I remember... 9/11

I remember. Literally waking up to breaking news reports of the first plane. Feeling sucker punched watching the chaos begin surrounding my family's true home, where my parents were born and raised and most of us born.

I remember the phone call with my best friend...that lasted the entire day, holding our breaths as the day unfolded. I remember, watching together as the reports came in of the Pentagon. Of the crashed plane in a field. Watching live, as the second plane hit. Watching those towers burn, then fall, full of people born of all walks of life, just going about their regular days, living their respective lives, with all the trials, tribulations, joys, sorrows, hopes, dreams, families extinguished in a series of acts of pure hate.

I remember the tears as they return to my eyes so many years later. I will never forget the words of the broadcasters - Anderson, Diane, so many others - doing their best to maintain composure as we all witnessed our world forever change, feeling helpless to stop those lives from being lost.

I remember watching the footage of the joy spreading through the hate-infected masses in the home countries of those who attacked, reveling in the pride of the unexpected success of their hate-fueled task. I remember struggling as hate welled up inside me, struggling against its will not to become them.

On this day, for the rest of my life, I choose to remember...the lives and hearts and souls lost on that day. Each individual person, be they a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a cousin, an uncle, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a husband, a fiancee, a wife, a child, a teen, a grandmother. No matter who they were, they were someone...who deserved to live, who deserved a life, who deserved to be loved.

I remember the image during a morning show in the days following. A picture someone took as they headed down the stairs of one of the towers, of a firefighter, ax in hand, running UP the stairs as everyone stepped aside to let him through. I remember they aired that picture on national news, determined to find his family. Someone who knew him. To ensure his family, friends, loved ones KNEW what an amazingly brave man he was on this horrific day, like so many others. It worked...and his face is forever seared into my memory. I used to remember his name, but I've lost that...and it hurts.

I choose to remember all the Responders who fought the war they saw raging in front of them, not without fear, but in spite of it. Running head first into the dangers they knew and dangers unknown, not because they wanted to be heroes, but because they WERE. They were men and women, just like us. Fallible. Weak. Broken. With families, friends, lives just like ours. They go to work every day knowing so many dangers they may face, but never expecting something like the horrors of that day. But they are made of a fiber so many of us lack or keep hidden. A resolve that can be rallied when most of us want to shrivel and hide.

Being Brooklyn born, despite all my years in Atlanta, I am still a New Yorker at heart. Our ties go back to family members who came to America from Ireland, Italy. It will forever be HOME to me, just as Atlanta is my HOME after that. 

So many people lost their lives in the respective cities that day...and so many of us lost our innocence. We were a collective that day...no matter where we were from...and for so many days after, as we tried to make sense of things. How hate can become SO powerful. We REFUSED to let it enter our hearts. DESPITE our differences, we were ONE. We were Americans. Black, white, hispanic, asian, Muslim, Christian, Pagan, Euro-centric, Appalachian bred, Canadian, Native. It didn't matter. We became united. A force of strength and pride and love, What happened to us? Where did it go? How can we have let the lessons of that day slip away to the point that we are at odds and each others' throats over political, religious, and social differences? Is that the legacy the losses of that day have left us?

For those who lived through and witnessed that horrific day and the weeks that followed, I challenge you to remember. Choose to remember the way you felt that day. The next day. The weeks after. Choose to remember...that we all are individuals. We share this world. Together....and, together, we can make it strong again. If we choose to remember...

Heartache > RIP Robin Williams

"O Captain, my Captain."

so here are my thoughts...for those looking to understand. This is simply my perspective both as a person suffering from similar mental challenges and a student of Psychology. Read it at will. I'm no expert, but to me, it's tragically simple...

Robin Williams was a comedic genius. He was a force of nature. He was an amazingly kind soul trapped in a body with a mind that never stopped racing.

We all know Robin was bipolar. He's talked about it. His mania is what drove his art. His comedy was exalted by the sheer ravings of a brilliant mind too fast for most "normal" humans to process. He was simply the most manic person I've ever seen or known (and I've known a lot) to still be walking around functional. Most people with mania at his level find themselves hospitalized or worse. It's that mania that gave us the beautiful and glorious and often psychotic-sounding rantings that left us in stitches and in awe for so many decades. It is what drove his art and allowed him to not only excel at it, but impact us on such a profound and memorable level.

But...with any bipolar, the state of mania can only be balanced by an equal or, in my experience, greater level of depression. If the mania is a 90, you can rest assured the crash and depressions will be a -110+. It's a vicious cycle and a battle all bipolars know all too well. Medication is often the only solution to find some semblance of functional balance to the chemical chaos in your body and mind.

In Robin's case, here is the problem. His mania fueled his art. It defined it. Medications would have stifled it. As so many bipolars do, you're torn b/w medications that stifle your mind, creativity, and emotions to function and letting it go and naturally channeling it into something creative or productive. The latter is how he worked. However, no one can maintain that kind of control over a mania that intense (coupled w/a brian so brilliant) 24x7 for an extended period. The crashes, as he has said, are debilitating.

As with many bipolars, especially in the creative arts world, it becomes a dance. Prescription medications to find a functional balance coupled with self-medication to try to control the highs and lows. He needed to be manic to perform, to interview...to be the Robin Williams we all "knew" and loved so deeply. In his off time, he had to be Robin Williams, the man, not the performer. Being able to turn on and off despite the chaos that is happening chemically in your brain.

Add an addictive personality to an extreme bipolar and you are looking at a flame who'll burn far more brightly than most until it finally doesn't have enough fuel left.

My heart aches so deeply for his loss but even more so for his pain. For a man who brought SO much joy, comfort, love, warmth, beauty, and genuine kindness to so many, it hurts my soul to know the depth of the pain and loneliness he faced. We've all heard him talk about his struggles. I wish I could known him and hugged away all his pain. I wish someone had been there to get him through one more night of that dreaded sadness. But mostly, I pray that he is finally at peace and his mind and generous heart and soul are now  calm.

We will miss you, Robin Williams. You were an artist, a philantropist, a healer, and a poet. Thank you. For everything, but mostly for the love of life you shared.

"Genie - you're free now..."

In the shadow of pain and loss...our Persian

Loss is never an easy thing. In all its flavors - human, pet, other - it reminds us of so many things - joy, pain, loneliness, friendship, love, hope. No matter what form it takes, no matter how we each find to cope.

Sometimes it is powerful, like a freight train. Other times, it is quiet and subtle and slow moving. Its depth and intensity vary from person to person, from loss to loss. Sometimes they come in waves, when the chips are down. Other times, they come when you are feeling strong enough to face them. Today would not be one of those days for me.

In recent months, our lives have continued to challenge us. We are struggling on so many levels, working hard to keep our heads above water. Forcing ourselves to remember, daily, that so many are suffering so much harder circumstance and diligently working to remember to be thankful for our state in life and for all we do have on a daily basis. 

It is a hard lesson to learn, to remain grateful, thankful, and blessed. It is easier to succumb to the pain. I've been down that road. But, with the help of family, friends, and now the most amazing man, I am learning how to pull myself back to that side instead of sliding ever deeper into the dark shadows of the pain, the fear, and the loss. 

Today was supposed to be a good day. My birthday. A day I don't really celebrate but one that usually offers me a chance to reflect that I've made it another year. Reflect on those things I still strive to change, the things I still strive to do, the person I still strive to be. I take stock in the things that have happened over the previous year and try to learn from what worked...and what didn't...and what I learned about myself... to help me forge a path forward.

I am grateful for a man who has helped to rebuild the strength inside of me. I am thankful for the family and friends who have surrounded me and helped me see, both good and bad, the components of my character. I am blessed to have been loved by so many fur-babies who needed me almost as much as I needed each and every one of them. You have all given more to me than I can ever repay, verbalize, or quantify.

But today started off with a quick reminder of the other side of that coin. The loss of our beloved JJ (Persian) in the early morning hours, before dawn even broke. 

Since today's birthday wish....simply to have more time with you...cannot come true, all I wish for is that you will be safe and warm and happy. That you won't miss us as painfully much as we will miss you. I hope and pray that the time until we see you again is nothing more than the blink of an eye to you. Know that every day, you will still be healing a huge hole in my heart that only you ever filled.

When I don't know what else to do, you know what I do...
...so I wrote this for you...

For J.J.

There is a warmth that comes from your heart. 

A warmth that touched my heart

that very first day.

Your eyes enveloped me 

and I felt my soul melt.

Somehow our journeys

brought us together.

Your path crossed mine.

From there, our hearts 

forever entwined.

Now, our paths diverge again

for a time

and my heart is aching to follow.

But my time...

it is not now.

I have more work to do,

though without you,

it feels empty and hollow.

The light you brought to my life

will flicker forever and on

until, with my last breath,

I can join you.

Until then, know
you changed my world.

Memories savored.
Lessons learned.

So many precious moments...
yet...far too few.

Until that day, your love will be held 

tight and deep inside my heart.

Safe.

Always with me.

With you.

With us.
~ Chris D'Avanzo ~ 05/27/2014

Forever our boy...

Our shining beacon.

Your silent meow.

Our sweet boy.

Our Persian.

Our JJ

~ Chris and Terrell

...and...here...we...go....

I've tabled this for some time, starting a blog...

It's fluctuated between the back of my mind and the forefront of my writing brain...having a place to spew random thoughts as they eat away at my mind. 

While writing has, and always will, be one of my most creative and emotionally cleansing outlets, it's been reserved for inner monologues, protected written projects, and random ramblings in a variety of forums.

I've finally decided...the time has come...to open the flood gates and let the spewage begin. The topics I tackle here will be a product of the random, chaotic thoughts, topics, issues, and concerns constantly bouncing around my brain like emotionally-charged superballs, sometimes gaining momentum and trajectory and, at other times, falling flat on the ground to roll around without so much as a purpose or destination. 

So tread where you will. Leave your thoughts as you wish. Engage where you are driven. Or just cruise on by if your interest wanes or is lacking. 

This is an experiment and a project in self preservation more than a platform or a stage to entertain the masses so I understand my greatest audience may, oftentimes, only be my own future self...but even that can prove a teaching tool for the me I will encounter further down the road.

so... with that said...in the infamous words of my beloved Mr. Ledger....

and...here...we....go.....