My ultra private blog diary needs updating

Dear Ultra Secret Private Diary that I can write in without fear of anyone else ever reading what I post here, it has been over a month since I last wrote about anything here and I think it is time to unburden my soul in some writing therapy - mainly because it is cheaper than real therapy and I hate taking pills :)

You know what, I was going to write some silly post here about rugby and shit but what use is a therapeutic blog (which this sometimes is) if you don't bare your soul a little. This weekend is Memorial Weekend, I will get to go coach rugby, hang out with some amazing friends and cheer and rejoice in the game that I love - sounds pretty awesome right, and it is. But I only get to do this off the backs of those who gave so much that I can be free.

Some of y'all might recall that I did a brief stint in the NZ Territorials back in 88 - I never pretend to be a soldier I might add, however I did sign up to be one. I got kicked out because of my back and not due to a Section 8 as many would have you believe (I look great in a skirt)  :) So 100% not a soldier but 100% signed on the line to be a part time one at least :)

We have a 7s tournament on Saturday and a scrimmage on Sunday. We are going to take time to remember those who are no longer here - but not only the ones that perished overseas but also the ones that perished when they returned. They throw the number out of 20 suicides a day from returned servicemen and women and it does't make any sense. 20 a day, that cannot be right, surely it is some pitch from the VA for more funds. But it is real, and it is a really sad state of affairs. A co-worker walked into the office today and I could tell he needed a hug, a something, a person to ask what the hell was wrong. He (after an awesome hug) said it was a year since his buddy (a fellow Marine) had taken his life and his phone had rung all day with people asking if he was ok. Thankfully he is but there are so many that are not. There are so many veterans out there that don't want to admit that they have a problem as that would make them appear weak.

Admitting you have an issue only makes you stronger, recognizing that you need help only makes you stronger, knowing that you are not the superman/woman you thought you were only makes you stronger and knowing that there are people out there that can help you if you need them, well that just makes you smarter. I am in no way a professional anything but I am a person that will listen and I am not a person who will judge. I know people that can really help and I know I can help a little. I also might just be able to relate in a little way because I suffer from depression as well.

'What a pile of horseshit' I hear from the wings (not the wings on the rugby paddock but the wings of the stage) - do I have to explain everything to y'all :)

Nah, it's true. I suffer from depression. Not chronic 'want to take your life stuff' (well not any more and it was never chronic) but more your run of the mill 'god damn this shit fucking sucks' variety. I have been in physical pain since I was 15 when I fractured my vertebrae playing rugby, I kept playing for quite a few years after that, ran a marathon, run around coaching rugby right now and got hooked on pain meds at 15. I don't take any meds now and have not for a long ass time. For the last 33 years I have been in pain, all the time, non stop annoying fucking body pain. Sometimes it gets to 'fuck you' pain but it is generally just annoying enough to constantly hurt and make me not realize other parts of my body might need some attention. Not really a big deal and I need to 'suck it up buttercup' sometimes but it is not pleasant.

Oh, and I also have some cool memory issues - like my memory is crap on certain things. It might be just that I only have limited capacity and I don't want to remove something that I might need later on or it might be all the knocks I took to the grey matter between my ears growing up. I can think of at least a 10 times I have had concussions, some real fucking nasty ones, and there might be even more but like I said, some cool memory issues :) The only good thing for me is that I know I have memory issues and I know I am in pain and I know that it could be worse - but still sometimes shit just hurts. Certain things can really get the old waterworks going.

Shit, maybe I don't have depression, maybe I just need to stop being a complaining whining shite. Maybe I have a way to cope and maybe, just maybe I am never publishing this post.

Actually fuck it, maybe I will. There are things that I do very fucking well. I love and am loved. I have purpose and people seem to love what I do to promote the game I believe in and also what I do professionally - I love my job and the people I work with. I have my therapy sessions on the paddock - just need to get more physical therapy off the paddock and lose some of the weight I carry around the paddock. I am one of the lucky ones as I know I have an issue and I know I can deal with it, some days are harder than others but none of them are ever that bad because I know it always could be worse. Luckily I have someone to give me a hug at night.

Wow, this may have been the worst Poets Day post ever :)  Then again the bar is pretty low :)  Got to get out there and keep on keeping on. Everything in my head might just be a pile of 'woe is me' horseshit or I might be one of the lucky ones that has an issue, has recognized it and has created coping mechanisms (probably need to get a couple of healthier ones) because despite it all I like this shit and the alternative just does not bear thinking about.

Work hard, play hard and earn your inspiration

Happy Poets Day

and on this Memorial Weekend a quick quote from General George S Patton -

"It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God such men lived"


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