The big question.
How do you start over? How do you let go of the past and, more importantly, learn to forgive the people that have damaged you? I know it's insanity to continue to blame somebody else for your problems and that eventually we all need to step up and take responsibility for our own actions, but what if you can't? What if you just can't stop it because you know better? You know that deep down you did not contribute enough to the problem to deserve the outcome. You know you were wronged and that the innocent are still being punished while the guilty remain free. I just don't know how to continue in life anymore with this knowledge and I have grown tired of forgiveness and the empty promises that somehow my life will turn out all right. Although, there remains one constant phrase I've heard repeatedly over the last few years that I've only recently put any real thought into it. "You're better off without them". I couldn't agree more.
To disappear takes time and effort. I found a new place about an hour and a half from where I previously shared a place with my mother. It's a nice enough place on the bay, a loft I believe. I now split my time between the two places and even though I spend a few nights a week there, it's nice to have a place of my own to go home to. Peaceful and unlisted. Perfect
I then had to get a new phone number. I have grown tired of waiting for the scraps of attention to fall my way, wondering if the kids were ever going to call or if they even cared. I have had four surgeries and been hospitalized 6 times last year. 14 weeks in the hospital and I had family visitors once. Nice. So, to bastardize an old school saying, "If they don't want to call, I won't let them".
It's not that I don't love them, I miss them more than I can say, but I doubt they feel even the slightest bit of concern for me at all. None of this matters anymore. If they want to feel they've had a bad childhood or whatever their bitch is then fine, they're entitled to their opinion. They're wrong, but still.
I doubt any of this will have any effect on the world at large and that's fine. I just want to be left alone to find my way again. All of the people I loved and cared about walked away from me, but not before doing unforgivable damage. Why? Well, I know several versions of this answer. Which one is right? I no longer care.
Well, this is it, the big goodbye.
I could give you a couple dozen reasons for walking away from Experience Project, but I do not think anyone cares enough to listen to them all. And who could blame 'em? In truth, there are two reasons I think are worth sharing with you.
1. I really only sign on to see what my ex-wife is up to,
I know, pathetic, right? Well, not really. It's the only form of communication I have left with her. She continues to blow me off whenever I try to talk to her these days, and quite frankly, I deserve better than that. Yes, I still love her. Probably always will. But I have grown tired of wasting my life waiting for her. I just don't think she gets it, but I'm not getting into that anymore. I am here if she wants me until I am not. You can read what I have left here if you are curious.
2. and... I really think it is time to privatize, prioritize and reinvent my life. I have been through hell and back and shared a great deal of it with you here, but the truth is I do not need this anymore. I am not as crazy as I used to be and I really think it is (relatively) under control. Don't get me wrong, it is an effort to maintain this level of control, but it is my effort. It has become somewhat transparent to those around me. The truth is, also, that I like being crazy. All you 'normal' people are so bland, so boring, it just makes me pitty you for you inability to experience things the way I do. To see the richness of life in the full vibrant color, smells and sounds I do. In addition, I no longer feel the need to justify myself to anyone any more. Here I am, take it or leave it, makes no difference to me.
So, in order for me to move on, someone must be exiled. BohemianTragedy goes on a permanent vacation today and he's not coming back. I'll leave the stories for those interested in how a divorce can utterly destroy a man, how being crazy is really really bad until it's good and other meaningless dribble.
I've come to say what I came to say and now have nothing more to say. Now I'm off to slay dragons or wrestle octopi at the edge of the world or some other 'crazy' thing. So I offer you my farewell. My the gods you believe in grant you peace and wisdom, and maybe somebody you can share them with.
(Robert for short)
I am tearing myself up again. Anxious, nervous, worrisome and contemplating death once more. The past has come to haunt me bringing with it new challenges and fears to overcome. I cannot calm down.
This should be done, over with, kaput, finished. I should not have to deal with these things any longer. Not with the vivid details prescribed to me, at least. Not with these feelings again. Oh no, not with this crap again.
I pace back and forth in my solitude. I am loosing focus on my task, on my ob
I am in pain. Emotional trauma once again. A realization of the truths now summed up neatly in a ledger of emotional bleeding cascades my thoughts as my brain tries, in earnest, to make heads or tails of it. Something is wrong with the processor. Something unfix able short of a replacement. Everything of doing to prevent such a cascading failure has been tried. There is no stopping it now.
And still the questions of life and purpose haunt me. What have I done to deserve all that has happened to me? What measure of man is left to measure in me? I have become a shell of what I once was, a man no more. What have I done for this?
I just want to quit hurting. The war is now long over for me. You may release me from your prison camp. I will go quietly. I will not make trouble. You have won. You have broken my will and I will torment you no further. I will find a rock to hide under until time ends. You may now be rid of me. Please let me go.
Of my past I can only say that I was there. I lived it. I remember it. Even though I will remember a version different from others, different from yours, I still remember it. The past is what defines us. It damages us just as it rewards us and it is a constant never removed from us. It is who I am.
Some would look at the past as better off forgotten, a relic of memories to painful to endure. All damage, never rewarded. They seem to have forgotten that the good things that have happened to them or because of them. The joyous moments, though fleeting, have taken tool to your soul just as the bad has, and has helped shape those things you still believe are good. Those things that make it worth your while to wake up in the morning and do it once more.
Can you be anyone else? Would you be?
There is good in there. There behind the veil of evil you have allowed to grow, covering all that is good, is the truth of your past. Do not allow it to slip away. Do not allow it to change into the evil that you now perceive it to be. There is good in there.
I hold on to my past, both the good and bad. The good is cherished, a reminder of what I can be, what I can have, what I may yet have again, and what I should strive for. It brings a smile to face and friends long past to my memories once more. The bad is there too. A reminder of what I should avoid. Things I should not do. Mistakes once made to review. Together they shape my future, and I am better for the knowledge of it. But what of you? Would you have me forget you if for no other reason then to make this passage easier on you? Would you forget our time together, perhaps lock it away until time itself has forgotten? Do you think our time together evil? Bad? All of it? And what of me?
Am I to forget you?
Damn I feel good!
After 3 plus years of pain, 3 Surgeries, 5 new holes and 132 staples (those things hurt!), I am finally on the road to recovery! It took 6 months to get everything for this straight once they finally figured out I needed surgery. Then the first surgery got botched so they needed a second one just to tell them what they needed to do in the third one.
Whatever...I don't care as long as they can fix it and it appears they have! I sleep at night, am eating again. You know, basic stuff I was missing. My energy is returning. Yep, it's hard to explain, but Damn, do I feel good.
This is not the end of things, however. Nor, is it the beginning. Since acquiring insurance I've been on a run to fix as many things as possible, like my teeth! Bright and shiny, truly worthy of a smile. And my, uh, mental madness stuff. Got a new Therapist and a Psychiatrist and just finished the second to last round of ECT treatments (Electro Convulsive Therapy). Just one more to go. They're really working. I mean, I feel great! But still on the list is my Peripheral Vascular Disease. This one's gonna be tricky (seems to me). They seem to have narrowed the cause of the stroke and subsequent high blood pressure to a series of collapsed veins in my leg. I've had to have 4 CAT scans done so far and a 5th one has been requested. The plan is to go in and re-open them up with "stints" or "shunts" or some damn thing. Seems simple enough but they're having issues with the how part of it. The difference between my leg and body blood pressure is nearly 100 points and that's not good.
It doesn't matter! I feel damned good. They can do whatever they want to me! But not tonight - I got a date! Time to show off my new million dollar smile! Okay, okay, maybe $335,000.00 smile.
Damn! Almost forgot! I QUIT SMOKING 3 1/2 WEEKS AGO!!
God I love having insurance again!
Being crazy sucks. But in all honesty I cannot say with any amount of certainty that I am truly crazy. Sure, last week I was as depressed as a pot-hole on two lane mountain road and this week, I'm still depressed, but I've somehow managed to light that spark that had long gone away. I'm not sure how long it will last, but what the hell, I'll take it.
In an effort to keep my motivation moving forward, I jumped back on my motorcycle and went anywhere I could or wanted to. In addition to my exploration exploits, I've also taken up (or re-taken up) fishing. I already had the gear, plenty of fishing poles and tackle to go around. I bought a fishing license (legal counts), outfitted the motorcycle to be more fishing friendly and ventured off into the great northwest outback in search of my prey.
Having a motorcycle has certain advantages over a car. You can easily navigate the tight spots finding new private beaches and fishing spots. I've found a few nice private areas to drop a line in the water. And to top it off, I've actually caught a few as well (no small feat). Fishing also allows ample time to meditate, read and reflect on things. I don't know if it is of any real benefit, but it makes me feel good.
Still, it's rather lonely. Sometimes the solitude is so loud it's deafening. Then there are the memories of camping days gone by with my family. I remember one great day on Navajo Lake when we must have caught 30 fish! Yes, I know, those days are long gone. Still, I can't help wonder if I were to extend an invitation, would anyone accept it?
Ahh, to be Bi-Polar. What an absolute joy it is to be of two minds. Always in conflict. Always battling for supremacy. Always in the way.
Yes, I can go on for hours about the highs. Everything is better, everything enhanced. I am god like. Invincible and capable. I am all knowing, all doing.
There is nothing un-obtainable. I am king of my universe with the answers to all of life's mysteries. An unstoppable force of nature wielding technology as my weapon of choice and taking no prisoners.
What about the other side? That dark place in my mind where my demon lurks, void of sunlight and all things good? What about it?
This is the time when I withdrawal. When creativity and ambition leaves. When the sky is not so blue and the grass not so green. I could care less about those things that seemed so important to me just a short time before. It's a time that seems to draw in those 'extra' bad things that where circling above your head, out of reach and sight, during the higher times. As if a magic shield that was keeping them away from you had suddenly vanished and now a shit storm of epic proportions has descended from the heavens landing the majority of it's excrement expressly on your best shirt.
Being Bi-Polar is an exercise in being alone. There are no heroes that will swoop down to save you. Your friends and family are gone, tending to there own petty selfishness. No one understands you and nobody cares. That's the truth of it. You can join a support group, take your meds, do everything 'right' and still, you will be alone.
I know, I know...
This is more of a rant than anything else. I'm feeling down and sorry for myself and somehow I've lost that spark that keeps most people moving on. I'm just tired of it all. There are so many things I could complain about right now, and all of it seems more than justifiable offering explanation as to why I am so far in the negative this time, but what would be the point of explaining? I'll just go around in a big circle and end up right back here.
Once around the block is more than enough.
I know I should post this as an "Experience" somewhere but somehow it's just easier to rant about things here. Today, I shall once again rant about Divorce and all it's evil intrepidness.
More to the point, why do people continue to think the way they do?
I have witnessed my 'Ex's' postings of our failed marriage. Always posturing, trying desperately to make people see her as the good person. The person that just had to take that that step to bail out of a 22 year marriage that she was so miserable in. To leave all her stuff (again with the stuff), leave her house, leave her financial security to venture out into the world and bury this, as she puts it, sham of a marriage. Twisting the facts into a fictitious novel of 'truths', believing what she is writing and turning me into the salt that is covering her wounds.
I know it's a matter of perception. Her view on how bad it was, how bad I was to her and the children but it's not the truth. I know our marriage wasn't perfect but I'll be damned if I'm going to let her continue to relegate our failed marriage into a visit to the ninth level of Hell any longer. I remember the good and the bad. There were a lot more good than there ever was bad. Not because I want to remember it that way, but because it was that way. And while the last few years fell into the "I'm working a lot but I'm not trying to ignore you" category for me, I'd really like to remind her that I was working my ass off for us. For our eventual happiness and financial security. I think that had a lot to do with it.
Now, our oldest son has fallen into the same Divorce realm that has encompassed our lives. His wife had an affair with his best friend and it ended their marriage. There are two young children involved and I'm sure it's tearing him up.
The only thing I hope she sees (me Ex) is how this kind of betrayal hurts the other person. How being in love and then having that love ripped away from you is such a devastating ordeal. My son, however, has the advantage of knowing the reason - straight up. There is no question about the why. And he's young, he'll recover just fine. It's not like the time was there, but still, it's gotta hurt like hell.
Every time I read her posts or talk to her, I get the feeling that I missed something paramount. There is never a mention of love only torturous unhappiness that I just don't understand and it leads me to the only conclusion I can come to - that she never loved me.
But I'll never know. She has an agenda that she keeps close to her chest. Was I there only to support our children until they were grown? Again, I'll never know.
I've moved and am finally recovering from the insanity that surrounded me. Left are only questions and a disproportionate view point of nearly 30 years of my life. I am not young. I was set to live out the rest of my days with the woman I was in love with, regardless of the flaws. I will not recover. But these days I find myself upset by what she says. Her one sided views take center stage and I feel an ever increasing need to counter them. Perhaps I'll find an answer to this and all of the Hell she put me through, maybe even find the footing I need to justify that I wasn't the bad guy. I kind of doubt it though. Divorce is a terribly one sided affair.
It was a good idea. "Take Off" an inner voice screams to me. "Re-Start your life!"
So I did.
I thought, "I'll go camping." So I packed up my stuff and took off to a place called Beverly Beach on the Northern Oregon Coast. I thought it would be a good thing. To finally put this train wreck of a past behind me.
I wasn't even close.
The only thing camping alone is good for is to remind you constantly of how alone you really are. A pathetic waste of a person, sitting alone by a camp fire, crying endlessly, pining away hoping endlessly for a life you remember to be returned to you.
But hours slip into days and nothing is changing. "She's not coming back" my voice says. "They are all gone. No one cares."
I forge ahead. Next, on to Devil's Lake. While both camp grounds are beautiful and filled with wonderful and friendly people, they cannot change the fact that I am indeed, alone.
How could those years I dedicated myself to being a good husband and father be so easily forgotten by those I loved so dearly. I am not perfect. Nope, but I am far from the worst.
I am not sure what to say, or even how to feel right now. It's complicated. All I know for certain is I want her to leave me alone. Nothing she says offers any comfort and is a magnitude a selfishness unmeasurable.
Anyhow, putting that aside for the moment, here are some pictures from the trip. I am a terrible photographer, but you get the idea.
My Campsite in all it's glory.
It's amazing how dramatic the changes can be within a mile or so.
That's me BTW (Damn, I'm good looking!)
Yep, you should never go camping alone.
I had just finished moving the last of my "important" stuff to the new place. There was a little more to get, odds and ends mostly, but I was pretty well done with it. Out of nowhere, something hit me - hard! While standing in the bathroom someone in my head turned out the lights and I fell. I was able to regain consciousness and move myself back to the bedroom, where I curled up on the floor and went to sleep. I had fell victim to another stroke.
This time was different, however, as it knocked the wind completely out of me, taking all my ability to move, or respond, or talk. It took a couple of days to recover enough to the point where I could stand again. When I did, things just didn't feel right. My face was numb and it seemed a lot of my basic motor skills had been damaged making it hard to stand. I muddled through it, got up and dressed and prepared myself to return to the old house to finish up the move.
Then, I got hit again. This time I dropped unconscious to the bedroom floor completely oblivious to everything around me. I was dying.
I don't remember the EMT's or the ambulance or even the first hospital. I came around just as I was being transported to the second hospital, but not enough to be of any help to anyone.
After 9 days in the hospital and an endless series of tests, they let me come home with only the knowledge that indeed a stroke had occurred but without any knowledge as to how or why. There is nothing wrong with my heart. They could not find a blockage anywhere. For all intents I was in perfect health and yet had suffered 2 strokes nearly back to back.
So now I wait. Wait for more doctors, more tests, more things I cannot afford. So far, I have 8 different surgeries scheduled to repair things not associated with those strokes. The bottom line is they don't know what or why this happened.
I wait here at my new home hoping I can get a break and return to myself once more. I am unable to work or do anything else too exciting for fear of falling again. Now, I am just a person hiding away hoping a hero shows up to save my life. The rest of the stuff I wanted to move is no longer important as I can't do anything with it anyway. I am just here, that's it.
I'm getting closer. Almost finished. Just a few more boxes and my BBQ.
The place I am moving to is nice enough. Cosmetically, it's much nicer than the house I'm moving from. There are hardwood floors and new paint. Insulated windows and a sliding glass door that works right. A dishwasher and disposal. Somebody that does the yard work and maintenance, a garage and a sizable yard with a patio (you know, for the BBQ). It's smaller then the old place by more than 3/4 of an acre and the garage is really only suitable for parking one car (parking cars in a garage! Work shop blasphemy!).
And of course, there's people everywhere. Living in town sure does have it's disadvantages. What neighbors can you trust? Which ones are the assholes? All questions still to be answered. Still, It is a very nice neighborhood. Lots of families and well kept yards. Not too many "spare" cars parked in front and the kids in the neighborhood seem well behaved and (mostly) normal. It's a good environment. Nice and 'safe'.
On Thanksgiving I was moving my stuff when I found myself in a state of almost despair. The new place has everything you could want in the way of modern conveniences or a nice place to live, sure, but I found myself already missing those things I would no longer have. Those things that made my old place my home.
There is no favorite chair in the shop, next to the wood stove for me to spend my early winter mornings huddled next to. No deer sleeping in the back yard for me to spook. No more can I be the tinkerer with the vast collection of cool stuff to tinker with. I can no longer be the local garage for friends to stop by to work on their car. I will no longer be attacked by the ferocious house cat laying hidden in the tall grass either. No more apples. No more pears, grapes or cherries for that matter either. No more freedom to build it, mold it, paint it or otherwise make better the various structures or landscaping features. No more dreaming of such things either. No more searching for Ralph's treasure. No reason to get up in the morning. And certainly, no more family to occasionally come by and brighten my day.
All the memories, all the dreams, now have to be stuffed way down inside in an attempt to try to hide them from the people that never really cared about how all of this would affect me in the first place. Those people that acted out of spite, that left me crippled and defenseless, can now see the end result of their actions and still claim no responsibility. A friend tried to give me the crap speech about opening new doors leading to a new adventure blah blah blah. I never asked for or wanted any new doors to be forced open for me to fall through. I don't want this! I was happy here but they just couldn't't leave me alone. Now, I'm sure, those same people are quietly grinning inside at my plight. This is, after all, what they wanted. To them I can only say, "watch your back". I'm not dead yet, and I'm not done either.
Bitter? Hell yes! And why wouldn't't I be? It only took 40 years for me to find a place I could call home. It's also something I'll not have again. Home is where the heart is, right? Well I know where my heart is. I doubt the same could be said for the others.
I'm done writing for a while. Well, at least here.
Nearly 5 years of turmoil, confusion and absolute hell have passed and what has been learned? One thing - "Nothing you do matters".
You can be a stand up person, strive like hell to be a better person, try your best to fix all of your problems, open up, and for what? In the end, I still lose everything I thought was important in my life. "Don't be the aggressor", "be at peace" - all of it, bullshit. It's 2 A.M. and I'm walking around my soon to be gone house, looking, even still, up the block at the house that holds the only spark of hope I have left. Wishing, praying for a sign. ANYTHING! Anything that will make this insanity stop. Anything to show I matter beyond the emergency room. But there is nothing but the orange glow of left over Halloween lights and the curious eyes of a cat I once new.
I am finally nothing.
Tomorrow I begin moving from my home....my home. And once again the tears start. It seems like they never stop anymore. How could one person be so pivotal in my life? I would die for her, yet my existence to her is trivial. All those years, anything that was good, soon to be erased for good. "You win G". Is this what you wanted? There were certainly less destructive ways to accomplish your task.
And what of justice or karma? Certainly they have taken some swipes, but she seems to have weathered the god of karma pretty good. Justice? Hah! God? You fool!
Who judges those who have wronged.
This is a dangerous time for me. Rational thought is leaving and evil is returning - and I freaking want it to. Being good gets you nothing, trying gets you less. Who cries for me? Nobody. So maybe it's time to cause some tears myself. Vengeance, yes that's it, vengeance and retribution is what I what now.
Where peace and forgiveness once lived in me is being choked to death. A right and wrong is appearing I though I had long vanquished from my mind, but as life continues to take all and anything that was good from me, it is also stripping away those achievements I was once proud to show.
I am so torn it's becoming dangerous. It's only a matter of time before I completely snap and I can feel it. I mean, why try? I didn't get to keep the treasure, my Demon still lives and I didn't get the girl! So why did I even bother?
And still, at 2 AM, I'm walking the street in front of my lost house still hoping for a miracle. Somebody shoot me before I do.
So that's it for a while. None of this matters anyway. I'll leave you with this:
NEVER, EVER, EVER let your guard down. Attack first, leave no survivors and if they have a problem with it, let them deal with it - alone!
My 'Jerry Springer' Moment
I finally told the kids I was moving, and while I found the replies varied I was disappointed overall by the reactions.
Replies from kids (in oldest age order):
I'm not sure what I expected. I mean, how can I make them understand now something I have not been able to the whole time? The disappointing part is the acceptance of it by them. They seem to think of this as the common task of changing households and little more. Just changing the scenery, or up scaling neighborhoods. Even #3's response suggested that I was wrong for to remain here this long in the first place.
I'M LEAVING MY "HOME"!
And not because I wanted to, or because I'm bettering my life. Oh no, I'm leaving because after years of being attacked by the Ex and the neighbor, after years of watching my wasted life drive back and forth in front of the house, after years of bearing witness to how easily I could be forgotten and how great her life is without me, years of torture, pain, sadness, loneliness, restrictions, and on and on and on, I simply cannot withstand anymore. So much so that I am throwing my life to the winds of uncertainty, crossing my fingers and hoping things work out.
But this is not my fault!
I didn't't do this! She moved in here! She invaded my space! She enlisted the help of our scumbag neighbors! She did these things!
I tried to calm and magnanimous. Tried to be the bigger person, the calm and not the storm. After all, I had other problems I was working on. I wasn't't always well balanced and sometimes I'd slip out of frustration, sure, but I never attacked! NEVER!
I don't know why this is all coming back right now but I need it to stop. Any chance I had at fixing my mental madness went away when she decided to be my neighbor. Years later I am still tearing myself appart over this. I have lost everything and I have no fight left in me at all. I am left feeling manipulated and misunderstood, punished for eternity by this problem that plagues me. There is no forgiveness or acceptance for me. Only war.
Still, I am leaving. But not before losing just one more thing, my home. Salvation is expensive I guess. Maybe this only matters to me, but it feels so wrong I cannot convey it through words. It's just ugly.
I was cleaning out my truck today of all my personal items to sell it. Taking a break, I sat in the driver's seat and tilted my head back. There, tucked in between the headliner molding was something I had all but forgotten about. A picture.
When I first got this truck for my business, one of the first things I did was place this picture in the cab. It has traveled many a mile with me, been an inspiration, provided a smile when I needed one, and reminded me why I was working so hard.
The picture is of my family at a restaurant, somewhere in Mohave Valley, having what appears to be a great time. We are all in it, sans my oldest son (but I carry a very special picture of him with me too). The girls are present with their husbands and a few grand kids (very young) are represented as well. Taken in December 2004 - so long ago.
But something changed while I was studying the picture. It seemed fake somehow. No longer was this my family or a representation of how things used to be, but more of an illusion or an idea that never came to pass. The difference between that photo and the family I know today shift my belief to the possibility that it never really existed and I was fool enough to believe it did.
I placed the picture in storage and went back to my work. Left once again with more questions then answers I sit in my old truck and cry the rest of the afternoon.
When will enough be enough? When will this stop? Soon I hope.
I told my kids I was moving and that I would be traveling for a little while after I got the new place set up. I just didn't't tell them I wouldn't't be coming back.
I don't think they would care anyway.
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EP seems to attract a group of people that are all afflicted with one disorder - we are all broken.
The reasons for becoming 'broken' is a vast and seemingly unending list. Most all of the reasons are valid. Some more than others.
For me, it's simple, I am mentally ill. I have an extreme case of Bipolar Disease with tenancies of being paranoid and schizophrenic. I often fail to see things in their 'correct light', if you will. What's not simple are the contributing factors that happen outside of my mental illness that affect my ability to be able to reasonably accept or correct what should be, as it is for most people, the events that happen to me.
At times I am literally blind to the consequences of my condition. This has resulted in a divorce, the loss of my business, my home, my family, my health, and soon, my life. Sucks to me, right? This being October and the official month for Mental Health Awareness, it seems appropriate to comment on the state of mental illness as seen from my perspective.
I take no meds for my condition. I have learned to adapt and adjust to my changes a great deal over the last few years and have been relatively successful at it, not having a major meltdown in about 2 years (many small ones, sure. But no huge - stick your ass in the hospital- ones). I'm kind of proud of that. Sure, I still have my days, but it's largely controllable (although sometimes I fail at keeping my mouth shut).
This was not of my choice, however. After the Ex left me, she also took the insurance, ending treatments, doctors and meds. And state or county help? Are you kidding? If you make an income - any income- you make too much to receive help. Nope, you are on your own. In June of last year, I failed to end my life as I intended and ended up in the hospital. While I waited to be released I was forced to talk to a simpleton from the County Mental Health Department. I was asked if I would try to do it again (what would your answer be? "Uh, yes. As soon as I get home.") Asshole. After answering "No" she threw a bunch of papers at me and left. Boy, that was some great help. The court did remove my ability to buy a firearm for 6 months. I guess that's help, but considering my first suicide attempt had nothing to do with guns, it made little sense. I mean, guns are messy.
Now, I have sought out help before. Right before the attempt actually. I new what was driving me to that point (my Ex-wife) and while many people (well, everybody actually) agreed that what she was doing was just not right, nobody I asked for help would actually help. My Doctor, Police, County Mental Health, The D.A. - nobody.
So for October Mental Health Awareness Month - or whatever you want to call it - let me just say a few things I think you should be "aware of."
Happy October you crazy S.O.B.s
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Well, it's my fault. At least I can admit that. Yep, mine and mine alone. But it still doesn't place me any closer to unraveling the mysteries of live, love an relationships. In fact, it only reveals more questions.
I was hoping I'd be missed. Not like terribly missed, but just a little bit missed. With my youngest daughter and her son visiting, I also assumed that they would need/like some time to themselves and I didn't want to muck up the works.
So I went quiet. I didn't want to intrude and I believed that our situation was a little more than confusing so it was best to leave things alone for a bit. But days went by, then questions began, then it was a week, then one email, then a line of text, then silence. Then my daughter moved down. Then more questions. Then no answers. Then an attempted explanation, a plea, if you will. Then silence once again.
Or something like that.
The bottom line is I silenced my way out of something and nobody cared or noticed. In my absence no one looked, or asked.
I don't really know what I was thinking in the first place. How could things ever really get better - they were steadily getting worse. But once again I tried, and once again I will pay for it.
I hate these feelings. Being alone and forgotten when everyone is so close is heart wrenching. I mean, I was sick for three weeks (yet one more reason) again but this time I made a point to kind of tell people because I think I'm supposed to (I don't know really, that one is kind of difficult) and not one person inquired about it. More put out that I couldn't do something for them, or that I was an inconvenience.
Once again I fell empty, lost and trapped. Old feelings creeping in but are being handled for now. I have got to find a way out of here and quick. Must I be so dependent on someone that I would sacrifice everything for that one, last shot? Or is it that love just will not leave me? Even though impossible by her own words, I still want to believe in it.
Maybe I just need too much. I don't know, it's too confusing and too heavy. Every time I say I'm going to do like she did, live selfish, taking only, give no more. Abandon the feelings of all who have forgotten me and run far and fast. Yet here I am.
Or maybe I'm expecting just a little bit too much from those I've wounded.
Don't know anymore,
My hands are slashed. Cut open all the way to the bone they bleed out what remains of my life, letting go the soul and the person I once was. There is not much left. I stare wide eyed as the flow steadily decreases, becoming weaker with every lost drop. My eyes unfocused. I once stood on the edge and screamed at my Demon to face me, to walk the edge with me and dance to deaths macabre tune, and like the fool that he is, he did.
We battled as titans, as gods of our inner sanctum, for eternities and minutes alike, the prize nothing less than all that is me. Years had passed and we both had become as we are, two exhausted immortals locked in mortal combat. We played out our war as if it where a movie for all the universe to see and judge. It was glorious. Suddenly, a shift in the wind and a noise distracting provided me the opportunity so few will ever realize. He became distracted. He wavered slightly, dropping his shield no more than half an inch before returning to the fight. It was enough, just enough, to turn the tied.
As if possessed by the god Thor himself I dropped my shield, took my saber in grasp with both hands strong and pulled a swing around my body with such force that the world itself slowed down at the strength of its motion. A perfect hit. The beast stumbled about as a drunkard, loosing his balance and dropping his shield into the abyss. "Do not be still" whispered through the deep caverns of my mind. A realization, an opportunity mine, I raced toward my tormentor to not miss this chance. Dropping my sword, dismissing my shield, arms stretched forward, palms spread wide I braced myself for the impending impact. Screaming in peril as he fell to his death could be heard by all who have ears. A thud from the bottom confirmed my success and with silence reflection began. Lost in my thinking and walking too close to the edge I allowed my distraction too much attention. I fell.
At the last second, where life begins slipping I reached out blindly and found something I could grasp. Without question or warrant I took what was given and tightened my grip to hold on to my life. That's when the blood starting running, down arms, through my shirt, into the abyss. Then there was pain like non other I had felt ever before, confusing and unyielding, a message to me that I lived. Looking through shadows, the cause of my pain reflected in stray rays of light left no mistake of my predicament. I had found by mistake, or luck if you choose, my sword once again held by hands. This does not escape me, the irony unfolding, my sword, my protector now my angel of death. A reminder forever that two are not one and one cannot be, to kill one certainly kills the other. Now I hang dying after the fight I had won but the victory now has become salted. There is no hero in this tragedy, no daring, no escape. Nothing noble, I have sealed my fate.
Christ, what have I done......
Raining outside. Warnings of winters coming evident on the local mountains. A cold, wet cat rests upon my lap seeking attention and, perhaps, a treat or two. He is oblivious of me except for the warmth my lap provides, annoyed by my constant typing, he soon takes his leave. And I am sick once more.
Thoughts of this constant pain I am in soon vanish as the news from a friend so far away whispers to me over the phone, "he is dead". I cordially finish the conversation, hang up the phone and cry.
Another friend of life has died. One who I have not seen in years, but have talk to via the new technology that exists today. Just last month, not four weeks ago, we had good conversation just like we use to, talking face to face, some years ago. Last week I noticed he was gone. His media pages had stopped being updated with his current news about his family, hobbies, and other such important things. Today his wife had called me to tell me he was gone. Loosing the fight against a disease he told no one about, he died in the night two days ago.
Now I am sitting, contemplating the fairness of life. He was a good and kind man, giving all to his wife and child, charitable and wise in his youth. He did not deserve this fate.
I have no answers or insight for what I feel today. A sadness profound and complicated is the only thing that fills my heart right now. "What's next?" is the only thought that's clear. Did the powers that be need to take him too?
Looking out the window, I can only say that the weather is appropriate for a day like today. Cold, dark and empty.
Previous PostsI Disappear…, posted November 18th, 2014
Goodbye. It's Been Fun…, posted July 17th, 2014
It's Coming Around Again..., posted July 12th, 2014
Am I To Forget You?, posted July 10th, 2014
Paging Dr. Feel Good, Dr. FeelGood To The O.R., posted July 7th, 2014
I Put My Blue Jeans On..., posted June 5th, 2014
Which Way is North?, posted May 30th, 2014, 1 comment
Is There Ever Going To Be An Answer?, posted May 6th, 2014
Camping Should Not Be Performed Alone - Ever!, posted May 1st, 2014
Well That Was Unexpected...., posted January 23rd, 2014
A House No Longer A Home, posted November 30th, 2013
~Fini~, posted November 14th, 2013
Got A Match?, posted November 8th, 2013
Sould I Stay or Should I Go? Go, Definetly Go...., posted October 24th, 2013
Swinging For The Fence..., posted October 14th, 2013
Who Cries for the Broken?, posted October 12th, 2013
Can I Leave Now? Please., posted September 10th, 2013
Out of Sight, Out of My Mind...., posted September 3rd, 2013
The Edge...., posted August 30th, 2013, 2 comments
The Forgotten..., posted August 25th, 2013
So Very Tired, posted August 11th, 2013
A Little Clarity Is Not Always A Good Thing..., posted July 31st, 2013
It's Been A Whole Year? Really?, posted June 19th, 2013
A Broken Record Eventually Stops Working, posted May 25th, 2013
A Fool and His Life Are Soon Parted, posted May 13th, 2013
Traveling A Little Lighter, posted May 10th, 2013
Three Libras, posted May 5th, 2013
Breath In, Bleed Out, posted April 24th, 2013
Into The Intentions of Spring, posted April 15th, 2013
March Madness, posted March 23rd, 2013
Observations Made Through A Cracked Telescope, posted January 25th, 2013
On The Lighter Side..., posted January 21st, 2013, 1 comment
Deal, posted January 20th, 2013
Diving Into Ice..., posted January 20th, 2013
Roam, posted January 20th, 2013
Slow Down...., posted January 18th, 2013, 1 comment
The Missing, posted January 12th, 2013
Damn Dreams, posted January 8th, 2013
More Bad Poetry......, posted January 7th, 2013
I Just Can't Help It..., posted January 7th, 2013
Like A Puzzle Missing Pieces..., posted January 7th, 2013
High Resolutions for 2013, posted December 31st, 2012
Alright Then, Let's Light This Candle!, posted December 30th, 2012
Sunset In My Eyes, posted December 30th, 2012
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