A HEAD FULL OF GHOSTS Paul Tremblay

Once I started reading A HEAD FULL OF GHOSTS, it was near impossible to put down. The sad disintegration of a family suffering job loss, medical issues and despair was so real and so gut wrenching, I could strongly empathize will each one. Marjorie is way too damn smart for her own good and comes to realize how to solve the world's issues in a unique and intriguing way...or is that what you want to believe. Maybe she is mentally ill, maybe she is not. Reminded me of Donnie Darko and all the questions and possible answers could apply here as well. Miss Merry is her eight year old sister who just wants a normal, happy family, and is cursed with neither. Her quirks, her thoughts, her energy is so amazing and so vulnerable, you cannot but hope for the best. Dad reacts as most dads do, and just wants to fix things, but does not see how his behaviour affects everyone else and Mom is tired, at the end of her rope and needs to check out. I can totally relate going through issues with my own kids. 

This story is told so well and is so clear, precise and evolving, I never wanted it to end. Once I read the last page, I was at a loss. I know I did not want to read anything else, because it simply would not measure up. Paul Trembly has done an outstanding job with this one. A definite must read.

I read this and several things played out: I loved the way he weaved in references to other movies and books such as the Exorcist; the tone was light, but horrific at the same time; the mind games between Marjorie and Merry; how much I wanted Ed and Lorraine Warren to walk in and give direction such as, make this more horrific, have her eat a live animal, make this door blood read, and here, hold Annabelle. 

But that would be making aa mockery of an incredibly well written book. Way to go Paul. This is a winner.

Nothing Fits: Cooper Nemeth

Cooper Nemeth's body was discovered in the past month.  He was 17, a good kid, an athlete and was recently diagnosed with ADHD, depression and anxiety. His parents were afraid of him turning to drugs because of the diagnosis.

Raising an ADD child is challenging. With mine, he had one idea in his head and then there was the truth. He chose to believe what was in his head. He dwelled on the negative rather than the positive and never thought he was good enough. He listened to his peers instead of his parents and often I would lie awake at night wondering if this is the night the police would be at my door asking me to identify a body.

I know the exact moment he changed. At 10, he was like a big fluffy puppy dog, all limbs, happy and full of laughter. His sense of humour was contagious and his personality was infectious. Adults adored him, and so did most of the kids. There were always the one or two that didn't, but he handled that okay.

He excelled at any sport he touched. I remember his years of playing baseball and he would be out in left field watching a bird, scratching his head, with a ball coming directly for him and he would reach his arm up and snag that beast in mid flight.

He ran track in school, while smoking a pack a day, and ran in combat boots. Won every single time.
Around 12 or 13 things slide downhill fast. He ran into a group of bad influences, he refused to listen to anything we said and stayed away days at a time. He had a steady job, went to school, but still marched to his own dysfunctional drummer. Speaking to him was like speaking to someone who did not understand English.

I kept trying to get him to see the positive of ADD; it is a gift. People will ADD see the world differently and can accomplish so much more than someone without ADD. You just need to channel that energy in a positive way.

Unfortunately, the kids my son knew, used it to their advantage; staying away from home, drinking, and getting into fights. No matter what we said or did, nothing changed. We tried psychiatric counselling, medication, going off medication, talking, begging, pleading. Nothing worked.

As a parent, I have never been so lost or confused as during this time. And angry. Dammit. I was very angry. My husband I both had horrific childhoods. Between the two of us we suffered severe poverty to the point where there was no food, beatings, severe sexual abuse, torture and emotional dissonance. We both made the promise to each other early on in our relationship that when we had children, we would treat them like people, not objects. We would love them unconditionally, think about their feelings make sure they knew they were loved, ensure their well being with clothing and food. And value and respect them. We did that, and it still blew up in our face.

Having kids is a crapshoot. Any good teacher or psychologist will tell you that. You can do all the right things and it can still turn out less than stellar. Or, conversely, you can starve, beat or abuse your kids emotionally, telling them things like I wish I used a condom with you, and have them turn into the most incredible caring and empathic people out there.

I read about Cooper and my heart broke. My heart broke for Cooper and the choices he made; my heart shattered for his parents, who I am sure were doing everything they thought they could to help Cooper, but it still wasn't enough.

Some ADD kids are tough, strong willed, strong minded, focused and make good decisions. Then there are the ones like Cooper who tend to be followers and controlled by the wrong kinds of people.

I have no clue what the answer is. I thought I did before I had children, cause it seemed so simple to me: love them, respect them, feed them, nurture their minds and they will stay in your wolf pack forever.

Nope. Apparently doing all the right things will still bring you heartache and grief.

I am so sorry for your loss, Brent and Gaylene. You are in my thoughts and prayers. I hope you see the strength, wisdom and joy you gave Cooper and I hope you find your way back from Hell.

Let's Talk...

January 27 is Bell Let's Talk Day. Every day should be a Let's Talk Day. Or at least a Let's Be Open-Minded Day. Being a horror writer has been a blessing for me. It kept me sane, grounded and allowed me to disappear within a world I had control over, where no one could touch me and I was safe. It is that same refuge for me today. I am one of the lucky ones. That does not mean my life is easy or that every day is a picnic. Dealing with a brain injury that caused brain damage juxtaposed with depression, compound complex PTSD and auto-immune diseases has been...interesting. And that's okay. It just means I get to read the same book 12 times and still be surprised.

In the horror community, there are many of us that struggle with depression, severe, crippling, clinical depression. There are others that battle BiPolar issues, PTSD, mental illness brought on by chronic illness and pain and sometimes, all of the above. Some of us give up. Some turn to drugs or alcohol. Others sabotage themselves so they can beat themselves up and say, "See, I told you you were a loser."

Mental illness is just as debilitating and just as challenging as living with Crohn's, diabetes, or Downs Syndrome. Sometimes even more so. But, unfortunately there is a stigma to mental illness.

Mental illness means you are weak, pathetic, stupid, lazy or violent. Mental illness makes you less than a person and more of an object of scorn. People who commit suicide are selfish. Cops or soldiers with PTSD are not to be trusted.

Isn't it incredible that you can break your leg and people will support you, open doors for you, run errands for you, but break your mind, and your world empties of people you thought loved and cared for you.

How many times have you heard, "Snap out of it; get some exercise; quit feeling sorry for yourself; if you really wanted to (______) you would, you're just lazy"?

We would never dream of saying these things to an Autistic, blind or deaf person, but feel it is justified in attacking the mentally ill. I often wondered why. Is it something they think is contagious? Does it make them feel superior that they have never suffered from a 'weak mind'? Or is it coming from a place of anger where they feel the person struggling with this is seeking attention?

So, on this mental illness let's talk and be friends day, I say share embrace your pain, accept your darkness, live in the moment. If you feel like crap, accept it. Think about it mindfully for five minutes. Really feel what it is like to be you, instead of trying to smile and put up with it. And then, after five minutes of examining your emotions, tell yourself, "I accept this about me and I am still a good person. I will do everything I can, regardless of my demons because I get to win."

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.