Recovery

As I was bored and reopened this blog I realized that an uplifting post was long overdue. Considering that the last time I wrote this I was on the verge of calling it quits, I figured an update was sorely needed. Reading through all the posts I've written is bittersweet. It's somewhat nostalgic reading through the posts I wrote while traveling as if it was yesterday. But it quickly grows bitter as I move through the various posts to the date when this suddenly transformed from something meant to detail my life abroad to an account of my medical journey, fighting to keep my head above water so to speak.

It was only two months ago that I felt like I had finally lost this war. My previous doctor who had been overseeing my care told me that I wasn't getting better due to the fact I had a spell cast on me while I was in Africa. I was utterly demoralized in every sense of the word. I could no longer eat without vomiting, crawling out of bed was comparable to climbing a mountain, and the pain I experienced was excruciating. I once had a thirst for life, I wanted to experience life to its fullest potential and do everything I had dreamed of. However, I had now reached the point in which I could no longer live within my own body. The pain was too much, the fatigue too great, and the mental toll too devastating. I'm not exactly sure what I would have done, and I'm not comfortable really confiding every detail for everyone to see, but the fact remains I had reached the point where if things didn't improve quickly I saw no way in which I could continue to live in my current state.

I came clean to my family and told them the burden was too great to bear any longer, I had finally reached my breaking point. And then it happened. I received a phone call from a couple I met while I was in treatment at my previous clinic. They were middle-aged, but we got along well right from the beginning. The wife had been struggling with this illness for years and had yet to see any real improvement. They called me and told me that their family friend was one of the top doctors in the country and despite the fact that he wasn't seeing new patients for another year they would get me in to see him in a couple weeks. They would also allow me to stay at their house in the Washington DC area in which they currently weren't living in. These people stepped in and essentially saved my life and expected nothing in return.

I headed out loaded up on percocet (only way I could get out the house) and flew across country to give it one last shot at winning this war. I realized if this didn't work I wouldn't have anything left to go at it again. I thought my chances at improving at this point were slim but I was still holding onto the notion that I had to give it everything I could. I owed it not only to myself, but to everyone else inflicted with this terrible illness to overcome it. I was aware that this thing was much bigger then me, and I had to muster up whatever strength I could and give it one last go.

I'll fast forward through all the laborious details and get straight to the point. Upon meeting the doctor he explained to me that I was not even a difficult case. Being in Arizona was one of the worse possible scenarios for me and I should've gone out of state from the moment I received my diagnosis. He told me, that though he couldn't make any promises he truly believed he could bring me back. The best part of this was the treatment was simply taking the right medication. There was no grueling chemo like therapy, no days with my face hovering above a toilet seat. He simply figured out what was wrong, gave me the proper medication and I got better.

It's been two months and the recovery has been nothing short of amazing so far. I was practically a vegetable upon arriving here and I'm back to essentially being fully-functional. I still have a little ways to go, I'm at around 70% so I'll still need to get that other 30% back, but that should come with time. For now it really does seem like I will overcome what has been without a doubt the most difficult time in my life. A feat I thought was nearly impossible just a few months ago.

It's strange reading through the previous posts and reflecting upon the flight I took home from Australia nearly two years ago. I remember thinking that whatever was wrong with me was no big deal. I'd take some pills for a couple weeks and I'd be fine. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I'd have to fight and claw my way just to survive over the next couple years. Fortunately, in any negative situation there is always positives to be taken. I am without a doubt certain that I will never let petty issues detour me from my happiness ever again. Life truly is a gift, something that we all take for granted. It's only when it is potentially taken from us, we come to the realization just how precious it is. If I could offer advice to anyone, please try to live life to its greatest potential. Take chances, make mistakes, keep working to attain as much happiness as humanly possible. And that happiness will likely not be provided through materialistic things, but through relationships you cultivate, and goals you set forth and then accomplish.

We live in a society where we feel as if we are safe and protected from anything adverse ever happening to us. However, I can promise that life is much more fragile then you may ever realize. Start living today instead of tomorrow!

The Circus

I'm sitting here trying to come up with a witty opening paragraph, but the words no longer transfer from my mind to the keyboard like they once were able to. I'll put all the bullshit aside and just write an update on how I'm currently doing. A lot of friends have been trying to get ahold of me, curious as to where I am now at in my life. I didn't have the stomach or the patience to tell them one by one how everything had crumbled as quickly as it had been built.

A little over three months ago, I rejoiced in thinking that the worse was finally behind me. I had spent a substantial amount of time in a chemo like therapy that ripped me to shreds. Throughout the duration of the treatment I forced myself to keep a positive outlook no matter how bleak things may actually have been. In the beginning I regressed as each week passed, and it was pretty demoralizing. Then, it suddenly happened, it was as if a light switch that had been turned off for a year was suddenly flicked on. I woke up and no longer felt as if I was dying. There were no longer periods of regression, as each day wore on I was improving more and more. Eventually the improvement was so apparent and dramatic that we felt comfortable enough to pull me off of everything and let me return to the normal life that had eluded me for some time.

I was excited at the prospect of being able to move on and put the tortuous memories of what had occurred behind me. For once, I was able to tell all the people that had constantly kept up on my situation some good news. It really was as if the most massive weight in the world had finally been lifted off of my shoulders. Unfortunately, as quickly as the situation had improved, it corroded once again at that same pace. Within a couple of months everything that I had worked so hard to beat had come right back. but this time with an even greater ferocity.

This is where the circus began. I wanted answers, I had expended all financial resources and energy into this thing. At first, my doctor had came back and said it was still side-effects from the treatment and it would eventually improve, but it never did. Months wore on, and I was not showing any signs of recovery. In actuality, it had gotten even worse. The fatigue had risen to the point where it was unbearable. I experienced severe light and sound sensitivity. Throughout these past few years, I could always make due with my iTunes or a book I enjoyed. But I no longer had the focus or initiative to make my way through any novel and listening to music had become an arduous task. Due to the sound sensitivity and constant ringing in the ears, music was no longer pleasant. Instead it had morphed into this chore, anything I tried to listen to now just sounded like loud metal objects clashing into each other.

I was entrenched in the medical maze once again, and this time words like Parkinson's or MS were thrown my way. I thought to myself, "When does it end?" As I started to talk to people who were more in-tune  to my situation it had become pretty clear that my physician had pulled me off the meds way too soon. A relapse was all but inevitable for the time frame he had kept me on everything. Without getting too much into specifics it is essentially common knowledge that when you find something that works for the patient (we did) you keep them on that medication for two months after all symptoms have resolved, not pull them off as soon as improvement is shown.

When I went back to my treating physician at Envita with this information he became a bit defensive. Suddenly our discussion had taken a wide turn left and had approached a place I didn't think was possible. The man I had entrusted the last six months of my life vented himself into a fiery harangue in which he accused me of possibly having a spell casted on me while I had been traveling. This "spell" that had been put on me was a major contributing factor to my current predicament. He then proceeded to give me the name of a minister who could perform an exorcism upon me. Lets also not forget, his speech wouldn't have been complete without incorporating a few "Finding Jesus" anecdotes. No, this is not an exaggeration, as crazy as this may sound, it all happened. When he had finished, I was at an utter loss for words, I basically had to pick my tongue up off the floor from disbelief. I simply thanked him for his time and walked out the door.

To have bought into everything someone had sold you upon, only to come to the realization that it was a huge mistake and that said person may be mentally unstable was absolutely dejecting. I came home and decided it was time to accept my losses and quit. I had given it a fair shot, but there was nothing left of me to give. I couldn't handle anymore disappointment. The fact that I had had the carrot of a normal life dangling in front of my face only to have it snatched away before I could enjoy it was too much for me. In fact, it probably made the entire situation worse.

The past few weeks, friends and family have worked on talking me into giving it one more shot. However, I am running on empty, I really don't have much left to give. I'll be moving to Michigan in a couple weeks to re-start on a treatment that will probably be brutal once again. I wish there was a happy ending to this story, I truly do wish that the next post had been about me reacclimating to a normal life. Sadly, I've had to come to the realization that nothing in this life is guaranteed and everything can change before you're even fully aware of what's happening. One of the main reasons I probably continue to push on is because before this I exhibited pretty self destructive behavior. It almost seems wrong that something like this would possibly be the thing that takes me down considering everything else I've done. If I'm going to leave this world it should be from a mistimed jump off an airplane, not from a damn bug bite and a doctor who believed he was the second-coming of christ.

Earning My Life

My entire life things have just been given to me. For twenty-one years I've been on the receiving end of practically every exchange made between another human being and myself. I've been provided with clothes, medicine, an education, a car, and anything else I so wished for at the drop of a dime with little to no resistance. I'm an only child and was raised as such, I labored through a childhood that lacked any real purpose. I had never been instilled with a work-ethic that is essentially a fundamental requirement for one to live a life of value and worth.

The cult of self dominated my entire thought process. I exhibited the classic traits of a psychopath: superficial charm, grandiosity, and self-importance. I had a need for constant stimulation, a penchant for lying, deception, and manipulation, the inability to feel remorse or guilt. In other words, by the time I had reached adulthood a monster had been created. I internally knew something wasn't right, that the pieces didn't quite fit. As I began to mature I was riddled with a sense of guilt; I had done nothing to earn everything I had been given. I remember at nineteen looking into the mirror and being ashamed of the reflection that peered back. At that time I was living in an incredibly nice apartment complex and attending one of the best business schools in the country. The only setback was that it was all completely unwarranted.

Whenever any task became difficult I would generally quit, it became a recurring theme in my life. Sure, there was the occasional moment due to the encouragement of a friend that I may have pushed through, but it was indeed quite rare. I had grown accustom to just skating by, it was all I ever knew. Fast forward to the present time; as I drag myself to the mirror every morning the difference between now and a couple years ago is pretty dramatic. The muscles that rippled through my arms are no longer existent, my shoulders are now narrow and curve inwards. A face that was once filled with color and defined with strong features, is now a lifeless dull gray, marked with a thinness that is correlated with not being well.  I should be mortified with this new man staring back at me, but I am not. Though there are times I may cringe at my new appearance, I am usually content. The feelings of condescension and disdain towards myself are no longer there, and that is because for the first time since being born I am earning my life.

For those of you that have been following my story you are probably aware that I am currently in the midst of a brutal treatment to try and overcome a debilitating illness. The side effects produced from my current treatment tend be just as, if not more devastating than chemotherapy for cancer patients. I spend most of my days now collapsed on my knees with my face hovered over a toilet as the nausea consumes me. My body will involuntarily shake viciously, the jerked movements completely out of my control. People who come across me will inevitably confuse me with a Parkinson's patient, and I dont blame them at this point. To the foreign eye I am trapped in hell, and while they may be correct in their assessment, it isn't the entire story. Though I would never choose to be in shoes that Im currently filling, there is a piece of me that relishes the struggle.

For the first I can ever recall I feel as i am now earning everything. If I somehow find a way to overcome this illness and win, the guilt that consumed my entire life will forever be gone. Quitting is no longer an option in this difficult task because we all know where quitting will lead me now. I simply can not back out of this; there may be a time when I have given everything Ive had and it will be OK to let go, but that time hasn't arisen yet. For the time being, I am fighting with everything I have. The complaining and whining that was a common theme in my life simply isn't there anymore. When I stare back at that new reflection in the mirror I simply nod at it, signifying a confirmation to myself that I must fight through the day, I must fight for my existence.

When you are faced with a life threatening hurdle you have to adapt and transform yourself. We all still have the tools to survive and overcome insurmountable odds even though society tries to inhibit those attributes from ever being accessed. I realized from day one that if I did not dig deep into myself and find the traits that were essential to humans thriving in this world than I would never make it through this hell. If I were to let all the fears that come along with this situation devour me, I would not have lasted as long as I have so far. Don't get me wrong, there are times where I will find the unknown of my predicament debilitating me as much as the disease itself; but once I catch myself letting the mental aspect destroy me I will stop those thoughts and move on.

I am aware that all the suppressed feelings and anger will eventually catch up with me. If I am one of the lucky ones that is able to beat this, the world will not suddenly become rainbows and lollipops once this struggle is over. I will at some point have to acknowledge and deal with the ugly traumatic distress that comes with this battle, but I can't do it now. For the time being I have to ignore the fact that this isn't something a young man should have to endure, For the time being I need to come to terms that this is my life for now and I can't change that. The fulfilling entity in this process is that if Im able to win this war, than any issue that may arise in my future will be much easier to manage. Every day that I am given after this will have been earned, and that satisfaction would've only been obtained by going through something similar to this. As I've stated previously, as difficult as this whole ordeal has been, I am at least able to take the pleasure in knowing that for the first time ever, I have Earned My Life.

The Fight Continues

These past two months have tested my will and strength more than I ever could've imagined. When I originally received my diagnosis, people within the Lyme community made sure to continually remind me of the fact that being diagnosed properly was only half the battle. As I sit here and type my thoughts out, that statement rings more clearly and louder than it ever had before. The Ape that I felt I had been lugging on my back throughout the day had suddenly morphed into an over-sized Gorilla the moment I began treatment.

Lyme recovery differs from that of other diseases. You do not progressively get better with each day, instead recovering from Lyme at its core is similar to running a marathon with peaks and valleys along the way, not a straight 100 meter sprint. In these past two months I have not only experienced every physical condition deemed possible to man, but Ive been taken through a roller coaster of every emotion that could possibly exist. Euphoria, Depression, Resentment, Pride, Sorrow, can all be explored internally within the span of a day.

My doctor had told me that my treatment would last anywhere from six months to an entire year to achieve full remission from this wretched disease. She did not mince words when she explained it would be a difficult journey and that during this time I needed to just, "Hold On!" When I began treatment I fell into a dark place. Reading one horror story after another of a patient afflicted with Lyme only left me more distressed, especially since admissions of success within treatment were rarely found. The thought of death had cast over me like a shadow that I could not escape. No matter how hard I tried to run from it, I couldn't shake it. It literally drove me mad, progressing to the point where it caused more agony than the disease itself.

Eventually I was able to come to terms with my situation, and I am now in a much better place mentally. Lyme is a disease that can possibly take your life, but more often will just rob you of everything that is special and unique to yourself. Within the Lyme community you witness people cast out by conventional medicine and left to rot away. They desperately try to cling onto any quality of life they can still claim as theirs, but to some, the burden becomes just too much and they eventually let go.

I do not fear death in itself, but I do fear a life of agony and pain. The thought of dying wasn't what left me sleepless, it was the thought of not dying. What would become of me if this disease stole everything, and left me to be nothing but an empty vessel counting his days down until his eventual demise? At last I acknowledged the fact that there was a line drawn. A line that was representative of the point where I would accept my loss to this disease. There was no need to be a beaten boxer trudging along through rounds in a fight he couldn't win, only to be drubbed even more. This may seem dark to you, but Im sure any Lyme patient can attest to the fact that calling it quits at a certain point is a normal, rational thought among us.

When I became comfortable with the fact that not every Lyme patient recovers and there indeed is a time when it's OK to bow out, I was much more at ease. There was no longer anything to fear, I quickly learned that fear had become my most aggressive agitator throughtout this process. When I began to harness that fear and use it as strength towards fighting I began to handle my situation better than ever before. I woke up with the mission to make the most of each and every day. Whether that was reading, learning a foreign language, talking with friends, or relishing and embracing the pain and fighting through it I became content.

The road to recovery is still not without its difficulties though. There are some days where I feel well enough to leave the house for the day and do something, while there are others where I'm back to being bedridden. In a months time I become ecstatic over the fact I was able to put 10 lbs. on, only to lose all that weight a week later. My doctor has said that from my bloodwork I am someone whose body is responding to treatment (Thank God!) She did admit that I have yet to turn the corner in my battle and I still have to fight my way towards beating this thing. I am aware that every day I am straddling between the line that has been drawn for myself, and the light at the end of the tunnel signifying a full recovery. I am not scared of either destination, but do hope to inch closer to that light as each day passes.

(RIP David Byrne 1991-2012)                                

Before I end this post, I have one last thing to touch upon  I have no problem with people reading this,  but I use this blog now as a way to get my thoughts and feelings out and into somewhere. A couple weeks ago myself and many others lost a close friend. Being faced with my own mortality has been tough enough, but seeing a friend go at such a young age is even tougher. The grieving process is hard and takes time. What has been difficult is I have had to witness losing two friends in just the time I've been sick.

The amazing thing about that though is those two people, Michael Graziano and David Byrne share so much in common. I had the pleasure of meeting Michael while I worked in South Africa, and I was taken in by David as a friend when I was nothing more than an awkward high school kid. I can say that both of them were similar, and thats a compliment to each of them. David and Michael both had everything going for them, and also had insurmountable odds to face. When each confided in me the mountains they had to climb to reach the point they were at I was astonished. For them to have suffered through so much and still have a personality that shone through so brightly amongst all the hardships they had incurred was truly amazing.

(RIP Michael Graziano 1988-2012)

It wasn't losing a friend that broke me down into tears, it was the fact that David and Michael were both  guys you found yourself rooting for. There was nothing to dislike about either of these two, and you couldn't help but cheer them on as they made their way through life's obstacles. In a juvenile sense, watching the two of them leave this earth too soon is like watching your favorite team lose. To steal a quote from Charlie Sheen, David and Michael deserved to win! They were too talented, and too good of human beings not to come out on top. Having to see them go is hard, but I can honestly say when it is my time to go, I will leave this earth knowing I had lived a richer life by meeting David Byrne and Michael Graziano. I looked up to the both of you, and Im sure I wasn't the only one.

I plan on writing a post every couple months as I navigate my way through treatment. I have to say the past eight months has been the most humbling experience in my life. I truly do have a different perspective and outlook upon life, I honestly feel things that I never did before. I'd be lying if I said I am happy that I got Lyme, Id be much happier if I was never afflicted with this roller coaster ride. But I'd also be lying if I said this hasn't made me a better person. If I've learned anything from this experience, you have to take your victories wherever you can.

Beginning Treatment

Hey didn't really feel like writing a post this time around. I did want to come out and further explain what I'm up against so I made a video doing just that. Its good for me at least get it off my chest a bit, probably will be my last post until I beat this thing or it beats me. Lets hope it's not the latter!

Prisoner of Myself (My Battle with Lyme Disease)

           Bear with me here, due to my condition it makes it a bit more difficult for me to formulate a string of coherent thoughts together as my mental clarity isn’t what it used to be. So yes, my writing ability may not be up to par.

            I never anticipated that my next blog post would be dissecting my struggles with a potentially life-threatening illness, but life can be unpredictable I guess. My last blog post was written a few days before I was departing for Melbourne, Australia. I had just returned from Nairobi, Kenya in which I had an amazing time and met some amazing people as well. I was preparing to continue my studies in Australia and even had some intentions of staying there permanently if some pieces fell in place.

            When I arrived in Melbourne the beauty of the city astonished me. It was comparable to New York in architecture, but that’s about where the similarities end. The streets were clean as could be with not a single piece of trash on the ground, and I never once saw a police officer patrolling the area as there was virtually no crime to be seen. It only took me a day to come to the realization that I was going to love it here. I forgot to also mention that minimum wage was something in the neighborhood of $18/hour!

            My housemates were great, they all were from different countries and each one was extremely entertaining. Things could not have been going better, but before I could even snap a finger my life had begun to spiral out of control. I had not been feeling terrific health wise before I had left for Australia, and within a week of arriving at my new home my body had begun deteriorating. I forced a smile on my face and tried to ignore the ill feelings, still trying to go out and have a beer. But it became too difficult; I couldn’t continue to overlook the signals my body was basically shouting at me.  I just didn’t feel right, I was always tired, I felt uncomfortable and had started rapidly losing weight. When I left my home in Arizona I wasn’t sure when I'd be coming back, and three weeks after leaving I was right back home.

            Upon returning to Arizona I had every possible medical test done, but everything came back negative. I figured I had just picked up some type of bug while I was in Kenya and would get the proper medication for it and I’d be fine, but the doctors couldn’t discover anything wrong with me. Each doctor told me they knew something was wrong, but they just couldn’t figure out what it was.

            While all this was going on, my condition worsened. I woke up one morning, lugged myself to the mirror and didn’t recognize the reflection! I was used to seeing a well built vibrant man looking back at me, but now I saw a frail, miserable, pale boy. I was 180 lbs. before I left for Kenya, now 4 months later I weighed a paltry 140 lbs. The most disheartening part of this whole thing was that in an attempt to maintain my weight I had been shoveling food into me yet it became apparent that it was useless.

            Doctors continued to make up excuses for my ill health.

           

            “ You’re not eating enough, that’s why you’ve lost this weight.”

            “ You picked up some weird virus in Kenya, it’ll just go away by itself.”

            “ This might be in your head, maybe anti-depressants will take care of the issue.”

            I was horrified! I felt like I had begun the process of slowly dying, and the medical community could do nothing to stop it. The stomach pain I experienced on a daily basis was excruciating, unlike anything I had experienced before. It became so overwhelming at one point that I actually put my head through the wall in an effort to exert the pain. I experienced debilitating fatigue, so bad that it became nearly impossible to walk down the street without becoming completely exhausted. I was a prisoner in my own body, trapped inside myself. The task of even leaving my house had become just too much.

            While all this was going on I kept my composure much better than I would’ve ever imagined through this whole ordeal. I began to accept the fact that this could possibly be it for me, I’ve had my time on this planet and its ticking down now. I understand that thought seems dramatic, but I physically felt as if I were dying and there was nothing anyone could do. I picked my head up and told myself that  I would do everything I possibly could to see if there was a chance I could extend my life.

            I once again began the process of seeing doctor after doctor. This time at the realization of seeing just how badly my body was weakening they tried to give me an accurate diagnosis. EBV, IBS, Chron’s, CFS, all these different diseases they tried to label me as and I knew not one was correct. There was something more to it..

            One doctor had come to the conclusion that my symptoms matched up to that of someone with Colon Cancer and that it had been missed. When you hear the word Cancer used in a sentence not to describe your zodiac sign but to portray and define what your future holds leaves you with an emotion that can’t be described. It’s as if your heart stops pulsating, all control over your limbs are lost, nothing but a glazed over blank stare is shown. It’s the most terrifying sentence that could ever be uttered and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.

            I began different types of treatments with the hope of being cured but I was making no progress. In fact the treatments were making me worse. My doctor was ignoring my calls and emails when I tried to explain to him that something wasn’t right. He had told me that I’d get worse before becoming better, but it wasn’t adding up. I just knew the treatments weren’t supposed to be doing this to me!

            I sought out one last doctor to see out of desperation. Maybe my other one wasn’t right, there has to be something more to this I thought.  She was a naturopathic doctor, not covered by insurance but money had lost all value to me at this juncture. When I walked into her office she actually sat down and listened to me explain what was wrong with me. After hearing my diatribe on the medical community her initial reaction was, “ This could possibly be Lyme Disease.”

            I thought back to myself, I had been tested for Lyme already I explained to her. She replied that the test I had taken was less than 50 % accurate and that my symptoms matched up. I still wasn’t buying it, seemed like another inaccurate diagnosis by an incompetent doctor. It was a disease transmitted through being bitten by a tick. Yet I never remembered a tick bite on me. The whole thing sounded nonsensical.

            When I returned home I started researching the illness and was appalled at what I discovered. First off it is a bit difficult to diagnose as it can masks itself as 300 different diseases, but that wasn’t the real reason it often goes misdiagnosed. Corporate interests and profits among insurance companies had led to misconceptions about the disease. Though Lyme is 10 times more prevalent then AIDS and is arguably just as damaging if not caught early, it is rarely tested for due to monetary reasons. This has led to a community of people just like myself that will be misdiagnosed for years until the disease leads to Alzheimer’s, Lou Gehrig’s disease, Parkinson’s, MS or eventually drives them to the grave. I could explain to you how corrupt the system is but it would just take too long, there are plenty of films that go in-depth about how the greed of a few has led to the death and suffering of many.

            When I called the doctor for my test results a week later I did in fact test positive for severe Lyme Disease. She said that it has been in my system for years and for whatever reason it became active just six months ago. Had it been caught earlier I would’ve been fine in a couple weeks time, but I’m way beyond that point now. I have a very tough road ahead of me, the hope is that I still caught it early enough to regain my full health, but it is going to take me months, maybe even years to beat this thing. Once again, this could’ve all been avoided had I been diagnosed earlier with the proper tests. It's a scary time for me to say the least. In six months time I may be fine, or I may have begun suffering mental disabilities along with losing the ability to walk among other things. Yes, the condition is that serious..

            It’s clear to me though that there needs to be much more awareness about this disease that is preventable on so many levels. Everyone is susceptible to a tick bite, there’s nothing we can do about that. But it’s our healthcare system that ultimately kills those of us suffering with Lyme's, and that’s a damn shame!

Think Different

Steve Jobs came up with a marketing campaign a few years ago that centered around the slogan, "Think Different." The commercials and advertisements instilled the values of not conforming, thinking outside the box and even showed images of our most historical figures to reiterate that message to you. The company preached through its campaign, that by thinking differently you would buy Apple products.

In essence, their marketing campaign completely contradicts everything Apple really wants from their customers. Apple's company goals align right with every other company, and that's "Think the Same."

People in every culture must fulfill a certain role. In China it may be to obey your government, but in the United States it is to consume! Our duty as citizens where we live is to consume as much as we can, the entire world relies on us to do so.

I'll tie this into what my entire point of the post it; our culture wants you to feel shitty about yourself. That may not be their number one priority, but in order for us to consume up to our potential we can never be satisfied with ourselves. Someone who is completely secure with themselves won't feel a need to continually buy things that they don't necessarily need to fill some void in their lives.

Every day we are continually shown images of what we're supposed to look like and what we're supposed to have. If we don't fit that image we are then somehow incomplete. That's OK though, because with all the different products out there that help alter our appearances, we may one day be complete and match the images we're shown in the magazines or the movies. This leads to both girls and guys going to extreme lengths that can even be very unhealthy to obtain an appearance that for most of us is physically impossible. But we're told that if we don't fit that image, well then we're not good enough.

This thought process goes beyond physical appearances as well. We're told that our worth as human beings is measured by the things we own, not the quality of our character. Each product we own helps define who we are. You're even supposed to sum up a person just by the type of car they have (even though in most countries only 5-10% of the population even own a vehicle). Social class used to be defined by whether you could put 3 meals on the table for your family, now it's defined by the different brand names we own. Once again, the advertisements center around the thought that if we don't own the products that the people in the images are seen having then we once again are somehow incomplete. This in turn causes some Americans to work relentlessly, never truly taking time to enjoy their lives, in an endless cycle to obtain things that they don't even need.

There will be some people that read this and will conclude that I'm weird and ridiculous for even writing this, because well, this is different. But I want people to be aware of what their culture is doing to them. There's a reason that although we may be one of the very top countries financially; psychology studies have often found us to be in the middle of the pack or bottom when it comes to measuring happiness. Americans I believe are by far the most insecure people in the world. That doesn't mean that everyone is, but a majority of us will constantly find flaws in ourselves and are uncomfortable in our own skin.

I'm asking everyone to just think a bit differently. And when I say that I don't mean go paint your fingernails black, get a mohawk, or even turn into a complete hipster on us. What I'm saying is recognize that everyone really does have a unique skill or attribute to offer. Stop being so concerned with what you lack, and recognize what you're good at. Stop being so caught up and concerned with what others may think. If there is something you truly want to do, but you may be afraid of how others could perceive you, say "Fuck It!" Do what makes you happy, not the people around you.

I'm nowhere near being exempt from everything I've talked about, but the more you're aware of what is trying to control you the better off you are. A lot of us feel as if we're immortal, but we're all alike because we all will die at some point, and life really is pretty short. None of us have the time to be caught up in materialistic things. We should wake up everyday and do what we want to, not what society tells us we want to!