Life, Death, Heroes, and Coping.

I saved a life.
I feel like no matter how I write this out it's going to sound like I'm bragging. I assure you though that is not my intent. This is actually something I am trying to cope with it. That sounds strange I suppose. Saying you saved someone's life sounds heroic but I don't feel like a hero. I feel like a young woman who did something that seemed like the right thing to do and now people show up with praise, invites to events, flowers, and... I just don't understand still.
No don't leave to search the news feeds. As far as I know the news didn't get out to any networks and I have no interest in gaining extra fame.
I work for a major retail company. I work setting up displays for them so when someone comes in considering buying something they have a working model to fiddle with. On the week of November 4th I started working nights to help remodel three stores for the upcoming Holiday Season. One the 3rd night working in my second store something happened... I later found out this gentlemen had a heart attack but all I caught from three isles over was that there was a small group of employees gathering in an area. Like any curious employee I went to see what was going on, though all I caught at that moment was that someone was on the ground and another man didn't look happy.
A flurry of communication later I caught up that someone was on the ground due to some sort of accident (I recall thinking he had hit his head on the metal shelf) and I asked one little question "Is he breathing?"
Another flurry this time of motions as opposed to words. The important part being "No." and "Does anyone know CPR?"
No one responded. I vaguely recalled taking a class on CPR back in high school some 4 to 8 years ago depending. "I... kind of do." I stepped forward. I remembered an article saying that now days they suggested compressions and not breaths at all. I went with it. I started doing chest compressions while someone called 9-1-1. I remembered I should see if he could get air in and tilted his head back not seeing anything I knew to be a blockage.
I started counting my compressions into the speaker phone of a stranger's cell as the individual on the line (I really don't recall if it was a male or female, I suppose I was more caught up in the moment than I knew) couched me. I yelled over everyone into the speaker each time he took a breath, odd gapes at strange intervals, and continued with compressions.
We heard the ambulance. I told the person on the phone we could hear them and kept counting. An EMS individual came and took over. I moved quickly, stood up, watched a moment, and started quaking. I noticed blood on my hands and told EMS I thought he was bleeding from the back of his head (I found out later he had hit the metal shelf on his way down and was in fact bleeding from the back of his head). I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. I was still shaking.
They were taking him into the ambulance by the time I was smoking my second cigarette. I called home and spoke with my boyfriend to calm me down.
Four cigarettes, 3 glasses of water, and two phone calls home later I was working like nothing had happened.
People kept walking up to congratulate me. Three weeks later people are still congratulating me. EMS came to my work to invite me to a cookout of some sort for survivors and heroes.
Yesterday that gentlemen and his wife showed up at my job hugged me, thanked me, and gave me a plant.

People think of me as a hero and I can not.
I'm a young woman that took the only action I saw possible.
I made mistakes, but that man is alive though because of me (or so says the doctors, EMS, him, his family, my job, and my boyfriend).
Yet I still find it difficult to accept that without me this man may not be here today.

I'm a hero in everyone's eyes except my own.

Adventures in Depression

In December of 2011 I went to a mental health facility. I think this was one of the lowest points of my entire life and something that will stick with me forever. So lets talk about depression for a moment today shall we? (Well its my blog so you really get no choice. You COULD click a link on your browser and flee this blog, or choose simply not to read this post... but I promise it's not going to be all sad and self loathing!)

I have learned that I have severe medical depression, all those times I was depressed was because of an illness  I have depression and I can make as many excuses for it as I would like but that's not going to change the fact that I am depressed.

Medical depression (or mental health issues in general I suppose) is a whole other beast when compared to other illnesses. People can't see depression. Well they can, sort of, but not in the way we see many other illnesses. When someone has cancer, a tumor, blindness, diabetes, [insert any illness you can think of here here] people can show sympathy. When someone has depression? "Fix your life, "You're just depressed, go make yourself happy and get over it," "Don't they make pills for that?" The list goes on.

If anyone would ever say "It's just [insert horrible illness here]. Go get over it" people would throw a fit. Yet I've heard so many variations on that same thing in the last few months it just about makes me physically ill.

I can smile all day at work, meet new people who think I'm a blast, and generally get through my day without anyone knowing about my "illness." It's friends and family that have to deal with the fallout of the illness I have. They see me staying in bed half the day because I 'don't feel like getting up.' They call me to tell me there's a part and I 'don't feel like being social.' They see me happy, and worry about how long until I fall back into my hole. I could go on all day and anyone that has depression or that is close to someone with depression will nod and say they understand. I feel anyone without that personal experience just won't quite grasp what I'm trying to explain.

Every day is a struggle against a self abusive voice in your head. The worst thing that happened all day was breaking the straw for a juice box (which you got to admit is pretty deflating) but you still feel hopeless, feel guilty for feeling hopeless, and end up in a depressed self abusive loop.

I've taken pills that seem to either have no effect or simply make things worse. I've tried seeing the good in life and just get over it, which does help on some of the lighter days. I've done drugs which is just a whole other issue in itself and made things worse in the long run. I've drunk alcohol which I finds really just makes me feel worse the next day.  I've tried many things and I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'll never be 'cured.'

Over all I suppose I just want to say this:
Just because you can't see someone's illness doesn't mean it isn't there. People with mental health issues are looked down upon by many and it's hard enough to deal with without the social stigmas attached. I may never get "better" but the individuals in my life that understand what's happening and stick around regardless are the true heroes that help me every day.

This has been a very low post for Bluish Nights I know, and I promise to be back soon on a more chipper note.
Here's my feel good video of the day to help tide everyone over:
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Beautiful things

Good times always deserve pictures. So I've decided I should share some of the good times (all while barefoot of course) I've missed uploading on Bluish Nights in the past year.

Barefooting while working on cars

A lovely trail very easy to do barefoot

Not such an easy trial but this fallen tree provided a nice resting spot

The top of one trail

The bottom of another

Same trail as above on another day

Butterflies think I'm pretty cool after a long hike

To the veterans- Memorial Day post

I'm not a fan of war. I never have been and I hope like hell I never will be.
In the last year I have met a few wonderful people that have served in different branches of the military, and through them I have learned a bit more than I knew previously about what it means to be a veteran.
I am thankful these individuals are here and that they are in my life. I'm thankful for what they have done. I hate knowing that they went through some of the things they did. And I'm so sorry they lost people there. People they knew. People that were fighting for something important (which I really didn't understand until recently)
For Memorial day we enjoy our long weekend, we laugh and play, and most of us really don't think about what the holiday truly is. But I played hard on that day and it's because of these people I never knew.
Thank you, still with us still or not. Thank you to those I know, those I never will know, and those I that didn't get to come back home to the ones that love them.


Bluish Nighs will be back up and running shortly.
The original intent was for the blog to be about good times and bad times (though it seemed to focus a lot on barefooting), and I intend to take it back to the original concept.
A post on the bad times and mental health coming soon.

I'm a horrible blogger...

I know, I'm sorry!
I think a lot of it is lack of free time, but we I could write excuses all day and still it amounts to the same thing: I don't update my blog often enough. For that I apologize and will soon be finishing up a list of "other blogs you may like" for people to check out when I'm on a no updating spree.

In any case today we're going to follow the slogan of this blog and have something not barefoot related (for those only here for that there will be a small note of "things to come" that regards barefooting at the bottom of this post).

Back in March there was a new member added to the already too large family- A Pit mix whom, after much debate, was named Stark. Stark is my sweet little shelter mutt who on all the paper work is labeled a "Hound x Boxer mix."
This fake title is not at all due to a dislike on my part of Pits, but a general dislike of them mostly by insurance policies. My apartment complex has a strict "No Pit or Pit mixes" policy based thankfully on what the vet says and my vet said he's not a Pit.

But boy oh boy have we seen some stereotypes. Someone at the vet said he would sit there and wait to pick up his animal until "that monster [was] no longer in the room." Stark was sitting and watching me as I fed him treats and worked on some basic commands with him. We've had people come up to pet him commenting how pretty he is, but as soon as they hear "pit bull mix" we've had some people stop with the petting and leave a very happy dog sitting there confused as the person walks off. I just don't understand personally. I'm a young woman holding a brown leather leash, with a dog in a pretty blue collar at the end who seems to be getting a bad reputation for simply having a large head.

So here I'm going to simply urge my readers on one point- Don't judge a dog by the breed, judge by his behavior and even then take a hard look at the owner.
My dog is not running around the neighborhood without me. My dog is not being rewarded to show aggression. My dog has been temperament tested and we're slowly working to getting him a canine good citizenship award to show he is truly a good doggy citizen.
Irresponsible owners with poorly handled dogs are the biggest danger, and when all the Pits are gone (sweet or not), will it be your dog's breed they go after next? Your dog who they want to put down for simply looking like the dogs some idiots decided would make them look tougher.
My animals truly are my family, and like anyone we deserve a chance to show our own colors.


On that simi-depressing and hopefully thought provoking note I'm going to go ahead and put this out there and cross my fingers that I actually get it done.
June 16th to June 19th Stark, a close friend, and I are piling into a car to drive a little under 740 miles to the beautiful Cape San Blas, Florida. Now I know I'm cheating a bit in the fact that I'm going to a beach but I will be hitting 6 states , driving for a little over 13 hours (each way), and be out and about vacationing for multiple days. The important part of all this though is that I'm challenging myself to do it all barefoot.
My friend is very sportive of my barefoot lifestyle, my dog of course is non-judgmental as can be, and I'm ready to enjoy myself as much as possible.

I will have an Iphone, a laptop, and internet access at the bed and breakfast I'm staying at so I'm hoping during my downtime I can type a bit each day, but failing that there will be a post regarding my barefoot travels at the end.

If anyone has any tips for this trip and doing it barefoot feel free to let me know!
And I'm simply going to wish myself luck.

Success!

Well... Not a 100% success, but still a pretty darn good step forward.

The successful part? I officially wonder around the offices at work barefoot, and management doesn't seem to care. I feel I lose a few points for still walking in with flip-flops, but considering there is a written rule I feel that this is at least a good step in the right direction.
A few of my co-workers have actually said they feel better seeing me wondering around barefoot as many people wonder in slippers, and more often now in socks as well. It's nice to know that my job cares about employee comfort on some level, working in an office answering phones all day isn't physically difficult but it truly is mentally exhausting.

As far as the new apartment goes, I'm not the crazy barefoot lady as of yet it seems. Mostly this is because it's been about 2 and a half weeks and I've yet to meet my neighbors. I work night shift meaning I've somehow avoided most everyone in my building on accident.
I did go into the leasing office to pay rent on the 3rd barefoot after a nice walk with my dog though and no one mentioned it, however we'll see if things continue to work as there's more than one person working in there and often times people miss seeing what they don't expect to see.

Still going barefoot despite the extra work it seems to take.

My poor blog...

Poor, poor, poor little blog. I'm almost too embarrassed to start posting again simply because it's been so long. I suppose that's how life goes though isn't it?

So... about this going to work barefoot business I was having trouble with.
In case you don't remember, I got a new job and one of the first rules they read me was "shoes required at all times." I've learned an important lesson since then- Not all rules apply to all shifts.
Night shift is very laid back and while I'm not able to walk into work barefoot (yet?) I do get to sit at my desk barefoot, and often wonder over to the printer, trash can, or file bins (we don't get to wonder a lot answering phones) without my shoes. To be fair though I may not have gotten the guts to start doing this without first seeing my co-workers happily wondering around in slippers and socks.

Since my last post of happily getting a new job I've gotten my own apartment. I'm moving in on the 20th of this month (a few short days away). My neighborhood seems to have slowly gotten use to the crazy barefoot woman that lives down the road, but now it seems I have to start from scratch all over again.
Moving is very much a task of starting all those difficult tasks over from the start in my opinion as well. You have to box up your life considering what items are important and which aren't. That perfect room organization you finally got down? Forget it you have a new room to set up and it'll have to be done in a new way. Gotten your neighbors use to seeing you walk barefoot in the dead of winter? Now you have new neighbors and will likely get to go through the same old questions all over again.

And if a new job, and new home aren't enough? Recently a new pet was added to the mix, Ratchet the rat has joined the house hold making for a grand total of 5 pets (Sora and Twilight the ferrets, and Aleu the Australian Shepherd)
If I didn't have enough people think I was crazy for walking barefoot, and walking two ferrets... Now I have a "horrible pest" that likes riding on my shoulder to boot.
Being stereotyped as the crazy or weird person down the road just an't easy.