So, I chose other, and hope this is the right forum, because sadness, anger, regret, new to diagnoses, relationship, et al… All are applicable. What I really want to do is complain, but what I need and want are two different things. I originally intended to truncate the message to save readers time, but I’m sure if you came to read anyway the title tag was a good enough warning. 😉
To start I guess I’ll pick a beginning but really it is going to jump around a little so bare with me…
I finally followed thru with a very kind FNP and went through an evaluation receiving a diagnosis of perhaps Combined ADHD, with physiological anxiety and perhaps needing to start treatment and come back later. That was in March (12′), and at the end of my 28th year. While I feel the diagnosis was correct, I also know that the tests were child’s-play and I knew how to answer and why each part was being asked. I did my best to be truthful to myself, but there were some parts I didn’t want to elate as I have those managed; so I hope.
Well, the diagnoses was no big surprise as I had known what I probably had, and ruminated it thoroughly before going to the FNP in the first place. It’s not that I didn’t know I was forever drowning at time throughout life, it that every time I sought help it I depended on the new Dr. to help me understand through my explanations. I think, I’ll explain later, that I have been to about 8-10 different doctors over the years since the age of 15; during difficult times. With that, the diagnoses ranged from anxiety, depression, (once) bipolar maybe (was at the county mh). Every Dr. I requested something different than what I had from the previous because it didn’t work. I obviously had a difficult time following through with one health care provider, or finding one that could understand me. Not to mention often when I was in the determined mood to go to a doctor I wasn’t under the best conditions to thoroughly explain my struggles. So with that, I tried a lot of different medications, mostly for anxiety, and nothing ever was helping the issue. Depression medication made me severely depressed, wanting to drink, or strangely quieted in my mind (Wellbutrin). As for anxiety; Klonapin made me sleep walk, have nightmares (struck my partner asleep once), and only helped keep panic attacks away; Celexia was the second longest I ever took, two-three months, I came closer to feeling less stressed, but was highly depressed and felt the need to drink, not to mention seemed to exacerbate a mood of depression; Xanax was the closest I ever came to being able to function and start digging myself out of the hole my life was in. However, I had finally found a Dr. to follow through with and she ended up leaving state to another practice. Xanax had gotten me into college, cleaning up my mess, and as I’ll mention later it started my path to recovering. So the place had two new Dr.’s fresh out of school. The first I saw said he would give me one month but on the next visit I had to choose something else because he was not prescribing anyone xanax. Well, for one I was doing well. Second, I don’t like male doctors, so I requested to see another physician on the second visit. That appointment was horrible, not only did she bring the other doctor in and start degrading me as an addict, but made me relate my story all over again of all my struggles even though it was already in the file. She offered the other meds I had tried without success and said the only way to stay on Xanax would be to come in for a weekly drug test, limit the prescription to thirty a month max, and go to group therapy. I had already been cut cold turkey since the second appointment was a month late, and I didn’t have any withdrawal problems so I just said no thank you and left. The place was a total two and one-half hour commute and I didn’t want to try something again that didn’t work before. It wasn’t until three to four years later of self-medicating that I had it in me to try again. The one shrink I saw at the mental health place said maybe I was bipolar and gave me a 600 Seroquel cut into 1/8th pieces and said I should probably call for a psy with their list. Well I tried one of the 1/8th and I slept for 18 hours, the next day I slept 19; I threw it out. I tried for two to three weeks calling through the list but no one answered, called back, or was willing to give an appointment… Finally in my third semester; yeah I know but the school f’d up and listed me as certificate program, denied my classes, and I had to wait and re-enlist and that didn’t happen for a while; Even though I was making A’s, I couldn’t take it anymore.
So obviously, I have a long-term determination problem if more then a few days is involved. Thank goodness I started receiving medication two days before this most recent upheaval. So let me advance this self-discovery with going through a quick explanation of my life.
My family is crap, that is the nicest way I could ever put it. I was the second, and last, by four years. My parents split either before or right after I was born. I didn’t really find or talk to my dad till 22 because my wife was really supportive in helping me keep motivated. My mom; herm…. I have to say she raised me, but in the loosest way do I mean that literally. Now I really don’t remember much of my childhood except some general stuff and specific moments; the rest is stashed somewhere in my mind. I am even to this day not sure what is wrong with her exactly, but it follows the lines of a narcissistic, bipolar, schizophrenic psychopath. I mean that by the literal terms from the DSM, not just from me not liking her. We moved over 20 times before I hit 15, she was married 16 times I know of. She was never home as she was either at work or dating some new guy. Always ending in catastrophe, she would either go insane, try to claim abuse, or take off after someone else. She was extremely physically, mentally, and emotionally abusive. She ruined my credit by stealing my ss and using a fake name, kept running from the police, and always involving me in these wild convoluted scams of hers. Not to say she isn’t smart, graduating as an RN with a 4.0, but it comes and goes in cycles that vary in length and occurrence. So from running and hiding all the time, either from real people or her imaginary psychotic episodes, life got worse and worse. I don’t like my older half-brother much, but I know it is partially our parents fault. He tried to get out at an early age, but wow (in retrospect) did our mom ever screw his life up. He ended up in prison on a felony for attempted murder, a son, and coming back home after a 1 year sentence to 5 years of intense indoor only probation. It was her fault, for starting her lies and scams, creating fights and manipulating everyone, and controlling his mind to warp reality. He never left home, became isolated and unsocial, and stayed with her until recently at 32 when she shipped him off on a bus to another state to live with some girl he met online recently. I feel bad for him because he has never been able to see his child or have any sort of a normal life, but I’ve never been in a good position to help, although I’ve offered it to him several time, we really just don’t talk to each other or have a relationship other then when we got high together many years ago.
As for me, no way in hell… Excuse my language. I’m smarter than he is in many was we are the complete polar of each other. I was probably my moms favorite because she dragged me thru most of her scams and I knew she wasn’t right from a very young age. I believe I started skipping school in the 4th grade, I must have missed like 53 days till the school caught on. I was pushed ahead anyway and continued the same in the 5th grade. I would just go home without going to school, no one was there anyway. I straightened up in the 6th grade because class rooms changed every hour and the curriculum was much more interesting. I even went as far as going to the chess club twice, until I played everyone without losing and didn’t go back. Also some other events like a art expo in town because I was good at drawing. In the 8th grade we moved to the worst place yet, around the time of my brother’s woes, and I just couldn’t do it. It was the worst of the worst projects’ school and I was only one of three white people attending the school. With all the bullying and groups of people jumping on me I just stopped going by any excuse possible. Even the teachers just let the fights end because they were afraid of stopping fights because it was dangerous to them. I failed the 8th grade by attendance, and was supposed to be held back but we relocated to a whole new area and of course she faked documents to put me in High School. Puberty hit and life changed, I became oppositional to authority, moderate to heavy use of pot, occasional drinking, and even though I made A’s on tests I again missed lots of days, was always in trouble, and never did any homework. Although, the second year in the 9th grade I was put into all advanced classes, it still wasn’t enough to get me motivated. Our home was little better than a tent would have been, there was no food, constant bickering and fighting, and that is only on the occasions our parent was there.
On the third year of high school, at 15, I had skipped from 1st to third and a summer child, I think they got tired of me, I was caught smoking outside; the idiot I was with was on a bus trying to light a fire when a teacher came out the door and saw me smoking then on the other side of the lot smoke coming out the bus…. I didn’t stick around for that, as soon as the teacher went to open the door leading us in I booked. After later being taken to the police station for questioning, I was let go because I wasn’t guilty of anything but skipping and smoking. The next day I was searched and expelled. I went back the next year but on the first day I was taken out of class and suspended two weeks to fail from attendance, and that I shouldn’t have come back…
Now to speed up the story a few years… My parent, after finally getting caught on a crime, married some illegal immigrant and we ended up at a hotel. The first morning there, I showed up after as I was rarely home anyway, my brother got into it because I needed to make a call and he didn’t want to get off the internet (boy the day of the 56k; good times…) well, the Spanish guy was upset and didn’t speak English; He told my mom I came in and started a fight, or so I was told that is what he said; At first she was really sweet, because I had gotten paid that day from working two full-time jobs; When I lied and said I didn’t have any money she was furious. I was taken to a court date I had for a run in with the man, and she left me there at the court house with my bag of clothes.
I didn’t see them again till years later when I turned 18. I hit hard times and the party was over. Suddenly homeless and jobless I walked for two days to where I heard from a friend they were living. I stayed three or four months but it wasn’t safe so I left again. I was dating a long time ‘friend’/girlfriend and moved in with her at her parents. That lasted a few years. She was Bipolar and eventually became ‘coo-coo’ and I hoped around a bit.
I met my wife at work, who was the ‘soul-mate’ I was destined for. I was dating someone and so was she; but when I first saw her the world stopped, everything slowed down, and for what I guess was like 5 seconds seemed an eternity as she had this glow and attraction I’ve only ever experienced once. That isn’t exactly how it happened but that is the best I can explain. We had a rocky start struggling with money and getting into a place a week after we met one night and I asked her to come hang out with me. Eventually a few months later she got pregnant; as a Mormon she was so upset about being out of wedlock. I jumped and asked her to marry me. It may have been a $50 fee down at the magistrate, but we were young, dumb, and poor 😳
After marriage we found out my identity was shot, credit ruined, and after getting fired from my job with the state because some old fart kept touching me and assaulted me after I complained, I was laid off during the second investigation. I was only making $900 a month so it was a blessing anyway. I ended up with a really good job, she worked a little there too, and we had a beautiful daughter. Things got progressively worse for me though. I was switched from my office job to a field job because another older employee’s wife wanted him home more; he left a month after taking my job. I was paid more but it was stressful and I took to playing games far to much and I literally abandoned my wife as her life partner.
I understand now but I didn’t understand life then. After some time she got involved back with her parents and she wanted to move to her home state, we would be provided a whole floor turned into an apartment, and I could go to school and work part-time at her parents house. They were leaving the country for a year so, for her, I would do anything. It was completely outside my comfort zone. I didn’t cope well, and my adhd went into extreme overdrive. My daughter was walking so it was easier for me to be an even better parent than before, we didn’t get the internet so I worked and then spent time around the house being involved. Of course I worked hard and over compensated too much of myself. I was nearing ‘the wall.’ I had quit drugs since my daughter was born and because of her religion I didn’t bring coffee, or other things that helped me into the house. Just me and cigarettes outside. After some issues with her younger brother taking my was of talking with his sister aggressive the family problems began. They left the country shortly after but the seed was planted.
The apartment downstairs was never finished, I think it was all a rouge. I started working harder, as her older brother was a bum, and ended up supporting the house and him. In my mind we were okay, in retrospect I like to go give myself a good ass kicking. I got so bad, I had a breakdown; (explicit) even to the point of incontinence. I went to the doctor for my wife, but I was severely misunderstood. I was given klonopin, and sent to an AA/NA group meeting because I said I drank once in the last three years. I was kicked out the first meeting; told I didn’t belong after the drug test, and telling my story that I drank once and I had to drug habit.
Then came the day. After a few years I needed a day out, the first time I ever asked my wife if I could go somewhere. It was St. Patrick’s day and my co-workers elated how much fun Philly, P.A. was. I went, I had a blast. I got really really drunk. I was a light weight. I passed out at 2 in the car, someone knocked on the door at 5 am and I freaked and drove home. I got into bed shortly before she woke. When I got up that day at like 2 I was still completely drunk. I had to go to work at 2:30. I went and sat with my family for a few minutes and I just hit rock bottom. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. My daughter wanted me to read a book, but I didn’t want to because I felt like shit sitting there still drunk. I told her I would do it later because I was sick, my wife was really upset. I went to work; two hours later I had the weirdest feeling. I left work immediately and got a gift for my daughter and my wife and went home. She had left, that was the last I saw her.
I didn’t know this last part of the story till a few months ago. I couldn’t tell you what had happened, or where I had been, or what year it was. I know I ended up at my dads. I know he broke into my car and stole $1800 I had saved for going to get my daughter; he is a meth addict as I now know. I ended up back in my original state somehow.
Bits and pieces came back to me occasionally. The f’d up part is, wherever I was, I came back one morning on acid, the first time I ever tried it, the same time (next day) I went to that shrink and received the Seroquil.
I sorta know now within the last two years where I was by brief memories of a moment or something. No full days or complete events, partially because I don’t want to know. I had a few terrible short self-destructive relationships. I suppose in search of a crutch. The last one, before this next story was not all too bad. She motivated me to get to a doctor, but really we were using each other as a crutch to surviving life. There were some personal issues with me and intimacy so one night when she went to bed I sneaked out to never return. I was at the end of my drinking. I tried school, had friends, and a really good job. I met them all mostly through social drinking so I still occasionally went up and drank a soda to socialize after work. I was okay for the first time not needing to not be alone. I knew I wanted to remember, needed to remember, wanted to find my daughter. Everyday was a struggle from waking up to trying to go to sleep. It was two years since my wife left; granted I saw my daughter once as I went got her great grandparents to set up a weekend for me. I took my male friend from my first bipolar ex’s family, with me that weekend because I needed someone.
The economy hit, the job started sneaky layoffs, and I was drowning after a while. The more I tried to remember the worse my anxiety and hyperactivity got. I went back to searching for an answer in this world, or something to fill the void inside. Somehow or another I met this older woman, and we clicked by chance; I was a wreck at socializing, but somehow unconsciously I was sitting there one night when she was there beside my somewhat best female friend (not important), she was going to leave out the door dressed to the nines’ and I said out loud “are you coming back?” Like a little mouse, I really had only briefly ever spoken to her. She was elated, and she did come back.
It was a perfect fit, our age didn’t matter I was in my mid 20’s, her a few years shy of 40. I’m throwing this in but it was probably a motherly thing, but I liked she was older. We moved kinda fast, I was smoking again so we had it in common. Because, both of us were living on the off beat path, we quickly both needed shelter and moved in together. After just a couple weeks I was laid-off but we recovered and got a real place to rent and moved out of the efficiency long-term hotel place. It was a rough start, she was bipolar and as I now know I’m not just not normal. We made it though, I was elated to have someone in my life. I even started talking to my mom again. After some time she got pregnant, and I was doing my best to be a good partner and father. She was difficult to deal with at times, but I compensated as best I could. After our second child was born, she became severely depressed. Even attempting suicide once. A week before our child was born I had a extremely terrible accident at work in a large truck. That gave me the ability to be home for the entire first year. I was the strong one… It got pretty bad with her other children and parents and we liked to drink every weekend together. After she started treatment we got to actually know each others inner secrets. That was a bad idea. I got into school, because I the unemployment ran out and I didn’t want to go back into labor. It didn’t take long till she got the itch and broke up moving out. I took the child with me and got a nice place, or so I thought. It eventually got robbed like 5 times in two weeks.
We got back together, as I slowly talked to her daily and showed her I cared. A short time after I needed to move to somewhere safer, so I bit the bullet and moved in with her. Nothing changed, I was trying really hard to be her rock. I was an excellent parent, and very proud in that aspect. She became relentless, physically abusive, mentally abusive, sometimes completely AWOL. I needed to get me and the child out. It was difficult as a student to find a home. My parent was coming around once every two weeks or a month for a short visit, I tried to get her to help; but that hasn’t changed either.
I didn’t know what to do but I had a chance because shortly school would end for the semester and I would have time to set up daycare and find a safe place. Wow, was I ever so wrong. At this time I had already known that I most likely had adhd. I didn’t drink because I was being the best person and parent I could; for two. It took a while to get to the Dr. then a month for the evaluation, then another month to get it back and into the Dr. Everything was going to be okay. I wasn’t paying attention to her getting worse, not having money from her full time job, didn’t consider her drinking increasing, her mood swings increasing. I guess I was used to it. I was so close though, I thought I could manage fixing everything now that I had been doing so well. Better than ever before in my life, even without medication yet. Then six months ago I got that FNP appointment, and was given medication for adhd. I was on cloud 9 I suppose. I was already remembering, planning to get my daughter, dreaming of a normal if not better life…
Two days after getting meds. Two whole freaking days. Two weeks shy of the get away. I found a place down the street, she was getting treatment but not enough or the right kind. I wanted to help her but show her she needed to change as well. The unexpected happened. Something with her oldest child. She came home to drink early. The end is nigh…
That was the day, or really night. All that afternoon she raged. Screaming, yelling, taking it out on things in the house. She scared our child. So I took him out for a walk and we kinda strayed from her. At dinner time we went back and it only took a few minutes for her to attack. It was okay, I would let her rage but I wasn’t going to do it quietly. I had the perception and thought clarity like never before. I stood up to her and was so quiet and discreet but firm to her, where she had to stop scaring our child and go outside. The way I handled it was amazing to me, I was that whole new person already. We had a very good two hours before bedtime. We played, danced, got a bath, read a book and hung in the child’s room for longer than usual because we were having such a good time together. It got interrupted by her coming in the room, making it bedtime then, it was okay; it was past time anyway. It was a trap. I was drying laundry, and she was set to have a face off with me. I called her parents, no answer. I called her other child, she didn’t get the urgency. I tried to talk to her, it was kind of iffy. She wanted to talk but she was in hypo stage. She wanted to fight. I let her go on a bit. She eventually was ready for bed. I was going to also, on the couch. When that happened, she snapped, I left with the monitor outside and I thought she went to bed. I quietly went in got the clothes and started folding in the living room. I heard a bull stirring. It wasn’t happening. I set a camera up quickly, and got the physical attack recorded. She ran out the door leaving. It was over….
Not by a long shot. I was out the side door, I heard the front door open. It was 2am I had school in a few hours so who needs sleep. I got up going through the house to the front. The door was open, my phone off the charger and gone. Gone; she thought she had a victory and proceeded to lay into me. Fast, man I’m fast. “I sent the video already, so it doesn’t matter.” She panicked, texted to see if it was true. Thank goodness my parent is not right in the head, it took only a “say yes” text. She thought everything was true, but I started having a panic attack. It was so painful, like never before. Maybe it was because of the medication, but I dropped, felt like I was having a heart attack. She jumped on it, started recording me saying I’ll call 911 and I kept saying no just leave me alone. She grabbed her smoke and I heard her in the bedroom stashing it. She said your done going to call the police and report drugs. I would test clean no problem, but I was in the worst panic attack ever. I desperately got up and went into the room scrambling through my dresser and closet to get that crap out of there. I didn’t want to lose all my fund and chance at education; and escape. She went to call 911; bam, a ‘miracle.’ I found it in my night stand under some books. She freaked, I went outside and destroyed her crap. I went back in sunk on the couch, I could do no more. I was out slumped over in the corner.
She left that morning as already planned, I went to school. It was normal and she was usually better in the morning. I lasted one class. Left, went and waited. She came back like she said, but unfortunately so did mother. She barely made it half way up the sidewalk. She ran to her car, put the child back in, and took off like a mad woman. I called the cops, they found her much later. They said go file papers…
I had been texting the best supportive things I could all day and that night. Telling her I wasn’t pressing charges, it was okay, bring the child home safe.
That was the day. Here came a ex-parte tpo the next morning. Out of the house I went, when I saw them coming in the yard. I left to safety, called a friend. Went and got my car, got about 5 miles maybe and the engine seized. I just changed the oil at jiffy, and it was there, but there was none now… Had a dss appointment anyway from calling that morning at school, I needed help with her. I got a call from the neighbor saying there was a door tag, what it said. I called them, got the order, went to the appointment. Two days later, a bang on the door at 2 am. Arrested for some conjured violations, 10k bond. Spent a whole day lay under some common area tables, because of over crowding.
They wouldn’t give me the meds. I had been woken, 5th day of treatment, in the middle of the night. I couldn’t quite think straight. I couldn’t think of anyone’s phone number, or much less much else. Much much latter they gave me to me at 7pm. I got some guy in on murder charges to lend me credit for a call to his bail bondsman friend. The next morning I got out.
There is part of the 4 grand I had for the summer and moving. Then an attorney for another 2k. Then the motel, cabs, paperwork. It didn’t take but a month and I was broke. Had to wait 20 days to get the tpo trial, it was thrown out after both testimonies, and the text recovered from phone company. The violations came another month later. Couldn’t wait, went for custody.
There was some work, w2 temp, kept me going. It has been 6 months. I have played a nice hand, but this was supposed to be recovery time. It is exacerbated beyond medicinal help at times. Days spent writing court papers, searching for answers, find information. Oh the things I have learned. I didn’t know this state was so bad off. There is no legal aid, there are no shelters available, but one that full. The other is lottery for 200 beds, when I went there were a few thousand guys. It really is bad out there, I had to much of my own problems going on. The cheapest of representation is 3k, in both of the states for both kids. I just don’t have it, and I can’t stop spending to get it. I need a roof over my head, there isn’t public transportation to get to places I need to go. I walked many a days, from one side of the state to the other. I lost a little over 100 pounds in the first two months. I’m keeping to the doctor though. She says I’m a completely different person, and she is very sweet and understanding, and we talk so I wouldn’t want to lose that; it helps a lot. I decided to return to school after the summer passed, where else could I get a huge payday in a month after starting. The work moved to far to travel, like the next state above and below far. I’ve been applying at postings I see. I’m megerly managing to attend school, with b’s and c’s to start. I’ll get the 4.0 back eventually, not important now. I’m quickly near the end though, my cash is gone, my credit is gone.
I should have went to an abuse shelter. I probably should of spoke out. I didn’t though, that isn’t me. I don’t talk to other people about everything. I don’t like sympathy. I know now though my ‘friends’ aren’t really friends. Even those from childhood. I’ve asked for a couch for money, and cleaning, and other things I can do. I know most are also struggling, but I only needed a place to sleep for a week or two to get enough together to get a car or house. I have always bent over backwards to give to these people when they had need, was there when they needed companionship, gave when I really didn’t have to give. I don’t understand it, but I never liked people that much anyway. The solitude has worked to my advantage in ways. It is still the same though, I just don’t qualify; damn you money. I almost went as far as fraud, I couldn’t though. I’ve never wanted to break the law intentionally; only my own self destructive anti society things from my youth. I got one friend, but her year is going the same as mine. She knows I need help, and we have been friends for around 15 years. She has a big enough place. We have been very close and intimate, but we are friends, and she is getting divorced. I don’t actually ask for help, but I’ve been over there to comfort her. We’ve talked and kept up to date, but she said she doesn’t want to confuse her children??? While I didn’t ask, it only came up like she knew I needed help, but I’ve been Uncle to them all for years anyway. I’m not holding it against her, it is just if the shoe was on the other foot.
So I wrote this on the last night I can afford at the motel. I’ve had a rental car for a month, looking for work, apartments, traveling to get mail and to go to school. So I’ll attempt camping out for the first time ever under these kinds of circumstances. I’ve got 5 days to turn it in. Hopefully I can shift every last bit of credit to cover it if need be. The school is disbursing in three days by mail. I’ve really cut it close, but I think I made it. I’m not out of the woods quite yet, but this is going to surely turn things around in a positive direction; So I hope.
I have my answer to my lifelong struggles now, at least for the most part. I’ve taken a journey inside really for the first time with the ability to maintain focus, thought, understanding and have clarity to it all. There has been some progress in changing the maladaptive behaviors I’ve constructed over the years. If nothing more, this has all been a life changing experience. I’m facing everything instead of running, hiding, forgetting, seeking answers from the world, and losing hope. I’m learning what determination is, what it means, how it works. I can wait an hour, day, week without going nuts with impatience. I’m definitely no OJ Simpson defense team… I’m giving it a lot of effort though, doing both custody pursuits, attending school, trying to keep up with homework, going through with treatment and introducing myself to me. I can remember what happened those many years ago. I can know what I want and I can have that thought and be okay with it, process those feelings and It makes sense; I’m coping. The anxiety is really hard at times. The ruminating would like to take off on a triathlon. The thoughts love to pile one over another over another in succession distracting my focus; but I’m multitasking efficiently. I haven’t lost everything this time, the material junk is stored safely, dss is controlling her every action, and I don’t need to throw in the towel. I cleaned up my life, kicked so called friends completely out of my life. It is okay to be alone, I don’t need to have someone else make me okay with me. My distaste for authority isn’t any better, but I’m still courteous and polite, playing their game their way. I guess I just needed to get it out. The stress knots are killing my back, and I’m not used to openly expressing my problems, frustration, and grief.
I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but that’s okay. Karma better play nice with me this week and not have any more surprises in store. I made it I hope, and the worst is going to be over. I see some light at the end of the tunnel, it better not be a mirage. In the worst of times, I have changed for the better. I believe that even though things got so bad, it was because of the challenges I excelled so well. I may have taken for granted the opportunity to grow and kept the vicious cycle going. I doubt if anyone will read this entire post, but really it is for myself. I wont reread it now, I hate doing things twice, but I will look back eventually and read it. I can’t remember everything I’ve said exactly, but its my story I know it because I’m living it. This won’t happen again, I will be prepared next time. The credit is finally clean, it will be paid off, I’m ready to work, go to school, and be a full time father; when the court gets off there good for nothing…. can. They pushed me to Nov. but I think beginning next week I am playing my way also. I would have never been able to wait, plan, and be smart about my actions before. I guess I have a few thank you letters to write to the teachers that let me move all four exams to the last day and take them back to back. The doctor who cared and kept calling me to make sure I was coming back. The attorney who cut his first fees down; even though he won’t budge on the current one, I understand its business. My goals in life were to retire, not any particular job, opportunities, or lifestyle. I just want to live my way, do my own things, have the family mine wasn’t. Raise my two kids with love, compassion, and pass on my knowledge of life.
I turned off the video games many years ago. I turned off the tv several years ago. I have ADHD and it makes me different from other people. That’s okay with me. No use living in the past anymore.
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