Archive for the ‘Personal’ Category

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?   

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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.

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 

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. 

I avoid mirrors, I simply can’t handle seeing my own reflection. I naturally have a difficult time making eye contact with anyone, fearing they will see through my mask. The rare moments I make eye contact with the man in the Mirror I grow weary and this is what came out.

My faces of evil

Cleverly hidden 

My eyes…

The window into a voidless darkness…

Soulless 

Stare too long and he takes you away

“Grab my hand”

“I will take this pain away”

“Follow me into the shadows”

“Fear not of voided thoughts”

“Shed no tears”

“We have lived beyond our years”

“Trust in me”

“To take the pain away”

Behind my children’s eyes
They weep, they cry
Standing by while flowers die
No hope upon this stage
Locked away in my cage
They cry
Regardless of our futile tries
Seeing their eyes
Hearing their cries
Inside I slowly die
To know their pain
Daddy has gone insane
To be the cause, attacking with verbal claws
Suddenly I pause
Realizing a life of lies
Failed tries
All the things which bring tears to their eyes
The fractured parts lay bare to see
Hating myself for being me
With holy sighs
Wishing I couldn’t hear my children’s cries
Stop their tears
Ease all fears
The lies
The fights
Fucking sleepless nights
The lies
Sorrow in their eyes 

What I am about to write may be scattered and disorganized, but I need to recap the events prior to writing this. In an attempt to stay grounded and lesson the confusion I took notes along the way.

I couldn’t sleep last night, I took more than enough sedatives but still was unable to sleep. I had a physical this morning so I could get the ok from my doctor stating I am physically able to go through ECT treatments. I cannot recall much of last night not because of all the medicine I took to be honest it didn’t even phase me. I got lost in the dread of having to go to my physical because it’s not a part of my routine. 

On my way to my appointment I started to get sick, light headed, nauseous, skin burning, and my mind slowly shutting down. There was construction going on in the parking lot meaning I couldn’t Park in my normal spot I became sicker my panic grew stronger I checked into my appointment at this point I had my notebook in hand jotting down things going on around me because I knew I wouldn’t remember.

When I saw my doctor I explained why I was there to have a physical to be cleared to receive ECT treatments we engaged in conversation which I do not recall Beyond the scribbled notes in my book I got my flu shot then was sent to get my labs while I was waiting the doctor called the lab area and asked me to go back to see her she was concerned about something and then this person named Katie I think was there and I was talking to her and then for some reason I have an appointment with her tomorrow I think she’s a social worker when we were done I asked what should I do now and they said I was done so I left.

Going through my check-off sheet I did not get my blood drawn which I was supposed to do but now I see this person tomorrow I made sure I wrote it down.

My head is swimming just trying to make sense anything really trying to make sense so I don’t get lost in the fear of confusion this is very difficult for me because my mind my intelligence my ability to use my intelligence is not there and I don’t understand it don’t understand who I am or how I got here. 

I don’t even recognize the reflection in the mirror to go even further I don’t recognize my mind. It is seriously fucked up how much of who I am is no longer who I am. It is fucked up how not that long ago I was able to do complex data analytics without using analytical software, now I have a hard time processing the steps to do basic shit a child could do without a problem. 

This is by far the worst part of this entire shit show. I can handle the depression, anxiety, suicidal ideologies, and all sorts of fucked up broken fragmentation. Because throughout all of that I was still able to tap into my intelligence and cognitive functioning properly. The only good quality in me is gone. I don’t know how to accept this. 

Being poor

Wanting more

Cubburds bare

I wished upon a star

Even trying a rare prayer

An elephant tear

Appears filled with fear

Being poor

Children needing more

Unwaking nightmare

I promised I swore

I tried so hard to ignore 

My final wish to create my final scar

I was looking at myself in the mirror today hoping my reflection had changed by seeing this changed reflection I may be able to not see the ugliness I try to deny and lie to myself and everyone else I don’t even recognize when I am looking at I don’t know if it’s even me the window to my soul lonely and lifeless I wonder if this is my vision of the future who the fuck knows certainly not this joker in the mirror

I apologize for the lack of punctuation in this post. I am trying to use talk to text, because my mind runs a million miles a second and I can rarely keep up which hinders my number of posts.

I have a question for my readers which I would love feedback about. I have been told I should start a vlog or podcast of my fucked up ramblings. After people hear me go on and on about Random shit jumping around from one topic to another I always think to myself I wish I had used this material as a post but all is quickly forgotten.

Should I try vloging or start up a podcast?