John Travolta’s 16 year old mentally ill son died of a seizure today.

He should be charged with Manslaughter for his son’s death. What a stupid fucking asshole.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites

The last 5 days have, well, sucked big donkey balls. I’ve been out of my Lisinopril, blood pressure medication, for about three weeks now. I attempted to get a refill however when I left the Air Force I was placed under Tricare Standard health insurance, which means you are a leper and no one will help you, instead of Tricare Prime, which  means you are Britney Spears and everyone wants to see your snatch. Yeah.

I also ran out of my Paxil. They did give me an emergency refill of 10 pills. The only reason they gave me a refill on those was because if they had not they would have been held liable for anything I did while off of the pills. You can not stop Paxil cold turkey. These pills were round instead of long john shaped. I looked up the stamp and it indeed said 20mg Paxil or generic. Cool. Well, THEY DIDN”T FUCKING WORK!!!!!!

I have a Dell Xps 710, 6 GB or RAM, GeForce 8800 GT OC 512MB, Pimp ass sound card, i dont remembe what its called. Now, I have a Dell XPS…with no working power supply.

So..no blood pressure meds, a blood pressure of 150/100, no Paxil, no control, no power supply, no computer, no Warhammer. I’ll give you three guesses what happened.

I went fukeeng loco mayn.

Instead of simply ordering a new power supply unit from Dell for 50$ which would have been here in three days, I somehow convinced myself that I needed to get a new tower, motherboard and power supply unit and I’d just transfer the rest over to the new rig.

I nearly spend over 300$. But I didn’t. For a brief moment I guess there was a window of clarity. Not sure.

The wife and I also got into a wicked argument. The argument was basically about me being nuts and her being confused as fuck as to what to do when.

I spent the weekend yelling, throwing shit, kicking shit, and generally just pissy as fuck. The only thing that offered a brief break in the pissyness was *CENSORED*.

I didn’t read, I didn’t listen to music, I didn’t watch any football. I just didn’t give a fuck.

Today though, everything is great. I have my bloodpressure meds again. I have a three month supply of the right kind of Paxil, you know, long john shaped. Still have my Wellbutring and *CENSORED* which helps.

I finally feel like the dude who wrote nearly 40 posts in November again.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites

I would like to apologize to everyone I know. I am sorry you had to deal with my angry bitchiness for so long. How the hell anyone ever wanted to be friends with me, I don’t know.

I would like to apologize to my amazing daughters Moirah and Sophia. I am sorry you heard daddy yell for so many years. I am sorry you saw daddy throw things in the house. I am sorry you saw daddy make mommy cry many times.

I would like to apologize to Betty. I was the worst husband on earth for 7 years. So many times were you the target of all my hatred and rage. Either you are stubborn or you are crazy, lol, but I am truly indebted to you for the rest of my life.

If you had not gone with me for my initial appointment I am not sure I’d would have even stayed. But you did. 18 months later I am a new person. It feels as if I was born, my life began in June of 2007.

I would like to thank Dr. Harlan. I am not sure if he realizes it or not but he did what I thought for the longest time was impossible. He made me happy. Well, him and paxil and wellbutrin and *CENSORED*.

My closest friend know that I have two tattoos. A Chinese character on my right shoulder and a cross on my left shoulder. Yes, I am an atheist. I’ve often been asked what the character meant. I’m not sure I’ve ever told anyone. It means evil.

The tattoos where meant as a constant visual reminder to myself to fight the person inside. We all have our demons. Sometimes, what’s inside goes beyond description.

My fight is made easier though because of Betty. She is my strength as corny as that sounds. She is my wife, my lover, my best friend. I love you Betty.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites

Author David Foster Wallace bound his wrists with duct tape before hanging himself from a patio roof rafter in the backyard of his southern California home, according to an autopsy report

In an interview with The New York Times, Wallace’s father reported that Wallace had suffered from depression for more than twenty years and antidepressant medication had allowed him to be productive.^[6] Experiencing severe side effects from his medication, Wallace attempted to wean himself from his primary anti-depressant, Nardil.^[7] On his doctor’s advice — Wallace stopped taking the medication in June 2007, whereupon the depression returned. Wallace received other treatments including electroconvulsive therapy and attempted returning to Nardil, without success.^[7] In the months prior to his death, his depression became severe.

I had never heard of David Foster before this. And honestly didn’t really pay attention to it. Yesterday I bought the latest issue of Rolling Stone at the local gas station. After reading the article I realized that David Foster was able to put into words some of the feelings I’ve struggled with throughout my life but could never put into words what I wanted to say.

David Foster was clinically depressed for over two decades.

“I don’t think that he ever lost the feeling that there was something shameful about this”, his father says.

The stigma associated with any kind of mental illness is often the biggest challenge faced by those with mental illness. The fear created by the stigma often prevents sufferers from fully taking advantage of all the potential for recovery that therapy and medication provides.

Continue Reading »

Bookmark It

Hide Sites

I had an anxiety attack yesterday. Not sure what triggered it. I have been messing around with meds, take it one day skip the next kinda thing, so I’m sure that played a part in it all. At first I felt nauseous. Then hot. Then dizzy. Then I could feel these periods of adrenaline flow through me. Each time I puked, oh did I forget to mention that? Yeah, I puked. Outside the car and inside. About five times.

Picture thijs: A 34 year old man sweating, puking, screaming, crying, and shaking in his car in a parking lot. Next, picture hjis wife trying to stay calm. Doing whjat shje can to help him. Knowing what to do this time, because last time thjis hjappened she called 9-11.

Now, picture thjis man’s two daughjters, ages 5 and 3. Watchjing. Screaming. Crying. Begging someone to hjelp her daddy. Thjey know all about dad’s mental issues. Thjey know about hjis meds and his doctors. Thjey know about his anger. Thjey know fear. But this fear is different. Daddy’s never done this before. Ohj my god don’t die daddy.

Thje attack stopped after maybe 15-20 minutes. I’m not sure. I looked around and saw puke everywhere. I look at my wife and saw love, compasion, worry,…pity?

Funny, thje first thing I said was, “Where is my phone? I want to take a picture of this shit so I can show people what I’ve been talking about.” Shje thought it better not show the photos so she kept the phone.

So I’m left trying to create an image, a movie of whjat happened in that car in your mind by words. This is my struggle. This is mental illness. This is my life.

Bookmark It