Tomorrow morning I will be meeting my ARMS worker at Abbott Emergency room to go through the excruciating and frustrating process of trying to beds. Every time I have been hospitalized because of my PTSD it’s not safe for me to have a roommate. This is a big fear of mine that my wife has always been a strong advocate to ensure things go right. 

I have been in and out of the hospital 8 or 9 times in the past two years. The cycle ends up the same I am placed on a 72 hour hold I get in the hospital and have a breakdown because they lowered my prns then what they normally are. Now being heavily medicated the first two days is the only way to do it. So anyway the days pass I start to just want the fuck out of there so I lie and say all is good and they let me go. After 8 times maybe I am not doing something right, so we are going down the route of commitment to save myself from myself forcing me to fight it out and hope I leave with… hope. 

I am at the point of commitment because I can no longer care for myself, I was so depressed and when I found out my dad got my son a gun my mind immediately went to here is our way out. Long story short my dad looks for all his guns as I was trying to rush away and he ran out and took the gun from the car. I am now driving home with my son sleeping next to me without the comfort that soon I will be gone. I was angry I was upset I felt jaded yet again but driving four hours with my son and my thoughts I realized one of my motivations is I want my son to look up to me, and in my current state he has become more of a caretaker. I want to wake up in the morning and have my first thoughts of the day be one of hope and strength instead of death and despair. I have missed my set dates for departure several times. Perhaps I have some greater purpose buried beneath the rubble. 

I have a wonderful support group my wife, children, family, and those who become a family. It took losing unconditional love to discover what unconditional love is and appreciate those in my life who love unconditionally despite of my insanity I have a crew of people making sure I am all right. That alone is a gift many don’t have. My first attempt to seriously look at the problem get on the meds do the treatments whatever needs to be done so I can exit the womb of the mental hospital reborn into a better tomorrow. One can only hope. If I can I will journal during arts and crafts time to keep my progress posted… how narcissistic did that sound? I plan on writing during most of my free time. 

I figure if I can type a post as the time it takes another human being to make a macaroni necklace than perhaps I can use arts and crafts time to at least be able to free my mind all over the complicated interweb. 

Advertisements

My intended focus is to break down, analyze, and apply my methodology to three single events with the intended outcome of making the correct choice.

1. Do I stay or do I go? I have repeatedly replayed the same haunting moment of seeing my son still and quiet on his bike as he watched me get in the car to go to work. In that moment I could see in his eyes the internal conflict between acceptance and denial that his dad is slipping away. I could see and understand all too well the sadness he was trying so bravely to hide. 

As my mental state continues to deteriate, he now sees a dad who struggles with simple daily living activities. His bravery falls apart.

It is difficult for me to release my sadness and sorrow through the shedding of tears. The only time the outside world can see what I try so hard to hide, is when I cannot hold back my tears. At that moment, just as in this moment writing about it I cannot stop the tears. Many people say that crying is supposed to be this wonderful release of pent up emotions. It’s not like that for me. Tears feel like razor blades running down my face, slicing through self-denial and exposing my weakness and vulnerability. Regardless of how many times I have been told I am selfish and only think of myself, at the end of the day my meaning in life, and my purpose is to not break his heart. I am well aware I will never win the father of the year award. To be honest with you I don’t even know if I’m a good father. Despite what I am told I know I have always tried to be the best dad I could be. 

2.  Time holds no logical meaning anymore. Remembering the day, date, even what year it is. I destroy everything I touch. Answering the question I posed earlier… it is best to leave. As my depression gets worse so does my will to live. 

3.There are only so many pieces someone can be broken into before they are unable to be put back together. I now need to come to terms with the sobering reality that I will become in my own eyes everything I ever swore I wouldn’t. I will become my fathers son. I am desperately seeking, yet fear I will be unable to live with the guilt, or forgive myself.

4. Children are not stone, nor are they steel. They are dirt and clay, molded by the hands of experience. There is no way to reconcile the loss of my son’s happiness and hope due to the harsh reality of my life, which I have viciously infected upon my family. Despite my frequent mental transformations I made the decision to get married and have children; in that single moment I destroyed their lives. I suppose I was caught up in the perceived human need for significance, by my own sense of insecurity. Here is where I cannot deny my selfishness. Broken dolls are meant to walk alone.

In moments like this I want to hide within the minds of Soren Kierkegaard and Albert Camus covering myself in the blanket of Absurdism. Believing all struggles for life is for nothing. There is only birth and death, and everything in between is our feeble attempt to find meaning and purpose. This concept is wonderful, but in the back of my mind I’m burdened with this question. What if birth and death were only two points, that they were inconsequential compared to what happens between them?   

Where Is The Love Greenland?

Posted: August 28, 2017 in Uncategorized
Tags:

I wanted to include this in the post I just published. The only problem is the only common denominator are stats. Over the weekend I reviewed my blogs stats over the years and I was surprised to see in four years I have never had a visitor from Greenland. Needless to say my surprise turned to irritation throughout the weekend. 

I believe my irritation is coming from how large the country is. When I look at my visited map everything except for Greenland is lit up. Year after year not one visitor from Greenland. I tried to fool my narcicisom with the delusion that no one in Greenland has access to the internet… well we know this is completely mental, but I needed something to explain this huge gap in my map. 

My solution is this post. I will Trojan horse my words into that country by writing a post about it. How many Greenlanders will I lure into reading this? Will my narcisistic hole finally be filled?

This blog like my mind is all over the place. Since 2014 the only connection between my posts is their randomness. I never considered if this was a good thing or not, and battled with my format several times. In the end I need to stay true to my mind and keep the randomness intact. Looking through my stats my most read posts involve Taoism and my interpretation of the verses, this is nothing new, although the theologian in me finds this rather intriguing. 

It’s been ages since I wrote my last post about the Tao Te Ching, in fact it has been ages since I have actively studied and put into practice the teachings of the Tao. As a result it is no surprise how unmanageable my life has become. 

Whether this is a direct coorilation or simply a coincidence is yet to be known. It’s been over a year since my mind has failed me leaving me broken and scattered. Perhaps returning to the teachings of the Tao things will begin to look a bit brighter as I become more centered. Now whether I actually wipe the dust from these ancient teachings remains to be seen. 

It’s hard to describe how I am feeling at this moment. I know for certain I am relieved that I can finally start writing about this yet I do not feel Justice has been served. As the father of a rape victim will I ever feel justice has been served? 

First off I want it to be noted that Shawn Johnson took a plea deal because he was charged with three counts of 1st degree sexual assault on a Minor. If he had not taken this plea he could have done 30 years, with the evidence against him he would have lost, which makes the plea a little hard to swallow. 

Thanks to our justice system a guilty person who knows they have no chance in hell in winning in court can plea down to a lesser charge thus receiving a lesser sentence leaving the true severity of his crime hidden. 

On the day Shawn pleaded guilty we were told by the DA that he was only going to admit to having oral sex a few times. When we heard this my daughter started crying my wife and I were filled with rage. My daughter wanted him to admit to raping her and admit to manipulating and grooming a 14 year old girl for years. Admit to the abuse, the stalking, the sick twisted shit he actually did, so we said that we wanted the plea deal pulled, unfortunately the DA had the final say and moved forward with the plea. Despite having a strong case my personal relationship with Shawn could have caused problems adding to the mountain of guilt surrounding this surreal situation. 

Shawn will be locked up until at least 2021 and will remain on conditional release until 2031. One day Shawn will walk out of prison a free man, but I wonder can a man who rapes another man’s daughter ever feel free as long as that father is still breathing? 

In the end Shawn is a sociopath and a coward making him a sociopathic twat. I am a twat free sociopath and i will use my words like a shiv, spilling the blood of truth for all to see.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search 

Although completely useless majoring in Philosophy was one of my better decisions. On one side I have tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt pursuing a degree which is useless in the working world… on the other it opened my mind up to critical thinking, logic, and the common sense to question everything. This is a blessing and a curse. The curse is getting trapped inside my own mind and becoming lost within the bright lights of neuron blasts. 

Thought bondage I think of my reality, my existence… trapped. I cry when I realize this will be the perpetual cycle… never-ending. For as long as I am alive I will forever be tormented by my own mind, so easily broken around ever corner.

I used to fear deaths embrace, but being scared and beat down by life will turn fears into wishing.

It is cold and lonely in here. Locked away, as easy as being thrown away. If there is a God why would he play such a sadistic trick on me… I am the puppet he abuses when he becomes filled with anger and Wrath.

My existence, the reality of my existence so short and insignificant. In the grand scheme of things my life is but a short dull blip when compared to the cosmos.

My life holds no meaning when compared to this. Turning inward I ponder if this is what my short insignificant meaningless existence is. Honestly is this all it fucking is? Will there be anything else… anything more to this shit show?

Here is the face of evil and part of an ongoing blog series recounting the horrible story.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search

 

I don’t belong in civilized society less my madness be spread to the masses. Over the last few years the madness has become impossible to hide let alone deny. If my madness is factual and cannot be denied than what Kierkegaard is saying is the acknowledgment of my madness will inevitable perpetuate the insanity. 

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the positive self talk advice which is usually followed by the statement “fake it until you make it.” This statement encourages denial and self deception. 

Prior to my complete mental breakdown I lived in a reality of self denial and false realities. 

Day after day I wore the mask of the masses, until I no longer had the strength to put one on. As I have stated in prior posts this shift occurred once I discovered emotions, the evil which lives in all of us. I cannot contain my crazy because I lack a social filter. This deficiency causes me to stay locked away alone in my home. Isolation is like throwing gasoline onto a fire. 

A recent example was getting thrown out of stamp dealer store. This dude was being a dick, what’s worse is I was fully aware of his strategy. To make a long story short this man was not expecting nor appreciated the verbal vomit of honesty spewing from my lips. I don’t know if it was my honesty or my liberal use of the word “fuck.” The end result is being permantely banned from this establishment. My honesty being without a filter almost got me arrested. 

The Pandora ‘s box of my insanity and the curse of seeing the truth of our society, a society blinded by complacency and ignorance. Most great minds are plagued with madness, they must have faced the facts of their reality and still have the courage to use it as a tool to enact change. 

The following link leads to the face of true evil.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search 

To the great majority the day of our birth is a day for celebration! It’s a time for cake, presents and countless Happy Birthdays on Fake Book… sorry Facebook. Unfortunately there are many people who view their day of birth far differently. For people like me we mourn the day of our birth and becomes a huge trigger into madness. 

I was talking to my dad and he expressed regret for not serving as an infantry during the Vietnam War. He was a specialist, and was redirected from infantry. I could hear the remorse in his voice and the swelling of his eyes trying to hold back the tears. I wondered the consequences in our time line had my dad been in the infantry and died. I know my birth would not have happened. I realized this made me sad, angry, and resentment. Wishing for this alternate reality to be my reality. 

The moral to this story is don’t wish people happy birthday because you never know the intense pressure you just put on someone.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search

I was advised to stay quite while as a family we went through hell and back thanks to this piece of shit my daughters life has been changed and damaged by him, and not writing about this has been very difficult. Over time I plan on telling this story although for the sake of my readers I will reframe from posting one long drawn out post. 

If you want to see the predator who took my daughter and I in to his home during a very fucked up time. Mentally I was fucked, all the while this man who was supposed to be my friend and as he called it we are a family like “My two dads.” One of the things that eats at me is he systematically kept me sick and fucked up on purpose to groom my daughter. 

I want it to be noted I am an overly honest person when it comes to writing and the posts to come will be from eyes and I will be painfully open, but out of respect to my daughter any details regarding my her and this douche fuck will be limited to “grooming.” 

I will attempt to unravel this cluster fuck in future posts.