Preface

On the evening of November 17, 2013 I held a gun to my head while pleading to my girlfriend who was sitting on the couch in front of me.  I sat on the ottoman before her.... commanding her attention after an all day meltdown on my end. This seemed like the only way I could get it at the time.  Do I have your attention now?  In that moment, I finally had hers.

I know that it is hard to fathom, but I didn't want to die.  Heck, I wasn't even trying to kill myself or thinking about killing myself.  If I wanted to die, I certainly know quicker, cleaner, and easier ways to do so.  What I wanted... no, what I needed, was understanding and compassion. Calling my situation "difficult" would be a major understatement.  I did get a point across... just not the one that I wanted.

You see, when you put a gun to your head amidst a mental breakdown, you are deemed crazy by the general public.  Even worse, by the powers that be in the judicial system, who then turn around and hand your son over to the psychopath you have been trying desperately to protect him from.  Now what? I look like the crazy one, when in reality, I am just struggling to keep my head above water after years of torment.

I'll tell you what happens now... Fight like you have never fought before and rise against the beast trying to destroy you.  Block more punches than you throw and take the punches for as long as you can.  Stand up more than you fall down and keep your eye on the goal in mind. Kind of sounds like war.  In a way, it is.  My enemy is physically strong.  Mentally, he holds no guilt or shame for his "fuckedupedness" due to his sociopathy.  I know that "fuckedupedness" isn't a real word, but I think it still applies with obvious meaning.

It is difficult to think of where to begin with the understated roller coaster of a ride my adult life has been, but I will try my best. You see... the last few years of my life at that point, had been building up like a volcano preparing to erupt.... and when I finally did, it was just as sudden, destructive, and volatile as a volcano can be. I imagine I may have taken on a reddish color and though there wasn't lava, there was a heavy flow of tears.

But let me tell you about what has been going on for the last six years so you will "understand" why everything that happened that night, happened.  I say that with reluctance that you will understand because many people won't understand it, will judge it, and therefore just toss the "crazy" label across my forehead and keep me in that category in their opinionated minds.  I'm actually okay with that.... It's kind of the story of my life.

"You own everything that happened to you.  Tell your stories.  If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better."

-Anne Lamott

Thank you Anne Lamott.  I don't know you.  I have only seen of your work the few quotes I came across in trying to find words to help explain the reasons behind my writings.  I now understand that I don't have to have a reason.  I don't need an explanation for anyone... not even for myself. Everything is what it is and not everything is as it seems.

Now that I have your attention, I will tilt my axis to the beginning of this mess.  No worries reader... I will tell you of that day in November soon enough....

 It is a day I will both never forget and partly not remember.