The Repairman

I want to address an issue this post that has hit very close to my heart. It touches myself, several of my friends, and some family as well.

This is about mental illness.

It hits us in a variety of guises, from depression to paranoia, to PTSD, to DID, to full-blown schizophrenia.

The reason that I write this today, is inspired by a particular incident relating to a close friend of mine. They were actually told by a family member that if they were a stronger person, they would not be suffering the situation that was diagnosed. In this case, it was a combination of PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Read this again: "This only happened because you aren't a strong enough person to handle it." IT, being the multiple traumas that spawned my friend's illnesses.

So this is to my friend, but also to anyone who suffers in their mind:

It isn't your fault. And you ARE strong enough, or you wouldn't be here today. We'll use this illustration. Look at this  picture:

The wires are frayed, pinched. Contacts are worn, malformed. The bundle is loose. The mounting tray for the equipment is broken.

Is it the wire's fault that someone came along and cut the ties that bound the bundle together? Is it the contacts' fault that oxides built up, that wires were pinched and chafed? The materials used for the installation were all MIL-spec. For those who are not aviation buffs, it means the materials used were all top-notch.

You ARE strong enough. What you are made of, is good. Life happened, and everyone has their limits. And for someone else to second-guess how strong you are, only shows their own lack of understanding about what happened.

The fact is, you need help putting things back together, repairing the damaged spots.

The final product isn't perfect, but it isn't about reinventing the wheel. The whole system doesn't need to be removed and rewired, to make it functional. Replace the broken tray. Clip out the damaged portions of wire. Extend wires with splices where they are needed. Attach a new wire bundle mount and re-route the side bundle. Clip off the damaged connector contacts and use the right tools to put new contacts in place.

Use the right tools. Use the therapist. Receive the prayer. Let the Master Healer restore and heal the broken places.

Using outside help doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're smart enough to ask for help.

Give yourself a break. And be your own awesome self. Just get better.

NADIA Picture Tour: Next stop, Las Vegas!

Marco was crouching on the concrete outside the loading dock when Jenna approached the
rear of the Sands Hotel five minutes later. He was engaged in an impromptu dice game, and
judging from the pile of bills in front of him, he was doing well today. He looked up when she
called his name, and a distrustful scowl replaced the grin he’d worn a moment previously.
He stood and sauntered to Jenna. She found herself looking at him eye-to-stomach. She
stood her ground and looked up, meeting his gaze evenly, and held out the card-key. He took it
from her and stuck it in his back pocket. “You could use a bath. You smell like a dumpster.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and strutted toward the loading dock’s door.

“T-Bear, you watch my money, ‘ight?” he said to one of his compatriots, a skinny kid with a
shaved head.

Jenna followed him inside, through the service area, and up twelve flights of stairs. After
they exited the stairwell, he led the way down the hall, finally stopping in front of a door on the
left side. He opened the door with the card-key and held it for her. As she walked past, he said,
“Pick up and dial 8787. Order whatever you need. Tab’s taken care of.” He left, taking the cardkey
with him.

When she saw herself in a mirror, she was appalled. Need a bath? Marco, you were being a
positive gentleman. Her hair looked like an explosion in a wig factory. Her clothes hung in
rumpled, filthy rags on her small frame, and her face sported a couple of bruises from the day
before.

She picked up the bedside phone and ordered two changes of clothing and a steak dinner.
She tried to call Anna at the hospital, but learned that she hadn’t been seen or heard from since
the ‘bomb scare’ the day before last. There was no answer on Anna’s cell, either. This can’t be
good. She couldn’t call upline, not from here. But she hoped they’d have some answers for her
when she did call them.

Lunch came while she soaked in the tub. She finished her bath, toweled off, and ate. That
was when she noticed how tired she was. The bed was soft, the covers warm, and in less than a
minute, Jenna was in the arms of Morpheus.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Got a confession to make: I was not actually in Vegas. My kids were there, for a convention of one of their favorite TV shows. It was pretty cool to hear about. They got to meet the stars, and came back with some awesome souvenirs and even more awesome memories.

I called my son after they landed and checked into the Rio. I specifically had this scene in mind when I asked him to take shots. He did a fantastic job, as will be seen in further installments.

This is actually the loading dock of the Rio, as you can see in the shot. Granted, this is a short, short scene. And maybe it comes across as inconsequential in the grand scheme of the NADIA Project. But strangely enough, this is one of my favorite moments from Unalive. Maybe because the entire sequence leading up to this, and the scenes immediately afterward, were pivotal moments in Jenna's story.

Stay tuned for more updates from Las Vegas!