I can never go back. What will I be now?


Been doing a lot of thinking about who I am and what I believe lately.  Last month I finally admitted to myself that there just isn’t any possibility of me going back in any armed service, my brain injuries are just too great to overcome to be effective.  Growing up all I wanted to do was be in the military for the rest of my life, and so when I got in to the military I never saw it ending.  So now that I don’t have that “vision” of myself, I don’t know what to be, I have no goals in life because I always wanted to be in the military.  I can’t be a Marine anymore, a least not an active or reserve one, I’ll just have to suffer being a veteran.  That isn’t a “bad” thing, I just wanted to stay in until retirement.

bRaving Bipolar is doing well, medication changes occasionally, although she is pretty stressed after taking classes back to back.  We are working with the Marine Corps’ Wounded Warrior Program to gather evidence and submit it to the Purple Heart Reclama board.  The marines I was with when this happened:

blast

meet the revised criteria for the Purple Heart because we were both knocked out and sick in quarters for longer than 48 hours.  It was a 152mm artillery round hidden under tires that burnt down a trailer the day before, laid on the ground.  Based on the distance from the tires (5 meters) and studies done on ordnance, there is no way that we would’ve remained conscious from the pressure produced from the blast wave.  One of us was medically retired and the other 3 of us have had severe problems from the traumatic brain injury.  After that I will attempt to negotiate some healthcare from the VA.

One month post D-Day


This is a weird post to write, for a number of reasons.

So, for those catching up, my wife had some more affairs in December 2014 during a short manic episode.  I found out while she was in the hospital, also for the manic episode.  I feel like I have taken it very well.

I did a LOT more research into bipolar disorder to understand the physiological goingson inside the brain before, during, and after a manic episode.  I can’t “understand” it the same way she can because I’m not bipolar, but I have at least developed a level of understanding where I can separate her manic behaviors from her in my mind.  So while I’m sad and angry about the affairs, I’m not angry at her.  I know she doesn’t want to be like that, she wants to be on medication, she wants to be a good wife and a good mother.

I finish my degree in 6 days; I have a lot of hope that this will be a significant amount of stress relief and I will get to concentrate on my kids and wife.

New Discovery Day: December 9th 2014


BRaving Bipolar went into the hospital on the 7th. I asked on the evening of the 9th if anything had “happened” and she said yes, but she didn’t want to get in to it right then. So I got 2 hours of sleep that night.
On the 10th she confessed to me that since she got back from her solo vacation to San Diego on 18 Nov she had slept with 4 men, 2 of which used no protection.  I was angered until I realized that on the 5th of December, her most recent encounter, I had been suffering a horrible migraine all day and I got up to take care of the kids so she could go do school work. Instead, she got dolled up, fucked a dude, maybe did some of her college work and went to her support group.

So I feel really ugly, inadequate, small in the world, disgusting, vulnerable, angry and confused. Right back to the beginning of where I was when I started this blog 2 and a half years ago.

2 posts in 1 night!


bRaving Bipolar is on a unique vacation this weekend; unique in the form of her being across the country in San Diego alone, with no responsibilities other than sleeping, waking, and eating.  She tells me that she has a LOT of trouble navigating the metro system out there.

Finding my words on what to write are so hard lately.  Tons of stuff to write about, just not sure what I should write about.  Lately my migraines have been back, in a frenzy.  Once a day, sometimes migraines that last more than one day.  Had an MRI a few nights ago, which caused a migraine.  Because of the MRI, I now know where dubstep comes from (I like dubstep, btw).

I have another appointment with my neurologist this coming Friday, so we shall see what he has to say about the MRI.  8.5 years after I was originally blown the fuck up the first time.  Hopefully, some answers will come out of it.

Graduating, and death makes people do weird things…


Well, I will finish my undergrad on January 15th; nothing else but the application to graduate, 200 bucks, and a 10 dollar transcript request because the original transfer transcript I sent didn’t include the 4 courses I was taking/had recently taken.  Weird feeling, I’ve been working at my undergrad in one form or another since 2007, so I will have spent almost the same amount of time I spent in the Corps working at my degree.  Granted, I had to take some breaks while I was in because the Tuition Assistance Program only paid $4500 a year in $750 per credit hour increments, so once it was up you had to wait until the next fiscal.  By the way, if you’re active duty and reading this (holy shit, someone active duty reads this?!) go to your motherfucking base education office and find out WHEN you can use the goddamn service-specific tuition assistance program.  RIGHT FUCKING NOW.  I would have been done years ago had I started using it when I was actually eligible and my GI Bill could’ve been used on my graduate degree instead.

So my mother’s side of the family has turned to shit.  Her brother, and my cousins have more or less stripped my departed grandmother’s dwelling of anything of value and left my mother to foot the bill for any expenses that her estate has acquired.  Her brother “could” agree to use a $100k retirement account to pay those expenses and split the difference, but he would have to sign off on that and won’t.  And the state won’t accept the will as worded, SO, he got off with a less than a year old Honda Accord (title was changed already), he owns half the value of her dwelling, and my mother can’t do anything about it, for now.

I originally wrote this as a draft and stopped after the last sentence of the second paragraph, because I wasn’t sure what else I wanted to say on the subject.  I’m pretty pissed at my uncle right now, and while I may forgive him, I won’t forget what he did.

Not forwards or backwards, stepped sideways.


So I took out a loan against my retirement last week to pay several bills that we were behind, and indulge myself a little bit.  I was tired of seeing city utility trucks and wondering if it were my water getting shut off, power trucks for my power, wondering if my car was getting repo’d.  I was only 2 months behind, but when a power bill gets big, and the late charges have to get paid, it all cascades and everything comes crashing down.  So now everything is current, some things are a month ahead, it costs me less to loan myself my own money per month than it did to pay late charges and we got both cars back on the road, which was a huge issue.

So while taking out a loan on what retirement savings I had at the age of 30 is not ideal, it will be paid back and the relief I feel right now was inconceivable 2 weeks ago.

So, about family…


My grandma finally died.  I say finally as in “it fucking took long enough” and “I feel relieved now”.  I was quite disturbed at the way she was made to die.  More or less, she was given painkillers to keep her “sedated” and ativan to keep her anxiety in check while she slowly dehydrated and starved to death over a week and a half, with the only fluid intake being the pain med drip.  She had bleeding in three places in her brain and she would not have had a comparable quality of life to what she had before her fall, and she did not want to have anything sustaining her beyond her own abilities.  I’m not sad that she died, she was an amazing woman, lived a long life, traveled all over the world, and got to take care of her mother at the end of her mother’s life.  I’m sad about how she died, and I’m sad about how some family members are trying to grab things and run before my mother, the executor, has a chance to execute the will.  More or less, the scheme is that they grab assets and money and run so that they aren’t immediately responsible for the inheritance tax, and hope that the executor doesn’t have the finances or will to take them to court.