I'm one of those unlucky people who didn't stay in touch with friends from college

The reasons are simple enough, I tried to kill myself back then several times as well as, tried to drink myself to death.  After one attempt several of them got me in a room and talked to me.  One in particular was very hard for me, her name was Donna.

Donna with the exception of my girlfriend at the time was my best friend though we didn't spend a lot of time together.  When we were around one another we were nearly inseparable we had that many laughs together.  I remember having a bit of a crush on her as she was a real stunner though very married and I had was in love myself or at least I thought I was.

One evening after the attempt I was put in a room with Donna and we were left alone to talk about what had happened.  By the end of this conversation I was asked to promise something I begged her to not ask me to make.  At the time my self hate was on overdrive despite all the good things going on in my life away from my destructive family.

About a year later, I broke that promise winding up locked away in a mental hospital upon my return I went back to my night class.  By then she was already ignoring me as I recall wouldn't even make eye contact.  But she wasn't the only one many people in the heart of the bible belt were understanding enough before the attempts but when I went through with it that all ended.

Including my relationship at the time because her parents didn't want her near me.  I can't blame them but honestly your her parents and wondering why I didn't come to you?  How about your her parents and my explanation would have been a laundry list of reasons my Manic-Depressive brain was throwing at me at that time.  I had even been sober for a few months before that time.

Keep in mind that my memory isn't what it once was after ECT but there was one thing I won't ever forget.  Those people who when my own family was dragging me down for what I seemed incapable of doing they were supportive and caring for me.  I let them and myself down by listening to all the negative stuff till I couldn't take it anymore pain.

It was a pain that I cannot describe to you.  I hurt from the Army no longer caring for me. I hurt from thoughts that my gf and my male bf were together behind my back (wasn't true).  I hurt from trying so hard and seemingly getting nowhere.  The mood swings and no meds were wearing me down in a hurry.

One shrink at that time returned me to the drug & alcohol rehab center stating there wasn't anything mentally wrong with me despite my clear description of my symptoms I could recognize well enough through magazine searches & what there was of online searches as this was the early 1990's after all.

But this isn't about him, it's about Donna really because last night she visited me in my dreams.  And I was happy to see her but by morning I had once again broken my promise and poof she was gone again.  And I won't likely ever see her again before I pass on.  And with my health issues bearing down on my mental health issues hopefully I won't be suffering long because it hurts more knowing I broke her heart than does the fact I know one soon enough I won't be here anymore.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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 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.

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.”