#i feel bad for wanting to drop out of these seminars/extra volunteer that could lead to a job

[indestructiblelittlefuckers]

(Good morning!Today i have to watch the work seminar part 2 online, so I can definitely squeeze in some replies in the between! I hope you are all gonna have a nice Sunday!)

[prodigyduck]

That Time I Almost Got Mercedes Lackey Killed...

So let me tell you about Gen Con 2018 and how I almost got Award-Winning novelist Mercedes Lackey killed...

 To get the story started, you'll need to know that I am acquainted with New York Times Best Selling Novelists Larry Dixon and Mercedes Lackey. If you are unfamiliar with their work:

 * Misty is the author of over 100 fantasy novels. She also has a successful superhero series under her belt. And despite being in her 60s, does not look like she is going to stop writing anytime soon.

 * Larry is also an author, who has collaborated with Misty on several Valdemar novels. He is a fantastic illustrator. Both are avid bird enthusiasts. Remember the giant eagles from Lord of the Rings? Those are thanks to the film and footage taken by Larry. The same footage has been used by Weta Workshop to create the griffons in the Narnia and Warcraft films.

 So, anywho...

 Larry recently succumbed to an old shoulder injury he received during his days as a volunteer fire fighter. It was pretty bad. He had limited mobility, had to wear a sling, and could not lift more than 5 pounds for risk of tearing his shoulder out of its socket. As it was only three weeks from Gen Con, and they had already promised their fans they would be there, Larry asked if I could drive Misty to Gen Con and watch over her during the convention. They were also going to be sharing a booth space with my favorite independent film crew Zombie Orpheus Entertainment; for whom Larry has been doing script writing recently.

 Previous to this, I was not planning to attend Gen Con this year. Financially, 2018 has not been a good year for me. I have been making enough money to pay my share of the household bills and groceries. But I have not been making enough to save up for extra fun things like vacations or conventions. Ah, the life of a freelancer! So, getting asked to go to Gen Con was made me very happy. Knowing that the room and expenses would be covered helped greatly! All I really needed to do was acquire a badge and save up as much money as I could for the next three weeks to have a little extra spending cash for the dealer room.

 In the three weeks leading up to Gen Con, I had managed to accumulate about $300 of extra spending cash. Not bad, but not nearly as much as I usually have to spend in previous years. However, the week before we leave, Rogue Genius Games drops $1,500 on me for recent sales of my newly-released Super Powered Legends Sourcebook. Suddenly, all of my financial worries for Gen Con vanish! Yay!

 Sunday -- four days before Gen Con -- my friends marc and Tom drop me off at Larry and Misty's home so I can spend the next day helping with packing and sorting. About 10 AM Monday morning, we have a tsunami roll through the area and it knocks out the electricity. Given the rural area, the power does not get turned back on until 4 AM the following day. Needless to say, we were able to get nothing done with no power available. Tuesday is a mad rush to get everything done that we had not done Monday. Books are packed, posters and art prints are signed, Larry is trying to put EVERYTHING in the Ford Flex -- and I do mean everything! He wants us to take a giant printer, camera tripods, and several Go-Pros for ZOE to use. My foot goes down at 3 PM. Nothing more is going in that vehicle and we are leaving. Larry is literally trying to give us more stuff as we are backing out of the driveway. Bye, Larry... bye!

 Once we get on the road, everything goes smoothly! We have driven through St.  Louis, Missouri around 9 PM and stop at a Motel for the night at 10 PM. The next morning, we awaken at 11, get some breakfast, and go. According to the GPS, we are only three and a half hours from Indianapolis. And, thanks to smooth traffic, we get there in that time. Check in to our hotel, I go and grab my badge from the VIG Lounge, deliver some buttons I made for BJ Hensley, and all is good!

 Thursday, everything goes great. I escort Misty to all her seminars. At the first one, I get to meet the authors of the Expanse! When we get to her autograph signing time, she lets me know that I am free to do what I want for the rest of the day, and I go through the dealer room. First day of Gen Con done! That evening, Misty lets me know that she only has one seminar to attend at 4 PM the next day and that she will otherwise be at the ZOE booth until then. I am otherwise free to do what I want until 4.

 Then Friday...

 Misty's 9:00 alarm goes off and she re-sets it. But she does not get out of bed. Seeing she wants more sleep, I make quick use of the bathroom, dress, and make my way out. It's 10:00 Misty is still asleep, as far as I can tell. I am standing in line to sell some miniatures at the CoolStuffInc booth when Larry calls me at 11:30 to tell me that Misty has had a stroke and my stomach drops to my feet. She is currently at the hospital. I run back to the room, and try to answer all the doctor's questions that I can. I pack an overnight bag for Misty, which is grabbed by her ZOE handler, Judy, and taken to the hospital. Otherwise, I am in the hotel room alone for most of the day, fretting and worried. I get calls every couple of hours for updates. At 4, I am coaxed out of the room by Larry, who convinces me to put on my game face and help show the con that we are still there for the fans. The show must go on.

 I still can't help but feel like shit because I was not there for Misty when she needed me.

 I finally get some food -- my first in the day -- about 9 PM.

 Saturday, I am awoken by a phone call. Misty is okay. I was NOT a stroke. In fact, it was a toxic reaction to the outgassing of the new room we were staying in. The hotel wanted to impress Misty with its newest-refurbished room, not realizing they needed to let it vent from all the paint and redecorating. And given we were 11 stories up, none of the windows are able to open for outdoor ventilation. But, Misty is otherwise okay. I am up and out to the ZOE booth. The show must go on. We are here for the fans!

 I have a curtain call for the Gamers: LIVE! show at 11:40 AM. At 11:20, Misty calls me to say I should gather my things in the room, as the hotel will be moving us to a room that is not so... newly refurbished; one that has already undergone its full outgassing period. I am internally screaming my entire way to the room, throw everything into my suitcase on the bed, and run all the way back to ICC 500, where the show will be. I am pouring sweat from what should have been a 30 minute round-trip done in 15 minutes. But I am there for the show!

 Obviously, I sucked, because I have no improv skills -- especially when compared to the comedy talent of the ZOE crew -- which is why I quit acting during my Jr. High School years. But where I missed out on improv, I excelled at artistic comedy; holding up quick illustrations of goblins going "pew-pew-pew" after Owen Stephens suggested the villain of the show was a space ("SPACE!") goblin. Close to the end of the show, Satine Phoenix and Rudy Rootenburg appear, along with the rest of the Maze Arcana crew, and steal the show. This is the first time Satine and I have meet in person. We have spoken many times over private chat; both being fans of tabletop rpgs and both being professional artists. She gave me the biggest hug.

 At that moment, I realized something... I was no longer sweating (thank the gods!), but I was no daisy either. Also... Satine Phoenix is a fucking ANGEL! She just... radiates... positively, joy, compassion, love... all the things that are good and wonderful and being a human. I really hope I get to meet her again, maybe for more than 5 minutes.

 After the show, I return to the (new) hotel room to find Misty there with several of her author friends. They are laughing and talking about the experience Misty just had. As Misty describes it: "I have never been to Woodstock, but last night I went to Woodstock! Those hallucinations were something!" She went on to describe seeing a woman with brown hair and an astronaut suit standing in between the paramedics who took her from the hotel room. She saw visions of the actors from ZOE, and all the different characters each of them played, having a rave. In the MRI, she saw a sheet of  red blood cells covering her. As the MRI machine made a noise, the sheet got closer and closer to her face. Misty was aware that if she blew her breath at the sheet, it would be pushed away...

 Yeah... she has new material for her next several novels.

 By Saturday afternoon, Misty is back at the ZOE booth, signing books for fans and telling the story of what happened to her to each one. All of them are crying, glad that their favorite author is not dead. I am sitting next to Misty, putting on my brave face and trying not to break down, either... I still feel like crap for not having been there for her when she needed me. but she's safe. She's smiling.

 The rest of Gen Con goes smoothly. The drive back goes so smoothly that we get Misty home in one day (apparently I have my father's endurance for long-distance driving). I call my friend Marc and ask if he is willing to pick me up. I really want to sleep in my own bed. It's been over a week, and I want to be home. Marc does, indeed pick me up, and I recall all of this to him on the three-hour drive home.

 It's 2 AM on Tuesday when I get to sleep in my own bed. At this point, I am really glad that I had the forethought to wash my sheets before I left for Gen Con. I was tired of smelling my own body odor. I slept so good that night.

[krumpwrites]

MHAM Post #18: Kelsey

With the long weekend that just passed, I wanted to wait to share this post until today, when I knew people would be back to their everyday schedules and more likely to read it (it’s just that good).

The writer of this piece is, again, someone I was introduced to through a friend. Her name is Kelsey and, although we don’t know each other in real life, I feel genuinely connected to her after reading her words.

As cliche as it may sound, Kelsey’s writing truly makes you understand what it feels like to be a part of the roller coaster ride that is her dad’s mental health and addiction struggles. 

My favorite thing about this piece is how well it shows that people’s experiences can impact their loved ones mental health too. 

It’s heart-felt and heart-breaking all at once, and I’m pumped to share it here:  

HERO: My dad is my hero. He is my favorite person in the whole, entire universe. We have the same humor, we have the same cackle, and we have the same antsiness when it comes to scheduling/agendas. Our hobbies together include: Watching Family Guy, making terrible, bologna sandwiches (drenched in too much Oscar Meyer, mustard) and taking midday naps in a shitty, box-fanned vortex, with our two, unruly Irish Setters.

My dad is a Clinical Social Worker. And he’s damn good at what he does.

I’ve listened-in on countless, midnight phone calls, convincing his clients to “make it” or “hold on” until tomorrow. My dad would repeat: “Phil, you won’t feel like this tomorrow- It might not be any better, it might only feel slightly different. But I’ll guarantee you: It won’t feel the same.”

Dad would take a few minutes, nodding/listening to the distraught man on the other end, “Phil, call me in the morning. Promise me you’ll be around.” And just like that, Dad and I would continue our movie night, no comments/questions needed. Phil would call 6am tomorrow morning.

On the weekends, we’d go to garage sales so dad could, “Buy Richard a table for his Birthday,” because Richard didn’t own any furniture. We would take a pit stop, on the way to the grocery store, so dad could “Give Janice a pack of cigarettes, and a Snickers, so she’d make it through the week.” Always something.  

He’s my hero. But he wasn’t always.

THE BEGINNING: I found out my dad had a problem in 2005, when I was in 8th grade. Through Mom’s crying, through selling our home, and through a short-lived divorce, I found out that my dad had another talent.

My dad is addicted to Poker. And he was damn good at what he did.

Until he wasn’t.

We lost a lot that year. My parents decided that restarting (again) in Idaho was the best option. In turn, we watched my dad like a hawk, and Dad attended Gamblers Anonymous Meetings (G.A.). Out of guilt, Dad encouraged mom to be a stay-at-home mom. In turn (because her babies weren’t in need of this role), Mom reconnected with her good friend, wine cooler.

Looking back, I never recall being sad. My parents were always dysfunctional. My dad always worked a lot, and mom always drank. Just how it was.

LATER ON: By 2014, Dad had stopped going to G.A. Meetings, and Mom was Mom (that’s another story, for another time). Dad was working later nights. He was gone more weekends. He was on-edge, stressed from working On-Call at the hospital. I loved my Dad, but he was definitely a different person than he was in 2005. But I understood. Mom wasn’t working. He needed the extra cash. I’d pitch in when I could. I would let him borrow $200 here, $300 there. I’d let him put groceries on my credit card.

Regardless, I was proud. Dad had stopped playing poker.

Until he didn’t.

In summer of 2014, we found out Dad had never actually been working nights, or going to Hospital seminars over the weekends. Dad was never borrowing money for groceries… Dad’s friend, John cracked one day when Mom cornered him. “John. Where’s Steve? And don’t you dare lie to me.” John whimpered, “He’s at a casino in northern Idaho. He will tell you he’s in Vegas, but he’s not. Someone needs to drive and get him…”

Dad finally called, after ignoring our calls for 3 days. “Jan. I messed up. It’s bad.”

Over the last year, Dad had gambled away an unspeakable amount of money. He took money from my Brother and I to count cards, and he maxed out our credit cards. I thought, “Kelsey…How could you be so blind?”

That was just the beginning.

ACUTE WITHDRAWAL SYNDROME: We also found out that Dad had been abusing opioids. He had been addicted for the last 7 years. My Brother and I knew that Dad would pop an anxiety pill here and there… but we didn’t realize the dosage, or frequency, or how bad it really was.

Wasn’t it normal to take an anxiety pill, every once in awhile?

With his new job in Boise, insurances/doctors had changed, and Dad no longer had the “Doctor, Homie-Hook-Up.” Dad went off these drugs cold turkey. In turn, Dad went crazy. In 2014, Dad started going through Acute, Opiate Withdrawal Syndrome. (It’s now 2017. He isn’t any better.)

Dad stopped being any form of my Dad. His “Family Guy humor” stopped, his cackle stopped, and he spent most of his time in the room of vortex fans, sleeping. His hands shook. He preferred to sit alone, instead of goofing with his kids.

Recently here in 2017, Dad tried to explain this chemical imbalance/withdrawal syndrome to my Aunt. “It feels like I’m going to jump out of my skin. And I have a hard time with day-to-day tasks. The thought of shaving gives me high anxiety.” He continued with a story: One-day at work (before he realized how bad it was), Dad was counseling a couple. The couple was fighting in Spanish, and Dad couldn’t get a word in. Dad was patiently waiting for them to stop speaking Spanish, so he could help.

Turns out…

The couple was speaking English.

SHIT HAPPENS: Later in the summer, Dad crashed the Prius. His reply to the accident was, “I wish it killed me.” That day Mom took Grandpa’s guns from the house.

A couple months after Dad fessed up about gambling, and beginning the journey of this new mental illness, Dad lost his job. They were losing the house. My brother broke his arm and lost his job as well. I was the only one in my family with a job, and I was just offered an internship at my dream job, outside Seattle.

One Saturday afternoon, while working in the Boise, Idaho Mall, I had a full-blown panic attack. I fell in the backroom at my store, chest pounding, not being able to breath. How could I leave to Seattle for this internship? “How dare I think about leaving them.”

CONCLUSION: My boss at the time (now Mentor, and who I consider a best friend), Meghan, found me defeated on the dust-bunny covered, cement floor. I’ll never forget the way she calmed me down. These were the conclusions she lead me to (took me until just now to finally accept):

-I can’t save my parents -I can’t send them money (no matter how indirectly I’m asked) -Mental illness is real -Suicide is real; I can’t blame myself -I can only focus on me, and my well being

 Because of this mind-set, I’ve accomplished so much more than I thought I could.

-I took my dream internship outside Seattle -I became a Jr. Marketing Coordinator for the company -I paid off my car (big win for me!) -I dropped in on my first mini-ramp -I received my Bachelors of Business Administration Degree -I moved to California -I became a Marketing Coordinator for another, kick-ass company -I started volunteering for a dog rescue 

NEXT STEPS: My dad rarely calls. When he does, and I see his caller ID, I think “Is he ok? Is he calling to say goodbye?”  This is the truth I live with.

We lost our house, and my childhood memorabilia, yearbooks, and Harry Potter action figures are stored in my best friend’s garage.  My parents are living pay-check-to-pay-check in a small, rental house. Mom finally got a job after 8 years. Dad is on unable to work, and is applying for disability. I haven’t been home in 8 months, and I’m honestly a little scared to.

However… When days are bad, and holidays away from Idaho feel extra heavy… I think back to when my dad helped Phil, on the phone all those nights…

“Kelsey…you won’t feel like this tomorrow- It might not be any better, it might only feel slightly different. But I’ll guarantee you: It won’t feel the same.”