I live in fear

I often get caught up in the living fear that someone I know or even someone I don't know who wants to mess up my world I am barely living does the one thing that should be unthinkable that I know is always possible...

They need only contact authorities with some claim I posted something online or said something to them and with my mental history I could be locked up till god knows when.  I was recently reminded of that fact while watching a TV show of all things.  I know it's fictional but the fact remains that because of my mental health and suicidal tendencies it wouldn't take much to tear apart everything I have worked so hard for since  2012 when I entered the inpatient program at the Battle Creek VAMC.

I know it can be hard to understand what appears to be an unrealistic fear but in my world it's not unrealistic it has actually happened before over something I said during an appointment for unrelated treatment.  My world spun out of control for nearly a week as I was "held" against my will only winding up getting out after certain concessions on my part including signing a voluntary treatment form dated for the day they put me into the hospital.

Like Dexter, I have to let go of others...

I might be late to the Party but as I finish up the Series Dexter on Showtime I was reminded of why I am better off being alone.  Though I am not a serial killer I do seem to destroy others lives who come in contact with me, my family, my kids, I mean my unadultlike behavior could easily by me be argued to have been part of the reason my father died of a bad heart.

For a great part of my adult life my world revolved around how much my parents were able to keep me out of trouble both financially and mentally.  Time after time, I was likely living in my car, hopping between friends homes or falling apart because of this or that.  Each time my parents insisted on taking me back in mostly to save their reputation as my father couldn’t stand having others find out I was living in my car.

All I can think about right now is how I destroyed his retirement, my kids lives and the long list of people with whom I have made them either fear me or hate me.  Until I finally got help from the VA to get on my feet I was dependent and so childlike that I feared even thinking about being alone and caring for myself.  And with a parent who treated me like I was still a child who needed to stay in the house in the summer supposedly to make it easier for them to watch while they were ill I was never supposed to grow up until my Dad passed away and they needed someone to take his place doing everything that parent didn’t want to do for themselves.

I don’t like being alone but I have gotten used to it because each and every time I opened up and let someone inside my emotional walls, I become like a emotional vampire sucking them dry.  I know I can’t keep doing it but when you live on a rollercoaster inside a small room with a tornado in it, you do what you can to keep going.  And that’s entirely the reason I am alone, so I don’t hurt those who want to care for and/or love me.

NCIS -Cracked

So yet again, I have failed to skip the episode guaranteed to trigger my mind to speed up and my eyes to eventually tear up within an hour in time.  I can relate to the woman who was killed in the episode for reasons many can understand, many more cannot even attempt to comprehend.  The chaos, the delusions, the arguing with no one aloud.

Many is the time I was caught talking to myself for decades going back to my childhood.  Often I just acted embarrassed but the reality is, you never tell others you talk to yourself unless you are sure they won't contact the authorities.  Often I was interacting in a world where no one existed except me.  I wasn't crazy, I was successful, I was doing good things with my life.  Not the craziness I was actually living in.

I hid inside myself hoping, begging myself to stop but I just couldn't even today I can be found doing it unintentionally about everything.  People I see (often women), things I think about become aloud verbal conversations regardless of where I am.  Music that triggers pain, anger or frustrations that I am even at my age not strong enough to fight it off.

I hurt people over the years as I struggled to contain what has been going on inside me out of frustration not real anger about them being near me, rather because I wasn't able to be me.  I needed to be able to talk to myself, as most of my lifetime I have felt alone no matter if I was "in love" with someone, married to someone, or with family.  Too many times my own loved one's didn't understand why I was unable to stop how I verbalized everything, my first wife often got hurt when she heard me say things I didn't really wanted her to hear.

The things I did to myself over the years, the drinking, the branding, the self destruction at jobs, even the suicide attempts were all from one source, the chaos.  Even today I fear being locked up if I admit to my mental health providers that I "hear voices" of course most of them are thoughts I have to ensure that I am alive, breathing and in charge of something for even a few moments of my life, at least mentally.

You would have no idea how many times I begged for death to make myself stop but to no avail.  I often lied to providers just to keep me from being put on some medications that would muddle my mind.  I don't need help frustrating myself and most of those types of medications are a guarantee that the creative side of my mind would likely stop from past experiences with similar meds.

I am not suicidal, just venting because even though I know I shouldn't watch the episode, like a moth to a flame I almost seek it out at least subliminally.  I know this to be true because when I purchased that season of NCIS on DVD... It was the first thing I did when I got it home...seek it out.

I'm sorry to those who have loved me or still care about me because no matter how hard I try, I can't stop and I will push people away by any means to keep my chaos in a more verbal way before I hold it in so long, I attempt yet again.

I awoke to an anger and realization...

That is now stuck in my craw, yesterday I was in a pretty good mood for a person who often goes through various mood shifts in just a few hours depending on the environment, etc...

Yesterday for instance I waited around the VAMC when Music Therapy wasn 't a go for two hours because I thought I had an appointment with my Therapist.  When I went to sign in, I found out it was actually for Wednesday and not in fact Tuesday.  I laughed all the way to the car.

After I awoke this morning I was on the toilet talking to myself (this is my normal) pissed off because my kids hate me, I had to cut most of my dysfunctional family out of my life for my own mental well being and I am going to die alone.  I know it won't be this week as I am NOT planning anything so please don't call the Police on me, I just know someday when it's my time....I will be alone.

I however, would rather be alone than surrounded by people who didn't treat me the way I thought I deserved, not the way they wanted me to think I earned by being me or being born.  The hostility that this brought about in me after the thought is gut-wrenchingly disturbing and heartbreaking at the same time. 

My ex, the mother of my kids works with people like me for a living and I assume because she is advancing there from what I can tell as some compassion for them, just not for me.  I know she told a Church Magazine that she thought I was her "soulmate" and honestly the feeling was reasonably mutual till she decided to put what her Mom wanted us to do in front of what I wanted to do.  And now she hates me (rightly so I guess).

She likely wouldn't even cry over my death rather, she would be standing there wanting to know what our kids were entitled to instead.  How do I leave something to someone who only wanted what they could get from me that was worth anything beyond the fact that I would have gladly sacrificed my life to save theirs, in other words, my LOVE.  I have them on my life insurance policy after I have paid whatever isn't prepaid for my funeral (Paid for that when I got my service-connection like I had planned on doing for years while waiting for it.)

I just really want to know why I give my love so freely when I let someone inside my walls only to in the end be rebuffed by them no matter how hard I try to get them to see I was doing the best I could all things considered.  I spent so many years hating myself for failing in the Army mentally (Proven to not be my fault), for not being there when my friends died when had I been mentally stronger I would have been and for everytime I looked in the mirror, hating the man or boy I was looking at...

It's 11 AM on Veterans Day

I'm here and you're not.

I'm sorry

My mind failed both you and me and left you alone in a world of violence and death.  When you paid the ultimate sacrifice I was in tears when I wasn't there.  I had to find out about you by seeing your name on my TV screen.

I hope you are at peace now because I am in my own living hell for not being there and each and every Veterans Day I punish myself by not going to any events I am invited to.  It's a day where I don't feel that proud of my service because I failed you.

Veteran's Day, Thank you's and my personal hell

It’s that time of the year again, the holidays bring on depression but there is one day in the fall above all that brings on a personal hell that is truly hard to describe.  I find it difficult to put into words why I hate this day more than others including Memorial Day.  I would imagine it has something to do with two simple words, “Thank You.”

For being thanked for my military service is a reminder of what I didn’t do in my mind.  It might seem an innocuous couple of words for most people, including many other Vets.  In my mind it triggers a pain I have lived with each year I get older my friends won’t.  Each year I grow more mature and live more, they won’t.  They won’t grow old to see their grandkids or become the wise patriarch of their family.

And when someone asks me to go to a Veteran’s Day event I want only one thing, to stick a gun in my mouth and make it stop.  I am not going to do it but that’s how I feel inside despite whatever that person might hear come out of my mouth.  I hide in my home and wait desperately for the day to end because I don’t want to hear those words.

To hear them even once a year is more than I can sometimes bear which for those who don’t understand would often seem overly sensitive and attention seeking.  That’s just it I don’t want to hear “Thank you”, I really don’t.  I just want the same respect you would give any other Veteran who went willingly into the military with the knowledge they might actually die in service to democracy and freedom.

It's the messages I get from movies, music and others..

If I am not safe at a period of time I am susceptible to such messages that can either wind me up or break me down.  I have given my everything to those I have loved, been friends with or was related to.  What I got in return has left me weakened, worn out and destined to be destroyed by my own mind if I can't fend it off.

Take for instance I watched a movie where the main character was clearly at the end of his mission and wanted to move on.  I get the message but I can't do what it is telling me, no matter how hard I try.  I push forward and hope that my mind won't drive me into the abyss leaving me hollow, empty and more willing to cause myself harm in some way...

The Vietnam Traveling Memorial Wall

Recently the Traveling Wall had appeared at my local VAMC and a friend noted a few days later that I didn't make an appearance.  He was curious as to why I opted to not show my condolences to those Veterans who paid the ultimate sacrifice.  My reasons were actually for several reasons and most of them would to some just sound like excuses not the reality of what that means to me.

You see I saw the Traveling Wall once before in Grand Rapids Michigan and I was torn up for several months after though I kept most of it to myself at the time.  It was and is hard for me with such sensitivities that even walking up to something like that can be emotionally devastating for some time after it has passed.  And knowing that because of my mental illness issues causing me to be discharged prior to the First Gulf War I will likely never be honored for anything I've done in my life beyond what has already been arranged as far as my funeral honors that I have been promised by the Veterans Administration.

Let that last sentence sink in a moment, yes it does sound selfish doesn't it but imagine that you worked for several years to prepare for something and then a year or so before it comes to fruition you can't do that anymore for whatever reason, you'd be disappointed too.  Wouldn't you?  By the time the nightmares started I was certainly willing to die for my country if not begging for the chance to die with some dignity and that likely won't happen for me now.

I can't face that wall of honored men with what little I have done for my country after I how I both failed and was treated at the time by the Army who promised to take care of their own.

Heartbroken Dream

And sometimes the mental health staff wonder why I don't want to sleep for weeks on end, could it be the bad dreams that are so vivid that when I wake up, I'm in tears?  And I am forced to relive it over and over again all night long or stay awake risking a serious relapse.  I'd rather take another physical abuse beating at the hand of my older brother than to relive last night's dream once more.

She was beautiful, in love with someone else despite our growing closer together as we hung out together.  Only a common theme in my real life and partly why I refuse to try to date again beyond my issues I don't want to put someone through again.  They get attached, I get attached and then one way or another the very thing that drew them to me, pushes them away once more.

It's days like this where I wake up in tears that remind me of that very thing and of something else, I am grateful that I am one year closer to the end of my life.  Because sooner than later at this point something will finally give me relief from the vivid dreams that make me afraid to go to sleep.

Sometimes the slightest trigger pisses me off

Sometimes when I get triggered I am the reason and it pisses me off to no end when this crap happens, I get somber at the wrong times like today I have to see my shrink.  I am more likely to say something I shouldn't when this happens and today it was all my dam fault.  I got bored went into my "music room" at home and began to tinker on the keyboard and sing a bit with the karaoke machine.

This started a memory I had been trying hard to avoid for several months and each time it crawls back into my mind I get more depressed than most other times.  You see I gave up on myself and my dreams after years of being beaten down by those who supposedly loved and supported me to the point where I only believed what they said as the "gospel" of me, and I quit.

I gave up everything that made ME happy and smiling about life, Music and Acting.  The only two things I ever seemed to have a natural aptitude for or at least as far as the music was concerned according to others who know about these things I had a "Pure natural set of pipes." And I just let it all go, my dreams, my happiness and now near the end of my existence when most of me seems to be failing I am constantly thinking about that dream that got away...

Bipolar & College Education

I am all too aware of how extremely hard it can be to be dealing with Bipolar and trying to get a higher education at the same time.  I have been down the road that leads to mental breakdowns and then returning to school hoping no one brings it up.  I am also aware of having it cost you a career when your fellow students aren't required to keep what they know about you to themselves when they go out into the working world.

The thing I want to impress on my fellow sufferers who are attending college or thinking about it, you might fall down but it doesn't mean you cannot keep getting back up.  Of course my no quit comes from a military training but that doesn't mean those who haven't served can't keep that same mentality going for them.  After all a fall is not a total loss as if you got your car dented backing into a light pole for instance.  You wouldn't total the car over a dent now would you, so you can't just write off your education and career goals just because you fell down a step or two.

Someone once reminded me...

A therapist once reminded me after I felt like I failed at attempting something while inpatient at my local VAMC for treatment that just because I faltered didn't mean I had actually failed like I was thinking.  Because at the time I was like many who believe that every misstep is a complete failure because we have no gray in between our black & white vision.

I know what it feels like to be making really positive strides in your life only to feel that misstep as a complete and utter falling down of sorts.  The emotional turmoil it can cause can feel totally overwhelming and devastating at times but it is what it is, only a misstep and not the actual end of the world.

Often people who are bipolar and some other mental health survivors take every falter as the end of the world.  Keep going and work through it no matter what your mind is telling you because if someone like me who suffers from PTSD/Bipolar/Borderline Personality Disorder/Major Clinical Depression and achieve two college degrees, nearly a bachelor degree as well.  I was also in 20+ years of suffering able to survive a cancer scare that did put me into a down spiral but guess what despite my own father in law firing me when I got out of the hospital I survived.

And you can too.

I hate foggy days

It's not what you think it is about driving in a heavy fog that is unless you are thinking about a fog inside your brain.  Because that's what I am talking about when I say I hate foggy days, those days when no matter when you wake up you just can't seem to focus.  Your being given directions and if you are visual like me you are trying to picture it in your mind but you can't.

The frustrations mount up as they keep repeating it to me not realizing that I cannot actually understand what they are telling me.  I wish I could just open my mouth and say to them, "I am sorry but I can't seem to focus on what you are saying at the moment."  But I can't.

The fear of opening up even sometimes to people who know about my mental proclivities might react differently based on the time of day, stress they are under, etc... leaving me afraid to even consider opening my mouth.  Because when my body senses that what they are saying isn't what they really want to say, my mind can find the rage button pretty quickly and often not at the person or persons I want to take it out on.

So I sit and stew on it remembering when I can get a second to focus on it, I hate foggy days.

There is something behind the decision of Suicide

I have often heard people claim that people who choose to commit suicide especially famous people such as my idol, Robin Williams are selfish for making that choice.  I believe they are wrong because it isn't about anyone else except for the fact that we often feel others would be hurt less and be better off without us around do cause this pain.

If you have ever lived with a Bipolar, PTSD, Major Clinical Depression person for an extended period of time you will find it can be frustrating, tiring, emotionally draining not only for you but for the person struggling with it as well.  To maintain any type of relationship when you have that going on inside your mind and you face a world filled with triggers it can feel like everyday is an emotional rollercoaster you cannot get off of.

As the struggle continues inside the idea of maintaining a relationship is catastrophic for some because you know you are hurting someone else and you are seemingly incapable at times of preventing that pain.  Thus the choice becomes a black or white issue for many who suffer as their is no gray area in the mind of many of us.  So we either stay and torture someone else, separate or for some choose to commit suicide to spare them and anyone who might have been involved with in the future.

To this day I have people who worry each and everyday that I might choose that again and cause them to be hurt by my choice.  It doesn't seem to matter how much I tell them I won't do it again, they don't believe me.  I broke several close friends hearts when I broke that promise long ago and now I don't even attempt to make it anymore.  It still hurts to think they won't look at me, talk to me or interact with me in public where safety is pretty much assured because I broke a promise I begged them to not ask me to make in the first place.

There is no way to get past it, get over it or move on from it, it will always be there in the back of the mind calling you to the darkened abyss it brings.  There is no need for guilt and shame to try to keep someone from making that choice, it only adds weight to an already struggling back trying to get the monkey known as suicide off their backs.

So the next time you shame or guilt someone who has attempted and failed, or who mentions they have been having those thoughts keep in mind there is something behind the decision you may never understand or have the ability to do so.  It is not about religious beliefs or fear of hurting someone else it is about the pain they are feeling that won't go away and like a heavy winter blanket it is suffocating them, they can't get out from under it no matter who tries to help them.

Why I don't blog more or write a book about my experiences...

I have often been asked why not write or blog about your whole life so others can learn from you and hopefully not make similar mistakes or inspire others to keep pushing forward.  It’s for two reasons that are hard to explain in one simple sentence you know “a long story, short.”

Growing up it never seemed to matter who I asked for protection or help and after a while I tried to avoid it.  And as I got older and my mind was clearly doing it’s own thing I struggled to hide myself inside while putting just about everyone else ahead of my own needs.

When I joined the military and was “Broken Down” during basic it triggered a mass exodus of any hope of fighting them off much more.  By the time I hit AIT having already asked once to go home during basic and being talked out of it was ready to run.  I made some bad choices and to cover up the real reasons which would have just gotten me pushed out the door with no honor left I lied about my reasonings.

If you weren’t there it can be hard to understand as I soon found out when I got home and confessed to a friend who’s wife knew the person involved unintentionally in the lie that transpired, it cost me the friendship after decades of his understanding based solely on a Christian belief system.  He failed to understand why I HAD to chose to do that in the service back then you didn’t show any signs of weakness and going outside the system for mental health help wasn’t an option.

So when they put me on Funeral detail at my first duty station my brain went on its own path leaving my possible career in shambles despite the choice to reenlist rather than going home to face a reality I couldn’t handle either.  During the funeral detail duty and I believe I mentioned this before in a blog, I had a nightmare that I had went under a semi-truck and flipped being killed that caused me to call my Mom and wake her up begging to make sure they brought my body home...three days later my cousin was dead, she went under a semi and died.

I was able to go home for the funeral after the Red Cross on my families behalf pushed the Army to let me go.  Because first cousins are NOT considered immediate family or at least wasn’t back then thus, you don’t automatically get leave to go home for the funeral.

When I got back I had eight months left of my enlistment contract and there was a push to reenlist early.  I talked to an older mentor Master Sgt. about it and I decided it was better than going home and I had no place else to really go after I got out.  I upped for Germany and got there and in less than eight more months I was dismanteling winding up getting drunk practically every night, the weekends was a long dark path leading up to a failed attempt at suicide that was more a begging for help. 

That cost me dearly as I was put in a small room and forced to have the people in my platoon I worked with watch me 24/7.  So every time I rolled over there was someone who didn’t want to be in that room staring back at me.  Which led up to my next attempt that was a bit more serious in nature.

A gallon of Jack, five or six long island iced teas, three or four german beers, a couple american beers, shots later I was in my room taking a large bottle of  tylenol.  I wound up in the ICU having slept for a week, two IV’s in my arms, my arms strapped down.  When I woke up an Army Captain Doctor told me I just hadn’t taken enough, dare I say his bedside manner was problematic for his career choice.  Then the shrink they had already sent me to earlier, a German conscript who first told to just “Stop Drinking” now offering me an exit from the service.

All of this and I still have to hide my shame and guilt from everyone.  I cannot express who I truly am because every time I turn around someone is telling me to basically “SHUT UP” and keep it to myself because their beliefs don’t match my own.

So I keep my mouth shut.

I may have finally found the end of my road

As this week draws to a close I am yet one step closer to the possible end of my road as recently I went into the hospital for shortness of breath and lightheaded and found out that my kidney's are struggling along though sadly my heart appears unwillingly to give up just yet.  I have acquired an extra beat like so many men in my family have but still....

The VA wasn't thrilled that I hadn't gone to Urgent Care but as anyone within the VA system knows if you have a mental health background you are likely to be treated like you are having a mental health issue and less like a medical one.  I didn't want another trip to the mental ward because they acted prematurely to "air on the side of caution".  I didn't need to be on suicide watch I really wasn't feeling well but likely would have been treated differently had I gone there instead of showing up at a therapy group like I chose to do.

So I spent the night in a local hospital on oxygen with an IV in my arm to rehydrate me but it looks like this might not be helping as my body is expressing fluids faster than I appear to be able to drink them in.  They even took me off several of my blood pressure meds to help me along at least temporarily but they didn't sound too happy when they called the next day and I was experiencing similar symptoms still.  Reiterating the medications to stop taking although I had followed their medical advice and stopped them as requested.

So here I sit, Bike in the driveway unable to feel well enough to get my so needed therapy for fear I might become too dizzy to drive causing bodily harm to me or someone else.

Therapy on two wheels & a mini chopper...

I have ridden in the past and even purchased a 200cc scooter that I was uncomfortable riding so I sold it, but I bought this mini chopper and wham! it hit me like a rock...Awake and rolling down the road at 30 mph and I WAS AT PEACE~

I found acceptance on that little thing and I am so shocked at what it seemed to take to get even a tiny ounce of something I have always craved, even if it's only a low hand wave or nod from another "Biker".

I have been feeling brighter the past few days and the only thing I have done differently is get on that bike.  It might be a moped to everyone else, slow and annoying to everyone else but in that moment I really have found some kind of peace I have been wishing for for a very, very long time now.

Triggers, Robin Williams & Me

So here I sit at 3 am, at 11:30 pm I was tired and took my meds, turned off the TV and went to bed.  I got up at 12:40 am to pee because after all I am an older man despite my baby faced appearance.  Anyways after I woke up to pee I was wide awake, groggy but wide awake.

I knew I was in for trouble two weeks ago when I saw a thing about Robin on TV but when it came closer and even Sirius Radio was talking about him again, I was done in.  I think I mentioned this before but I share a birthday with the man and also believe that at some point he mentioned having similar mental health issues as well as sensitivities.  So here I sit on August 11th at 3 am wide the frick awake thinking about him and me.

Yesterday I hit another hot button trigger when I saw an article from BP Magazine about relationships and how the opposite sex can help you cope with BP.  Of course this hit a trigger because my first wife had a miraculous way of keeping me on track and reasonably focused for a Bipolar and I will forever miss her for that reason.  She dealt with a great deal of my darker side including a deep depression where I threatened suicide if she didn't take me to the hospital.

As I get older I have devoted myself to staying alive until my body finally gives up on me for the sake of the children I fathered so they are not irreparably harmed by suicide. They don't want anything to do with me but I cannot harm them that way.  Unlike Robin who had plenty of money to be given to his kids after his passing if I do that there is no insurance payments from my life insurance and I know that they would likely take it personally as I know I would.

They respond to me as if I am a deadbeat Dad because my kids despite being in their teens now have never really been told what is mentally wrong with their father.  Despite having supervised visits while they were growing up because of my Bipolar according to my ex and her family I was never truly sick enough to be unable to provide for my kids and should have been able to find and keep working which I wasn't.

As I am now service connected for my mental illness through the Department of Veterans Affairs I receive a pension and they get a pretty good size chunk of that each month.  I haven't spoken to them since the oldest a year ago October decided I should suddenly give her money for a "School trip" though I wasn't given any information and I have no parental rights to those types of things as I am a non-custodial parent due to my Bipolar.  When I refused she told me off and I told her to not contact me anymore if she couldn't or wouldn't speak to me with respect as after all I am still her father.  Haven't heard from them since.

48, finally completely living on my own

So I recently turned 48, an age that many doctors from my mid to late 20's never ever thought I would actually see in my lifetime.  I had many health issues and my mental health being what it was and often still is there was no likelihood I would even have seen 40.  And here I am at 48 not really making major health strides but I am breathing, living on my own without any parental backing this time.

That backing this is big for me and they didn't cut me off as most would have presumed but rather I went into the VAMC for treatment and came out kicking mentally ready to try to cut the apron strings.  To be free of the manipulation from my Mom and no family telling me how I don't know what I am doing anymore.  I actually only really interact with one relative who is near my age and was my uncle's son on my mother's side of the family and that is only through Facebook, he never insulted me or made fun of me incessantly.

I got out of the VA and worked for a while through Voc Rehab and that was a struggle living in a new HUD apartment complex for Veterans here in Michigan.  I lost the job after a few months, just couldn't mentally keep struggling along.  As it turned out it was likely the best thing that couldn't have happened a few months later I was finally service-connected.  I used the back pay for a car and a house and for over a year I am living on my own (with rather intense therapy at the VA) but I am making my own decisions for the very first time in over 20 years by myself.  Fail or Pass they are mine and mine alone.

For a Bipolar with Borderline Personality Disorder/PTSD (non-combat) with a major depressive past including several serious failed attempts at harming myself.  And here I am, on my own THRIVING at least most of the time.

Waking up at 6 something PM...

Nothing like staying up after being up too long the night before then going to bed at say 11pm and not waking up the following day at say 6:44pm.  The problem then becomes can you go to sleep that night or are you going to lay down tossing and turning for hours.  Likely no matter how positively I think about it I am going to toss and turn all night unable to fall asleep.

It was hard to want to get up while I was having a dream where for once I was doing something right in my life, if only in my dreams.  I was successfully dodging my Bipolar and serving my country in the Army again.  My brothers were there and we were getting along and I wasn't acting all crazy like making up excuses for my behavior.

I hated lying to so many people to cover the fact I didn't know what was happening to me inside.  I worked hard to drink and cover up my reasons for outbursts followed by remorseful tears.  I even lied about things that happened in my life because back then you didn't tell people you were having mental health issues.

After I had made a poor attempt to slash my wrists they put me in the hospital and made my coworkers watch me, literally. They were in the room where I was lying in a bed crying when I wasn't sleeping for nearly a week.  Everytime I rolled over they were sitting looking at me and want to guess what happened next, I started crying again.

When I was discharged from the hospital they sent me back to work with a house arrest kind of punishment, that's right punishment.  I could go to work, stay at the barracks and if I was lucky go back to work after hours to give me something to do after all back then there was no game systems to play and the only TV was either in German or military services channel.

But when I went to go back to work hardly anyone would work with me because they were afraid of me.  Afraid of me!  Like I was going to try again and take them with me, I had no interest in taking anyone out except me.  Within a month or so I attempted yet again only this time I overdosed on alcohol and pills.

Ended up sleeping for a week in ICU and when I woke up the same shrink they sent me to after the attempt before who had only told me to stop drinking walked in and offered me nothing more than a "Happy Divorce" while I was still strapped into the bed.  He had also mentioned that they took my clearance so I wouldn't be doing my job till I passed another set of checks which would likely take years, after all they didn't like people like me back then because I was showing signs of weakness.

Which brings me back to the dream that naturally I didn't want to wake up from...

The sleep deprived and a constant ringing from no one

This time of the year my sleep is off and on at best, at worst I don't sleep for days, sometimes weeks at a time.  Last night I was trying to sleep and someone from the Grand Rapids, MI area kept calling me repeatedly refusing to leave a message for the second day in a row only this time it seemed like they were calling every hour for three or four hours.

Even going so far as using a different number on the second day but still it kept ringing in my ears to the point where every time I came out of REM sleep my mind wondered who it was and what the hell was so important they had to keep trying my number over and over.  By 11pm I was now wide awake and thinking about the number(s) which when I searched online found nothing to tell me who it was other than it was a landline. 

If for some reason it's a creditor they aren't going to warm themselves to the idea of me paying them when they keep calling me like that.  I don't like my sleep disturbed because as a Bipolar with Sleep Apnea, sleep is a hard thing to come by at times.  And lately with other things going on I don't need the aggravation this is causing me. 

And what is with the no longer being able to legitimately search for phone number information without someone trying to get their hand in my pocket?  Why must we pay for information for businesses that are harassing us when we go to find out who they are in order to stop them from going that far?  With phone calls refusing to even leave a message when they insist on calling hour after hour into the early evening?

Asking for help

Growing up I wasn’t likely to ask for help of any kind, I mean who was I supposed to ask?  My parents who often treated me like their free therapist complaining about one another way too often when I was alone with them.  My siblings who acted like I was just another burden laid upon them by my immature parents so I wouldn’t presumably get into trouble. 

My sister was consumed with doing anything but being around me and my brother is well for lack of a better term, my tormentor.  His job was to act like my father and when I didn’t comply with whatever it was he wanted, he would take it out on me physically.  Of course he wouldn’t allow me to be beaten upon by others around us except him.  While older friends of mine were actually my protectors they wouldn’t allow my brother to beat upon me.

But then again hanging out with older people seriously messed up my emotional growth because I would go between being older and being my age at strange points in time they would even collide.  Nothing like having a serious crush on someone who was flirting with you to watch you turn beat red only to watch them actually fall in love with someone else and break your heart.

I think you can begin to see why I call this blog incoherent focus right?  Because I can’t focus and my mind wanders too easily and I ask for help only when I am afraid to extremes.  Because often growing up asking for help would lead to ridicule, to further torment and in some cases even my own teachers leading the treatment.  My senior year a “cousin” who was in my class gave me a nickname I hated and before the end of the year even used it in class when talking to me, he was a nice guy but that part made me dislike him so much.

To this day asking for help scares the living hell out of me to the point I would rather grasp a big bottle of something and never have to do that again.  I know that is no solution but when I was watching Sandra Bullock today in 28 days, brought this topic up yet again.  And as all Bipolar’s know full well any trigger is a trigger that makes my mind go pop...I know this is counterproductive but, “Can someone please make it stop!”

It is funny how one night of no sleep...

Can create an avalanche effect inside of me, I am tired but can't sleep.
I see my therapist who triggers me unintentionally by asking the simplest of questions at the end of our session.
I go for nights without real sleep that I so badly need despite having taken my medication.
I dream of things from my past that haunt me to this day. 
Mixed into those dreams are people from my past some of whom I could only wish to go a day without thinking about them.
My guilt feels so overwhelming at these points in time because the lack of sleep causing my mind to drift into the dark abyss of my depression causing me to wish for the one thing I fear may never come, the end of me.
Those I no longer want to think about are in my mind because they died before it was their time all the while I was begging for it to be my time to go, for decades since I buried brothers my age in the Army.

The ultimate sacrifice for love

We all know what they call the ultimate sacrifice for love but in the moment could you do it knowing what it would cost you in the end?  Can you let family go to save them from you and your mental health issues to keep from hurting them any further?  Can you walk away from your kids with little to no contact in order to keep you from making their lives a living hell while you fight off rage, cycles and manic behavior?

I did it and it cost me more than most would willingly give up who don't have my issues.  I couldn't deal with family who did not care about my feelings, my wants or needs.  That put me in the backseat because I was what they considered inferior but didn't completely cut me off because after all they likely would need me for something later, like paint a house, fix their car, move their furniture, babysit my own kids even though they didn't trust me when they were first born.

I will go through the rest of my life likely very alone because I wasn't there for those who needed me and cut off others who kept hurting me when I begged them to stop.  I will not see my kids marry, have kids of their own because I am the "lazy Dad" who didn't take care of them, wouldn't just give them money without even getting information about where they were going and whom they would be going with once I had some money.  No one ever wanted to tell them the truth that their Dad was considered nearly legally crazy and was barely able to take care of himself let alone care for them.

So I ask again.

"Could you make the ultimate sacrifice for love knowing what it would cost you?"

I saw, I flirted, I drooled

I know it's likely this person who was in my eyes beautiful and I loved her long flowing hair was just flirting to sell me a satellite dish package but I was intrigued by her.  She kept flirting with her hair and as I tried to ignore it I wasn't able too.

I kept flirting even when she noticed my ring on my left hand which looks like a wedding band and yet I caught myself saying aloud to her as I took it off..."I bought it for my other hand but it wouldn't fit over the knuckle, I'm not married" handing it to her to look at.

I admit it I was smitten but that's about it, that lust filled in heat mind was working on overdrive because she was giving me the one thing I cannot resist in a woman.  She was flirting and presenting me with something that no matter what I did I couldn't avoid.

I am one of those sick bastards who are lonely enough to post in the missed connection section on Cragislist knowing full well she's not likely to answer.  At most I will likely get a response from some spammer or her bf telling me to take the posting down immediately.

Medication, sex drive and sleep

Ever wake up wound up like a top because you were dreaming for an hour or so that kept spinning round and round till you woke  up.  Then you realize that at some point your body decided it is truly in need of the one thing as a Bipolar you often don't get, sex.  I know this can of course fluctuate depending on your looks, area of opportunity, gender preferences, and willing partners of course even in a manic state we would never take by force something someone is not truly willing to give us on their own no matter what.

And for some of us there is a particular part of our preferred sexual partners that shall we say really turns us on.  Same as for most men or women just sometimes this particular part of my turn on's can get out of hand and often affects a great deal of my social anxiety.  I find it particularly hard to be around those who have this particular trait when I am or even when I am not what a former partner used to call "in heat."

I often cannot stop from staring almost like a crazy person without even realizing a lot of times I am doing it.  And because of this I find myself hiding in my home acting like a mole or hermit wishing I was blinded so I cannot even see it anymore.  And when you even dream about it and try to ignore it but seemingly cannot there isn't enough medication to eliminate this trait that I have no idea is part of my mental disorders or something I grew up to with.  Although I do have a past where women when I was very young would often tease me with this particular part of themselves as if my turning three shades of red were hilarious.

Which leads to my other issue that suddenly I hit a certain age and was no longer as cute apparently which led to my being the guy most women were immune to my charms anymore.

Someday, maybe

Someday, maybe I might actually become more accepting of myself and less worried about what others think of me.  It drives me crazy when someone stares because they don't like the way I let my beard grow out or my Veteran hat.  I keep hearing from those who care to "Just ignore them" but if I could do that I wouldn't be the overly sensitive idiot I am today.

I stare in the mirror and want to shave it off but something is telling me inside that I should leave it alone to become my own man.  I know what it looks like but I can't shave it off and show my baby face anymore.  I want so badly to be treated for my real age and life experiences but I am often wrote off as some blow hard who knows only what he has seen on TV.  But I am 48 in two weeks and I lived in the 70's and 80's I know what I saw, what I experienced and shouldn't be penalized simply because I look younger than I am.

Too many people judge me based upon what they see and my immature nature which is often attributed to my hanging with older people when I was so young.  And the seemingly inability of my family to at times allow me to grow up and be an adult along side of them.  I know for many I am a constant reminder of what they lost when their fathers, my grandfathers passed away within my first two years of life.

I feel at times as if that is the reason why I was so often the butt of the jokes at holiday gatherings or the one they chose to torment on overnight stays at grandma's.  I only wish that someday before they or I pass on I hear an apology that I know isn't coming anytime soon. 

I remember now why I hate people

I was at city hall today to file the paperwork for my tax exemption from the state and while I was standing there I was reminded why I hate most people, especially in public places.

I could hear people in line to pay their water bills, taxes what have you giggling and chatting about well me.  The way I was dressed, the way my facial hair looked, etc...

I took the paperwork home and when I brought it back even a city employee was doing it right next to me.  As if I am too stupid to realize what they were doing while standing right next to me.  I mean at one time or another we have all done it right?  That thing with your eyes to someone else while the person you are doing it about stands right next to you.

That doesn't make it right.

And when a person of another skin tone does it I am completely offended because after all if I even thought of something about them they took wrong it is immediately because I am a racist.  But when they do it they are just doing what comes naturally and let me tell you that when this person was doing it I wanted to scream at her, "What the f#@k do you think you are doing?"

By the time I got to the mall for my last errand I was listening to the wrong song on my headphones while standing in the mental health book aisle and practically in tears.  A grown fricking man nearly in tears at the mall can you imagine that?

I wanted to scream, shout to the moon...Get me off this damn ride!

An Outsider

It is often too easy to feel like an outsider even in a world where I should fit in such military veterans, mental health patients, PTSD sufferers for example.  It is hard for me to feel like I fit in at most places because often people like to joke about and it's an area where when people make fun of the way I look or how I remind them of some inept cartoon character and then give me that nickname whether I wanted it or not.

At times I couldn't even stand being near my own family because they made fun of the way I looked or acted.  As if their own awkwardness wasn't funny but mine was hilarious.  I still harbor some serious hatred for a family of five never seemed to include me until they absolutely had to.  You know family trips where I was sat on a spare tire in the back of station wagon or jeep.  All because the older two didn't like my nervous energy sitting in between them.

And now the Mom who couldn't be bothered, the sister who could care less both think I should be taking care of them because they apparently can't seem to do it themselves.  Well if I can pull myself up and essentially grow up in a few years time without their help then by all means help yourselves.  Or at the very least ask someone else for help and not just because you think I am capable of giving you money to make your issues go away.  They weren't interested in helping me at all before I finally got my service connection but when I did they couldn't ask quick enough for some money from the backpay I had received of which they think I still have a bunch ( I don't spent it all).

And now occasionally since I had cut them off because I don't need any extra chaos in my life they try to use old friends or family they believe I haven't blocked to contact me to bring me back into their lives.  As a small child I often wondered why my Veteran Uncle was living way up North of Michigan's Lower Peninsula away from all of his family and as an adult now I totally understand.  They are so dysfunctional when they try to stick together they tear at each other emotionally with their words and actions especially since their Matriarch my Grandma died from colon cancer.

Why am I bringing this family crap out in the open you might ask?

There is likely someone who is reading this and is stuck in that same kind of environment who may need to know that it is possible to remove yourself from that environment.  It will likely take a lot of boundary issues where your family tries excessively to get back into your life especially if you are suddenly doing better on your own.  It will definitely entail some serious sacrifices on your part to get on your own two feet and yes I lucked out by getting my service connection but if you find the right mental health provider they might be able to help you get on your feet in a more positive less manipulative manner than your family might impose on you.

Keep your head up, keep pushing forward because even on my worst of days now I can sit in my own house, get in my own car and spend my own money all without one manipulation from anyone.

Survivor's Guilt

I have not served in a combat zone but I am what the VA considers a Dsyfunctional Veteran that suffers from PTSD and Bipolar.  I suffer from survivors guilt because I buried guys who wanted to be alive and that led to my self hatred and guilt from just being alive.  It started with one nightmare that seemed to never end and has left me feeling unaccepted, guilty and wishing that I never had to discuss it again it would be none to soon.

But that isn't the way things are in real life now is it?  I relive it each time someone asks me a question about when I served, where I served and what happened that led to my becoming a service connected Veteran.  I have to tell how I watched names of men I knew and many I didn't go down my TV screen in January 1991 and how I begged, that's right begged to go back in with the recruiters telling me as politely as they could, "Thanks but no thanks."  After all I was a RE 4 which means the Army wanted nothing to do with me ever again.

I know what drives a man who suffers from the pain and anguish of surviving when others didn't to the point of even contemplating suicide.  Although unlike most guys I can cry about someone I never even met when I think of how much I would gladly have taken their place in the ground to give them life again.  It would also take my pain away from my guilt, my sensitivities, my bipolar roller coaster with a tornado in a small room with no exit.

I survived several things in life that should have taken mine that doesn't include combat and each time I think about them I feel that much more guilty that I am here and those I cared about are not here anymore when they wanted to be.  Each day I hear of someone I know or care about having health issues that threaten their lives and they have no idea how much I would gladly take their pain away if it meant an end to mine. 

Suicide is a choice

Make no mistake about it suicide is a choice for those who make it.  I know it can be hard to understand and hard to conceptualize that someone in that frame of mind can make an actual choice but it is theirs to make.  I know that it can be hurtful to those who love and care for that person all too well for it cost me friends and loved one’s more than once in my lifetime.

I have spoke up on several occasions to loved one’s who came to DBSA meetings in my area regarding their suicidal loved one’s.  They want to watch over them but I tell them the truth.  You can watch over them only for so long till you are worn out yourself and begin to hate that person for putting you in that position.  I know it sounds impossible to believe but I have been there and seen the look on their faces sensing what they are thinking, feeling about me personally.

It can seem heartless to let them make the choice but for some it’s a better option than keeping them around making them suffer while their providers struggle to figure out what to do.  Locking us up in mental wards doesn’t help honestly it just keeps us in pain that much longer.  While they act like we are getting better taking meds and sleeping, attending groups till we tell them what they want to hear to get out.

Once out we go back into the same detrimental world we lived in before and head right down the same path we were already on.

If you have a similar story to tell contact the Senator going after the VA in this particular case Senator Tammy Baldwin.

Emotional Attachments

It can be difficult to bond emotionally to some people in particular those who are providing mental health services.  I’m not talking about falling in love or having a crush on your provider.  I am talking about that emotional attachment that comes from bonding when you let someone into your emotional walls.

That moment when over time you feel a closeness because they know more about you than most people actually in your life.  It can be difficult and especially if you are like me a Bipolar who has difficulties with focus.  It’s an amazing thing to feel when I am around someone who actually seems capable to both calm me down and at times keep me focused on the bigger picture instead of reacting to every small trigger that comes along.

Sometimes especially when I was in-patient that emotionally charged bodies of those around me can feel overwhelming and often I have no idea what is going on.  At these moments having a person around who can help me focus is a big relief.  But when the point of separation comes along letting go is yet another extremely difficult thing to master.  Even to the point where you might say look at pictures of that person if you happen to find them online just to feel some relief not unlike that of a serious relationship breakup.

Even though you are not nor were you ever in love with this person but that emotional bonding has taken place whether you like it or not.  And depending on the day or time etcetera it can be hard because to make things worse you open your mouth to the wrong person and the contact you might have been getting i.e. emails to just keep you in line just stop cold turkey.

There aren’t too many days that go by especially when I have to go to the place where she works at for other treatment and I can’t even attempt to see her unless I want repercussions that can be detrimental to my mental health.

What some people call Father's like me on Father's Day

Some people would call someone like me on father's day a deadbeat dad because for most of my children's lives I struggled to keep up with my child support forgetting my amount in arrears never got higher than $11k.  While by most standards this is still rather high up in amount I did it while fighting Bipolar/PTSD/Depression/Borderline Personality Disorder not too mention the litany of other medical issues I suffer from as I struggled to find and keep work after the divorce.

I know I am a bad father even in my own eyes but it often upsets me when some talk about deadbeat dads like anyone who has ever gotten behind on child support or not seen their kids is one.  For a long time I struggled to see my kids borrowing a car and the money for the 200 mile roundtrip even in winter time.  I fought hard to keep my mind at bay for four hours with my kids and at times all I kept hearing was that they could do something with their Grandparents on my exes side if I wasn't there. 

What struck me as odd about that was their Grandma who made the plans rarely tried to work around my visits to which I was entitled to by court order.  But all that time I kept from saying anything till they got to a certain age in 2011 where I couldn't take them doing it anymore and had the order changed since they wouldn't stop and Grandma couldn't seem to avoid making plans on the ONE SUNDAY a month for FOUR HOURS.

The one thing I am quite most do not know is that during the entire time since the divorce as like before the marriage I have been struggling to keep myself from even attempting to harm myself anymore.  I can live with my kids hating me I couldn't stand the idea of them being harmed any further if I had taken my own life or even had yet another failed attempt at it.  It is hard enough for me to bear that the thought of them having to deal with it alone was enough to make me hate myself even more for thinking about it.

They may hate me for the rest of their lives despite being raised in a "Christian" household that apparently can forgive anyone but me for anything.  I was always Bipolar enough to need to be supervised during Parenting Time but was never Bipolar enough to not be able to work.  And of course now that I get a service-connected pension from the VA the only thing they want from me is of course Money.

I don't mind paying my fair share of child support but I cannot stand being described as a deadbeat daddy who is supposed to pay extra for school functions I am not allowed to attend or know anything about other than they need the money and expect some from me.

Not every Deadbeat Daddy/Father chooses to be that way.

Yes, I see dead people

Not like in the movie with Bruce Willis but in my dreams both day and night I can still see and often hear them crying out to me.  I wish there was a pill I could take that would just make it all go away.

I see faces of some of the young men I buried on Funeral detail in the Army in the 80's.  I see relatives who died while I was young and those I was haunted by after their deaths while and after my service in the Army.  At least one of those haunts me to this day for I saw myself die the same way one night in California and a few days later she was gone the same way. 

I am left wondering if I was supposed to do something or it was just a punishment for the way I treated her months before while home on leave.  I couldn't even take the time to wave at her for both the way I had been treated in the past and the choices she was making for herself were disappointing to me.  I admit it I was being judgmental about something I knew little about other than family scuttle butt.

So now I dream of her and many like her over my lifetime as if I am to pay some type of penance for being born.  Some don't take me seriously when I say it like I'm just being dramatic and making it up but if they took the time to look deep into my eyes they might actually see I am not.  Some days when I see them in my dreams it's happier times and sometimes I punished for hours at a time as it repeats over and over again till my mind is so wound up I don't want to sleep for days.

As it happens I am currently in mid cycle of dreams where I can either sleep for days or can't sleep at all often because of the dreams.  I mean would you really enjoy dreaming about dead people with whom you would willingly take their place only to realize that you are going to wake up still Bipolar, still overly-sensitive to exterior environments, still afraid of people especially most men.

It can be funny how some people react to a hat

While I was in an in-patient program a friend gave me his "Dysfunctional Veteran" hat to help me keep the idiots away.  And I often get the oddest reactions from some people who will either give me an exceptionally wide berth or stop and stare at me like I'm not a "Dysfunctional Veteran".

Today happened to be one of those days where I was wearing my Bluetooth headphones and in my own world with my hat on.  At one store there was at least one older guy I assume may or may not have been a Veteran himself who stood there staring at me like I was a chimp at the zoo or something.

At another store the store salespersons were taken aback at how friendly I actually was with them wearing my hat as if just because I was dysfunctional I wasn't able to hold a polite and friendly conversation with someone.  The sales manager actually thought it was "Funny" the hat not my conversation.  I'm not sure exactly what kind of funny he thought it was while I was spending a couple hundred at their store I won't mention, Fart Tan.

At another there was a couple talking in the produce aisle who went around the square display to get out of my way only to wind up where they were at again.

I'm not going to hurt anyone I just as the hat says, "Want to be left alone."  I don't want to be laughed at for the way I look or dress.  I don't want to be made fun of because I wear that hat or others like it.  I don't want to be asked, "Are you a Veteran or just advertising?"

Just be polite, smile or give me the man's nod and be on your way.

I'm tired, alone and seeking acceptance in all the wrong places

Yet another week of going out in public and hoping, praying almost for some kind of acceptance with some form of desperation and in all the wrong places.  Trying to find acceptance in a building full of dysfunctional people is never a good thing and yet there I was again feeling alone and hoping for acceptance at every turn.  Never going to happen.

Instead, I feel like an outsider hoping for someone who can understand me is willing to translate to those who have no freaking clue what is come out of me.  My words seem a garbled mess in a world full of clear cut communications.

My manic mind flowing in all directions begging me to either shut it off or go along hoping for the best.  The best never seems to come along but the words come out in spits and sputs.

Foul stench of poetry and short stories wreaking havoc on my own mind as they drag the truth out of me that no one seems to hear or comprehend except of course for a finite chosen few.  The barren soul whisking away the bitter ends of my candle burning at both ends with no end in sight.

Imagine being a nearly 50 year old male and still emotionally feeling like I am a 20 something.  My face plays along not looking my age but nearly 20 years younger and frustrating me even more.  No matter how old I get I still am left wishing for peace that at this point appears to be not coming anytime soon to my manic mind.

As I age/Self-Hate Issues

As I get closer to my birthday I start to think about again not celebrating, lying about my age after all I can say I am 30 something despite turning 48.  Some tell me it’s great to look so young of course they are not the one’s who don’t get taken seriously when they something someone my actually age might say.  Rather they look at me oddly as if I have not earned that right to say something about something they think i’m not old enough to know anything about.

I’m so tired, mentally that I wish someone could understand how I really feel not that person I hide behind.  I have tried to express myself to mental health professionals but they just see a Vet who suffers from PTSD (Non-Combat related) & Bipolar/Borderline Personality Disorder.  I never think anyone really, truly hears what I am trying to say.

I know a lot of people who think they hate having me around when they have no idea how much I agree with them.  They are also the same people who insist that I not attempt to harm myself because I am worth more than that.  Which message do I take in?  Which message do they think I actually believe in the first place?  I believe the one where no one would miss me for more than a week if I was dead. 
I am filled with such self-hate that I often flip myself off in the mirror because I know what I am, an animal someone forgot to have enough compassion for to put me down.  I keep waiting for my body to quit but the damn thing just won’t give up on me.  I am likely going to grow to a ripe old age while looking younger and wishing I had the strength to join my idol, Robin Williams...

I had to leave the convention early

Some of you may understand what it's like when you have certain sensitivities that you have a hard time being around certain people.  Often you don't understand why you just know from the minute you first see them you need to stay away.  And then you are stuck in a place where you cannot escape them unless basically you run away.

We were at an Indian Casino and yes, I had to do it in order to prevent issues from going any further.  Some people for me just are unbearable to be around at times.  This particular time it was a female and from the moment I first saw her I knew I wasn't going to have a good time if everywhere I turned she was there...and yes that's exactly what happened.  And she could tell there was an issue was as usual thought it was hilarious to torment me everytime I made that face when she got within a my range of view.

I didn't think it was particularly funny considering I was a peacetime Veteran who happens to be disabled in a building filled with COMBAT VETS.  I felt like a shrimp in a room filled to the brim with sharks.

Last night it came to a head at one point and my mind was beating at me for something I have been trying hard to not think about, suicide.  And at one point a guy I had made the acquaintance with reminded me about the Banquet on Saturday night where not only would she be there but likely dressed to the nines.  I couldn't tell if I was repelled because I felt something was eating at her inside mentally or because she is a reminder of what I will never have in my life again, a beautiful woman, a relationship.

So this morning I didn't get up and go into the meetings I was supposed to attend I stayed in my bed.  Woke up at about 11am and began to mentally prepare to leave early.  Packed, put on my Dysfunctional Veteran hat and left as quickly as I was able to do. 

I hate myself for leaving but I was hating myself more for being so upset because I was there where yet again I didn't feel like I belonged.  The thought of turning in my membership card has been eating away at me since I started driving home.  I crossed the bridge (Mackinac) and stopped for something to eat which has led me to this posting I am writing as I sit and eat...

I am Technically a Disabled Veteran

I am what I like to call a “Technically Disabled” Veteran that is to say that I am qualified for the DAV because other younger Veterans suffer from similar mental health issues that allowed me to even qualify for any kind of treatment let alone my disability compensation.

I am what is known as a Cold War Era Peacetime Veteran, for my service I did nothing but train and act like a soldier till I became so mentally ill that I wound up in the hospital, lost my security clearance and was Honorably Discharged with no real benefits to speak of.  The VA wanted nothing to do with me to the point where I stopped even asking for medical help.

Twenty years later, a door opened and I was being pestered by a Vietnam Veteran I grew up around to go ask for at the very least medical help.  This was after a door was left open when other young wartime Vets took their own lives and social media demanded action for people like me.  I entered the system nearly twenty years to date of my discharge with a ton of guilt and a heavy heart.

 All I asked for in the beginning was to make me comfortable till my body finally quit on me.  That was in 2009 since I have been in-patient and got more help but nothing can take away that feeling of guilt.  I feel guilt for possibly taking another Vets chance of getting treatment and when I am at a Disabled American Veterans meeting I see guys who are missing limbs, blind in one or both eyes, etc...  All I am is a peacetime Veteran who was triggered by a funeral detail assignment.

I know I needed the help, I know it likely saved my life what there is of a life but I can’t help but feel as if I am lost wishing I wasn’t alive anymore.  No one can possibly understand that feeling.  I feel it engrained into my mind and it begs me at almost every social step to give into it without regret.  I want to, I really do but I am afraid I will go out without anyone actually missing me.  Not the me who could do something for them or give them something but ME.

Do you ever notice odd number things in life?

For instance I was on US-127 and passed by Exit 127...what popped into my head, yup the number thing...

It has gotten better over the years but at times it just stuns me how stupidly I feel when the number thing hits me at odd times...

The damage a few words can do

Ever called your child, "stupid", "dumb" or even just "lazy"?

Have any idea the damage can done long term with just a few negative words to a small child can be later in life? 

For me they cause me great discomfort and an intense sense of failing no matter what I do.  I was always told I didn't know how to do anything while sitting at the holiday table with the whole family laughing, except of course, me.  Even as a young adult who was struggling to find his way in the world as an Army Soldier who had recently been signed for a $3 million rig for which I was responsible for as well as they other soldiers assigned at the time I heard how I didn't know how to do my job.  How inept at everything I tried I was.

Every failure felt like daggers in my mind killing off what was left of my confidence and spirit.

So the next time you even think of calling your child Lazy as a young adult which they may be, they might also be crawling inside of themselves because of the lack of support you have provided them over the years or quite possibly a mental illness they cannot even bare to bring to your attention.

Where is my respect?

Where exactly is my respect for being a person, a man, a Disabled Veteran?  I get treated most of the time as if I am some inadequate person who doesn't deserve any respect for any reason.  No matter where I live or where I go I am treated as if I am a lesser being put on this Earth to be treated as such so that others can feel better about their lives.

I so long for the days when I was short, bald and cute and everyone just adored me.  Sadly those f'n days are clearly over and now I am a fat guy who goes through each day praying his life will finally end.  I am likely to live till I am in my late 90's not that I will be treated as that age because my baby face has everyone convinced along with my dysfunctional immature behavior lead them to believe I am younger than I in fact am.

So I ask...WHERE IS MY RESPECT?

Some people worry when I write

They can't possibly understand how I express myself through the darkened words on a page.  How they keep me from the edge where I swallow alcohol and pills trying to drown my body into a hypnotic state of the death march.  I have been there before willingly begging for relief from my pain, my soul, my life.

Rather I have been held longer than my expected stay here on this mortal coil we call Earth.  I have passed my expiration date and have no idea why.  Are my words helping anyone?  Have I become the spokesperson for generations of sufferers?  I don't think so.

Maybe when I'm gone they will read these words and finally understand that when I wrote I was trying hard to not harm myself.  To avoid branding, to avoid suicide.

Please don't say, "Happy Memorial Day" to a Veteran

For many years I cringe when Memorial Day comes because for me and many like me there is no such thing as “Happy Memorial Day.”  We remember the many who were our brothers and sisters who paid the ultimate  sacrifice serving our country in the military.

I still remember names scrolling down my TV screen in 1991 while sitting with friends who kept reminding me of what I had at home.  Trying to get me to let go of the idea of going back into the military that no longer even wanted me around because of my mental illness that they said didn’t actually exist when they discharged me.

And since my discharge it has been a dangerous thing for people to say that to me because I never know how my mind will respond.  I might attempt to fend it off but during the night I cannot keep the nightmares from taking over and creating a brain full of chaos in my mind during the day.  Sometimes I am not even aware it starts but I sure know when it hits the tearing up button all too well.  Every little heartbreaking memory hits me at once.

This can leave me for days if not weeks of tear filled days and nights I trying to stay awake for fear I will have memories that will only keep this going longer.  I cannot easily bare the chaos as easily as I was mentally able to when I was a younger man.  My body responds by higher blood pressures, fatigue draining me all day long till the dark of night comes to beckon me again to make another choice I don’t want to make.

Please keep this in mind when you decide to say to any Veteran, “Happy Memorial Day.”

It can be hard to comprehend

It can be hard to comprehend how much I would rather be laid to rest with my Brothers than here.  I should have been with them January 1991 but due to my mental faculties getting triggered and costing me my military career in 1989.

Don't think for one minute I wasn't at the recruiter begging to be let back in that year repeatedly because I was.  My girlfriend at the time was upset because she knew I was doing it despite her begging me to not go and ask to go back in.

By the time they wanted me back I was in my mid to late 40's and too many health issues to even consider going back anymore.  If they told me I wouldn't have had to do basic over I might have gone.

Funeral detail messed my head up and I still wish they were doing mine tomorrow.  My regular doc at the VA wasn't exactly supportive but did suggest I see my therapist soon after I told her I wouldn't be upset if my body quit when my Blood pressure is in stroke levels all the time.

I don't fear death, I fear being disrespected, I fear no one caring that I am gone, I fear being laid to rest and the only people there are the Honor Guard and the preacher.

I have pushed so many people away because I really fear causing their death by just being near me.  So many people have paid the price with their lives because I have longed for mine for most of my life.  I feel like it's all my fault that my cousin died when I had the nightmare of dying the same way just three days before.  That night I called home and woke my Mom up to beg her to make sure I was brought home to be laid to rest.

I stood in my Dress Uniform at her funeral as if I was on another Funeral detail.  I didn't want to leave her side.  Just a few months before that day I was home on leave and ignored her because she had been running with the druggies in town again.  It was the last time I saw her alive.  To this day I wish it had been me.

I'm tired of people paying my price.  I have been told I'm going to hell.  All I can say is I'm already there.

Just don't do it

Don't even attempt to ask me to be happy that I am almost 50 years old this year.  I live with a demon inside my head that is manipulative, controlling and feels like a freaking roller coaster ride on a daily basis.

Over the years I have been told this or that about if I don't work harder to take care of my health.  They fail to understand that at times and that's more times than not after 20 plus years of the struggle I have just about resigned myself to the idea that dying a natural death while eating what I want and doing what I want just like my Great Uncles is the better way to go.  At least I am not stressing over how many calories I eat at each meal, am studying the clock figuring out how much time I have before I can eat again to keep on a diet without cheating...

As for the personality issues I am all too aware that some of my so-called closest friends make every attempt to avoid me when I arrive.  I know what I sound like and I know how hard it is to deal with me after all I have been divorced twice and if I could leave me somewhere and live a happier life don't you think I would have long since done that?  Of course I would.

So, just don't do it.  Don't tell me to freaking cheer up, think positively.  I have been spared death on several occasions in my entire lifetime all the way back to age 5 when I nearly went over the falls on the Baldwin River (my Dad jumped in just in time to snatch me before he wouldn't be able to)  and at times I am quite sure my family wished he hadn't.

Born July 1967 with a sense of death and foreboding

I was born in July 1967 with a strong sense of fear, death and foreboding as I became the constant reminder to both families I was born into as the Patriarchs passed away within the first two year of my life.

This left me with a sense that I was hated as a constant reminder which was only confirmed for at least two Grandmother’s who when we were alone told me how much I reminded them of their dead husbands.  I was very young when this started happening and it left an indelible mark on my psyche without fail.

While a young boy I watched some of my favorite relatives die slowly in hospital beds in their kitchens.  I can tell you that born under the sign of Cancer in Astrology only helped to confirm my fear that my life was brought about to bring about death to others.  With that sense came a fateful decision I knew would eventually one way or another come true, I was going to die all alone.

I could no longer bare to watch others die in front of me, go through their funerals, dealing with the nightmares.  Some of those nightmares were so real they would scare me enough to beg for someone to care for my body the way I wanted it done, no matter what. 

I couldn’t bare to fall in love for fear that they would either die in front of my eyes or they would be forced to watch my slow mental decline that seems to be unstoppable leaving me to hope my body would quit before my mind took my soul for good. 

I couldn’t stand to have anyone watch my mental faculties take over what life I had left so I would become so angry, outraged at them for doing nothing at all till I pushed them away.  Or begged so hard for emotional feelings I can’t feel inside like Love, I have no idea what real, true love actually feels like.  I know the emotional high of the beginning of a relationship but that’s it.

And so I sit in my home alone, my kids hate me because as far as I am concerned I deserved it.  I can’t deal with most of my own family who in my youth seemed destined to make me pay for reminding them of what they had lost when I was born.  Each family holiday was a chance for them to pick, poke and torment me in ways I’d rather they’d killed me instead. 

At times when I got older going so far as to tell me I didn’t even know how to my job in the Army for which was in charge of for a while after an unfortunate choice by the soldier above me in rank.  If I had told them they didn’t know how to do their jobs I would have been persecuted for it.  Most of my early twenties after having been discharged (Honorably) having began to lose my mind and attempt suicide several times.  My own father thought I was just a lazy bum till he finally saw me later in his life for what I really was, a man with a mental disorder that was eating at my spirit, my happiness, my soul.  It was too late.

Sometimes I am not sure about that

Sometimes I have a good day and night.  Sometimes I don't think it's time to keep up the fight against the darkness that is begging for me to let it go. I don't know what keeps me going from day to day.  Life is good and bad some days are just better than others.

Today I am stuck between the two sides and I don't know if I'm going to get my soul free or not.

I am already tired and I have to see my therapist to discuss how I'm feeling and what I have been doing lately.

I am a divorced father of three

I am a divorced father of three, a girl and twin boys who are in their teens currently and over the years I had to try hard as a Bipolar person with Borderline Personality Disorder issues of sensitivity to boot to be as good of a father as I could be.  The truth is, I wasn't.

I wasn't there very often when they fell down and when I was most people looked at me like I was some obtrusive idiot who occasionally showed up.  You know when they were all just standing around watching one of them cry and doing nothing.  I walk up, call to my then small child and amazingly they came to me all the while the adults who were doing nothing.

And then as they got older (My kids not the idiots doing nothing) I had to try hard to keep in mind I was there for them and not for me.  Especially when they started saying things like, "Dad if you weren't here we could be doing this with Nanna" or some such statement to that effect.  As I tried to remain calm and not take it personally which by the time I got into the car I was ready to cry like a baby.  After all I didn't beg to borrow money I couldn't pay back and a car I could not afford to fix should something had gone wrong to drive 200 miles round trip just to spend at the end of it four hours a month.

Then I finally gave up to give them what they wanted...the ability to do other things.  And despite all the "Christian Values" being taught in that home the one person they should have been respecting and being understanding of was relegated to being blamed for everything that was wrong in their world.  After all I spent twenty plus years struggling to find and keep a job all the while my mind was not in the mood to deal with existential variables I couldn't control let alone ignore.  Thus, I wasn't most of the time as they were growing up paying anything if at all capable of paying a minute amount.

And I didn't get school pictures, contact or anything else for being the father.  And as soon as I was found out that I had money then the elder child wanted a favor naturally...money for something.  To make a long story short which if you had ever talked to me would know wasn't and isn't easy for me to do...she got upset when I told her I didn't have it to give to her.

And now here I sit in my house with my mental problems and no children around with one hope that someday when I die they will at the very least show up to my funeral at the Veterans Administration National Cemetery in Battle Creek to see their father laid to rest with honors.  Yes I earned an Honorable discharge from the US Army in 1989...the one thing in my life I felt like I did honorably because I knew better than have children for fear I would only hurt them should I make that fateful choice my mind keeps begging for.