Why bother wasting your time on me?

I am dying from a disease. It is real and painful, robbing me of life, love, happiness, security and any other thing you can think of that is good for a human to be able to give and recieve. You may want to deny my reality and replace it with your experiences and "talk" me into remission. You may just roll your eyes and think "pity party" or have a simple suggestion that you think I am ignoring willfully. You might "not believe" in medication. If you feel any of these or other opposing perspectives don't just bail on this blog because a friends life will depend on your understanding what is written here. Life and death as real as the air you breathe for someone close to you. I not talking about me but your friends and family, a brother or sister, aunt or friend. Please waste some time here on purpose and quickly you will see the world in a more realistic and caring way and save someones life. Maybe more than one person once you know what is really happenning to those around us as we live our lives. Some of us are dying swiftly and surely.

Many of you have known me through the years and have seen me at my best and worst. At my best I seem unstopable, charismatic, hilarious, loving, attentive, wise and loving. Many of you remember me this way and that makes me feel wonderful. Facebook is awesome for elementary school mates who love me still and I thank them and others who keep me alive. Others have seen me at my worst when I rage, scream, yell, cry, dispair, collapse, panic, exhaust, long for death, drink and smoke and say cruel and hurtful things that crush. I am remembered as a loser and dink by some and I can't add certain friends because I know they think I am a loser.

I am a loser. They are right. I am unfit for love. I am unfit to have a wife and child. I am unfit for happiness and humans in general. I will never find love. Never have a child. Never be safe. Never be secure. Never be happy because , according to the world I am a loser extrodinaire, an anchor or toxic. I agree now with everyone who holds this opinion because I cannot fight the truth about me.

I have depression. I have disthymia. I have clinical, longterm depression that is killing me. I have had 2 lifetimes of pain in 1/2 a life and I am starting on my third lifetime of pain.

My dad had his first heart attck when I was 3 months old. Every moment of every day from then on was a death watch. My entire early childhood was filled with death at any second. My dad died when I was 11, some of you remember that at school. I seemed very at peace with my dads death. Years later I learned that death as a companion can hurt a small child in deep ways. My Doctor, Dr. Patricia Bryden would add "duh!" to make me smile. For those who were there I was appearently depressed with clinical depression from kindergarden until I broke down at 30. I'll save that for later and give you a taste of my ironic life of pain... I quit drinking at 30 and had a complete breakdown as my reward! I can still laugh now and again.

So lets start by thinking for at least 10 seconds about a child living with death. I will talk about isolation, bullying, family seperation and school later but I want you to really put yourself in the shoes of a grade 2 kid.

By grade 2 my dad was in and out of the hospital. I would have him at some times when he was really sick and couldn't work. It was great to have him, but he was so sick and looked worse and worse and I felt guilty that I should be happy to have him, that as his heart was killing him I was benefitting from his pain, his death.

I would cook for him. I loved my dad so much it still hurts to type this. He would be too weak to flush the toilet and I would see his pee the toilet, a dark orange and I knew death was there in the room. do you know how often, from 5 to 11 years old I saw dark orange pee? About 100 times over the years and each bowl was the evidence of death, I just knew. Later on, you know me, Mr. Inquisitive, I learned that I was right about the pee, it was caused by dead red blood cells. He was peeing out evidence of death. To this very day I look at toilet bowls with a little dread.

He had 7 or so heart attacks and a similar amount of heart failures. To cut to the chase I came home on warm august day and my dad looked the worst I had ever seen him. He had been getting worse and today he looked like death. The house was empty, mom at work and the brothers all out having summer fun when I went into his and mom's bedroom.

He was white as a sheet, his face screwed up with pain and dispair. He was in a lot of pain and could brely breathe. I turned on the oxygen and put it on his face. He couldn't lift his head when I put it on and I got very scared. My dad couldn't move and I knew he was really bad so I called my brother the fireman.

He came and dad wouldn't let him take him , but after 10 minutes or so he was too weak to stop him. Pat carried my dad out like a little girl. he was tiny and white and in so much pain, his eyes saw nothing of me as they went through the front door. The screen door did that slow close and I never saw my dad again. I sent him to the hospital ,which he hated, to die. I rmember standing alone in that big house and crying, shaking and screaming in terror because death had my dad for sure. A few days later or a week, time is fuzzy, I was at my aunts when she got the call he died. She said "K.C. your father has died" and all I said was "oh". I was watching the Grape Ape Cartoon and I sat in the sunbeam and just watched tv. I was expecting it so I was ok, I told myself.

So do you think this first 11 years could cause early childhood depression?I rmeber life as a tiring struggle full of fear and terror, my brothers and the hood come into play to, but this is a book already so later, but I want to let you know that my being a loser and unfit for love, marriage and children was not a decision but, just like my father, a sickness that doesn't ever ever ever ever go away. I am exhausted and so tense my neck is aching (a physical symptom of my lovely illness).

So who wants to get married and have my kid? LOL. So this is just the warmup, the childhood portion open for exploration so you all can understand this is a real thing. I am medicated. 14 years medicated and it keeps me alive, but just. So as potential "mate for life" how do I look so far? See you wanted to say I am not a loser, but I can't earn money very well. That alone is enough to make every woman run, but add I am mentally ill and incurable and an crazy enough to still want a baby...well you can see why I agree witha ll the negative things ever said about me. It is true... unfit for love, family or happiness because I am a 1/2 looking for the other 1/2 in a world of women who see 1/2 as....well 1/2!! LOL I am 1/2 a man with 1/2 prospects and a complete loser because of it.

I am sending this to potential dates too because I have no other choice but to be truthful. Anyone who loves me gets a loser, and anchor, a sick man who will never be cured. Waste of money first of all, waste of time because 10 years from now he will still have some super shitty days being all terminally ill and women don't want that. Nor to make a child with that. Give up total freedom and being alone to do what you want when you want too for a loser like KC? Not on your life!

It takes away my last energy and hopes. Who am I kidding...I am a loser. I can't fight or educate everyone every time to understand I am not weak minded, self indulgent, lazy, or a loser because all the evidence points to it being true. I am accepting my death from lonliness and pain. My third lifetime of pain started the new year and I need to sleep (lazy). More to come when I can type again.