Text 20 Jul

Someone posted on my last rant “you should just do what makes you happy.” The problem is, what makes me happy would hurt so many people. My happiness isn’t worth thet.

Text 20 Jul 3 notes

I am just drunk enough to post this, but I have to say I don’t want my life anymore. I have a nice house, a beautiful wife who loves me, and beautiful children that are wonderful, but I am not happy. I just feel like it is too much for me…

Text 3 Jul 1 note Lol, my wife saw that post about sensory overload, and she just told me that I don’t have that. Told me that what I have is too extreme to “just” be sensory overload. I have to laugh about it, otherwise I’m pretty sure I would be crying.
Text 14 Jun 1 note

What a night. Wife’s at work till after midnight, kids are in bed asleep, and I’m drinking hard cider and listening to the blues. A good night, I think.

Text 29 May 4 notes

Well, I finally did it. After telling my wife I should get one for the longest time now, today I went out and got a Prince Albert piercing. Didn’t hurt near as much as I thought it would.The piercer said that was probably because after all the other shit I’ve gone through already, pain is all relative to me now.
Anyways, I like it, and the feeling that comes from having it done. My wife thinks the ring is huge, lol. I don’t think it’s all that large, just fairly thick. I also got some new 10 gauge earrings, vs. the old 12 gauge. I like the weighty-ness they have when I move my head. Silly reasons to get piercings maybe, but it makes me feel good about myself. Anything to pull attention from the asymmetry of my face anyways. ;-)

Text 5 Sep

I feel like my life is slowly crumbling down around me. Things had been looking up, my youngest daughter was born on the 19th, and my wife is getting along better with my oldest daughter. Then I got a letter in the mail, from my ex-wife’s new attorney, saying I was being taken back to court to take custody of my oldest daughter away from me. Not only that, but my ex wants me to have supervised visits only, and wants to move to another state as well. Had to borrow money from my wife’s mother to pay a retainer, but luckily my lawyer thinks it’s a frivolous lawsuit with no basis. Yay, right? God knows how much it will cost this time. When I won custody it cost around 20k, and I can not afford that this time.
Then of course, it gets worse. Since I missed an appointment with the VA that I was never notified about, they are cutting my benefits by about two grand a month, starting in October. Great, now I may lose my house, because I can’t work due to my disability. I’m not sure what the fuck I can do about any of this. Talking to DAV about the VA, they’re trying to expedite the paperwork for me but can’t make guarantees. I have to call my congressman, hope they can help, call my doctor and get something in writing from him, since he’s the one that recommended me to the VA caregiver program. I can feel my mind just starting to shut down from all the stress, and I can’t concentrate on anything. I’m forcing myself to write this as a way to hopefully help get it out of my system. My wife is stressing out, which causes me to stress out more, making her overwork and stress further, an endless fucking cycle. I just want to fucking explode!!!

Text 25 May

I’ve been hesitating to post this all day, as it is a very hard thing for me to talk about, but I feel the need to talk.

Seven years ago today, two men sitting next to me died. The sad thing is I don’t remember anything. I’ve been told it was just another patrol for my unit, an Army infantry unit, in Baghdad, Iraq. I was the company commander’s Humvee driver and proud of it. For the deployment I had gotten a fairly brand new completely armored Humvee to drive the Captain around in, and I did my best to make sure everything was in great shape. I wasn’t afraid to use his position to make sure my truck had the best. My gunner was a guy I had joined the unit with; we weren’t best friends but we got along together well enough. He was a few years younger than me, joined up straight out of high school while I had served in the Marine Corps Reserve for a few years before joining. The Cpt. was fairly young too, newly married before being assigned to our unit, and his son had his first birthday just a few weeks before that day. My gunner had made the Cpt a video of all of us telling his son happy birthday from Iraq. The last thing I really remember before everything is learning a week or so before that we would be joining a platoon heading out on May 25, 2006. I was fairly upset about this, as I was going on leave the next day back to Germany to my then girlfriend, now wife for two weeks of R&R. My last memory is joking with my gunner about it, telling him that with my luck something bad would happen that day. I told him not to worry, him and the Cpt would be fine, but something bad was bound to happen to me. That is the worst memory of my life, and I have wished and prayed that I could scrub it clean. Sometimes I feel what happened is my fault, because of those words I said.
Apparently the patrol started out well enough, but we had to make a u-turn over the highway median. My vehicle had to have been near the middle, as the Cpt was only there as an observer of the platoon. We had an engineer riding with us, a Lieutenant, sitting behind me apparently. To my shame I don’t know if our translator was with us, sitting behind the Cpt. I’m afraid to find out that he was…
A trigger man must have been nearby, because nothing happened to the vehicles in front. Somehow we drove completely over what I was told was the biggest IED (improvised explosive device) that US forces had seen up to that point. It went off underneath the Cpt, tearing him to shreds immediately. I was told they found his finger in what was left of the vehicle later, still wearing his wedding band. My gunner was killed, sitting in the turret. I’m not sure how, I never asked. The Lt and I were blown thru the locked armored doors flying about 30 meters or so from what i’m told. I was knocked semi-conscious, the Lt. broke his femur, but was able to hobble towards the road and flag down our unit. One of them told me they had no idea we weren’t all dead, the explosion was so big. The two of us were taken to the Green Zone there in Baghdad, to a combat hospital. I was put in a medically induced coma due to massive bleeding in my brain. Sent to Balad, where they removed the right side of my skull to relieve the pressure, then on to Landstuhl, Germany, followed by Walter Reed in DC. The Lt recovered and is still in the Army. I however was medically retired due to various issues I now have.
Seven years later, I still wonder I could have done differently that day. Did I miss seeing something in the road, was I too complacent? Two good men dead, a widowed wife now raising a boy who will never know his father, parents who lived longer than their child.
So hear I am, seven years later. I have family and friends wishing me a “Happy Alive Day.” What the hell is so goddamn happy about it? My FB timeline is filled with pictures and memorials to them, in remembrance by my unit. Their faces will be with me until the day I die, and I can never get over the guilt I feel, to be alive when they are not. I haven’t “done something great” with my life to honor them, nor have I gotten a fresh start on life. I just live on, hoping the children I have can make up for not dying that day, so that they could live. I go out of my way not to think of them, just so I don’t feel like this all the time. Stupid people calling me a hero, I was just a goddamn grunt who drove a truck… Those two men, and those like them, they’re the heroes. I’m just a survivor, and where’s the heroics in that???

Text 17 Dec

I love my wife, we have a comfortable relationship that works relatively well. The problem I have is that we have no passion between us. This lack of passion is making itself felt in other areas of my life as well. I’ve lost the passion for life that I once had, the passion that made me get up in the morning, always seeking out new experiences. Now it feels like the only reason I get up in the morning is to take care of my kids. I love them, but shouldn’t there be more to life than that? I enjoy being with my family, but shouldn’t I have more reasons to live than just taking care of them? How do I get my passion back, my passion for life, the passion between myself and a loved one? My wife isn’t too concerned about us, talking it over with her I’ve come to understand that she feels “passion” doesn’t exactly fit the role of a wife and mother. She found her passion with her recent lover, and doesn’t seem to understand why I was upset that she found her passion so easily and quickly with another and yet never with me. I know it doesn’t say well of me, I should have been happy for her and glad that my loved one is happy, but I guess the jealousy of their passion and her not being open and honest about it all sabotaged my acceptance from the beginning…

Just feeling very melancholy lately, even with the great life I have. It feels like just the acknowledgement of the lack of passion in my life is causing my soul to wither away, like a plant without water. I’m worried about becoming an empty husk that just goes through the motions of life…

Text 14 Dec

I guess I have let all the praises about what a great recovery and how great I’m doing since my “accident” get to me in such a way that I’ve kinda felt that there was nothing really wrong with me trauma-wise. It just kinda hit me today though, when I realized that I WANT some idiot to provoke me just so that I can fight someone and feel justified in beating his skull in. I know this is a dark topic, especially with the events of today happening, but that’s kinda what made me think of it. I had a psychologist tell me that I have all the symptoms of PTSD, but I can’t be diagnosed because I have no memories of before, during, or after my accident. I kinda laughed it off then, but now I’m starting to think that I’m NOT as special as my doctors and councilors made me feel, that maybe I SHOULD be talking to someone about this, like so many other returning soldiers…

Text 3 Dec

So I spent all night in the ER last night, due to the fact that I can barely walk straight, only to be told I have vertigo. No kidding I said, I’ve had it before and it’s NOTHING like this. Apparently I now have a different, stronger version of it affecting me. They gave me Valium and told me to go home. Hooray for busy ER nights…


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