 2012}   Random thoughts

There will be posts that will make no sense.  Expect these.  The random thoughts will be revaluated and turn into philosophical ideas and articles once I sit down and think.  Not all of them…. In fact.. only a few will have a truly deep thought process.

These small posts are from my phone.  At first they might look like spam, but once at my computer, I can take each peice of my day and work it into a story.

I can look at events from new perspectives, and begin to rewire how I view my world.

For instance: today im babysitting and spending the day with my friends.

Serious about learning.

This is one of the first things I tell new people I meet when they ask questions about myself.  I’m going to spare you from as much back story as I can.  This also probably does not apply to a vast majority of sufferers in any way, though there might be some similarity’s that others can relate to.  This also holds NO MEDICAL information in regards to self-diagnosis and treatment!  I hold no responsibilty for another’s actions based on what I write.  This is also written from my own point of view, and subject to change.  I also understand that what I’m writing could be false in terms of what I’m trying to understand.

Basically my depression is caused by my neurons not firing signals to my brain appropriately.  My emotions are erratic, unstable and very difficult to control on a day-to-day basis.  My condition is very similar to Bi-Polar, but differ in a way that most of my system is triggered by events on the outside, rather than the inside.  This often means I can be awesome for weeks or months at a time, and when something (big or small) triggers an attack – it’s devastating and debilitating.

This condition is rare, only accounting for about 1% of all people diagnosed with depression or Bi-Polar disorder, and difficult to diagnose and treat.  They account for a large majority of suicides, self-mutilation and other self-harming activities.  Because of how dangerous Acute Depression is, I MUST at all times have a cell phone with emergency contacts, regular medication and a strict scheduled day (which never happens 😛 )

So, what does this mean for me?  What are my symptoms, and how does it affect me day to day?

I can’t feel hunger. My stomach will growl and whatever, but the actual NEED to eat is unknown to me.  Sometimes, RARELY I’ll tell my husband “I’m hungry.”  I don’t feel hungry, but I know it’s been so long since I’ve eaten something, and I have to eat to live.   We don’t know how the depression affected this, but my theory is that my brain has a hard enough time trying to figure out what emotion is what – that it ignores the pains of hunger because it’s not an emotion per say.  Thirst, being related to that, is only noticed by me because of having a dry mouth in the morning for example.  There are physical cues still present, but often ignored.

The other big thing is my lack of being to understand what emotion is what.  Confusion, anxiety, anger … these emotions are often clumped together and I’m unable to figure out what the appropriate response is. This inner confusion often has me on edge, and I lash out because I don’t know what the proper social way to communicate whatever it is I’m feeling.  If I’m confused, I often act aggressive – if I’m angry, I act sad, if I’m sad – I act confused …. it seems strange doesn’t it?  I’ll confuse anger for sadness and then act like I’m confused.

Here’s an example: I’m mad because … I can’t get a math problem right.  <– Anger + confusion.
My outward response:  “I’m scared of getting in trouble for not doing it right.” <– Anxiety + self-doubt.

What the hell?  Doesn’t make sense does it?  This is what my husband has to figure out every day when I say something in regards to how I’m feeling.  It’s not that I’m stupid for not understanding the math problem, it’s that my brain cannot understand the appropriate responses to stimulus.  I should also note:  My husband, or any of my friends have EVER gotten mad at me for something like this.

What about the positive emotions?  Happiness, Pride, Joy?  This is where it gets more confusing.

I’m generally a person that when people see down the street, I’m smiling.  I’m extremely intelligent, observant, thoughtful and I take my time to visit friends and help those who need it.  Very few people have actually seen my depression in the negatives, and most can’t even understand how someone like me could have this condition.  Happiness, pride, joy…. all of these positive emotions are treated just like the negative ones – my brain doesn’t understand that these are separate feelings and uses the same response for each one.  Basically, instead of having a symphony of expression, I have one.  I smile, giggle, and generally very bouncy.  A 3 year old with a lollipop basically.

To simplify.  I have the emotional range and control of a 3 year old.  This does not mean I’m immature or idiotic.  To show myself SOME kind of pride, I’m a borderline genius.  If I took the time, I would be an actual genius and doing something with it.

Now, what I described above is the ‘minor’ every day stuff I go through.  What makes this so dangerous is what happens when, what I call an ‘episode’, happens.

An ‘episode’ is when something triggers a massive attack of negative feelings that causes my body and brain to go into a state of uncontrolled emotional destruction.  These are unpredictable, extremely hard to manage and dangerous to not just myself, but others around me.  I often lose all reasoning, the ability of speech, thought continuity, and common sense.  I cry uncontrollably, nothing makes me happy, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat – I can’t even remember what love is, and that I actually DO love my husband. In my head, during that period of time – EVERYTHING is impossible.  These have a range from moderate to severe – moderate being it lasts a few hours, severe meaning it lasts a day.  A MAJOR episode is when an episode lasts up to 3 days, and in which case I need to see my doctor.

During an episode, I often forget past experiences that made me happy.  I lose all the positive outlooks, including how I feel about myself, my accomplishments, my love for my friends and family – and the joy of being alive.  Episodes can quickly spiral into suicidal thoughts, and then to self-termination.  After an episode has passed, I often forget everything about it.  For this reason, my husband often accompanies me to doctor visits so he can tell them what happened.

What do I do for Treatments?

Medication is my first line of defense from having an episode.  I take Paxil for the depression, and Concerta for the ADHD.  The ADHD is also severe, but not the basis for this article, hence I’m leaving it at that.  This has helped me sort out what emotion is what, and helps me understand the stimulus of my enviorment to make proper judgement and responses.  As a good example:  Instead of feeling angry for being hungry – while my brain is still angry, I know that I have to eat.  I’m still snappy and aggressive, but I’m now able to go ‘why do I feel this way?  Oh, I remember, when I feel THIS type of anger it means I’m most likely hungry.’  Of course, this isn’t perfect. There are still times when I’ll try to eat something, but I’m still angry for some reason.  These minor mood swings aren’t fun, but not unmanageable.

My second line of defense?  My husband and my friends.  I’ve been with Christophe (note: there’s no R!  Chris-toff!”) since March of 2005.  I met him during my last year of highschool when he was a freshman the previous December during first semesters final exams. We started dating in March, and been together ever since.  This has been 7 years.  This has given him a lot of time to perceive  my emotional fragility, try to understand it – and get me help.  He took the time to ask questions about ‘what do I do?’.  His dedication to my well being is probably the only reason why I’m able to talk to you right now.  He has also taken the time to explain to people how to react, respond and treat me when I’m having a severe episode. Explaining the difference between a ‘temper tantrum’ which I also have, and a serious and dangerous episode where I have no clue what a friend is.

As an example:  The other day I came home in tears.  I’m not going to tell you why or what happened, though I might in a later date.  Our friend who has been with us for a few months now, ordered me to do the dishes.  I told her I couldn’t do them and I went back in my bedroom to cry some more.  My thoughts during that time was “OMG my friend is so mad at me now, I knew I had to do them, but I can’t, I have no energy, and now she’s pissed…” and this went on until my husband came back.  He explained to her that during these episodes – your actions and tone of voice and expectations of me could mean the difference between getting out of it, or going deeper.

Very few people have seen a true episode, and they’re very confusing to those who have never seen one.  In the eyes of my friend, I don’t think she understood what I was feeling during that time. I think what she saw was a girl crying for no reason at all, other than feeling sorry for herself.  My friend couldn’t comprehend why I was self-destructing myself when I had everything in the world – and showed me this picture.

Then why can’t I do more, if I’m so lucky?

“My friend showed me a picture that said “I’m part of the 1% more fortunate than anyone else on earth”  and I’ve been crying and shaking since I got home
“I told her it hurt me, but I don’t think she understands exactly WHY it hurts… I can’t speak”

This was an insult, a slap to the face for me.  It basically told me that I am so lucky to be part of the 1% when there are children DYING every second.  That I should be PROUD to be part of that 1% who have everything!  I took it as insulting, condescending, and more reason to hate myself.  Here I am, crying my eyes out – and there’s a child dying every second – just because I’m a little “stressed.”

It’s hard for people on the outside to understand how powerful emotional pain can be.  Another friend of mine, Skivon, managed to explain how people try to help depressed people.

“Imagine the worst physical pain you’ve ever felt.”  He asked of me.  I replied with having my left wrist basically shattered, and two hairline fractures in my right wrist.  “Now, how often have you stubbed your toe?”  I said not that often, but often enough that I curse at it.

“Why curse at it?  You’ve felt worse before.  Pain is pain, and this is NOT something you’re just going to get ‘over’ for thinking happy thoughts.  Pain doesn’t care WHY it hurts, it just hurts.”

This is all the time I have for now, but I hope this gives you a larger understanding of what Acute Depression might mean for someone you love.  Thank you, and good night.

et cetera