I think a lot of people often forget one important thing...

I was in the Prius on my way to Mickey D's at 0100 hours for something to fill my tummy and I began to think about something important at least to me... Most people around me often forget that this is the very first time in my entire life where I have only myself to depend including military time where someone was always there to watch over me.

I know it seem simple enough but when you aren't used to living on your own making decisions and your a Bipolar with major depressive states it can be very hard.  Luckily I don't struggle with finances that much anymore since I got my service-connection through the VA.  But there are decisions that I was always used to someone else telling me what to do, either a parent or spouse to make sure I wasn't going to far from safety.

And now I keep falling into deep depressions because I am completely alone, having to cut out most of my family with a few exceptions to protect myself from the way I was treated by those who allegedly loved me.  I probably need another round of ECT but I am not sure they will let me get another one with my other health issues that are going on at the moment from my liver, my kidneys and possibly my colon & esophagus ( the last two from issues in my 20's).

My therapist acts like she's about to dump my depressed butt because I know I don't seem to be trying anymore but I am.  I just can't keep doing things the way I have for so long and not run into issues at some point in my life.  Especially with the way things are currently going on.  

Hate, the mirror and my world imploding?

The other night I saw a special on Robin Williams and of course it was late in the evening.  Let's just say it set me off subconsciously and now here I am wide awake a few nights later wishing I could sleep, but I can't.

I also can't see my therapist for a few more weeks as that person took a well deserved vacation but it has left me with a void and I kind of saw it coming.  And now what the hell do I do.  Because as with my idol Robin Williams, I am bipolar, don't do well when I am all alone and when I look in the mirror lately I hate myself again.

I'm losing all the ground I have gained over the last few years or at least it feels that way.  Because of my emotional safety issues I am literally all alone, oh don't get me wrong I have a few people I grew up around but I cannot burden them with my pain.  Because as past experience has taught me all that does is push them away faster.

Or the inevitable happens, they make me promise something I cannot guarantee I won't break ever again.  Because like Robin there may come a point in my life where my world isn't what it once was and when that day comes I might finally succumb to my need for peace or at the very least peace in my mind.

They want a world where I live to a ripe old age but for me that means more mental pain and anguish.  More being treated like I am a lot younger than I actually am and most people cannot understand what that feels like for me.  Although I know from past experience often times its more about my perceptions of reality than the reality.

And I bear so much pain that most people could never every understand how much it hurts to see someone else in pain or rather to feel their emotional pain.  I don't often even know what it is but I know something is eating at them and now it's eating at me.  And with each new pain I take on just a little more of me is gone.

People everyday try to tell me that both is a gift. As in my living well past what doctors thought I would live to age-wise.  And my ability to feel what others are feeling emotionally even at times being able to tell when they are lying to me.  No one can understand how much that can hurt when those who are lying to me are those telling me they love me.

I am carrying a weight on my soul, my being that is so heavy that I want to tear my eyes out, drink myself to death, wish for my health to finally fulfill the doctors prophecy that I won't grow to be an old man.   Even going so far as to ignore doctors recommendations for diet, meds, etc...

I know some people out there can understand bits & pieces of what I am feeling but I am likely never going to meet someone else like me who can help me bear the weight in my lifetime and for that I am saddened.

Am I what they thought I am?

Lately, I have been contemplating whether some people were right in the first place, I am a big ole pile of steaming...you get the idea.  It's just the way things are going, I am able to pay my bills but there just feels like something is missing in my life.  Maybe it's just a life itself.

After all, I have never really felt like I belonged anywhere past a certain age because once the doting adults saw me as an older child I was no longer that "Cute little kid."  I became something of a lesser being in many people's eyes, the same people who used to ooh and aah over me.  

As I got older I felt less and less of a connection and am fully aware that I often stare blankly at people but I don't know why I do it.  I do know it unnerves some, irritates the hell out of others.

I don't do any of it for that reason at least not anymore there is no point is there?  I learned long ago to hide most of who I really am and maybe after all these years its' why I hate myself so much.  No one should have to hide for fear of retribution, humiliation or abuse.

I know what you might be thinking, "who gives a shit anyway what others might think of me?"  Well if you ever have felt like you don't belong and need acceptance you'd understand otherwise like most you'd just give me that advice and move on...I can't do that.

 

I needed to be around the Music

Yesterday, I went to Music Therapy even though I had sworn I wouldn't go as long as that guy was there but at least he didn't get what he wanted from me.  I sang when I wanted and only long enough to help another Veteran get the feel of the song then I stopped.

What he said is unforgivable when he failed to really apologize for what he said and I hate myself still for letting him get to me but having grown up around a "Green Beret" from the Vietnam era I couldn't let it go and still cannot.  But the need to be near the music and get it out is so strong once the door was opened I knew I wouldn't be able to close it again, not that I really want to anyway.

The one thing in this world that could have kept me sane for twenty years I gave up for everyone else around me for the most part, I certainly wasn't performing on-stage anymore.  But I need that rush, that sensation is calling to me with such a demand it hurts me deep inside to hold it back.  I guess that 's why any chance over the years I have had to sing for girlfriends or my kids when they were babies was taken advantage of.

Please don't let anyone stifle your creative need as long as your creative need doesn't hurt someone else, let it go.

I let someone take something from me and I hate myself

It's Thursday morning and I am already regretting thinking about going back to music therapy.  Because Tuesday afternoon at therapy I let another Veteran take something from me and I hate myself for letting it happen.  Just because he didn't want to do a song for our next show on the 29th.

We wanted to the "Ballad of the Green Berets" and he being a Marine didn't want to.  So he was mocking the lyrics and I let something he did get to me.  Despite everything I am, everything I believe in and everything I want to become it ate at me.

My second "Dad" was a Green Beret and to do anything that tarnished what he had been through in Vietnam wasn't going to sit well with me.  That man had put himself between me and harms way when I was 13 without a second thought.  

To this day I can go to him when I'm hurting and need to get it out without judgement though I can feel the fear in him that one day he will get a call, the call, the one that say's I took my life.  And it hurts.

And then this guy, this Marine did something to disrespectful all because he didn't want to do the song.  And who do I blame? Me.  Always me.

It reminds me how much I can't keep a promise that I will never attempt again, or that I will always come to him when I'm hurting inside.  How do I go to him with this one?  How do I say to him, "this guy made fun of what you are and I did nothing."?

How do I look him in the eye after he protected me without a thought and I did nothing to honor his courage, his efforts, his Green Beret?

I SANG LIVE YESTERDAY AND IT ROCKED!

Yesterday I did the Department of Veterans Affairs Talent Show for my entries into the National Creative Arts Festival for Veterans obviously.  I haven't sang in front of a live audience with a band or choir in over 20 years now.  I was a nervous wreck but once I got on stage thankfully my overly-sensitive body was gaining strength from the guys that were with me that weren't nervous and I settled down pretty well.

We rocked some Lynnrd Skynnrd, I sang a Garth Brooks song that I've been singing since I first heard it and after the show was over I got to jam with some truly talented musicians who were both supportive and helpful.  It wasn't like back in the day when my own family might show up but then make fun of whatever I was doing.  It felt so good to get some of my old life back from before the Bipolar took hold and I gave into pressure to stop doing what I wanted to do.  Doing instead what everyone else said I should because I was so weak from the Tornado kicking my butt all the time.

And today I got in a ride on my new 150cc Scooter, my head is so clear right now I'm not blowing like the wind is outside my front door of MY Home.

If you know someone who is in their twenties and suffering from a mental illness feel free to use me as an example because despite all the medical & mental setbacks with a little help from the Dept. Of Veteran Affairs finally I'm doing it all on my own.  I have a car, my own home and I'm not behind on my bills to this date.  I was not expected to see 40 years of age with my health/mental health issues this year I turn 49!

I've been on welfare, I've been locked up in a locked ward for 30 days, I've lived in adult foster care before I know how hard it is to hold your head when it's one reason or another you feel like giving up.  Hell, last week I was there again due to the stress over the live show.  And I'm still here breathing, talking and trying very hard to let go of the guilt and shame to live my life.

Not a positive life but a life.  Because as they often remind me there is no perfect life, you make the best of it you can trying everyday to find something be grateful for, something to strive for, something to love when you look in the mirror.

A mistake is not an end of your world, it's just a mistake.

Emotional turmoil

Right now at this very moment I am regretting ever agreeing to sing with the guys for the talent show on the 18th because I was not prepared for how I was going to feel without someone behind the scenes to support me emotionally.  A lot of people can say encouraging words to me but there was something to having a significant other back in the day when I performed last that kept my head on straight.

And at this moment my mind is anything but straight, it's winding itself into a begging for God to take me home yet again.  Because when I get to this point I become an emotional vampire begging and needing attention I don't deserve because I'm supposed to be able to do this on my own by now and I can't.  I have not had time to prepare for this part of my life coming back to me and I don't know how to be the emotional support I need.

I'm not used to being there for me, I'm used to me crawling inside and begging for death rather than put myself out there anymore.  Because out there I am vulnerable and open myself up to things I never could deal with, criticism, support and people trying to emotionally connect with me which I never could do no matter how hard I have tried in the past it just feels hollow to me, empty as the glass once you've drank from it.

No amount of positive reinforcement can make me shake the feeling I'm about to humiliate and degrade myself for other amusement and retribution.  I have always been told I wasn't worthy, that what I do is meaningless and unimportant in the grand scheme of life and that was by people who were supposed to love me unconditionally and didn't.  And now I try to soak it up like a sponge and people cannot understand that at nearly 50 years of age I have with the exception of the last few years been my only support for everything emotional and with Bipolar, Depression & PTSD I don't know what is the right thing to do for me.

Putting myself out there leaves me feeling tortured and scarred and wishing I was no longer here.  I know that's not right but I can't seem to help myself, it's a safety zone that is so familiar and safe.  Unlike putting myself out there for others to hear and possibly ridicule, I just don't know how to feel anymore.  My tornado is flowing at 195 and my mind is taking me to depths of fear I don't like feeling but can't fight off anymore.

Some wounds just won't close

Some days wounds are opened that I cannot seem to bear but my mind keeps pushing forward because what else would I do?  For decades my mind has been a driving force no matter what to not quit even when I wake up to another failed attempt at suicide.  I always had it but a drill sergeant I had told me one time to “never quit on him again.”  So I haven’t at least not entirely.

And sometimes I see an old friend who is my Dad’s age, a Vietnam Vet whom I know for a fact would put himself between me and harm no questions asked.  But when I see him the floodgates open and it all comes pouring out because he’s been through some of it and has NEVER judged me for anything I’ve said to him including suicidal hate.  He would try to talk me down but he never, ever judged me or turned his back on me.

He knows I need to get it out and for me sometimes that’s enough to keep trying to let it go and other days it reminds me of one thing.  How many times I have cheated death in my lifetime while others who were mentally stronger than me and living a more positive life had their lives taken from them.  It brings up an unbearable guilt the likes of which I find hard to put into words despite my being able to talk about my illness freely often at the detriment of friendships that had barely even gotten started.

If there ever was a purpose for me to be still kicking past an age when doctors were sure I would likely never see.  In my twenties given my mental issues and pressing other medical issues they didn’t think I would live past age 40.  I can hold my head up at times and say “I am turning 49 this year.”  But that brings up my baby face that makes me look 18 to 20 years younger than I am and thus doesn’t bring with it the respect for having lived this long even among some VA employees I know.  I know I don’t socialize well but after years of taking abuse because of the way I look or act, I have earned that right, of that I am quite certain.


To turn 50 soon and not look my age is not all it’s cracked up to be no matter who you are trust me.  I want to be treated with some respect and knowledge that I have lived through a pain that has killed lesser beings either by their own hand or at the hand of someone who thought less of them simply because they didn’t act “normal.”    What I wouldn’t give to have just one day of my life seem normal but I guess that’s just the way it’s going to be.  But when people see you as a quiet, good listener you can get issues dumped on you that you may not be prepared for.

And in my case I often can’t let go of their pain as my sensitivities take all that on and cause me to act erratically making painful, costly mistakes.  In social situations, in financial situations, relationships practically everything.  I mean what would you do at 46 and for the first time you are having to be completely dependent on yourself without a parent/spouse telling you what you can or cannot do.  That’s how messed up I was, I often was unable to decide for myself for example, when I bought my second house in my lifetime I had to fix/replace appliances and furniture on my own.  I didn’t know how to do that.

I didn’t know how to always make sound judgments not jump in headfirst spending money I likely shouldn’t have on items I really didn’t need but had always wanted.  And that includes a motorcycle that didn’t fit me and the dealership really wasn’t looking out for me but I lived and learned on that one. 

Yesterday however I was reminded that I need to do my will and it has churned up a firestorm inside of me because despite my fight to keep going, I am inching closer to my mortal ends one day.  I have paid for my funeral but have stayed steadfast on my not wanting to make a will to ensure that people take care of my personal affects the way I want it done.  It’s hard enough thinking that the day when the preacher stands at my gravesite at Fort Custer National Cemetery
under the tent talking over my ashes (Lamentations) he will likely be alone except for the honor guard. 

I will either outlive the remainder of my friends or I will have alienated them so much that they don’t show up.  I will likely go out exactly as I had predicted decades before I will die alone and be buried alone.   I can’t keep family around me who were making me feel like a lesser being for whatever reason because that is too hard to deal with anymore. 

So here I sit wide awake early Sunday morning tearing up yet again because the grief, the pain of losses and the inevitable demise alone is tearing at my soul once more.

My lessons of life, regret and music

Yesterday for the first time in what often feels like a lifetime ago my vocal pipes were brought out of mothballs and let loose.  And as always I was thrilled at the time but invariably by the next day I am living with a pain in my soul.  The kind that can be hard to describe but maybe I can at the very least explain why it hurts so much.

When I graduated high school I had been singing in choirs/show choirs since I was 6 or 7 and singing in general since I was first able to talk.  I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame you could say because just about everywhere I went whether alone or not I was at the very least humming away often to the dismay of friends & relatives.  So when I graduated naturally I wanted to pursue a career in music but at the time the only way I could think of satisfying this desire was to attend college and so on.

I had one draw back in that, I was unable to sight read sheet music at the time and to be honest I can follow along pretty well but still can’t really read it and voice what I see.  So I struggled to attain a degree in Music as I had hoped.  Eventually giving up and going for a business degree that everyone thinks is going to lead to some major exec job somewhere but that didn’t happen either.

Because all along the way I lived with serious regret and my suicidal hate was a driving force back then particularly after I got out of the Army the way that I did.  Oh and that was BEFORE college since I joined almost a year after graduating high school to pay for college in the first place.  Which is where my suicidal hate began when the Army who takes care of their own except those with mental disorders in a time of peace especially because they can’t afford to keep someone with any weakness around.

I am babbling on as usual but my goal here is for you to share this one thing I’ve learned out of my lifetime, don’t give up on your dreams even if you have to modify them to meet your job needs, family needs, etc... 

Because even if you only sing once a week in a church choir it is still letting you be you and holding back something inside of you that may mean all the difference in the world when it comes to mental health of anyone, not just those with Bipolar or Depression.  Giving up a part of your soul can be devastating to your mental well being believe me I know exactly what I'm talking about.  After I got my business degree I pretty much gave up singing anymore as I was struggling to keep me from attempting to kill myself, satisfying a spouse's needs or working to put food on the table for a wife and kids. 

It's not easy I know but it can be worth it if you do it your whole life in some capacity not try to hide or diminish it to please others.  Being the real you is important at an early age not just when you've reached the end of your life and realize all the regrets you have over what you could have done with your life.

Be happy you've earned it just by being here.

Advice to self

I wanted to give you some advice from your past that I know in your weakest moments you won’t be likely to remember...

You are worth more than those you love even though it can hurt so deeply when you feel they no longer love you.

You didn’t make a major error, it was just a faulted and those can be picked up, dusted off and keep going.  Don’t let it bury you deep, keep moving forward.

You are not what people make you out to be, you can be so, so much more, if only you’d believe it.  Even in your darkest hours of depression and despair.

You attempted in the past and you grew from it don’t let others get you down when they judge you for your mistakes.  You are still here and that’s what really matters, ignore those who can’t or won’t see that for what it is.

You made it this far, just a little further.  One day at a time.

You don’t have to let your perceptions clarify each and every event in your life.  Sometimes it is what it seems and not what you perceive it to be.

You don’t need someone else to keep you going.  Remember you got this far pretty much on your own.  You had help but you did the hard work yourself.

You made it this far and no matter what anyone say’s or does, inside you there is some self love left.

You don’t need to let others get  you down all the time.  You are what matters in your world, let them have their opinion because that is all it is, an opinion.

You don’t need others to validate you all the time.  Self validation is important too.

You keep smiling and as always remember to breathe.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.