2024 Funereal Giving of Me without any Thanks

 This past Weds I wound up facing an angry person. One who was obviously hostile, shouting curse words, and building themselves up to physically attacking. I looked at that person and calmly, humbly, simply & repeatedly said, "No."

No movement, no hand gestures, nothing but love in my heart for that person. The family police rushed into to de-escalate the situation by isolating me away. Thus all my gorgeous impressionable nieces and nephews now know that Uncle Q is the monster their Daddies saved them from.

Not the angry cursing attacker, who Daddy saved from that monster.

I do understand some of the time critical concerns. She is not trained to use physical force at a thought. Not trained to use deadly force in such a manner. I have been so trained, and the few times I have been in those situations did not hesitate to decide losing this life saves many others almost instantly.

The wound from this is not just how this has poisoned the mind and spirit of the next generation of my (former) family. The real thing is the family police have openly declared me not the man they have known for 40+ years. In fact, I WAS the family police. But apparently that man has died, in their minds.

The man who was the genesis of a lot of who they are today, i.e. Minor Co-parent, no longer exists in their mind. The man who they as children and teenagers could rough house with me in any way possible until intentional (unrealized) pain is caused. Thus the family joke about "Angry Man Strength". Until you decide to do some thing that causes extreme pain, knee jerk level, everyone is safe.

As kids, one of my jobs was to walk a brother and sister to school. Not a small walk either. Crossing a few busy Avenues and the many streets covering about 12 inner city blocks to school. Of course I was such a quiet humble person that a couple of kids targeted me to their painful detriment. Surprise Surprise to them, I knew how to throw down. That quiet little boy (then) could kick but, not imaginable.

Even as a group, they could not defeat me, no matter how many times they tried or where they thought that had me... except...

At the middle of our path home they were standing around at the end of the street. I asked my siblings to stand aside and I approached. "Got this deal for you but only for today."

"You let us beat you down or while you are handling one of us, the rest of us will kick the living stuffing out of your siblings. Up for that?"

At that moment, I simply sat down on the front steps of the rowhome in front of us and said, "Okay." Not happy with the fact I never groaned, moaned, or asked for relief even though I had bruises and open wounds all over me they thought they came up with a fine ending. The had gathered my siblings to watch but suddenly directed my much younger sister to join in.

She said, "No."

With what energy and control I had left, I looked at her and said, "Please for their lives, do it. Kick me in the face." With tears running down her face, she did so and kept doing so until she did it with enough force to satisfy them.

And that person, who would throw themselves on a grenade for his family, the person who has NEVER physically responded to a damn thing in their lives, who was part of what guided them to the Careers they enjoy today (true fact), has obviously died.

This strange monster, who looks like him and acts like him, is NOT their brother they knew. I had no clue that their faith in me was gone. Or the only faith they had, was all about how dangerous he could be not about how dangerous he has never been.

I guess the election grief of 2024 was far from the apogee of my life however it is so much higher then the 2024 Thanksgiving. That was, in essence, my funeral from Friendly Fire.

Even now, 1 day and a many hundred miles away, they simply do not realize how they empowered my attacker to fire me from the family. Regardless of how supportive their words are they will not listen to me about what was going on from my side. Endlessly excusing my aggressor and try to calmly dismiss my words as, "you are upset" mind set, they still do not get what happened.

Now I have been gifted PTSD triggers. Their faces, the brothers that I love beyond belief are now triggers where when I see them or think of them, I don't just remember what happened.

I relive it.

Gifted as I now have had my number of triggers expanded. I must have been bored with the plain old combat experience ones. I'm of course not happy with this present, however I have experience in managing them. One key thing, is avoid your triggers.

Thus for my sanity and calm, I can no longer see any family who was there. Which was ALL of them. I grieve the loss of my family, I do, as I was not the one who threw the grenade but I was the one who fell on it... and died.

Dead Beat Dad Really?

At the start of my adult life, I joined the military. I was eager about this as I had qualified for West Point, even though I was from the streets of Philadelphia. However, during Basic Training, I found out that a young woman I had a one-night stand with had conceived. Accepting my responsibility, I informed the military about the oncoming child. Taking care of all paperwork involved, and providing my own parents parental rights while I was in initial training, I was all in on being a father of my child.

The penalty involved in accepting my child I was disqualified from West Point, and it made clear I fully intended to be a prominent feature in the child's life. My parents was able to visit my daughter at the hospital just after she was born. The mother, had decided that she did not want her daughter raised by a warmonger. So on a weekend shortly after my daughter was born, the mother took her out of the hospital and disappeared. The daughter in question was raised by distant family of the mother, who chose to live off-grid as a member of the Hare Krishna.

So losing my daughter and the West Point path simply devastated me. In fact, it was a deciding factor in my not continuing in the military. At that point I my life as a civilian involved going to college and assorted educational choices. However not long after those choices I was re-activated for Desert Shield and subsequent activities. I, of course, survived and thrived after these moments in my life. But the search for my daughter's Mother continued.

As I was developing my IT career, at Bell of Pennsylvania, I met a wonderful young lady with whom I eventually became engaged. Sadly, she chose to engage in some infidelity at one point that destroyed my trust. The relationship simply could not continue however conception had happened and we were bound together by blood. When my next daughter was born I was there at the hospital when it happened.  At that time, we discovered another Desert Shield trauma. My chromosomes were damaged and the daughter was born with a life threatening birth defect. Several surgeries later, neural tube defect was adjusted for and her life began. The first 12 days of her life I was with her, worrying and sweating through each surgery and procedure, feeling tremendously guilt as it was my war service that damaged me. The full extent of this was not yet fully known however it does not take much for guilt to be planted and grow. That being said, I fully supported my daughter. Every chance I got I spent time with my daughter.

My career was starting to bloom and my life was unfolding in delightful ways. Not long after she was born, I was able to a friend's house. I also had some success within the relationship realm. Much to the dismay of Amanda's mother, I got married. Unbeknown to me, to a former disliked high school aquaitance. After the marriage, Amanda's mother officially took me to court for child support. It was a bit of ongoing spitefullness between the two ladies, but I didn't care. The court accepted my support records and simply decided that what I had chosen to provide my daughter was sufficient. It also refused the "no visitation" motion submitted by the mother. So I was able to take my daughter two weekends per month and one month per year to my house with my current wife.

Sadly, my wife also concieved not long after the visitations started. Sadly because this third daughter was also born with a Nueral Tube Defect. This repetition of condition signified that I was suffering one of the identified post_Desert War syndromes: Damaged chromosomes. Essentially any child concieved by me since that time WILL be born with a life threatening condition. Jessica, did not live long enough to know or be known. This not only destroyed Kathy mental state, but made me the culprit of her pain. Her response to this was a hyper level of infidelity that she committed. I accepted that pain of her actions and tried to continue the marriage even though it had happened, but she eventually left me realizing that I was punishing myself trying to work out my guilt involved. She loved me enough to leave me, stopping me from letting myself be tormented.

During all of  this, my life with Amanda continued and my career continued to grow. After my marriage disentegrated, I accepted work that took me to California. Again, a good choice for me as it was a few years before the dot.com bursting. The career exploded to the point I was living out there and was discussing long distance visitation rights with Amanda's mother. It was at that point I was informed that Amanda had finally succumbed to her birth condition like Jessica did. Being so far away, I had no means or desire to double check. Another daughter lost, becuase of me "the warmonger". 

I simply lost myself in the bottle for several years. No one pointed out that the "child support" was no longer being paid to the City of Philadelphia, per court oder.  Imagine my surprise to decades later find out that Amanda had lived. But by causing me to believe she did not, visitation did not happen ever again. One lie and I was essentially divorced from my daughter. No fuss, no muss, I was deleted.

When I moved back to Philadelphia, my career was no more. Alcohol use can cause those things to implode. 

I am not an alcholic, my usage was fully by choice. Not dependency.

I am married, again, but to a person worth my life. Not at the cost of it, but enhancing my life.

It has been more than two decades in this marriage and I am not just at peace, but I am happy.

The reason for this personal history monologue was recently that first daughter of mine lashed out at me publicly upon social media with the accusation of being a Dead Beat Dad. From her perspective, this is very true as my family did not know her, locate her, until she was a fully formed adult in college. Furthermore, my brain injury truly interupted the growth and development of the new "father/daughter" relationship that formed. Living distantly did not help but almost losing my life from a traumatic brain injury really inserted a powerful road block. I had not let her know much of this dramatic parental life fate has bequeathed me. So, I angered her and recieved her under educated wrath.

I can only hope that this lets her know she mislabeled me. The correct three words, yes! However in a very misguided and erroneous sequence. I am not a Dead Beat Dad.

I am a Beat Dead Dad.

First Step to Honor the Anthem

See there has been much debate regarding the activities of some Athletes (Celebrities) regarding when the Anthem is played at sporting events. The American public is outraged at these activities and I hear that some of the sports owners have created punitive measures if such activities are continued.

This outrage is wrong as it denies the true gesture of respect from these individuals. It further denies them the true reward & value of being an American.

See, the first step to honor the anthem is to STAND. These celebrities do stand. They stand and then, and only then, take a stance of protest. They do not just keep sitting there. They do not gesture in any way but especially in any vulgar way. They just kneel in protest.

They Stand! Repeat after me, they Stand!

The Americanism being denied them is freedom. This is a country born of protest. Some whackadoodle across the ocean acted in some reprehensible ways and we protested. Our protests met with hostile responses and thus the Revolutionary war was a result. The birth of this country was about Freedom. Freedom to make good, and bad, choices.

So here we are a proud bunch of citizens denying other citizens the freedom to protest of which such action was a parent to this country. I do not find such actions antagonizing to my American pride. In fact, I choose the opposite. Whenever someone engages in such polite honorable protest I cheer.

I cheer for them exercising their God given rights to choose. I cheer them living in a country that grants them the freedom to protest the country itself. I cheer for their bravery and let's not lie about this: Doing this is not for the faint of heart.

I cheer for them engaging in freedoms that I sweated and bled to protect. I served, I served at war, and I took an oath to defend this country from its enemies. Foreign or domestic, ones that is. So when I see any person in America trying to deny these celebrities the right to protest, I have to ask are those persons a domestic enemy of the state or do they simply just don't get what being an American means. I settle on blaming our education system as granting such persons the title of "enemy of the state" grants them more honor they have earned. 

However, in closing you, the reader, have every right * freedom to protest their protest. But please return their protest with the some honor and respect with which they gave their protest for us to complain about. After all, fair is fair.

Found out what is wrong with me

It's not incurable but not painlessly solved. I suffer from P.T.S.D.. A VFW friend noticed something about me, pulled me aside, and asked a simple question... the answer of which opened up this unfortunate can of worms that is my life.

"Are you scared?"

Apparently he finally realized that while I act appropriately there is almost no hesitation from action on my part. A hyper state of alert, medically called anxiety, is a common symptom of P.T.S.D.. That may explain why there are triggers in the world that can send me back to Desert Shield in a flashback.

Suddenly I am there listening to Patriot missiles dealing with Scud missiles. In that moment I panic for two reasons: I can't find my gas mask which means I will shortly be dead and I have no idea where the debris from those missiles will fall potentially crushing me or trapping me in the building.

These reasons are highly likely to occur in that environment I was in and I was not momentarily in such an environment. For several weeks, months even, this was what was happening 8 hours a night. When we should have been resting and sleeping we were under that attack, each and every night for 8 hours at a time. You could not comfortably sleep in M.O.P.P. 4 chemical protective gear. (Google MOPP 4, look at the pictures) You can safely pass out, if your lucky, in that mode and gain some rest for the next day's physical/mental requirements.

The bad thing about P.T.S.D. is people have such bad ideas about it. It is the traumatic events you must endure to continue living. That is, I think, a key aspect of the condition: to continue living. To succeed at that there are awful things each of us must face and they can, not will, leave their mark on you. Physically and/or mentally that event will.

In my case, I have not left "fight or flight" mode for a number of decades. This has led to flashbacks, regular nightmares, and constant knee jerk reactions. The VA has become aware of this problem and are willing to assist me in resolving this with me. My old coping mechanisms don't quite work anymore due to the civilian brain injury I suffered, another continue living: event that has left marks. So I will have to let them try to teach me other mechanisms, or medications, to help me with my hyper alert state.

Family Communicating or the Lack Thereof

Before my accident I was motivated to get my siblings to use Skype. This was back before smart phones & tablets were Skype capable. However after Microsoft took over Skype it has mostly become a marketing banner for us non-premium subscribers so I have left Skype.

I've switched to another Instant Messaging & Video application called Discord. Such applications I believe help those of us separated by distance from family members, immediate and extended, to stay connected with each other. Not just connected mind you but more informed, advised, and participating in each others lives. The recent family gathering for my father's funeral helped bring this bad situation once again to my eyes.

These days there isn't a device that is not Skype capable if that is how this connection must happen. Discord is PC and device compliant as well. I love the PC version for reasons I'll happily talk/type about in Discord.

However I put this to all of you, my family and friends, do you want to be connected with me? Do you want the benefit of my experience and/or knowledge at your beck and call? Would you like to help me become, again, a worthwhile individual?

Then Discord up and let us see if we can remove any discord that distance has allowed to creep into our relationships. Message me your Discord ID#, or ask for mine, and lets cure the ailment distance causes.

Herein lies what I currently find offensive

Fellow members of "my" organization has consistently complained about a few of us who attend not in uniform. Being tall and bulky I stand out. So the organization bought us all what we needed as gifts. Mine was for a couple of years of service not just because I was out of uniform.

So my uniform showed up and I was happy until I looked it over, then I got angry. I hate any thing, person, or group that limits my options. I define who I am by my actions, I'll rage against the machine that pre-defines me in any way, shape, or form.

To safely explain, I now have a t-shirt that I "should" wear for all meetings. This t-shirt is in the organizations colors, has the organizations name boldly printed on it, (so far so good right?) and has my current job title on it. CURRENT!!!

See, volunteer would be fair - janitorial volunteer is not. By placing "janitorial volunteer" upon it does this mean I can only be a janitor? Or if someone else rises to that position should I give them my "gift", oops, t-shirt.

And putting job title on the t-shirt is almost always a personal choice, one people make for themselves. Someone else made this decision for me, and just me!. They chose to pay a little extra for this to happen but only for me of the group so lucky to receive such a gift.

Now I'd like to speak up but am I being whiney?

Of course I don't think so, I'm offended that this happened. I feel it's a gesture of disrespect as I held a much more significant job than janitor let me tell you. Just because I stepped down to janitor, it does need to happen!, doesn't mean that is all I am now, all I've contributed, or all I may contribute from now on.

And therein lies what I find offensive.

I have a story to share with two topics.

The first topic dominates the story but is not the primary story that is being told. It just creates the situation for a bunch of young men to live through. And they did live through it, continued on to ripe ages, and inspired some of those around them.

The Vietnam War happened, there are many opinions that can be expressed (some of them my own as well), but the simplest statement is: It happened. It required more personnel than was currently available, or motivated to be available, so the Selective Service was activated and many people were drafted to serve.

This greatly effected 3 young men. Now specific details are not available to me nor do they really matter. What day someone got their draft notice is not exactly relevant to this story. What is relevant was that 3 brothers served during that time period and the choices made from that complicated scenario is the point of this story.

The oldest brother went first and to the honorable U.S.M.C.. Which was a damn fine choice because I can only describe him, yes I know him intimately, as a warrior, a never ending warrior ready for anything life threw at him. Made him difficult to live with, yes, but made him something of an Idol to me. So much so I followed his example later on in my own life.

He went to Vietnam and survived. That was not easy for new troops! What people don't get is no amount of training, NONE, can prepare you for that moment. That moment when combat starts and people start dying around you. Usually in gruesome ways with unpleasant noises. Some of them you know and like, others you have no idea and maybe even hate as those are the enemy. So novice troops have a high casualty rate due to lack of experience. He successfully transformed from a novice to a living warrior.

When his service time was coming to an end, he was eager to go home and stop being attacked, when he found out that his younger brothers was drafted. He choose to be an impediment to his brothers being assigned in Vietnam, as novice troops!, by staying in Vietnam until their enlistments were completed. So his service lasted many years much to the dismay of his family and, more importantly, to his brothers. The one brother completed his time in the Army but the younger brother was still enlisted in the Marines.

To remove the motivation for his older brother to keep in Vietnam the younger brother made himself a problem child. Problem children are quickly dealt with in many ways but the leaders of that time took the easiest route to address that behavior: Misconduct Discharge.

When that happened, the oldest brother came home and the family renewed their intense bond. So much so at several points of their later lives these brothers lived with each other even though wives and children were involved.

The example set by the older brother inspired me to do something similar when I was called upon for Desert Shield/Storm. I had been out of the military for almost a year when that started and I got a phone call from the Army. "Would you be willing to come back?" I was asked and immediately I thought of my brother who was serving as an Infantryman at that exact time. "Yes!" was the answer that I said and I spared my brother, not so in his words I should add, combat service. But I honored family history with that choice.

And that is the key element of this story. That warrior Marine was my uncle, the youngest brother is my Dad. I choose against the Marines due to the way the Marines mishandled, in my opinion, my father's honor and integrity so I joined the Army. But serving is built into my family, men and women alike(!), so when those moments came upon me I always think of what would Dad do?

That Bad Conduct Discharged Marine has been the guiding angel of my life. Uncle Marine inspired the warrior heart of me but Dad, who later became a minister, guided this mind to understand the power of peace and love. So much so that my initial thoughts on any situation are peaceful and helpful. Never violent until that option is chosen by someone else. Considering the skills and heart that the warrior cultivated in me I regularly suggest people to NOT choose that option.

But at the end of this tale we come to the place where I share my primary thought for sharing this gem of family history. Dad has entered the final stage of his wondrous life. While I am sure that I will not accomplish my goal within the time frame involved but I have for many years thought about this goal. With this point approaching I am going to make this goal a goal in my life.

Addressing my Father's discharge upgrade should have been done many decades ago. And the upgrade will have zero financial effect to anyone involved. However the emotional effect will be tremendous. It will be something of an after effect recognition of his honorable choices, one of which I am. I can't imagine how uplifting this would be to my family, immediate and extended.

There are several important women in my life.

Off the top of my head there are six. The hold various roles but I can not imagine my life without a single one of them.

My Mom, the Great Investigator. There was never a part of my life she did not dive into and immerse herself within to better understand what makes me tick.

My Wife, my Commander. Like a good Commander she guides me, she protects me, she inspires me. Not only would I die for her but a bad end will come to anyone who does her any harm, a very bad end.

My sisters, my Cheerleaders. Very positive, sometimes not so positive, but without fail they are beside their brother. Through thick or thin, through his insight or his idiocy, they are there.

My Daughters. The two of them have had a huge impact on who I am. I've always been upfront about the tragedy that is my life regarding my off spring.

The oldest, bless her soul, was hidden from me (by design) until the investigator finally succeeded in locating her and initiating contact. This has lead to a decade of bittersweet joy. Whenever I see Yaz, whenever I talk to Yaz, I love and hate her mother who gifted me with a such a beautiful mind and robbed me of seeing that mind become.

The youngest was born with trouble. Trouble caused by the damage done to my chromosomes during Desert Storm. I feel most burdened by this damage as it was, in essence, my fault. I did NOT have to go. (Well they probably would have insisted if I said no but) So in my mind and soul I felt her birth defect was my fault.

During the first week of her life she had to have significant operations to allow her more life. I stayed with her each day and each night while this was happening. Whenever she went into the hospital for revision surgery, I was there even at the cost of my job which I eventually lost due to my adherence to her side.

A few months after I lost that job a great employment opportunity opened up for me literally across the country. I took a bus, yes a bus, from Philadelphia PA to San Jose CA for this job. And this job was good for me, I tried to maintain contact with Baby Mom, though to be honest she did not want me to be around, but life was better for me.

Then one day life transformed for me. A Philly friend of mine expressed his remorse over my loss of my daughter. Loss of my daughter?!? Since that time I have had to tell people about how my one daughter died from birth defects my willing service caused her at a tender age of 5. That horror had dreadful impact upon my psyche. I started to experience PTSD in debilating fashion. The most painful was the flashbacks which I had not experienced before this point and has taken several decades to control. It did cause me to leave my profession though as it became the trigger which caused them.

That is the effect that I don't tell people about. The news about my loss triggered something of a mental meltdown. Nothing untoward to the community around me... all the pain and discomfort went to the target, Me.

Well, the great investigator was uncovered another great mystery of my life. the youngest did not die. The friend was mistaken in his report and my avoidance of spending significant time in her hometown has kept this mistake alive. She lives and once again life, and service, has robbed me of the life and love of a daughter. However, I am going to strive to thrive (as always) in the face of this revelation. I think I'll get Yaz to open contact with her sister, Amanda, and let them work out how I should be punished. Positive or negative I will accept their judgement and punishment whatever that may be.

They are and have been, truly, significant portions of my psyche. There is no part of me that I will not own though a writhe in shame at some parts. However at no point was I ever deceitful or unscrupulous so I leave the dice where they lay and regret only the numbers that appeared.

I do not regret tossing the dice.

Too soon!

All of my friends and acquaintances were right there after my accident. They tried to help me recover, and they did, but their efforts, or the focus of their efforts, was misdirected. They tried to help me re-become and sadly that isn't possible.

The old me, that 45 year old war Veteran, disappeared in that accident. What was left was me and I needed to regrow up. Mentally and psychologically. Early in my recovery I was not "old" enough to understand much of what was going on around me. My church put their arms around me, my Masonic lodge tried to help me shoulder on through, and many local, and not so local, friends put a comforting hand on my back so that I didn't feel so lost.

What many did not understand was how much I did not understand.

For instance, all my food likes and dislikes have changed, significantly. So being out with friends who encouraged me to eat this or that as "the old me" used to love it, and the new me did not, might have been an oppsie.

Or another example, the old me used to have an understanding of decorum. A simple thing but a profound thing, at least between kids and adults. I used to be a 45 year old Adult, I was no longer. I'm not even close to that adulthood even now many years later. I am not the kid that I was, and I most definitely was a child. Here I was being reintroduced to affairs fit for the adult I was when I was no longer an adult.

Did I embarrass myself and those around me, Yes!
Did I generate hostility towards myself for lack of decorum and understanding, Yes!
Was this a mistake by others trying too soon to introduce me to who I used to be? Yes!

And therein lies the additional trauma, personal of course, from my accident. Each and every day I endure my condition, outwardly with a smile upon my face, and I hate it. There are times I want to fall down on my knees and scream at the Universe for placing me here. And I feel regret for the accidents and mishaps for my friends, brothers, and family trying too much, too soon.

I can't help but feel grateful for their trying however I can't help but feel regret for things that happened. I can only point to the wheel and say, "I wasn't driving, at all." And hope that many of those involved accept my regret as an apology while recognizing their involvement in those times.

One can only hope...

What, or who, is a GECK?

G.E.C.K. (Garden of Eden Creation Kit) is an interesting story device used by Interplay and Black Isle Studios in Fallout 2 (1998). What they didn't know was that I had already been granted that title in 1983. In my case it was a portmanteau of Geek and Jock.

I am very much a geek.

Yes, I was on chess teams. I played many forms of pen & paper role-playing games. I was even a D.M. for a 14 man gaming group that gathered and played during Desert Storm. I started my programming life with Basic, progressed to FORTRAN and U.S.C.D. Pascal in High School. During High School I also got to use much of Temple University's facilities. At my height of success I worked in Silicon Valley pushing myself to limits undreamt of by my parents though they did like it.

But in equal measure I am a jock as well. I'm built like a 6+ foot, 275 lbs linebacker and I've played many forms of sports, in school and in the military. The most aggressive military sport I engaged is was war.

There is much about me that is still geek though my traumatic brain injury has changed a lot about my skills, passions, and tolerances. I don't remember any Pascal, PHP, or Klingon though I'll admit I wasn't quite fluent in those. Something I do remember is integrity and self dignity.

See, I've recently changed course with a alternate reality game I play. Reaching the maximum level attainable I decided to switch teams. Granted with a two team league I suspected there would be some hard feelings with some players on my old team but I never suspected the level of hostility I've started to encounter. Being called bad names and having my character questioned & slandered is annoying.

I wonder if my accusers have any idea of who they attack with their thoughts? Their pitiful minds are consumed by the shallow and petty world they have inside the game. They are angry that I beat them out and decided to totally restart on the other team once I maxed out. But it is not unusual for me to choose this course.

I love beginning game, in chess, in computer gaming, in all things. Mid-game is nice too. The complexities and course start to emerge from the limitless options beginning game presents. End-game is, to me, boring as hell. There is little that can surprise me once that point is on the close horizon. Might explain why I love Shyamalan's movies, very little about many of his movies are obvious endings until the ending.

In closing, I'm just getting out my feelings in response to such harassment. I only made one negative comment their direction and this diatribe was my thoughts on it. Guess this is a moment where I become close to their real problem which I accused them:

"Get your head out of your a$$."

Talk, talk, talk. Something I can not reliably do.

Something that people don't get no matter how plain I am about it: I'm afraid to talk.

Aphasia makes me terrified of conversation, truly. It can not be avoided but what I can avoid is any discussion with depth or substance. Regardless of necessity, I just can not face the stress of starting one as it is highly likely that I'll lose the ability to talk... period.

I know my condition can, at times, make me something of an embarrassment. I know just how undignified and stupid I appear when Aphasia strikes. I know how much I hate my life when this happens. So why is it so hard to understand my reluctance to talk?

This does create problems though: Almost every part of our society requires verbal interaction. Shouldn't be removed but the flaw for me is that much of those interactions require "initiation" from me in the form of verbal dialogue. That leaves me isolated and abandoned in many ways.

Trouble with the Police? Call the department and talk to someone.
Trouble at work? Call H.R. and talk to someone.
Trouble at VFW? Call Dept, State or National and talk to someone.

Just the start of a list of ways I am isolated and abandoned.

I Kind Of Belong,

See, my accident wiped away allot of who I used to be. I used to belong to many worthwhile communities but now I'm different. These differences caused me, and them, some confusion on how to further interact. My Church, a truly worthwhile community, I've become distant from. I know what caused that, just one thing that rubbed me wrong, and it truly doesn't deserve any animosity from anyone. However, I've regularly thought about returning to that aspect of who I used to be but various tasks (work, VFW, etc.) divert me from humbly returning to those fine people.

There are several other communities, bless them for they are worthy to belong to, that I have distanced myself from for not good reasons. That is one of those not talked about complications of Brain Injury. I've succeeded in garnering the gumption to live but there are times where I find myself debating the why should I. I'm not suicidal!!!

I'm just confused about why do this or why do that each & every day. This situation has put me into an existential trauma the likes of which there is little that leads me onward other than the heart that beats inside me.

That being said, this was not a chest beating exercise of me whining about how my life and how I've changed. Today I am pondering about what I have made of my life since then. I've stumbled, often, and I realize that I will continue to do so, now, for the rest of my life. However, this blog, these postings give me a record of my thoughts that I can review to regain context of who I am, why I am, and how I think I should move forward.

Right now, I belong to several new communities. New to me since my accident and I'm going to type about the ones I am proud of for their level of support and interaction with me.

- The VFW, I did not belong before my accident (why not - I don't know) but they have helped me to recover a lot of my identity. Interesting the lifeline that Military training has become. It stamped itself upon me so firmly that I think it was the saving of me. Having someplace where that experienced is mutual has been a phenomenal support avenue. Granted, some of my new flaws complicate matters, Brain Injury is outside their experience but that doesn't change their willingness to accept who I am (now). These guys and gals respect me, provide me outlets to sharpen my wits and encourage me to re-learn much of how to belong to society.

- Work, interesting avenue for sure. Much of what made me competent in the workplace was truly wiped from my mind. I can still do many Information Technology functions but, again, I stumble a lot and stumbling within this environment is not good. So I've taken on a job not far from a high percentage of my military service, again the stamping was strong. I now mess around with auto parts, not a mechanic - never was one either, and I drive those parts to where they need to go. After all, from training and war time service the motor pool is a huge part of who I was and still am.

- Gaming. This is one of those off beat aspects of the old me. I was commonly heavily involved in computer gaming and involved with massive communities that engage in those games. At one point, I interacted worldwide with a couple hundred thousand individuals. Many who liked me, quite a few who did not like me but all knew that if I said something was wet, they all grabbed towels and mops as the situation was wet.

This brings me to a recent community I have joined. It is online, we build and fix. Think Minecraft but on a much more in depth scale if you are familiar with that. Now, such things aren't the cup of tea for my VFW members, Church members, or co-workers. But here I am once again being accepted by a community whose faces I have never seen, spending time striving for mutual gain and satisfaction, and delighting them with my presence.

Still, I stumble at times yet no one there has barked at me for my stumbles. I am learning, at times learning with their help but many times learning by myself what works and does not work. That is the good thing about using this environment, learning without the possibility of physical harm to myself or another. That is one of the prime reason everyone should use computer games. It is an avenue to exercise your brain and strengthen yourself... and explore your capabilities as well.

As these people get to know me one thing about me stood out in their minds and I was promptly stamped with a nickname that honored me greatly. They see that I am highly functional regardless of my new flaws and routinely seek my assistance with ongoing endeavors. Again, like the VFW and Work.

I am blessed as I belong. New places, indeed, but I do belong even with my new flaws.

Professional Decorum

Many civilians don't realize how many concepts and traditions they have acquired from the Military. One such concept is "Decorum". On a personal level you may dislike a co-worker but while you may feel that way never should that thought come out of your mouth or your demeanor. Never should your co-workers know your private opinion of another especially those of supervisory status.

See, I'm currently dealing with two such issues. I have 3 direct supervisors. The Commercial Supervisor who sends us drivers hither and tither about. Then there is the Store Manager and his Assistant Supervisor. This Assistant has, for me, been a phenomenal force for positive change. She strives to make the workplace supportive, encouraging, and worthwhile.

The Commercial Sup truly does not like her and I should NOT know that. The Commercial Customers also know that, THAT should never have happened. Such thoughts expressed undercuts confidence in that person. So, the actual Customers have developed such low expectations from the Assistant that they choose not to interact with her. In fact, one Customer complained to her about her interacting with him as if she was an idiotic bothersome pest in his day.

I can't imagine how that must feel. Actually, I can imagine it and I feel threatened by such antics. After all, I'm the new guy who is mentally disabled. It is disgustingly easy to throw me under a bus, even a bus I had not part in creating.

"Oops!" Says the Commercial Supervisor one day in the future, "Um, sorry this happened.  Q tries hard but he's the new guy with brain damage. What can you expect?"

This leads into my second such issue. A fellow VFW member, again no names, has created, for me, something of a hostile environment. Whether he realizes or not, it is something that I have to bear with as rocking the boat to fix this is going to make me seem like the trouble maker. His aggressive behavior in challenging my every decision and activity has others thinking that is how I should be treated.

An example: Two weeks ago a member annoyed with what he consider a National VFW failing and my somehow failing (as well) stomped into the Post and told me to fix it "Soon or I'll shoot you in your f-ing head". Now being of an intelligent and creative being I, on the spot, created and presented to him a solution that appeased his need and anger. However, I am troubled that such words should EVER come out of anyone's mouth regardless of membership or affiliation.

That was completely a death threat said to a mentally disabled Veteran by another non-mentally disabled Veteran.

Recently I complained about another mistreatment of me and how I could respond, without names I might add. One member, who shall remain unnamed, thought it was about him. So I received a text on my cellphone from him informing me that if I ever talk about him again on my blog (which is not where his issue happened) I will face lawsuits for slander and defamation. Then he continued on complaining about my Facebook post, as if I was talking about him, as if I was trying to get people to hold a pity party since I'm failing my duties, that I swore an oath to uphold, with my laziness and inability to function in that regard.

Well, I have these questions:

1 - Slander and defamation lawsuit from a nebulous Facebook posting? I'm not sure but I don't think that is legal, yet.

2 - What basic quartermaster duty did I need investigated? Yet again?

3 - What pity party is he talking about?

4 - Where did I fail to act or demonstrate any inability to execute the position I swore an oath to uphold?

5 - Is this the best social practices of the VFW itself?

Now, I have asked these same questions from the New Hampshire VFW State Officers. Included my Commander but he's on vacation far away from here but as of yet I have received no answers from anyone. Wonder why I'm feeling abandoned?

Now, if there were some issues to be addressed this member was directed, in the past, to share them ONLY with the Commander, not directly to me. With the Commander being away, he should have approached the Vice Commander as is an appropriate second for such things. This did not happen, once again I have an aggressive person in my presence challenging and questioning my judgement and actions. Further undercutting me with my fellow members. I am beginning to understand why people seem to think treating me in a hostile manner is the way to succeed.

How am I to fulfill my sworn duties with such an pattern of abuse, unchallenged?
I could challenge it but I've tried everything short of cursing and throwing a punch. And that would be even more disastrous as either I would hurt him or he would hurt me. Given his recent bar-room brawling experiences I think I'd get punched a few times before I disable him. And what I'd have to accomplish to disable such an attacker frightens me as it will leave some permanent issues. (Broken bones)

But in the Military no one should ever be dealt with in a hostile fashion unless the are your sub-ordinate and they have truly made a stupid mistake repeatedly. No one should ever know what you think about you superiors, sub-ordinates, or equals. Such expression via demeanor or voice is something that will, if it continues, get your cashiered from the military or the civilian workplace. Well should but civilian aspect likes to think it follows such practices but they don't always.

The Military does let such habits slide, ever.

I am not a liar...

... though at times I may seem like one.

As an example, when a particular location was mentioned I commented that I had never been there. Said this to the person who physically visited the location with me! But, at that moment, when asked about that location I had actually never been there even though I had been there.

This is the disaster that can be caused due to memory issues. At that moment I truly had never been there... until the person looked at me sideways and said "Remember the school bus exit?"
"Aahhh, yes now I remember!"

Additional complication, Aphasia. It's a condition where I say the wrong thing and don't even realize I did that. We may be standing outside enjoying a beautiful moment in the sun, nothing happening other than enjoyment, and I'll say, "what a beautiful Red sky". The sky is and was Blue, not Red, but I actually did say Red.

Did I mean Red? Heck no, but you will hear that.

And therein lies the damage that this condition causes... There are times where I am asked simple yes/no questions. I'll respond quickly, like most people, but that is where Aphasia can strike the hardest: I'll sometimes say the opposite of what I mean and not even know it. Did I mean it, heck no, but that doesn't change what I said.

The best trick from the other person in that situation is to pause then asked me "Are you sure?". To stop and challenge my response as if I meant to misspeak into a lie is not the ideal response. I truly could've accidentally said the opposite without knowing I did... or I could simply not remember something that happened 10 minutes ago... until I take a moment and think. Truly think, a moment where one chews on a thought.

See my disability, being brain damaged, is that any "snap-kick" thought of mine is not to be fully trusted - ever. Not that it will be wrong, just that it could easily be wrong.

And therein lies the pain of my life where other people are concerned.

Who paid for this land?

Politicians - make your laws, break your laws but they do not actually protect your laws.

Lawyers - Argue your laws, use and abuse your laws, but they do not protect your laws.

Judges - Interpret your laws, strive to honor those laws, but do not protect your laws.

Police Officers - Try to enforce your laws, try to stop fellow citizens from acting uncivilized. But they do not protect your laws.

Reporters - Report the news, mangle the news, and provide you with their news about your news. But they do not protect your Freedom of Speech.

Teachers - They promote liberty and freedom, they show how liberty and freedom was achieved, they show the cost that someone else paid for freedom and liberty.

 Soldiers - Protect your laws, protect you from uncivilized hostility that would devastate your life, your family, and everything you care about.

Veterans - All of them but especially the ones eligible for the Veterans of Foreign Wars did the protecting.

This is the land where you can be as hostile as you wish to those who protect(ed) your right to commit that act. Rarely do we ask for anything in return. Never do we take your things, never do we take your partners, and never do we openly complain when you disrespect us. Many other countries you'd be whipped, mutilated, and/or shot for such things.

All in all, this is the Land of the Free. We proudly defended this land, and you, no matter what cost we had to pay.

Abandoned

That is what I am.

Wife and family still by my side, thank God, but in almost every other way I have been abandoned. It is almost as if my accident never happened, at all. If the scars could be wiped away from my body, I bet that "they" (whoever they are) would make them disappear as well.

My accident report doesn't exist. In fact, for me to try to get any information about that day I, a brain injury survivor, have to drive down to Boston and show up in person to get any answers. The financial burdens from a couple of weeks in ICU, again wiped clean. All the critical life support time at Brigham & Woman's, all the surgeries, the time coming out of coma at Northeast Rehab Hospital, all that medical treatment was (for me) completely and totally FREE. I can not find out who secretly paid all the medical bills either. "They" did not wish to be known.

Since I do not know "who" New Hampshire Lawyers don't want to be bothered by me. Firstly, things happened in Boston. Saying Boston is an almost immediate get out of my office response. Finally, after years of desperately (me!) trying to find legal representation I contacted a nationwide service. The service took 3 days and said, "Since we don't know WHO, and without that we don't know what you could gain, we politely reject your case." Don't know what I could gain?

HOW ABOUT SOME FUCKING ANSWERS!!!

Please, without the accident report - which I'm sure would appear if someone sues over this matter - we don't have names of any witnesses and we don't know what happened to me. And to be honest, that is all I want to know: What happened!! Why is my life now such a burden to everyone around me, including me, now?

And people wonder about Robin Williams actions? Here was a resoundingly successful man in the prime of his life facing a sudden inexorable decline into senility and madness. I face that reality every morning when I wake up, I know that depression, I know that mental anguish.

That is what I think many people (even close family) don't understand: Just because I am seemingly jolly go-lucky in attitude, just because I apparently have memory issues, people seem to think I laugh my way through life. I don't.

Jolly go-luckiness is a family trained defense against life's many sadness-es. It helped me handle my P.T.S.D., being able to talk with others as an equal helped me as well. That equality has been stripped from me. The words "brain damaged" does not come up but that is how I am treated. By family, by friends, by the Government (on all levels), and by legal representation.

The only thing that sometimes pops into my mind is why haven't I ended this problem? If I did so, family would be released from further emotional and financial baggage I present and "they"/"who" can now stop worrying that I'll find them and sue them for interfering in those so called god given rights that I sweated and bled to defend. That is the bitter irony for me, here I spent a couple years of  my young life defending American freedoms... while having someone now using those freedoms to deny me mine. In many ways I wish "they" had just killed me: all of this would be over, for me at the least.

Yes, my life sucks and I am abandoned searching for ways out of suck.

Exhaustion is my enemy

    Granted it is everyone's enemy. For me getting tired intefere's with my ability to speak, to think, and to stay upright. I've been letting my enjoyment of working allow me to get into situations that are, in hindsight, high risk and should be avoided.

    See part of my daily routine, since my accident, has been a nap. It usually takes place in the afternoon after 6 - 8 hours of wakefulness. The more mental activity that takes place in that time frame, the more necessary the nap becomes. With my new job I strove to find one that I could work 3 - 4 hours in the morning, go home and take my wife to work, then go home and continue my daily routine.

    Here is one aspect that is surprise to people when I share it: My pain NEVER stops.

    The extensive nerve damage in my forearms makes it so they are always a live wire of pain. This pain has become, essentially, background noise that is always heard but unless you focus on it, not paid much attention. As I get tired, the background noise/pain becomes more noticeable until I reach a point where my arms become inoperable.

    Last night, after a day of 12 hours of nice mental activity I paid the unwanted price: I fell down. I was so tired, unrealized, that I stumble while going through the front door of my house. The door, which closes on it own, snagged my back heel causing me to stumble. Hands full at the time I went down falling into a window, ripping the screen, and landing heavily on the window frame cracking some ribs. I also sprained my ankle in the process and scratched up my body in various areas from sudden violent contact with things.

    This places me in an awkward position indeed: Scheduled to work, going to see if I can call out so I can go to my primary care physician to get properly checked out and treated. Also going to see if work can comply with my shift request or I'll have to say goodbye to them and continue looking for worthwhile activity with which to spend my days.

    The terror I put my wife through during that fall - I will not let that happen again, ever!

Does the knife thank the grindstone?

Hmm... I've not shared this thought exercise here as I've shared with others in various other venues but it is probably one of my better thoughts, ever.

See the best knife is a sharpened one. A dull one is just that, dull and uninteresting. Of no matter, no notice, and of little value. The grindstone helps the knife to become the most useful, valuable, and effective it can be. But does the knife say thank you? It usually does not but it would miss it.

That is what I've been missing. The people who used to be very involved with my life. They were my grindstone. Many are still available but I've inadvertently sunk inside myself kind of like a turtle. But in fairness many of them haven't thought about that question or how they interact with me. They are still my friends, no doubt, but they try not to stress me. And therein lies their failure: I need stress.

I need challenge because with out challenge I slowly become a dullard. And that has been bothering me for a few months: How do I tell them they are no longer providing me what I sought from them and they are not doing it out of love for me? Not easy to be so open while being almost asshole at the same time. So, I've finally succeeded in getting a job.

Apparently I'm more competent than I feared as the job is vigorously seeking to engage me in as many work hours as possible. Today was an interesting accomplishment as I left home at 6 a.m. to get to work at 7 a.m., took a 2 hour break in the middle of the day, then returned to work at 1 p.m. and worked till 5:30 p.m.. A nice vigorous 10+ hour day and I did not need to take my daily nap to accomplish it!.

The job is trying, and succeeding, in being supportive and flexible to my disability. The job is also being something of a grindstone. The activity itself is the real challenge. My co-workers set up the work but don't get in my way when I go to take care of it. Granted they are starting to realize I don't shoulder any burden I can't handle but the learning process is moving along at a good clip.

It is just interesting to me how something as simple as a hardworking job can revive my spirit!

It's a Reason, not an Excuse

Recently I was approached with a troubling situation. Troubling for the people wondering, not a problem for me at all. When the situation was presented to me I laughed and suggested that they move  forward with my blessing. I love nothing more than to be accused of misdeeds that I did not do and can prove it.

So that was the situation presented to me: Some people though that I engaged in some nefarious behavior and was going to seek damages against me for such behavior. In fact this troubled me not at all however it was HOW it was presented to me that got under my skin.

For months, years in fact, I have made myself available for social activity to some of the wondering people. I would, once a month, sit down and have coffee with a few of them who were going to seek those damages. At what point did they approach me? At what point did they seek answers to the speculations?

None, but that did not stop them from including a friend of mine in their hostile solution. The friend contacted me with "Crap, there is an issue!!!" and I chuckled at the silliness he presented. However it was not the WHAT that bothered me, it was HOW it approached me.

What?
Speculations of cheating.
Easy to cure.

How?
Slandering my good name.
Incurable.

That is the reason I blew up. And it could be an excuse, indeed. Yet not the point I was bringing up.

See I routinely talk about my brain injury. I have to, a part of me is trapped by the experience in a PTSD kind of trap. Every day I go through stress and panic over "is it going to happen again?" My accident was totally unpredictable and my emotional mindset is trapped worrying over the next unplanned event in my life.

Being so routinely stressed out my reactions at times can be extreme. The person who approached me got no hostility from me. In fact, I still like him. The people who speculated and was going to seek damages against me, a fair bit of hostility. Undeserved I'll admit but not unwarranted either.

Ingress and social media... those vehicles did not deserve my hostility regarding this issue. Of course there are many other to grump about but this should not have made the list. So I am trying to deal with the guilt of those I disrespected with my actions.

To those who I directed my hostility: Sorry.

To myself, for acting the fool: Sorry.

Accusations

I am a brain injury survivor. Traumatic Brain Injury, in fact. Which means one day, several years ago, I drove down to Boston for the Boston Hub on Wheels charity fund raiser. I paid to ride 20 miles through that gorgeous town on a 10-spd bicycle. At 15 miles something happened which ended up with me doing a 30 mph face plant on the asphalt.

Forearms mangle, face and skull broken, medically comatosed until the bleeding & swelling reduced. I am annoyed that the face fractures were not compound as my disability/damage might be more obvious to people I interact with but it is not.

The lingering Mal-adjustments for me is Aphasia and pain all day long in my arms. Pain is easy to explain but why it lingers not so easy. Nerve damage inside my forearms and my brain takes forever to heal, if it ever will. Aphasia is a cognitive damage that lessens over time due to practice and experience but will never ever go away.

What is Aphasia?

For me, it is the occasional loss of language. At times, I may say words that are totally out of linguistic context of the dialogue I am engaged in. Sometimes, annoying times, I completely lose the ability to speak. My mouth works, my jaws move, but I can't find words with which to speak.

It also has robbed me of being able to dice words to keep anything private. Things that should not ever be said, I will say. Answers that should not be given, I will when asked. It is not that I don't lie - I can't as I do not have the mental capacity to NOT answer in detail to any question presented to me.

Imagine that? Any question posed to you, you answer in annoying level of detail. Not by any choice either mind you.

So here I sit, having to deal with some accusations most dealt to me on the sly. Not upfront where my disability would answer them straight on. No, from side angles where my loss of emotional response sets me off like a time bomb. Where my aggravation levels go to extremes and I respond accordingly thus proving that I am now something of a social embarrassment.

A group of old friends saw me that way, so I resigned from my Lodge. I am publicly banned from some parts of Portsmouth, N.H. simply because in the misbegotten opinion of a few people brain injury makes me "unsafe" for "safe" locations. I am "possibly" mental undesirable to serve the Officer Position I hold with my VFW. But no one has been bold enough to present these questions to me for me to answer.

When I find out about such things I respond strongly due to several reasons: I don't quite have the social know-how to respond well; Emotionally I have been reduced to a teenager; I am by nature an upfront person who strives to address things upfront then and there.

As an example: For a time I worked at Home Depot. A co-worker complained that I made her feel sexual. I made HER feel sexual. I always greet a woman with respect, apparently doing so can cause some people to feel something that they are not used to feeling. My response to this accusation: I quit Home Depot.

Why?

Because such an accusation has no viable response from the accused. Especially given my brain injury. It is so easy these days to paint me with any kind of brush that my accusers wish to paint me with.

So I recently faced several situations where I was accused of not being capable or of engaging in erroneous behavior. In one case, my response shut things down with a speed and firmness that encourages me to trust responding vigorously without hesitation. I realize that may not always be ideal as my response to the other accusation was firm, vigorous, and may fuel continuance of the accusation as "Why such a firm response unless you are guilty?"

Therein lies my disability. At face value, I am undamaged but act odd. And given the speculative natures of other human beings, odd is not always good or welcome. Irony being ironic, I am kind of grateful for this unpleasant situation. Experience sucks especially when you don't have any. This situation is yet another learning experience for me... ... just painful to endure but endure and strive for better I will.