I'm not a leader, I a lost sheep in the herd

Many Manic-Depressives over the years have thought of me as some kind of leader because through it all I have lived somewhat of a life and survived attempts that would normally kill someone.  Don't please for the love of everything you hold don't follow my lead, I am nothing but a lost sheep in the herd.

I wander through life letting others ego's and what-not push me aside as I fight the urge to let the beast out of his cage, to unleash him as one of my exes used to say.  Because when I let him out of his cage bad things happen even to people who are just trying to be there for me.  Even occasionally I hurt myself along the way and when I put him back in his cage, I try so hard to take it out on myself.

In the meantime like so many others, I take it out on myself all of it past & present with little to no exceptions.  And when the nights come when I can't do anything but dream and I spend the night with someone who used to love me I wake up with a rage most could not understand or live with.  And  of course that is part of why I am no longer married because often it was taken out on the nearest source of emotional support.

So whatever you think of me don't follow me, think of me as some kind of representative of what it is like to live with it.  No, I wasn't supposed to live this long according to doctors and yes, I am still here.  That makes me nothing more than someone who has ruined supportive relationships, chased away friends and providers alike that cared for me.  And now, I am all alone inside my mind is a daily struggle to care about anything as the rest of my body's ailing finally catch up with my high-strung manic mind working towards the end of my life that in my opinion cannot come soon enough. 

Before my beast takes away the last few vestiges of support and places to feel safe outside of my home.  Inside he is tearing at my flesh, eating away at what is left of my soul and begging me to join so many others who have gone before me.  Because when under even perceived stress my mind both races and changes mood course so many times in a day it wears me out leaving me to sleep where the dreams tear at me once more.

Lead your own course, don't follow me please for your sake not mine.

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.

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.

Reasons I haven't written in a while

Honestly I haven't had much to say or express so I have not been writing obviously despite my belief that someone might actually care what I say.  I know there is younger suicide survivors who might be in need of positive support and when I'm not in that mood I just can't.  When I am not writing it is best to think that despite being a Suicide attempt survivor I am out enjoying my life, because that is what I am likely doing.

I have bought a different Motorcycle/Scooter earlier this year and since I have gotten my motorcycle operator permit for my state and have been able to ride.  I have to say it's not for everyone but for me I get off that bike and my head feels so clear and quiet if only for a few hours...it's like being a Bipolar Heaven...

If you are struggling, keep in mind at your age that there is someone out there that managed to live as long as I  have with thoughts of suicide riding my back too.  I am turning 49 this summer so if you think in your twenties you can't make it through the tough times of the dark thoughts, think again.

Keep your head up, your ability to fight through it shows you have inner strength you may not even be aware of.  A mistake is not the end of the world for you it is merely a mistake no matter how hard it feels like a reason to attempt again. 

Some days

Some days when I wake up my heart aches and I feel a pain I cannot explain as it isn't physical in nature but rather is emotional pain.  It tears at my soul trying to stop my heart from beating anymore.  I can only hope that one day when I am older not near 50 like I am now but in my true elder years it will stop hurting so much.

You see there is a spot in me that feels others pain not just my own and when they are hurting it burns deep into me like nothing I have ever felt before.  From a young boy it seemed I couldn't escape that feeling that others pain was mine to bare whether I liked it or not.  As I grew I watched those I loved who were a lot older suffer and pass on eventually and it left an indelible mark on me. 

And now that I'm older I feel my time coming for that pain with a hope that when that time comes, I will no longer bare others as well because it may just be too much for my body to handle.  Since I have had health issues most of my adult life that most people don't feel or see until they are in the late to middle 40's I had in my mid 20's.

To watch friends and family being hurt emotionally for me over the years has left me scarred and bruised inside.  I know it's a perception but as I have said, for me since I was a little boy, it seemed my job to take their pain on.  From when my parents fought and I was alone with one or the other they used my quiet nature to air their grievances about one another.  To my Grandma's pain reminding them about how I look like my Grandfather's at least in their eyes, one passed the year I was born and the other the next year.

I just always imagined how much it must pain them to keep seeing me around but at least one of them as I got older didn't seem to dislike me for it.  She went out of her way to make me feel loved and cared for when most treated me badly.  I could always feel their pain but couldn't seem to take enough of it to ease the loss of their loved one I never really knew.

Why do I feel it still you might ask me if you could, I just cannot explain it.  But as people poured their private fears upon me as my quiet shy nature seemed to beg them to let it out I was too quiet to ask them to stop.  From childhood through the Army, college and even now at times some take it as a sign to let it out.  And sometimes when I get them alone I feel impelled to ask because I can just sense something not right about them, I can't help myself.

Some people call it a gift but if they had to deal with all that pain people try to hide inside from others they might just understand that this gift isn't a good thing when you can't take it on and then let it go.  I take it inside trying to release them from their pain so they can go on with their life as I slowly die inside.  And the number of times I seem to have cheated death in my real life begs the question of whatever God their might be...Is this what I am meant to do?  Is there more I can do before I die?  Are my words of poetry enough to keep someone else from hurting themselves?  Do I have to sacrifice my entire soul before I leave this world?

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.

I was so close to getting some answers from you Robin...........

It was 0520 and I was moving along in my dream with no pain, no tears that is until I saw you.  You were there shaking hands and we made eye contact, I was within moments of talking to you getting the answers I wasn’t able to get while you were alive and kicking.  Then I woke up, I had to pee yet again, and when I got back into bed I was in tears...Because I couldn’t get back to sleep.

I keep seeing you on TV but it’s not the same as when I see you in my dreams.  Where I get to talk to you, share my thoughts and fears.  Where we can sit down have a drink and feel comfort from your company.  Because as my Idol I never met, I live in the pain of knowing, we never met.

I had so much to ask you, so much to learn from you about how to harness the pain, the manic powers for good.  How to keep some semblance of a positive relationship without imploding it each time I open my mouth.  I to live a moderately happy life when I know in my heart my pain is so unbearable at times I don’t care if I don’t wake up. 

But today I cared because for a moment I was so close to talk to you... I know no one else may ever understand how it hurts so badly, so deeply except maybe you...you who struggled with the same pain and made others laugh at a moments notice, hiding your pain deep inside.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.