Political Disaster


This country has battled Republican or Democrat for years now, but this year we’re battling devil vs devil. Hillary Clinton has been interviewed and openly shamed and blamed her husband’s sexual assault victims, and Donald Trump had been caught on tape admitting that he sexually assults women. To move beyond the sexual assault issues, which for me is unbelievably challenging, Trump is a no nothing moron who can’t even run his own businesses without bailouts, and Clinton is a failed wife looking for solid ground when she’s stand on the slippery slope her husband handed to her. I’m embarrassed and ashamed of our candidates and everything they embody as possible leaders of this country! These people make my stomach turn! And, to further my disgust neither pathetic candidate has provided a remotely reasonable solution to the systematic murdering of unarmed black men and women in the streets by the militarized police. I personally propose the first three bullets of every officer in the country be rubber bullets, they be required to carry beanbag shotguns (which they must use first unless fired upon), and any and all cases of any officer who kills an unarmed suspect should be placed under review and that officer should loose their job. Also there should be a required simi-annual psych evaluation on every officer, fbi agent, homeland security agent, Cia agent, etc. This won’t stop the harassment, but it could certainly help slow down the death toll the police are building daily. As if adults weren’t bad enough we’ve lost not one but two beautiful children due to the racist police tactics, and no you can not deny or pretend it’s not racism when a white child holds hostages, and they bring out negotiators, let him speak to his family, and most importantly let him live. I’m done! When I choose my race on paperwork from now on I’ll choose “other”.


Deadly Alone


Have you ever been surrounded by people, and felt utterly alone? I feel alone every second of every day. But, when my wife is gone the loneliness cuts so deep my soul bleeds. Suicide becomes my retreat. “I have a son. I have people who depend on me.” I repeat to myself over and over, yet the hurt hurts so bad I can barely breath. We don’t really talk and we often fight, but I can’t survive without her.

The Talk


When you suffer from disabilities, and have the audacity to burden someone else with them, there’s an inevitable “talk”. No matter the strength and will of your spouse or partner you will eventually have to talk about how much your disability is impacting their lives. They’ll tell you all the things you’ve known for years; this is hard and tiring, what you go through effects me too, I feel bad, I feel alone, I want to do something but I can’t, ect. You see I’ve talked at length about my depression and anxiety and anger issues, but unfortunately I physical impairments as well. Spinal damage, pinched nerves, migraines, nerve damage, ligament damage; yeah the Army ruined my life. And, last night I had “the talk” with my girlfriend. She told me how hard everything is on her as if it were news to me, and she even read psychological reports on how to approach the subject. So today I’m sitting with a migraine seeing colors and feeling sick, and I refuse to say a word. I’ll suffer quietly. I’ll take meds when she’s not looking, I’ll leave the lights on, I’ll vomit when she’s downstairs, I’ll pray for relief, but I will NOT let her know the pain I’m in. And, soon, because I’ve never loved anyone like I love her, I’ll pack my things while she’s at work and leave. I know that sounds more like cruelty than love, but I know my fate. Each of my conditions is progressive. If things are hard now it would be cruel and heartbreaking to stay. I love her enough to wantto spare her that.

Finding Myself


So, I’ve been really stuck and struggling with my depression for a rather long time now. I’ve tried the breathing exercises, and the count down, and the grateful for things I have, but nothing seems to be helpful this time around. Naturally, I delve into what my problem is, and I fall upon “I’ve lost me” in the process of being mom, and girlfriend, and caregiver to my father. But, how do I begin to find myself? I have absolutely no idea. You hear about people “finding” themselves all the time,  but how is it really done? Realizing that I was ginuinely ignorant on the subject I took to bing; “How do I find myself?” The results were teaming with spiritual getaways, and books to buy, so many other useless links, but then there it was, “How to find yourself in 15 steps”! So I clicked the link and one of the steps included making a time line of my life. The purpose of the time line was to see the things that lead me to this moment, confront my past, and begin working toward new goals. Oh, and, I’m supposed to work on forgiving; myself, those who’ve harmed me, everyone.

So, I start my time line, sticking to the major events as instructed, and by the time I made it to my 20’s I learned exactly what my problem was. I have never known happiness. I can’t possibly be happy without ever having learned how. There has been one very large dramatic, and often traumatic, event in my life annually ever since I can remember. From houses burning to family dying to being mentally tortured for months to kidnappings to cars being stolen and totaled, and so much more. I didn’t have a chance to learn about making friends, loving myself, how to conversate, how to loosen up, or how to have fun.

Now I know what my problem is, but how in the hell does someone in their mid 30’s learn to loosen up, make friends, conversate normally without anxiety, and have fun? I realize I have no readers so I can’t expect assistance here, but that still leaves the question unanswered. Knowing how I became broken has done nothing but make me feel hopeless about the possibility of fixing myself.



Life is hard enough for the well-adjusted and financially stable, but for people, like me, who grew up in such a traumatic way that it damaged their psyche, life is more like a hell you have to work to survive in. Overcoming the fear, shame, anger, and heartbreak of childhood seems a goal just out of reach. Add to that, additional trauma in adulthood, and you have the perfect cocktail for a mental breakdown.
I’ve been through a few breakdowns in my life, a few suicide attempts, a few disappearing acts, and a whole lot of depression. Medication is always an option, but, for me, it takes more than it gives. Medication tends to mute the real me. So, I have to live with the ebbs and flows and the ups and downs. In choosing to live with my depression rather than “treat” it I’ve learned a lot. “Triggers”, a psychiatrist’s favorite word, are a huge challenge to avoid. Recently I began avoiding writing anything or writing about superficial things in avoidance of a very large and very public trigger of my own; the horrific tragedy in Orlando. How does one approach the anger, sadness, hurt, disappointment, and all around disgust they feel after such an extraordinary attack? For me, it brought back the hatred for bigots I’ve spent the last eleven years trying to overcome.
You already know I’m a depressive with rage disorder, but what you don’t know is that I was in the military for a short time. This seems such an irrelevant fact to toss in with my mental status, but here is how the military, my mental status, and Orlando all tie together:
April 7, 2005 I enlisted in the US Army. Off to basic training, and excited by my perspective future, I was in no way prepared for the actuality of my situation. The first couple of weeks were fun and challenging as expected, but one evening just before bed a girl found a picture I had received from my girlfriend. It was a picture of her and my son, and the greeting said “We love and miss you”. The girl looked at the picture, and then at me, “Are you a fagot? Oh my God you’re a fucking fagot!” She turned to everyone in the room, “Guys, she’s a fucking fagot! She’s probably looking at our tits and asses every single time we change. You fucking disgusting fagot!” I was pissed! I took my picture back, and told her that her ugly ass wasn’t worth looking at. Every girl in my barracks began shouting slur after slur fagot after fagot, and then someone said, “You better watch yourself fagot I’m going to put my lock in a sock, and I’ll beat you to death like you deserve.” The crowd joined in with several “hell yeahs” and I knew, no matter my abilities to survive past violent acts, this many women with lethal weapons would be my end. Word spread fast, and the men in my company joined the conversation. Comments ranged from “can I watch,” to “I’ll rape you straight”. The next few months were hell. I knew I couldn’t be caught off guard, so I didn’t allow myself to sleep. When I felt myself drifting I would pinch myself to stay awake, sometime breaking the skin ad drawing blood. I was surrounded by people who wanted to rape me and kill me. I was expected to live in harmony with these people for the next thirteen months. I was so focused on a night time attack that I didn’t see the actual attack coming. During a drill I was tripped at the perfect time, and was trampled by several people. I was medically release from the Army after three months. Being trampled left me with fractures in my left knee, several of my vertebrae, my shins, and my feet. I’m now on disability, and if I do more than one load of laundry my back swells and I can’t walk for days. Bigots changed my life forever. The phrase “hate breads hate” is often attributed to hateful people procreating and teaching their young the same values, but, in truth, the hate of these women who changed my life bread a deep seeded hate within me that I have tried to fight off for eleven years. The events of the Orlando tragedy brought back my hate in full force! How can we move forward? How can I move forward? Is forgiveness an option? If it is I have yet to find or achieve it.



Fear is such an ugly emotion. Yes, emotion, a feeling or sensation causing a chemical reaction in the brain altering ones physical status. The other emotions are much more attractive. Love is beautiful and uplifting. Anger is sexy and dangerous. Even sadness has a quiet appeal. But, fear is a flaw in one’s ability to move forward in confidence. No matter the particulars, fear is of no real use to man. In fact it is a hindrance. So here is my question; why is one able to calm from anger, fall from love, and rise from sadness, but will forever feel the tight grip of fear whether you are “facing” it or running from it? People tell you to overcome your fears, but the truth is no matter how many times you come face to face with that which you fear you will alway have that tight knot in your stomach as you approach. People trying to be positive about your fears will tell you that fear is not a weakness, and it does not make you any less of a person. This is a lie in the face of simple fact, all fears weaken those who feel them. To aspire to become utterly fearless is unrealistic. It is not your fears that determine the extent of your weakness, but how you handle them. Courage does not remove fear, it simply allows one to stand before it. We are all weak, but we are not all courageous!



Dear Society…

Who the hell are you to tell me what beauty is? Better yet

who are you to tell me that I don’t fit the profile of beautiful? Yesterday I

had the pleasure of being told that I’m not like other women for the millionth

time, and I asked why? Sadly, as with each time before, the only response was, “you’re

just not.” So, I spent an insane amount of time looking up “women,” and found

that everyone is right in their statements of how I’m not like other women. I’m

not tall and slender with perfectly proportioned breasts and bottom, and I’m

less than knowledgeable of fashion. I look at others without judgment, and find

the most beautiful souls reside in disproportionate bodies. I am me without

apologies! I have a foul mouth, but respect others in the utmost. I help the

elderly with their groceries, and do my best to never ask for help myself. I

believe that children are the most beautiful gift anyone could ever receive,

and openly despise those who don’t put their children above themselves. I will

listen to the problems of anyone for hours, and rarely discuss my own. I

believe in everlasting friendship, but it’s virtually impossible to get me to

trust anyone. I am kind and giving to all, but I am dangerous when crossed. I

love with all of me, but when I’m angry it’s as if love never existed. I

believe in God, but I don’t believe in the church. I have a terrifying dark

side that scares even me from time to time, but I have a conscience. My life

has been a challenge and heart breaking, but it was strengthening and made me a

better person. I’m not rich in finance, but often feel like the wealthiest

person in the world. I’m strong, and do my best to deny my weaknesses. I’m

honest to a fault, and challenge all who know me to at the very least be honest

with themselves. I am flawed physically, emotionally, mentally, and

spiritually, but, to all those who find this to be less than beautiful, your

image of me does not determine my beauty. To all the women who do not fit the

social views of beauty I find you beautiful! So, Society, who the hell are you
to tell me what beauty is? I am beautiful!
This is for the beautiful women in my life… I love you all in your own very special way!