TheBanyanTree: I Have Issues

[Monique Colver]

Dear, dear Jim,

I suspect, if you say you have issues, that you're human like the rest of
us. The only people I know who are issue-less are under the age of 5. After
that, all the stuff that goes into being a person that isn't picture
perfect we call an issue, as if there's an idealized version of a person
that we're all striving to be, and if we could just get rid of some of
these pesky issues, we'd be complete, whole, issue-less, and worthy.

You're quite insistent that you're not mentally unstable. That's all well
and good, because being mentally unstable can be hell, so I am happy for
you, but why such reluctance? Because issues equal mental instability, both
of which make us unlovable?

1. Most people have issues
2. Some people are mentally unstable.
3. The two are not related.
4. Those of us with issues are still lovable. Sure, perhaps people don't
flock to me like they do to you, but that's not because I'm less. I find
that instead of being shunned, I get a higher quality of people surrounding
me. Those who think that issues are something to flee from, while
disregarding their own issues, are not people I want to associate with.
They lack a certain degree of inner knowledge and an inability to see past
a facade.

I've got issues. I may be mentally unstable. I certainly suffer from a
wildly annoying depression that makes it hard to see reality. I'm in pain a
lot, and the only thing that can be done about that is medication to treat
the pain, which sometimes works, and sometimes needs more medication than I
have patience for. I'm aging and falling apart, little pieces of me
slipping off and sliding onto the floor, and I kick them aside and go on my
way.

Wait. That's wrong. That sounds like I have leprosy, and I'm pretty sure I
don't. I would notice something like that.

I can't run anymore. When the zombie apocalypse comes, which it will, I
shall be among the first to succumb. No running away for me, no jumping
over fences to escape the horde. This doesn't particularly keep me up
nights, but it would be nice if I could spend a few hours walking without
having to pay for it later. If I could pay for it later by paying a fine, I
could live with that. Pay the fine and move on. But it's not money I get to
pay with.

I never expected to live this long, so I have no plan for retirement.
That's only an issue when I retire, so no problem there. Or if my husband
turns out as flaky as the last one and leaves me, but that won't happen.

Like Janice said, the comatose are certainly mentally stable, but who wants
to be comatose?

My brother is mentally stable, but he's the evil twin, and I'd rather be on
this side than that. Oh, he's got issues all right, but don't try to tell
him that.

I'm ready to talk if you are, or listen. That's what I do. I talk and I
listen. Sometimes no one's listening when I talk, but I do it anyway, just
for the practice.

M




*We appreciate your referrals!*

Monique Colver
Colver Business Solutions
www.colverbusinesssolutions.com
monique.colver at gmail.com
(425) 772-6218


On Fri, Nov 29, 2013 at 8:00 PM, Jim Miller <jim at maze.cc> wrote:

> What do you feel when I tell you; I have issues? I sense your judgment. I
> want to shout out, like the woman in the commercial, “Don’t hate me because
> I’m beautiful.” Now, I don’t expect you to think me beautiful. I don’t
> think me beautiful, well maybe modestly handsome, but I digress. The truth
> is, most will run from a relationship with a person who has issues. Those
> people tend to be oppressive and overbearing. We rush to judgment because
> our cultural conditioning persuades us to assume that persons with issues
> are mentally unstable. Of course, that’s what I’ve always understood. I was
> wrong; . . . . . . . some of the time anyway.
>
>
>
> I began having these thoughts a week ago. Today, my thoughts are unusually
> heavy. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with being
> exceptionally happy about life yesterday, as I used the Thanksgiving
> Holiday to count my blessing. Yin and yang; give and take; for every
> action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Today it’s issues. ALL my
> issues.
>
>
>
> The day dawned in a shroud of battleship gray, laced with frost, and tinged
> in an eerie mist. No, I wasn’t awake to see it. Now it’s later in the day,
> and nothing has changed. I slept late due to a late night; or rather, an
> early morning. I was passionately engrossed in the lives of elite
> assassins, brutal drug cartel psychopaths, despicable and corrupt
> politicians, lazy and worthless bureaucrats, a handful of incorruptible
> federales, and beautiful women. All good stories have beautiful women. Not
> all of them nice ladies, but all beautiful. I’m quite fond of beautiful
> women.
>
>
>
> OK, I confess, I was also awake because, even with all the tryptophan I
> consumed, I indulged my weakness for hot caffeinated beverage late in the
> day. The earthy sweet nectar resulting from the rare convergence of the
> finest Indonesian Sumatra coffee beans from one of the most ideal growing
> regions on the high plateau, dark roasted to just the appropriate acidity,
> fresh ground, perfectly brewed at precisely 196 degrees Fahrenheit, and
> served immediately. I drank more than a quart, and savored every drop.
> Coffee doesn’t get better than that.
>
>
>
> Back to my issues. Are you still with me, or have you run off? I AM NOT
> mentally unstable. Whether I’m engaged in blissful denial or not, it is my
> reality and I will remain in this reality until my final breath. Let’s move
> on. My reality is that I’m getting old. I’m finding it difficult to accept,
> but I have mirrors and I’m not blind. Maybe a little blind. Then, I
> continue to receive these disparaging emails, like I should relate. How can
> I relate when I have all my teeth. Ya Ya, a mouth full of porcelain crowns
> with a smattering of implants, but that has nothing to do with my issues. I
> paid a lot for this smile and I like it. Where do I start?
>
>
>
> Maybe I should just start at the top of my issue priority list and work
> down. Would you prefer that I start with the major issues, working through
> to the trivia; or take trivial first? Trivial wins.
>
> 1.     1. I have dry scalp. I know; nothing to you, but it’s driving me
> nuts. The dermatologist says, “Use this once a day for a month.” My scalp
> turns bright red, burns like fire, and three months late flakes again. This
> has been going on for 4 years.
>
> 2.     2. I have toenail fungus. The podiatrist says, “50% of you (unspoken
> “elderly”) have it. I could give you an oral medication that works about
> 35% of the time. You don’t want to know what it does to your liver. Or you
> can just ignore it.” Will beautiful women notice my yellow toenails at the
> beach?
>
> 3.      3. My hair is getting thinner by the day. I had great hair. This
> wasn’t supposed to happen.
>
> 4.      4. Every time I visit the dermatologist, he attempts to keep a
> straight face, but I can see through the façade. The glee is there, in the
> wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Looking through his jeweler’s loop he
> says, “We’ll need to remove this growth . . . . . . and that one, and we’ll
> just burn off these 11 pre-cancerous spots.”  Ka-ching, ka-ching.  What is
> this WE? I’m the one who looks like they went through a back room
> interrogation and the other guy had a lit cigarette.
>
>
>
> Do you believe me? I have issues. There are bigger issues.
>
>
>
> 5.      5. My thyroid and gall bladder have been taken and I was completely
> in the dark. Anesthesia will do that I’m told.
>
> 6.      6. My right shoulder droops. We don’t know if that’s because I
> carried a heavy instrument in the 5th grade, or the surgeon nicked a nerve
> during the 2007 cancer surgery when everything on the right side went numb.
> I’m not really uptight about this issue. The physical therapist is working
> on it, although I opened a car door the other day, at the wrong angle,
> something snapped, and now everything hurts.
>
> 7.      7. Six weeks ago, I had surgery on my right foot, to remove a
> bunion and fix a hammer toe. I couldn’t drive for 4 weeks. Now everything
> is swollen, one toe no longer bends and it’s still sore. Maybe prescription
> shoes would have been a wiser choice.
>
> 8.      8. I breathe through a hole in my neck. Adults are freaked and kids
> are curious. Blowing your neck instead of your nose is a little weird. I
> don’t smell odors well. (which has its advantages) Vocal cords are gone,
> but I’ve learned to talk. You don’t want to know how, although it’s not how
> some people think. Now I sound like The Donald. NOT Donald Trump; Donald
> Duck. I have a mechanical voice for a backup. The kids love to play with
> it. I have to keep buying batteries.
>
> 9.      9. Then, of course there is The Heart. It’s on loan from someone
> else. Lucky me; it’s a good one. People say, “Do you notice that some
> things are different now?” I don’t put much stock in ‘Cell Memory’,
> although proponents swear it’s real. I don’t believe I act or think
> differently, but I have issues. Who am I to judge me?
>
> 10.    10. Finally, I have eye issues. I’ve always had great eyes. I have
> used mild reading glasses only for twenty five years, and I finally got
> glasses with a little correction. This is a new issue. It’s called
> Posterior Vitreous Separation. Apparently 50% of those over 50 experience
> it. The worry is in tearing the retina. I’m good so far, but I now have
> what appears to be an apparition floating center stage in my left eye.
> Actually it more closely resembles a constantly changing, transparent,
> Rorschach image. I find myself sitting staring at it wondering what I’d
> tell a shrink I see. Sooo Much Sexxxx. (That should perk him/her up.) I did
> see a turkey, a shrinking galaxy, a tornado, rabbit on a log. Then there
> were the disembodied heads with scorpion tails dangling out of their
> mouths. That’s the Sinaloa Cartel’s calling card. I’d better quit reading
> such gruesome fiction. I’m told this issue may remain for the rest of my
> life.
>
>
>
> Good Grief, I have issues. What am I going to do? I’m never sure how much
> longer I’ll have to deal with these issues. Fifteen years ago, Linda and I
> had our 35th anniversary. The goal was to make it to 50. We celebrated 50
> last Saturday. At times I feel like a cat with nine lives and I’ve used at
> least 4 of them. I’m not counting the close calls where an angel had to
> interven. Like the time I scrambled off the mountain in the dark, over
> giant boulders with lightning dancing off the rocks ALL around me. Or the
> time I slid my car in the snow within 6 inches of an 85 foot drop into the
> icy St Joe River. The time I tripped at a construction site and missed
> piercing my heart with rebar by inches. Then just a few months ago, I was
> returning from a cross state conference. It was midnight when I woke up
> doing 100 kph clearing brush on the side of the road. By reflex I pulled
> back and lost it. I was reasonably certain that I was the main character in
> a one car roll over show; over and over, and over. I knew there was no
> possibility of recovery, and just like that, the car corrected and settled
> into straight line. Maybe I’d better count Angel interventions. I’m
> probably on auxiliary lives by now. Well, what the heck. So I have issues.
> No point in giving in and slowing now. On the other hand; should I hire a
> driver.
>
>
>
> In 1996, I wrote a rant about listening for God to talk to me. I think that
> I worried Janice. She wrote that she would be happy to listen if I wanted
> to talk. Janice, I still haven’t had an audible rap with God.  I have loads
> of issues. Are you still ready to talk?
>
>
> Jim
>