Depression: (Catchy title eh?)

Happy Veterans Day.

Though I’m guessing many Vets feel just as much angst as they due pride in this holiday. Celebrating Veterans is awesome and makes for great holiday weekends, that is, when they return home from deployments and are here to celebrate with you. Not quite such an uplifting and proud Holiday when your beloved Veterans are resting 6 feet under in Arlington.

This isn’t a blog about RJ or Kaila, but I guess that’s where we start.....

I’ve been in a funk ever since I visited Emily and Kaila in Tennessee a few weeks ago. At first I thought it was because I was sick, then it was the guy I’m dating was being retarded, then I thought it was general sadness at Kailas life since RJ was killed...I guess I still haven’t figured out the catalyst for this current “funk” I’m in. Each thing individually is nothing new, nothing unusual, and yet I feel an overwhelming sadness each day that I can’t pinpoint the cause of. Then it finally dawned on me....

I stopped taking an anti-depressant back in June/July of this year (I tapered off, relax weirdos I know how to go off meds). I’d been on a low dosage (30 mg of Celexa then Cymbalta for you nosy motherfuckers) for about 5 years. I had tried a few different times to stop taking them and crashed HARD. At the time I was still working as a cop so when I crashed I immediately thought, “WTF are you doing you retard? You need MEDS to deal with this shit everyday....” and started back to taking my pill every morning. Well, I figured since I’m retired and my life is all unicorns and rainbows now, I probably could do without that “happy pill” everyday. However now I’m starting to think perhaps this is some weird Reece genetic condition that I’m pre-disposed to - and no amount of road trips, quite time, or good deeds is going to mitigate my needs for medication to control these onslaughts of “the blues.” Which is a HUGE fucking bummer. Because I really don’t like meds.....

So here I am. With a life that I am exceedingly grateful for....wonderful friends, good pension, healthy children, decent looks and health (I’m vain so that shit is important to me...don’t judge)...and yet I can’t shake this feeling of emptiness, loss and sadness. It’s really quite pathetic and without good cause. Yet it remains....a feeling of longing...for something I can’t quite attain. I don’t even really know what it is anymore - which is (to me) even sadder than then predicament itself. WTF am I missing???? I spent 2 hours today rambling along a trail near my house listening to country songs and wondering what the fuck did I even WANT from life? Some days I have an answer to that question but on days like today....it’s a mystery.

Thanksgiving is around the corner and Emily and Kaila will be here so I will be busy, which is good. HOLY HELL, it’s my birthday next week which I’m not even thinking about....47 can eat my ass for all I care. (insert FUCK YOU emoji). But once Em leaves I’ve planned a trip to NorCal to do some solo camping/hiking....because somehow being alone makes me feel sad and content all at the same time. I’m going to try to see my therapist again in December, because she’s wonderful and maybe I’m not as “out of the woods” as I thought I was. I honestly don’t know if my depression is PTSD related or some horrible genetic trait....but I sure am paranoid and think a whole hell of a lot of how I’m going to defend myself (and everyone around me) against threats......so I’m thinking the “hyper-vigilance” is more PTSD related. Ugh.....so many issues to tackle. When does life get easier? Maybe at 48. Fingers crossed.

On a GOOD note...I haven’t seen any dead people or near-dead people in like 2 years....so hey, there’s always THAT. Oh, and then there’s the wonderful byproduct of being unmedicated, in your prime - and horny all the damn time. Thank you Nurse Shelly for making me realize that the reason I’m so flipping horny these days is because I’m OFF antidepressants.....what a fucking TREAT. Ugh. I need a third drink....

Fuck off you Judgy McJudgersons....

and good night.

September 11th.

All day long I’ve thought about this day and what it means to me. This year I’m busy traveling home from Galapagos to Quito to LA...which is probably a good distraction. This day hits me like so many other first responders, HARD and right in the gut and heart. We remember the day in detail, where we were...what we were doing...who we were with....how it could have been US....

That day should have been one of the happiest in my life. I was flying with my then fiance (#2 of #3 for those who are keeping track) William to Miami so I could meet his parents for the first time. They lived in Miami where they had fled from Cuba when William was 9 years old. The plan was to get there, spend a week, and he was going to properly propose to me somewhere romantic - using the ring that we had already designed and bought. It was a replica of my Nana’s wedding set, nothing fancy at all - but it meant the world to me to have something of hers for my wedding ring. We were already living together at the time and got up at 0530 to get my boys ready to drop off at their grandparents for the week. As we got our last minute stuff ready to go and prepared to wake the kids, my Mom called and told me to turn on the news.

I remember sitting in silent horror watching what was happening in New York. The first plane had struck and our eyes were glued to the television for at least 4 hours. All flights had been cancelled, there was to be no flying to Miami - or anywhere else. But within about the first hour, once it started to sink in what was really happening, Miami became a distant detail of the day. Even if we COULD have flown out in the following days, there was no way I would have went. My heart was absolutely shattered. I felt gutted and sick and like hundreds of my brothers and sisters had just died a horrible, graphic death that we all witnessed first hand. All killed doing the one thing that we do everyday.....try to help people. I was inconsolable for the next week. I called work that day to cancel my vacation and ask if they needed people to come in. I was told to stay home and they’d let me know if they needed bodies.....they never did.

I watched the news nonstop for the following days. I cried more than I can even remember. I wanted so badly to BE THERE. To help. To do something....but I was stuck in California with a fiance who never understood why I cried so much, why I hurt so much and why I was broken by events that happened to people I didn’t even know. William wanted to still have a “vacation” - he wanted to go to the LA County Fair and the beach and all kinds of other things that I could not seem to wrap my head around. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything that didn’t involve being around my fellow law enforcement officers - because I felt that they were the only ones that really “got it.” I can’t explain it any better than that. For some things, tragedies especially, there is a bond that exists between people whether you know them or not. That was and is the way I felt and still feel - bonded to all the first responders in New York. Both those who were killed and those that are still alive to struggle and grieve and try to make sense of the day that ruined us all in one way or another. I guess the events surrounding that horrible day and the way it played out in my own household were the catalyst for William and I ending our relationship before we ever got married. We broke up 2 months later and he moved out. I just couldn’t imagine spending my life with someone who didn’t FEEL what I felt....and I felt and still feel quite a bit about those Officers and Firefighters who lost their life that day. Every year is the same....emotionally gut wrenching.

I’m fortunate and honored these days to know several NYPD folks and call them friends. Some were working that day, some came on after....but with all of them I feel that bond, that kinship, that I felt on that fateful day. I can’t imagine their heartbreak and their pain, and yet...I can and I do. These days I pray for them, and their peace of mind....and for what horrors are yet to come for them and for all the other first responders. It’s only a matter of time before another tragedy strikes us all. When that day comes I know I’ll be there again, ready to go wherever I can be of use, retired or not. That bond I feel will always be there for my brothers and sisters in law enforcement.....and for that, I am truly blessed.

For those who were lost.....and those who will eventually fall....until we meet again my friends, keep the gates of Heaven safe and Stay Frosty....

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Wandering: Sometimes you CAN go to far

So here I am in the Galapagos Islands, with little to no cell or internet service, a comeback case of Montezuma’s Revenge and an afternoon to myself. I opted out of the guided tour to the “highlands” to see tortoises “in the wild” – because quite frankly, I’ve seen a shit ton of tortoises here already and I don’t suppose that seeing them “in the wild” is going to exactly entail anything new and exciting about the species. Unless of course in the wild they have tiny monkeys riding on their backs while they perform jousting matches, now THAT is something I’d travel to the “highlands” to see.

I’ve got my fill of blue footed boobys, reef sharks, manta rays, giant sea turtles, all manner of colorful fish, tortoises, cormorants, wild dogs and marine iguanas on this trip. What I want now are plain old, every day run of the mill domestic cats. My own preferably. Yes, I miss Neville and Christian Grey…and I’m pretty sure everyone is tired of hearing me squeal with joy and yell ‘KITTY!!” every time I see a cat here. 3 more days….

What I’ve learned about this latest trip is this: It IS possible to stray too far from home. I like to fancy myself a gypsy of sorts, traveling about to various far off destinations – but this time I’ve realized there are places I don’t need to go. Places where English isn’t a primary or even secondary language top that list. It’s unsettling to be somewhere where you don’t speak the language – and no one else speaks yours. Communication is so important – and when you find yourself unable to communicate, you realize very quickly how much of a disadvantage you are at. Don’t even get me started on the driving conditions of other countries…. let’s just say the transportation infrastructure leaves much to be desired in Ecuador. What I wouldn’t give for some good old-fashioned California traffic – or even better – the long, winding, endless roads of the Scottish Highlands. Now THERE is a country that was pleasant to wander through. Take me back to those Highlands any day of the week…. wild tortoises need not be present.

This is the second country where I’ve gotten violently ill from some form of food or water issue. Thailand being the first. It should be noted that both Thailand and Ecuador have pretty unsanitary restroom and water conditions, hence the likelihood of contracting something nasty if you aren’t careful (which clearly, I was not). And while both Thailand and Ecuador are fascinating countries that I’m grateful to have visited, I doubt I’ll ever visit either one of them again. Nor will I be undertaking anymore “adventurous” trips in the near future to other countries that lack the basic requirements I need to have a good time: English speakers, WIFI, hot tubs, bath tubs, hot water, warm weather, good food and at least a decent selection of adult beverages. I don’t require much, truly. Even when I go camping and am off the grid – I’m sure to bring whatever I need to ensure I’m going to have a good time. Cold showers, crappy cocktails and no ability to communicate with the outside world make for a not so great adventure. I DO have my limits when it comes to “roughing it.”

Now, back to the lessons I’ve learned on this trip;

It would seem that I am in fact happier alone than amongst other people. This became very clear to me on this trip when all manner of insignificant details became almost unbearable to me. Loud music, crowds, people talking, people laughing, being NEAR or around other people…. honestly, it was just too much. I’m so much happier and less stressed keeping to myself, listening to my headphones and just basically being left to the thoughts in my own head. I find myself longing for the solo drive to Tennessee in a few weeks…nothing but quiet solitude for 2,500 miles. I’ll be in heaven.

I guess travelling the country in a tiny house on wheels with my 2 cats would seem to be the ideal future for me, eh? Hahahaha…. what a kook I’ve become. I told Donna I should change my dating profile to say, “no talking required” – since it’s inevitably whenever a guy starts talking that it ruins any chance I might be interested. For god sake, just SHUT UP and retain some mystery. If I wanted a chatterbox I’d hang out with my girlfriends. Wait…where was I? Oh yes, back to the dilemma of wandering too far....

I’ve got one more full day tomorrow here in Galapagos, then another night in Quito before I fly home. We are going to hike to some turtle bay here tomorrow and kayak/swim with the turtles. I love that. You know why? BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING QUIET DOWN THERE UNDER THE SEA. Turtles don’t talk. And they never do anything annoying. They just swim around all graceful like - with me swimming next to them, wishing I was Ariel from the little mermaid – and wondering why in the fuck she ever wanted to be “part of this world.” In fact, I just became keenly aware of the barking dogs and sound of construction that have been going on outside this hotel for at least the past 30 minutes. UGH. It really is very LOUD here. Once we leave Galapagos in a few days and fly back to Quito, I’ll have a full night at the Wyndham Hotel near the airport. Hopefully I’ll finally have some decent WIFI and can upload these jillion photos to my Facebook page as well as answer a shit ton of emails and send off a few resumes. Much to do…much to do….

I guess I’ll sign out now – though I realize I sound horribly ungrateful and bitchy. I’m very lucky to have visited this place, it’s definitely worth seeing. If anyone plans on coming here someday I’ve got some do’s and don’ts to fill you in on. Just ask me. Now I think I’ll watch some more downloaded Netflix – or maybe I’ll get lucky and can stream some “Outlander” episodes.

Tiny House Dreams

I was going to just write a status update, but I’m sitting here with a big cup of coffee looking out the kitchen window in Bend, Oregon and I’m feeling like this might get a bit wordy for a mere status update. So here goes...

Why a tiny house on wheels you ask? Why not just a camper, or an RV or a teardrop camper...or something cheaper and easier to navigate across the continental US? Well here’s why:

I like going on RV camping trips just as much as the next outdoorsy chick, but this is going to be my HOME. Not just my home, but my cats home! Yes, they are going with me - whether they like it or not. So I want something the feels like a home. Not a dressed up RV. I want wood flooring and wood beam ceilings, and a soaking tub (maybe), and a compost toilet, and probably some solar panels, and propane tanks, and a big generator, and all kinds of other stuff that will allow me to pull over in any Walmart parking lot across the country and chill out for a few days if I need to. The plan is to see the country - at least all the places that I’ve always wanted to see. I can probably skip Iowa. But everything else peaks my interest!

I’ve got friends and family in various states across the country, so when I’m visiting those places I’ll stay for a month or so. If not on their property, then in an RV park nearby. Which leads me to another reason I don’t want an RV...when I’m staying somewhere for extended periods of time, I’ll be able to unhitch my THOW (that’s short for Tiny House On Wheels for you newbies) and use my truck to get around town and do some sightseeing. Now I know, I don’t actually HAVE a truck at this point, but I’ll get one right after I decide on a tiny house! I’m looking at various options right now, both used and new, but this is a BIG decision and one I don’t want to make hastily. My goal is to have my THOW by April/May of 2018...which is when the real adventure begins! Once my 18 month - 2 year tour across America is over, I will have undoubtedly decided on a place to settle down (most likely the Volunteer state!). At that point I will buy a regular house on an acre (or 5) and my THOW will be turned into a cozy little AIR BNB. See? I’m thinking long term financial solvency people! I can totally rent it out, raise chickens and rabbits (for eggs and meat), grow my organic vegetables and make the full blown transition into hippy-chick survivalist!

I’ve decided to sell off my furniture and put the rest of my belongings in storage so that I can vacate my beautiful Huntington Beach condo rental by January 1st. (YIKES! Kinda scary). As most of you know I sold my Anaheim condo last October, which incidentally is how I was able to take all these awesome trips in 2017! Fortunately all my trips were pre-paid, because as of right now I haven’t seen a paycheck in 6 weeks and am still at least another 6 weeks out from seeing my first retirement check. Thank GOD I have simple tastes and like Top Ramen. It’s like 1994 with two kids as a single mom all over again! Ok, so I have a months worth of paychecks in bad ass knives, but a girl’s got to have SOME vices, right? (Half Face Blades are my weakness).

I’ve already spoken to my folks in Arizona who are happy to have me there for a month or longer come January. Of course I’ll also be with Emily Cottle in Tennessee for a while, and most likely Ron Rayburn in Kentucky for another stretch. Then there’s Vittoria Ferrari in Madeira Beach, Florida - who hopefully will let me wait tables for free (I keep my tips!) at the Sweet Brewnette for a few weeks or so. Oh wait, then there’s Kate Favara and her family in Montana - and Lord knows I’m dying to hang out in Big Sky Country and do some fishing and hunting. So it shouldn’t be much of a problem be-bopping around for 3-4 months while I wait for my THOW to be built or purchased. Once I get my THOW I will leave my Honda Accord in Tennessee with Emily Cottle (I can Uber there in Nashville when I’m visiting) and hit the wide open road. I’ll probably make a YouTube channel or become some other self-promoting type of Vlogger. I mean, OF COURSE I will - right?!?!

It’s going to be an EPIC adventure.

(I just need to convince Neville and Christian Grey)

Getting Lost...

On days like today, when I've finally managed to slow down for more than 24 hours and quiet my brain, I wonder if the fast pace isn't what's saving me from myself and the thoughts that usually run through my mind. It's a scary thing, not feeling quite "right" these days. I don't feel like myself....whichever self I used to be. That party girl, crazy Shannon, isn't exactly accurate. I know, and those that are close to me know that persona is mostly surface stuff. Part of my ENFP makeup. But over the past 8 months the lack of routine and stability in my life has left me spinning like a top with no direction and very little to keep me grounded. I long for those days when going to work was fun, when vacations came only every 3-4 months and when I had something to do and somewhere to be on a daily basis. Now I mostly feel like I'm just running....constantly. From one place to the next, trying to put distance between myself and that life I used to know.

I used to feel like I helped people, everyday. No matter how insignificant my contacts at work were....I almost always came away feeling useful and validated. Now I don't know why i'm here or what I'm supposed to be doing....other than indulge myself on whatever whim or adventure strikes me. I'm hopeful that moving to Tennessee and staying with Emily and Kaila for a while will help ground me and remind me of who I used to be. Part of a family... Frankly, I'm too old for most of this shit. It's exhausting...and only fun 85% of the time. I'd trade in the feeling of "fun" for a feeling of satisfaction any day of the week. And I don't know that I've felt satisfied with anything in a very long, long time.

So I will take the rest of 2017 off to "find myself" and figure out what the next chapter in my life will be. At this point I have no idea. I have several options available to me given my skill set, but keep waiting for one to feel right and not just convenient. I want to feel passionately about whatever it is I'm doing...be it raising a family, being a police officer or being in a relationship. Who knows, maybe I WILL go to school and get a contractors license and start building tiny houses. Crazier things have happened. Someone mentioned doing private security and threat assessment for high end targets, but I couldn't tolerate working for some assclown - no matter how much money they paid me. I'd rather live in a small house on 10 acres in the hills of Tennessee on a medical pension and be able to tell assholes to go fuck themselves if need be. Now that I think of it, President Trump should totally hire me as part of his Social Media Team!! Hahahaha. I like his style. Rough around the edges....but I think he gets a bad rap. Kinda like yours truly.

Alright, I'm snowed in in Bryce Canyon Utah (ask me again WHY I thought a solo 3 week Winter Wonderland road trip in a Honda Civic across 5 states would be a god idea?) - so I think I'm going to throw on a jog bra and the most conservative pair of black undies I brought and hit the indoor jacuzzi. For the first time in the past 20 years there are NOT at least 3 bikinis in my go bag. I'm pretty sure I'm one of only 3 people staying in this huge resort this weekend, because you'd have to be half crazy to vacation up here during the off season. For the record, I'm only 5% crazy according to the QME.....hahaha. Only my CALI LEOS will get that reference. So off I go, to sit in the jacuzzi, then eat at the hotel diner, then back to my room to watch Netflix and hopefully sleep. I head out tomorrow on what will surely be more treacherous road conditions, flying by the seat of my pants as per usual. But hey, they are pretty cool Fjallraven pants, so there's that.

Great, I come to the computer room adjacent to the jacuzzi and see there are like 10 people in there! Back to the room I go...a hot bath will have to do.

Purging

Where do I begin. The beginning would seem like a natural place to start, but that spans so many years back I would be writing for weeks…if not years. So many snippets of a life that had led to me to this place, where I seem only vaguely familiar to myself. I will start then at what seemed to be the turning point in my 22 year career as Police Officer, June 21,2002. A jumper on the Colorado Street Bridge in Pasadena Ca. Matthew Ackerman, 22 years old, good looking, silent, and unwilling to tell me what had forced him to climb over the rails and on to the exterior of the bridge. I spoke to him for 45 minutes or so until the “crisis negotiators” got there and relieved me. Relieved me to stand silently by, watching their efforts fail as they talked to him of his church and religion….which I knew in my heart was perhaps the reason he was here to end his life. He leaned forward and let go…and the 5-7 seconds that it took until I heard the dull thud of his body hit the pavement below, felt like it was suspended in eternity.

He made me promise to give his shoes to his brother, which I did. I attended his services and spoke, or rather tried to speak to his eldest brother in my patrol car. Assuring him that Matts 4 brothers were his last final loving thoughts. It’s engrained in my memory as though it was yesterday….and that was not nearly the first time I’d watched someone die. It was simply the most helpless I’d ever felt in my entire life. And responsible. If only I’d confided in him more, got him to open up, got him to understand that darkness touches most of us at one time or another….the overcoming it is the true trick to remaining here…with the living.

There were more jumpers, more close calls, more lives nearly lost then saved….but even more lives lost than saved over the next few years. So I took a break from patrol, in my 11th year as a Police officer I was assigned to Detective Bureau. To the Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force. Investigating primarily the production and distribution of child pornography, along with other crimes against children that occurred in my city. Which were almost exclusively child molestations and child abuse. I spent 3 1/2 years there. 3 1/2 years looking at thousands and thousands of images and videos of children being raped and victimized, writing search warrants, trying to identify and locate victimized children and their victimizers. I had some great successes and sent several monsters to prison for life terms. Several more convicted and mandated to register as sex offenders, so my job was satisfying…..or so you would think. But for every arrest, every identified child molester or child victim, there were hundreds more that remained nameless. The things I have seen in those videos, one can not describe….nor would I ever attempt to. Ignorance is bliss….and it’s best not to know what can only haunt you in your nightmares.

So I eventually left ICAC, at my request, and went back to the simple and satisfying job of patrol in 2010. It was fun again…no more pending cases….no more child pornography or children I couldn't help…just patrolling and responding as needed to emergencies and calls for service. All the while having too much fun with my coworkers playing pranks on each other and meeting for coffee or C-7. Then the suicides and fatalities started coming in increasing numbers again, only this time, they were younger adults and children.

The Daily Do-Gooder

Today has been an interesting and enlightening day, which I've decided to share with everyone. Not because I want to toot my own proverbial horn, or call attention to myself, but rather because I'm hoping to inspire some "paying it forward" do-gooder deads amongst my friends. Now, I know that I have MANY friends that already contribute to society, friend, family and neighbors on a regular basis. Donna, Kate, Vicki, Amy, and probably many more that I'm not even aware of. Because you see, it is the humility of most do-gooders that they never talk about what they've done for others. They don't seel accolades or pats on the back, they do good deeds merely because they are the RIGHT thing to do. I have only my wonderful parents to thank for instilling that virtue in me. My folks are awesome, amazing, giving and humble people. Me? Well, not so humble....but I like to think the rest applies. At any rate...here is how the day went;

I moved to my condo in January of this year. There is a nighbor next to me who has been in a nursing home ever since I moved in. His name is Frank, and I've never met him. His house has been vacant and he has an adult son who comes by every now and again, but I've never met him either. I pass by Franks patio every now and then (my kitty Lucky used to like to sit on his patio wall and bask in the sun) and it always makes me sad that his patio is overgrown and in a state of decay. So today I got his son Tim's phone number and sent him a series of (what he probably thought were odd) messages asking him if I could clean his fathers patio for him. Truth be told, my initial interest in the cleanup was partly selfish. I love gardening and cleaning up old spaces - and I was looking for a new project. Once I had asssured Tim I was not a crazy person - and didn't expect any compensation, he gave me the go ahead. So I started in on Franks old, abandoned and overgrown patio.

I was maybe 30 minutes into the cleanup when I started uncovering the carefully terraced planters, and the many pots and plants that were dying underneath. It struck me that at one time Frank must have put quite a deal of care and time into his patio garden, and it saddened me that it had fallen into such a bad state. I remember my own Grandmothers house and gardens, when she got too ill and old to care for them - and how my brother and I tried to clean it up for her. I thought of Emily's Mamaws garden in Kentucky and how beautiful it must have been when she tended it daily - only to fall into disrepair after she passed away. Time and neglect erasing all the beauty that once gave so much joy to our friends and relatives. And so the clean up of Franks patio became more of a tribute to him, and much less of a hobby for me. I hoped that one day Frank comes home from the nursing home - if nothing more than to see his lovely patio and sit outside in the sun. But if that never happens than at least I've helped my neighbor and that fills me with a sense of warmth and accomplishment.

I'm now thinking of ways to do more of these types of things. Maybe organize a "community cleanup" with some of my friends or police officers I know. Surely there are other elderly or disabled people that need help with their yards and such? Most people don't like to ask for help, I know. But maybe friends or family members can "suggest" or "nominate" someone in need. I've got this idea in my head and everyone knows once I get one of my bright ideas I'm not soon to give up on it! Wish me luck....and help me "pay it forward!"