No Filter at the bottom of the bottle

My wife is out of town this week. I had all these great plans. Woodworking, catching up with war buddies…maybe some illicit rendezvous…but no.

I sometimes regret sharing this blog with people who actually know me…but no more. This is the ONLY place I can be “real”. Unfiltered, untethered, and free.

I dusted off my favorite Merlot tonight. I binged watched “Mask Girl” on Netflix. (I’m a K-Drama addict)

I think in a strong marriage you get imprinted on that person. Even with the ups and downs….you can’t live without them. I’m a hollow shell without her. All the flirting and secret text messages…with others…I miss her.

Marriage and Love is never perfect.

But if there is something there. The pull…it’s worth fighting for. Or being patient.

As I sit on the back porch in the dark..with the glass slowly draining, I ponder my theory of when my mind got extra screwed up. I’m part of a long and dragged out class action suit concerning Mefloquine. It is now a banned Malaria drug. (Look it up)

I want it to be the ground zero for ALL of my problems. Maybe it is. Maybe is just a few links in my history of trauma.

It would be be nice to blame all my faults, sins and shortcomings on one thing.

Maybe I’m just a borderline jerk/narcissist .

Or just damaged goods.

Maybe acknowledging or admitting to it is a positive step.

I don’t know…and don’t care at all 1:30 in the morning….

It’s the weekend. I get to sleep in. Cheers. I will try to be a better person today.

Try.

One Too Many

One of the departments my job supports is the County Medical Examiner’s office. Today, a young veteran was delivered there who shot himself. While the “22 a day” statistic is not that high as recently reported, any suicide, whether by a veteran or non-veteran is still one too many. The young man’s family said there were “signs” and nothing was done about it. I cannot verify if anyone tried, or if the veteran resisted help.

I told someone that veteran’s age faster than non-veteran’s. Think of it as “Dog Years”. We cram so much energy into a typical day and as one commercial said many years ago: “We do more by 9 am than you do all day.” I’ve experienced that firsthand. I was deployed and worked 7 days a week with no breaks. 12 hour shifts on top of that. I chose nightshift so it at least appeared that I got to sleep in every day.

I take any false victory where I can. I told my co-worker today, veteran’s do not have to be combat ones to have adjustment issues after leaving the military. It’s a state of mind, it encompasses your entire life while doing it. No, it’s not a cult. Or brainwashing. At least not as much as some claim. But you have to believe in it, and dedicate everything you got to it. And when you are surrounded by others who got your back, it gets into your DNA.

Our expectations, the way we handle situations, the dark humor, the crudeness, the lack of filters…that’s a combination of adjusting to anything thrown at us, and coping mechanisms, and dealing with feelings that could stagnate and crush us if allowed. I’m not a combat veteran. But I did have a high-tempo career for over 20 years. I did have those adjustment issues. But, I somehow keep one step ahead of crashing and giving up. (I never contemplated hurting myself or others) But I did consider just leaving everything and everyone behind. And just hide from the world. I’m sort of doing that now after feeling “better”. I don’t attend as many social events, gatherings, still hating crowds, etc.

My friends, family, military brothers and sisters, my VA doctors, all had a hand in keeping me grounded. I found passion in my hobbies and finally found the elusive work-life balance. I knew when to walk away from toxic people, situations, and jobs.

When I learned it was a young veteran, it hurt worse. Even though I didn’t know him, I mourned for him, his family and anyone else who knew him. I think back to the years I had on this world, both good and the bad, and kept moving forward even though I didn’t want to. I don’t know what his secret war was and what other demons that haunted him. I’m not judging him or calling him a quitter. I just wish he got one more chance to get better. Another reset.

I will have a drink for him tonight and pray for those left behind to somehow make sense of it all.

In time.

Momentum

I’m ashamed to admit that I love the movie “Hot Tub Time Machine”, not for its over the top crude humor as much as it struck a nerve with me. It mostly took place in 1986. That was a very, very, VERY pivotal year in my life.

That was when I decided to join the Air Force.

One of the main character’s young 20-something nephew goes back in time with the group and see’s how wild and crazy his uncle and friends were.

He asked his uncle in one scene, “What happened to you guys?”

(Referring to the current older versions who’s lives are a mess or have dreams unfulfilled)

His uncle replies very sadly: “We had momentum…”

I pulled a simple 12 hour shift today. (We are rotating to ensure no one gets burned out)

I work my regular 8 hour days during the rest of the week. I guess we are “Essential”, which gives me a huge roller coaster of emotions at any given minute. I’m complex that way….and not necessarily a strong trait. More of an exhausting trait.
So I’m proud, humbled, angry (that many others get to “work from home”) honored, jazzed, scared, and mostly just plain tired.

“Time to make the doughnuts…” kind of tired.

Back in my military days, we pulled 12 on, 12 off for months on end. “12/12’s”

Yes I was younger back then, but then I realized there were other factors. I was with my military brothers and sisters in the field. We had each other’s backs. We didn’t cause the stress, and we faced it head-on with our arms locked and overcame all of it.
All.
Of.
It.

Think of the movie “300” without the death and 8-pack abs….

In this new world I am working in, I still have a great team, but the external factors greatly outnumber us. External factors that make this activation harder than it needs to be.

I’m sorry I tell endless “war stories” and how much I pine over the “good old days”…but you had to be there.

The other branches would gawk at us when we arrived onsite, and with little discussion or pre-deployment briefing, we would setup an entire comms site in hours and be on the air with secure communications to the other side of the world. We were on autopilot.

When something crashed or hit the fan, we also bolted into action like a complicated ballet troubleshooting, analyzing, fixing issues as the popped up…effortlessly most times.

Veteran’s experience their own version of Dog Years. We compress so much stress and emotion into a shorter period of time, that it gets into your system. Look at ANY industry where retirees literally drop dead within the first months, years of retirement. That is all they knew. They were wired for the frantic pace, the ongoing trench warfare of the mind.

As I said, you just had to be there, because….

…we had some freaking awesome momentum.

The Loneliness of The Now

Last night as my second glass of bourbon kicked in, I felt very lonely. I’m in a rut these past few weeks. Probably because I’m not doing woodworking. It’s that therapeutic for me. The days at work are a blur, I am not even sure what day it is half the time. My good friend would always say: “Wash, Rinse, Repeat” Speaking of my best friend, there was a time I would send her a random text message with no expectations of a timely response. Just to vent, bitch, cry about some misfortune or how depressed I was in my years following retirement from the military. (We served together) She would talk me down, or give advice, or just “nod” in acknowledgement. But she has a full plate with her current boyfriend, health issues, and work challenges. (She had some of that when I would send those messages in a bottle, but didn’t care and was selfish for my own needs) So now…I refrain from sending those text messages. I don’t want to add to any pressure she is currently dealing with. For I have better meds, and “tools” to help me get through the dark times.

Mostly.

I know I have slowly evolved into a shut-in. I’m tired a lot, from sleep issues, chronic pain, the long three months of helping my terminally ill neighbor up until his passing on January 1st….the major house remodel project, and the subsequent remaining “To-Do” list as I try to wrap up the final pieces of the remodel and other things that were placed on hold. My bicep tear/injury last year delayed a lot of things.

Last night, I jumped on the rowing machine and the sharp pain in my repaired arm was eye-opening, disappointing and depressing. I know nothing will be the same, but I was hoping it was feeling better a year later. I guess I didn’t work it back into shape enough. So hopefully 15 minutes on the machine will turn into 20…to 30…etc.

I love my job, it’s just that the slow days become comfortable and then when something does pop-up, I need to nudge myself into action. But it also means we are keeping the equipment running smoothly for a change and reducing downtime for the clients.

I also cant’ believe I’ve been here 7 years. Which is a record after bouncing jobs due to contracts not being renewed, horrendous leadership, or toxic office cultures…or just me having adjustment issues to the outside world.

Over the course of these past 15 years, I’ve built a maze around myself and really don’t have any true good friends. I have great friends….but not that one “Good Friend”. The one who is your ride or die friend. Some days I’m okay about it. Other days, like last night I just wanted to text them and say: “I’m not in a good place right now.” Like I said, I have friends, but I don’t want to come across as needy. I’m pretty honest with people these days about not being perfect….but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. There are limits and boundaries.uly was t

I almost texted my sister (who will probably read this post) and tell her: “Your little brother is not doing so hot.” But thanks to my meds, and the lesson of “Postponement” I know I will be okay in a few hours, or days….and it will get better. And if it doesn’t, I jump on something creative and that helps. Speaking of my sister, I am planning on seeing her for at least a week. Which is only about 40 years overdue.

I thanked her at my military retirement ceremony for when I was 14 years old, I moved in with her up North. To get away from my parent’s messy divorce (which gets mentioned frequently in my stories). There in the beautiful woods, I found peace. I found my reset. I found a healthy perspective.

And realized my Dad probably needs me with him. I stayed with my mother after the divorce as some misconstrued notion of societal norms. But she was the one who ran away with the Devil who chain-smoked and drank cases of beer, weekly. He truly was the Devil. The ultimate user, abuser, liar, narcissist…and anti-Christ. She finally left him and I think he died in some run-down mobile home in an over-grown lot in the middle of no-where. Living with the latest woman who bought his endless bullshit.

Again…this is why the past is a harsh mistress for me. But, now I know I am in a better place.

I have an invisible pull to hit the road, to take a week off and do something fun. I sometimes do take a 3-day weekend for myself, but right now, I manage to make it through each day. Somehow.

I do look forward to getting back to golfing after a 5-year break. With my friends. Who know I’m imperfect, and have some slight knowledge I have a few loose screws. 😉

The Fog

No matter how good my day is going, how beautiful the weather, a darkness seems to always silently cast over me. A full medicine cabinet, successful therapy sessions in the past, it finds me. I force a smile, appear normal to those who I encounter at work. Inside the Fog is already there, blanketing the sun.

Like my chronic aches, pains and unfortunate tinnitus that I have, I have learned to live with it. Accept it. Move past it. Embrace it at times. It allows me to justify not attending events, parties, or other social activities. Now I do these things from time to time. I’m not in total isolation. When a good friend past away last year, I went to say goodbye to him, both at the service and his interment at the VA Cemetery. I owed it to him. For he was the voice of reason and experience when I was losing my battle with depression. When I was slipping and ready to walk away from everything and everyone. He was that small fire on a shoreline. Not the majestic proverbial lighthouse, but a spark in the vast stormy darkness. As if to say: “Here….here is your goal.” Get here when you can. Take your time.

On paper, my life is perfect. Wife, children, two dogs, a beautiful home, a job that I actually love. People who care about me. I’m trying to work on my recovering relationship with God with whom I had doubts over and over about. The amatuer scientist and sci-fi nerd in me tugs at my heart and mind. How can everything be true? If I took our planet, or solar system and placed myself on it as dot, that dot would be invisible against the entire history of the universe. When I was a child, everything was real, Santa, the Easter Bunny, monsters, ghosts and my fear of the dark. Now my mind is full of lessons, cause and effect, facts and mis-truths, falsehoods, lies told to and by me. No wonder reality is so blurred now.

No wonder The Fog finds me. My heart keeps looking for what’s next. The newest and shiniest thing. A new toy. A new experience, challenge…victory.

From the time we foraged and fought to make it through each day, to survive, our minds were occupied with that basic instinct. Now we have nothing but time on our hands. To ponder, question, complain, criticize, to hate, to judge…to wonder.

And just when I get a small break in my soul. Just when I’m satisfied and calm. The Fog rolls in again. As if to remind me of the constant turmoil in my head. Maybe I just need to remember it’s only temporary, and a natural occurrence. It will abate, and the sun will come out again. Patience.

I do thank God for my imagination, to create, draw and…write down my emotions here. That helps bleed off The Fog, the darkness. To fight back against it as if to say, I know why you are here. But I also know that I have passed through you before on the other side.

I. Am. Still. Here.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

 

As I get older, my medicine cabinet fills up with more types of medications and supplements, I can start relating to the characters of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

While I do think I have ADHD, by more Anxiety/Depression driven issues, I do know that I am impulsive, borderline on self-destructive behavior.

While I would never harm myself or others (Physically) I know I would harm them long-term emotionally. When I accidentally skip a dosage or wait too long between them,

I over-react… I lash out verbally.  And the sad thing is it’s with the ones I’m supposed to protect and love.  Maybe subconsciously we think that’s acceptable because the

are supposed to see us unfiltered and at our worst.  Which is even worse. And very, very unfair.

Today is Valentine’s Day, and thanks to society and hallmark cards…and florists, we are supposed to make “extra” effort to proclaim our love for someone close to us.

It’s supposed to be every day.  That’s like people who only go to church on major holidays to fill a checkbox.  

I keep saying I’m going to try and make things right, to do better, be better at this, or that.  Sometimes with success, sometimes with the monster cornered atop a flaming windmill with

the angry mob surrounding him.  I guess I will keep trying.  I almost want to get a “Pause” button tattooed on my left hand.  To remind me to do so.

Maybe I will just use a sharpie for now.  I need visual cues.  Time does heal all wounds.  But I also read you may never really overcome loss or pain but do learn to live with it.

 

I also love the notion, you are not struggling with Depression, it is struggling with you.  😊

 

So I will continue the delicate balance of the Doctor and the Mister. Keeping them in their respective corners of my soul.  Trying to maintain that balance of “normal”.

 

It’s not that bad every day.  It just feels like it.

 

 

Random Moments of Peace and Frequent ones of Chaos

A few times a day, my mind is at peace.  I’m starting to enjoy these rare moments.

Usually it’s on a the weekend when I wake up and know I can sleep a little longer.

Or Its after the second or third glass of my Jim Beam and Honey.  And I’m warm all over.

…and not feeling alone for a change.…or feeling sorry for myself.  I’m such a contradiction.  I hate crowds, want to alone, and then I feel isolated.  No Win Scenario.  An Impossible Compromise.

I’ve said it before and it should be on my headstone someday:

“It’s exhausting to be me.”

 

I think as I get older, I start to see more sides to everything.  More “shades” of the proverbial grey.

One of my favorite terms from my MBA classes was:  “Contributory Negligence”.

Both or multiple parties are guilty of something.

At this age I’ve seen cause and effect.  I’ve known accountability from my time in the Military, to marriage and then parenthood.

I was a leader in the office and in the field.  I understand consequences, morale, toxic environments, good and bad leadership traits.

And then when I see someone choosing the wrong side, the worst possible choices…I get infuriated.  When someone knowingly or doesn’t care about others, I again, lose it.

 I’ve also commented before when College students learn history, and “how the world is supposed to work” (or business) and they see the majority NOT doing any of that.

No wonder they protest, challenge or complain.  But at the same time, unless they take short and long term steps to actually do something about it, they are wasting their breathe (and the oxygen around them).

Making a posted won’t sway the majority.  It may give pause, but probably not a long term change. Some days I question my sanity, my expertise, my talent, my actual relationship with those around me.  

But then I see someone who seems to be a million times worse and think:  “You aren’t so bad.”

 I think my woodworking or other creative outlets like drawing or writing give me an outlet.  Like the weighted pressure cap on a cooker.  

It’s just enough to keep some pressure, but also a safety valve to prevent an all-out explosion.

I would never harm anyone (God I hope not) but I would do something drastic with some kind of repercussions.  

My sense of dark and twisted humor could get me fired if left unchecked.

 So…when my overworked brain and heart takes a short break, I feel that release of pent-up energy and exhale slowly.

I can almost see the dark clouds forming on the horizon, and the cool breeze of it building up slowly.

But for now…I’m free.

 

 

The Not So Great Race

The Not So Great Race

 

In my head, it’s an easy promise.  On paper it makes total sense.

In practice and in reality almost impossible some days.

The past few days and more frequently than I want to admit, I’ve been total ass at home.

I want to blame burn-out, my medication from wearing off. (The kind that quiets my spastic and OCD mind, filled with anxiety and depression)

I have a “Me Checklist” of fun stuff I want to do when I crawl home, but when the house needs come first, I throw a tantrum. I’m rude and disrespectful to my children

and to the woman I promised to be true to.

 

For a brief second, I want to pause, and reset, but can’t.  It’s too late, the emotional dam bursts, the words come out and the damage is done.

I feel like I’m back to square one back in 2015. Years of therapy wasted?

 

After it’s too late, I take my pill, then chase it down with a tall pour of bourbon.  I wait to see who kicks in first.

I never paid attention to “who won”….cause I’m numb and mad at myself.

 

I then relieve all my other mistakes and decisions until it’s time to hide in bed again.

I realize how many close friends I have ghosted and put off from meeting up with, because I hate social settings.

I hate crowds. Noise. 

 

Getting older is such a contradiction. We rush to be older, never pausing to live in the moment. Then when we do slow down,

we are too old to do something we use to enjoy.  And now, we are too tired, cranky to try something new.  I get it now.

And I am still trying to pause. To breath.  And keep my mouth shut and foot out of it.

 

Trying. 

 

I just need to stop tripping at the starting line.

 

again.

I will miss some people, as much as possible.

I miss some people, and I miss some as much as possible….

 

I had major adjustment issues when I retired from the military.  The pace, the excitement, challenges, sense of accomplishment, pride, energy, the list goes on and on.

I also thought I missed EVERYONE I served with.

As time passed, I started to lower the “filters” I had in place, and started to see some former co-workers for what they really were.  I myself am not perfect, but compared

to the crap some of these people pulled, I’m a saint.  I started a Facebook Alumni page when I retired and that put me in the center seat to hear all the gossip (which was confirmed by several people) 

about the actions of the various members.  I also saw how certain members promoted within their circles. Regardless if the person deserved it or not.

At my age, I don’t have to play nice, forgive, or forget.  One member has a thick file of wrongs he dished out and left a wake of disarray and terrible consequences for the innocent.

 

He had a gambling addiction, kept a “girlfriend” at his house overseas, left his wife with huge debt, promoted buddies in the unit, scammed several people both stateside and overseas…and yet still got a job working

for the government. (He should have been a politician) Another one started asking me if I was “Woke” through online messages, warning me about the end of the county, civilization, a civil war that will be happening soon…

and I asked him to stop sending me that crap.  He couldn’t help himself.  So I dropped and blocked him.  Several dumped their wives when they retired.  Literally dumped them. 

 

Again, I am not perfect, but I worked through my issues, remained married, got help for anything that potentially affecting those close to me.  

There were some people I really wanted to see, but the jerk-offs outnumbered them.  So I held off going.  I also do not like social events anymore.

I accept that.  I try, but sometimes, I can’t.  I also hate crowds like some Veterans do.  And noisy crowds are the worst.  

 

I will stay connected with those from afar and online, maybe grabbing a beer with individuals instead of the group.  

I slept better not going, it still bothered me to see what those people really were behind their facades.  

This weekend, I realized it was the mission that I missed and only the “theory of my unit.”  Not most of the individuals.

That was my adjustment issue.  I missed that world.  That version of myself.

 

Not letting you go yet

Not Letting You Go Yet

 

I can’t let you go yet.  Maybe it’s denial or holding onto some false sense of security and not feeling abandoned again.

Death doesn’t care about my feelings or history.  Some have lost so much more.  This is my perspective, I’m keeping score.

When I have a moment to myself, the truth comes to the forefront and your loss is felt. The pain starts to form a shadow over me and I begin to lose control. In the past, I’ve fallen apart immediately and completely. I can’t explain why it’s different this time.

Maybe my therapy sessions where I was taught on how to postpone anything that could cause anxiety, pain or panic is working too well.

This mental wall is now too high, or the emotional minefield too dangerous to cross right now.  

Even now in the middle of this sentence, I’m fighting to control it taking over me.

The final months, I realized you were like a Dad to me. Confiding in me, trusting me with your care and needs. I was more than happy to oblige. As I mentioned before, I stopped being selfish with my time and thought about someone else for a change.

Holding your hand the morning of your passing, feeling the cold flesh and knowing there was no longer a pulse was hard.

I waited for the Hospice nurse to confirm it officially.  A part of me was hoping I was so wrong.  I wasn’t ready for you to go yet.

But at the same time, I was relieved you were no longer suffering, restless and fighting for each breath. I’m sure it would have gotten way worse with each hour and day to come. I suppose to take you out for a walk in your wheelchair, or another drive in the stretcher van.

I was so happy to see the look on your face taking in the sights and being out of the house for a change.

I think your wife has given up at this point.  She spends all day in bed with minimum food.  Her mind was going before this and now I fear

it’s going a little faster.  She is also in denial and wakes each time thinking you are there. Maybe I’m holding onto you for her sake.

This sense of loss and dread is hanging on me like a heavy chain.  No matter how much I smile, joke and stay busy, I feel the heft of it.

It’s always there. Maybe tonight I will finally let go. Writing it down helps me express what I’m feeling. It always does.

I will remember you always. I am grateful to have been your friend and neighbor. I am honored and humbled to have been the one to hold your hand towards the end and soothe your fears. I promise to let the loss come.

When… I don’t know, but I do promise to grieve when I am ready.

 …someday.