All my darkness

This page is a continuation of the "Introduction of my life" page, if you have not read that page please start there for this page to make more sense.

Eventually the mental anguish I was going through became to much for me to bare and I had to find a way to diffuse the pain. I began punching things, hard things, things my punch would not damage but instead cause me pain. I never did this infront of others nor was the desire to hit something ever directed onto someone else, but every moment I was alone pain found me in some way. Aside from nearly breaking my hands many many times, I eventually found other ways that were less obvious to quench the anger I had for myself... I began cutting. I used a box knife for it was safe to carry around and had a legitimate purpose, the box knife made the perfect cuts, not to deep, just enough to bleed. The blood, that was my release, much like a drug addict scoring their next hit, the blood was mine. I only cut on my right lower leg just above my ankle, it was easily hidden by my jeans or socks and is the last place of notice.

The cutting got worse, sometimes longer sometimes deeper, all the while the darkness of my mind wandered into fantacies of what could happen if I.... What if's were my most frequent day dream, or would it be a nightmare, either way you look at it they haunted me. I eventually got so depressed I took my knife to my right palm and cut, as deep as I could as quick as I could. Kind of like in movies that depict mideval times where someone would slice their palm, fisted around a knife in the honor of someone else usually at their grave. Coarse after I did this I realized how stupid it was because a wound like that isnt something you can easily hide. I made up a story that I cut it on a sharp peice of metal debri I was moving, everyone seemed to buy it.. except my wife. She knew about my cutting early on, but I did well to hide it and she only noticed weeks later when it was healing, still she'd get upset with me and worry more of what I might do. Cutting wasnt something foreign to her for she knew friends whom had gone through it as well.

Almost a year after I started cutting I sought mental help from the VA (Veterans Affairs) after all I was a disabled veteran, perhaps this was a festering wound that worsened from my PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) I endured in the military. What ever the reason, I needed help, and quick, for the path of my future got darker and darker.

I saw a psychologist at the VA whom was very helpful in prescribing medications to help with my "issues" though not as helpful in finding out the cause or getting to know me. Never the less if I could numb the pain it was at least a step in the right direction. Within a couple months I was on more medication then a diabetic; medication for depression, anger management, anxiety, blood pressure. The more pills they could throw at me the more numb I became, and for me I did not mind numbing the pain even if it numbed the happiness. I eventually became somewhat android like where I wasnt happy nor sad, Not depressed nor enthusiastic about anything. But the medication helped in alot of ways, all except for ruining my liver.

I continued to gain weight and in the beginning of 2009 I injured my back at work causing an anular tear (tear of the disks in my back) combined with digenerative disk disease which I had learned I had from the MRI's they ran. My back's future looked bleak and my weight wasnt helping. Through out that entire year I walked with a cane and eventually I was confined to a wheel chair and weighing over 420lbs. So there I was in a wheel chair, heavier then I had ever been in my life, depressed from a multitued of things that even the largest amount of medication couldnt dwindle.

Below is a video called "Transgender Inequality" Its extremely informative and also very sad but definately worth watching.



To return, please click "Introduction of my life"