I don't sleep well. I can't remeber ever sleeping well. I was moved into the far end of the basement to share a room with the twins. They are 7 years older than me and, as is custom, found it fun to torment me so when I was 5 and they were 12 the fun thing was to make me scream in the dark. I was afraid of the dark at 5 and had to walk the length of my entire base,ent to the the bedroom in the back. My basement was scarey, unfinished in all the common points and the furnace was the last thing I passed before my room.
I tried to be brave. To walk not run and on those nights when I wasn't plunged suddenly into darkness. The switches for the lights in the basement were both upstairs and down and the twins would turn off the lights and make me go in darkness to the bedroom and turn on the lights in there as my reward. They laughed and laughed at my pain.
I hated bedtime and what it held because, in my room there was a box in the ceiling for the furnace return. It was panelled and had 1/4 round and was the size of a coffin. Beneath notice for an adult, a way to m,ake the ugly furnace return look nice and finish the room. My brothers had me convinced it was where the monsters lived, led by vampires. Can you guess what my 5 year old mind had as the ultimate terror? You are brilliant, it is Vampires!
Best of all my bed was under this box. I slept under a coffin full of vamipires and monsters. My reward for making it alive to my room was to lay in the light terrified under the coffin and ....sleep.
Most nights I screamed. Sometimes the terror would come when I looked up at the coffin. I tried to be brave but I screamed and cried until I was hoarse and exhausted because the fear was constant. Imagine 2 hours of terror without letup....each night...or longer...hurts to even imagine.
I tried to listen to the radio, but it was across the room and I couldn't get out of bed. I would quake and scream and cry until someone herad me. It was never my mom or dad. They were in the living room and you could only hear me from the back door landing, my screams absorbed by distance and television and covered by the twins laughs. From my dad and moms perspective, now that I look back, I was in bed and the twins were happy and laughing. All was well.
I finally got a room upstairs when I was about 11, 6 years of terrifying sleeplessness and the same year as my dad died.
I love the dark now and Vampires don't scare me but I can't sleep. I wake and sweat and turn and toss and start. I don't sleep my 2 cycles of 4 hours and I feel grateful if I get 4 straight hours. I am exhausted from fighting to be positive and no sleep for 39 years. Fear and terror and death makes for bad sleep.
I am insecure and tired. I am afraid by myself with nobody to love me. I sleep when I can. I miss work to sleep because I have too, not because I am weak minded. I am this way for reasons as real as death. Sleep is an escape rarely and I feel refreshed, like a normal person, maybe 20 days out of 365.
Alone I am worse. Who can live without love? I can't it seems.
So who would want me this way? I have just begun...wait untill I get the miscarriages and hateful abuse from my ex...you will see I am not lucky like Barb or Vicky or Laura who has family and is strong, independant and can be alone and be happy. I am better with support. Better with love. Better with family. I am in rough shape alone so the question becomes the same as before.
Who would want me in this way? Who would be sympathetic and not, in 5 years say "I can't take this, your earning nothing, sleeping" Suck it up butter cup is the help many can muster and it is no help to me. I am sick. I cannot be cured, but everyone thinks if they yell, isolate, abandon, pep talk or tough love me I'll be better. I am not a bd child or weak minded. I am ill.
So I am a loser to those who cannot imagine a guy with as many great things going for him can be that sick. Most women would find me aweful and not relationship material because 10 years from now I'll still be sick.
Ask yourself this...would you date a person like me, man or wonam....ooooo that brings to mind the incredible sexism I face as mentally ill and male. We are not allowed to be weak indefinately unless we are limbless, but women have feelings and it is understandable after what her ex called her. That kinda thoughtless sexism is killing me too, but that will be next. Lucky you eh? LOL
Monday, January 5, 2009
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.
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.
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