The Diary Of My Mind

Why I Can’t Write.

My brain is on a senseless shuffle
I see no end in sight
life is an endless boiling bubble
emotions are my plight…

I honestly cannot tell you how I feel at the moment, which doesn’t equate well to a decent blog. I’ve been in shut down mode for the past two weeks. All I have done is played a video game and sat quietly allowing my brain to be in complete down time. This is what I do when my brain gets too much information for it to handle. Many people enjoy music, reading, a productive hobby that produces something, for me it’s video games.

At one point in my life I didn’t understand why I played video games so damn much, yet today I get it. When I am in a game I don’t have to worry about the outside world. I am one with the game. In a way, it is almost a spiritual experience, if you wanted to use those words. I’ve meditated in the past and that feeling of complete quiet and content emptiness is the same that I can get after a two-hour gaming session.

So that’s what I’ve done for the last two weeks. I start the day with the intent to write but as the hours go by and the bullshit builds up I end up in the same state where I was the day before. Why? The reason is I honestly don’t know how I should feel at the moment.

I’m still grasping my official diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder, what that means to me and what my next steps are? Having that diagnosis was a liberating experience and yet as the last few weeks have gone by I have had more and more trouble using the old coping mechanisms that I learned throughout life. Three times in the last week I have gone mute, not just quiet but physically incapable of talking for a period of time. This honestly has not happened to me in years.

On top of that my grandmother is still slowly dying in hospice. Her mind has now gone completely and she spends her waking moments crying for her mother to come and rescue her. She hasn’t eaten a thing in two days and the nurses say she has somehow forgotten how to drink liquid. It won’t be long now but I know that she is in agony. I love my grandmother and hate seeing her in this much pain. I only hope her pain will soon be over.

On top of that my grandfather is still an asshole. He has done nothing but make matters worse. Constantly saying he is going to get her out of hospice care as soon as he can and how much of a burden she has caused him when it comes to the bills. It’s all a lie and only meant to make people feel sorry for him. He loves control and this is just one more way that he believes he can maintain control over her life at least for a short time more.

Speaking of that, I have no idea how to reconcile the good memories I have of my grandfather with the new image of him that I have today. I spent summers at my grandparents and loved fishing, early mornings with my grandfather. We spent hours on the bank fishing for bass, crappie, catfish and carp; my grandfather had a special dough bait recipe that he has made for years which was magical when it comes to carp and catfish.

He also taught me how to haggle at garage sales and taught me a lot of what I needed to know when I was early in the ministry. Hell, I wouldn’t even have been a minister if it hadn’t been for my grandfather. I spent a huge portion of my life trying to make him proud which I think I did but now all of that time spent sickens me. I cannot believe that I held him in such high regards for so long after what I know and have witnessed the last couple of years.

To make matters even worse, I have just learned that I have severe sleep apnea. On Wednesday i went to the hospital for a split sleep study. For someone to be considered to have severe apnea they must have 30 or more apnea episodes, periods of the brain waking up for 10 second or more, in an hour. I had 67 apnea episodes. The person conducting the sleep study then hooked me up to a CPAP machine and I was out like a light. The two hours I was connected to the machine were the two best hours of sleep I can honestly remember. I woke up without a headache, something that never happens, and had more energy throughout the day than I have had in a long time.

Anyway, so now I am waiting to speak with my doctor and get my CPAP ordered. The person at the sleep study said that a CPAP wouldn’t just help me but was incredibly important for my long-term health. This has me a bit freaked out but to be honest the worst part is that knowing I can wake up without a headache has made my last few morning headaches ten times worse.

So anyway, I’m mad, I’m confused, I’m not sleeping well and I wish I could make sense of life. I’m hoping to get back into writing soon but the time for that, outside of this article, just hasn’t arrived yet. Maybe soon, but not at the moment. Thank you for bearing with me and your continued support.


Wednesday Woo

Wednesday Woo #9: My Woo Journey

For last week’s Wednesday Woo, click here.

This week, I want to do something different and more personal. Here’s the story of my journey from woo.

I had always felt like a misfit – as if those who surrounded me on this planet did not reflect who I was deep inside. This caused a lot of anguish for me, especially after I lost my mom to liver disease nearly a decade ago. She was the only one who even slightly understood me, and even her assessments were sometimes distorted. I was all alone in the world, and desperately felt like I needed to find support and comfort. There were a few friends in my life at the time, but none of them truly seemed to understand what I was going through. They didn’t call or check on me very often, and when they did, the concern didn’t seem genuine, so it was as if I were a burden. I felt abandoned, and as though I wanted to die. There was no luster to any of the things I used to enjoy. Depression had a firm grip on me, and the only motivating emotion within option was anger; seething anger toward everyone and everything. My family felt compelled to argue with me over silly things like where mom was to be buried, and why we didn’t visit as often as they felt we should have in the past. This created a further divide; expounding upon the depression and grief I already harbored.

During these times of darkness, I ran into a lot of financial difficulty. At the time of my mom’s death, I was attending a local university in order to obtain a sociology degree. Depression did not allow me to function for quite some time after her passing, so thinking on a higher level just wasn’t an option anymore. I had a child to support, so it was time to dedicate myself to working full-time instead. Finding ample work to satisfy paying bills and providing for child care was especially tedious. There was a lot of “robbing Peter to pay Paul” kinds of tactics when it came to paying bills, and we ate a lot of ramen noodles. I ended up working at a fast food place, putting in as many hours as I possibly could. Still grieving, and in a state of isolation, despite the fact that I was in a relationship at the time, I put on a brave face, and pushed through each day. He had a wandering eye, couldn’t keep a job for more than a few months, and wasn’t really on my level intellectually. All of the financial responsibility was put on me, but at least he could babysit while I put in more and more hours. It wasn’t long until I got promoted.

One day, while I was hard at work at supervising a shift at the fast food restaurant, I saw my dead mother walk into the establishment. I knew I was hallucinating, and was really afraid, disoriented, and panicked. After having that experience, I decided that it was best to seek professional help. They diagnosed me as “bipolar” then swiftly put me on antipsychotics, which seemed to help, but also stifled some of the characteristics which I felt defined me. There had to be another solution, so I got online to research what was going on, and found some videos on YouTube describing how it wasn’t “bipolar” but an “awakening”. This shall forever be known to me as mistake number one.

My angst to find belonging, as well as my resolve to find tranquility, instigated a willingness to allow my sense of reasoning to fade, and to open my mind to anything that would make me feel better. I began watching more videos on YouTube, including Teal Swan and Spirit Science, then decided that what I need to make my life better was to find enlightenment, which was, from what I had heard, the only pathway toward the peace I required. This opened the social floodgates for me, as I joined enlightenment and esoteric groups. I found myself with lots of friends who sought the same sort of relief from the ails of life. Suffering was what brought us together, and made us question absolutely everything about the reality in which we live. We talked about astrology, tarot, astral travel, aliens and who or what controls reality constantly. Oddly enough, despite all the discussions, I was afraid to disagree with people, even if what they said was something I knew was absolutely wrong or unfounded. All that mattered was getting along, and growing my social circle so I could feel I belonged somewhere. The problem was, I still didn’t really feel like I had found my “tribe” quite yet. There was something missing. My relationship wasn’t working, and by this time, I felt confident enough to leave him, and reunited with my long-lost love, Matthew. I was so happy to be with the one person I knew would really understand me, and felt at the time that it was god/the universe who had granted me that privilege.

Being a peaceful, loving pacifist, who considered all reality to be a creation of a shared mind, I thought all opinions were equally valid. That is until I joined a Gnostics group and saw some posts about how Earth was flat, and the holocaust didn’t happen. This provoked the skeptical side of me, which led me to question the people who I was associating myself. Having been raised fundamentalist Christian, I recognized some of the same tribalistic and anti-science rhetoric from my childhood. I couldn’t help but be bothered by this, so I began researching things people said and shared online to find the truth. It took some time and effort to do this, but it was worth it to truly know if what I was told and personally believing was true. I began to say, “No, that’s not true,” more often, and it no longer bothered me if people liked my evidence or not. It wasn’t merely about appeasing people so they would stay friends with me, but rather what was moral or scientifically proven. It helped a lot that I have a Matthew, who is also a skeptic, and never was convinced by my New Age beliefs, no matter how much I tried to convince him at the time. He questioned me often during discussion, which really highlighted the flaws of my logic. I am forever grateful to him for that.

One by one, my New Age beliefs came tumbling down. After a while, I started to see some major flaws in my initial attempt to escape reality. It was difficult to avoid when I gazed into the reflection of others who believed as I did. One thing in particular made me quite angry at the belief system, was seeing a friend get outraged because someone posted a video of the Syrian gas attack. This person was only upset because it disrupted their “good vibes” that day, not at the horror or injustice of seeing children suffer by the hand of a cruel dictator. I couldn’t even begin to fathom a lack of empathy on this level. That’s when I decided the entire ideology was merely an escape from reality, and a disgusting one at that. There is absolutely no moral compass in someone who would rather deny reality, and a sense of right and wrong, for a conclusion that only makes them feel better.

While I may be a misfit, and a now a skeptic, I still have found some companionship through seeking to understand reality as opposed to escaping it. It’s a much better place, since I don’t have to pretend to agree with everything for the sake of offending others. I can finally be accepted for the contrarian being I am, and while it’s not easy, it is worth the effort. I love science, current events, social dynamics and studying the human mind. These are the subjects I find joy in discussion now, as opposed to aliens and astrology. There is so much more to learn and strive for in reality, and I don’t have to make-believe in order to find peace, happiness, or understanding.

The Diary Of My Mind · Uncategorized

Life Is Sacred With A Capital FU

I haven’t blogged in a few days and it’s because I have been angry. I wanted to wait a bit to calm down and collect my thoughts. My family is experiencing a tragedy and to make matters worse, my grandfather, the figurehead of religion in the family, is making matters much worse.

My grandmother is dying, I wrote about this a bit a few days ago but now I will expound upon that. She is dying from cirrhosis of the liver. Now my grandmother has never drank an ounce in her life, so when we found out that her liver we were pretty confounded. The doctors believe that she contracted Hepatitis C in the late 70’s/early 1980’s from a blood transfusion she received back then. My grandmother has also had several strokes which has left her unable to walk and take care of herself.

Her liver and kidneys have failed her, she is in constant pain, her body is filling with toxins and eventually she will pass away from Sepsis, hopefully sooner rather than later according to the doctors.  She is a strong woman and has regained consciousness since I last wrote. When family is in the room she acts strong, but the nurses have said as soon as the family leaves, she cries and begs for god to kill her.

To make matters much worse, my grandfather has spent the last two years trying his best to make her life a living hell. She needs 24 hour care, which she can get in a home, but my grandfather, a selfish bastard, takes her out of the home because he doesn’t want the state to take the small amount that they do from her social security check. In the past, when she was in the home she would get better, then he takes her out and she gets much worse within days.  During this stay the nurses and doctors found three fractures in her back that they believe she got from falling out of bed and not being taken to the hospital.

Anyway, the doctors recommended she be put into hospice which would at least make her last bit of time comfortable. This is also the only way that she can receive the pain medication she needs. My grandmother signed off on the hospice papers but my grandfather swooped in and claimed that she was mentally unstable and killed the hospice paperwork. She has been placed into a care facility until the 23rd when he will once again get her out and probably kill her this time.

I hate him… He was once someone who I respected. I wouldn’t even have become a minister if it hadn’t been for his prophecy and his pushing me throughout life. I always viewed him as a godly man and something to aspire to. Now I know that he is nothing but a disgusting narcissistic bastard who never deserved respect from me or anyone else.

With all of that said, I get to the point of this article. Life isn’t fucking sacred. Life is an absolute mess where you come into it shitting yourself and often leave it shitting yourself.  Life contains so much suffering I cannot possibly understand anyone who claims anything sacred to its workings. Life includes pain, anguish, depression, agony, famine, disease, murder, rape, and those are just to name a few of the awful things we can experience. What is sacred about those things?

Human life is obviously less sacred than the lives of our animal companions, since in most parts of the world it is against the law to choose to end your own life, even in cases where the cessation of life is the only thing to end the constant pain and agony that certain chronic conditions can leave a person in. If you went to someones house and their dog was in the corner, waling in agony from some chronic disease that will kill it, you would think that your friend was a monster if they didn’t take it and have it put to sleep. Yet, we don’t afford our sickest people the right to choose that for themselves?

I want to be clear, I am not advocating making the choice for someone else, this would only be an option in the most extreme cases. I could see allowing a family to make this decision for another, much in the same way that a family can choose now to pull the plug on a dying family member. If it is the most compassionate option, then it should be on the table. Why do we force sick and dying people to experience as much pain as possible before nature takes its course?

Life isn’t sacred, but there are good parts to it. The beginning and the end of life are fucking awful but yet there is beauty and wonder to life. I will always fondly remember the time that I spent with my grandmother growing up, the times I have spent with my children, the time I spend with Jennifer. Yet a large portion of life just sucks.

Anyway, I know I rambled a bit, I’m still upset about the whole situation but wanted to write something tonight. I promise to get back on schedule soon, but at the moment it just isn’t possible. Thank you for reading.



The Diary Of My Mind

Does Crying Physically Hurt You?

Oh how I hate emotions. Not so much the fact that my mind is almost constantly swimming in them, but the fact that I am so damn awful at expressing them. Along with ASD I also have SPD which, in the simplest terms, means that I am withdrawn from society and relatively flat when it comes to showing emotion. By and large I live a life of pretend even though I hate it. I smile and laugh, I frown and act upset when I hear something that is seen as sad but in reality on an emotional level I’m a blank canvas to the outside world.

When I do actually get to the point that my emotions break the surface they can be pretty severe in nature. Sadness actually makes the world seem dark and I might turn on every light yet still feel as if I am in a dark room. Anger can make me see red and I am likely to tear into someone with a verbal assault that I will ultimately regret for years afterward. The real issue though is crying…

When I cry, my whole body hurts. Is it that way for everyone? My back aches, my joints feel like they become a piece of welded steel, and my head pounds. The tear feel like daggers as they leave my eyes. Crying hurts so badly that I try my best to almost never do it. People say crying is therapeutic but to me it is horrible.

The other problem is once I start I have an incredibly difficult time stopping. I can at times bawl for hours and then all of a sudden it stops. I go back to my norm and you would be none the wiser that I had just spent the last several hours crying.

People believe that I have no emotions. That I’m cold, callused or heartless but in reality I just don’t understand the vast array of emotions. I understand the extremes but it is those pieces in between that are confusing to me. A lot of the time I am simply level, not really physically experiencing anything when it comes to my emotions. Mentally I might get stuck on the same thought for several days filled with the emotions of that thought. My emotions though are almost totally within my thoughts. I think with most people there are both mental and physical changes with emotions or at least it seems that way.

Anyway, yep…I hate emotions…



Who inspires you?

My top 5 list would be

  1. Jennifer – Hands down she is my rock, my inspiration and my motivator.
  2. Oscar Wilde – I love that he picks apart society and small talk with such ease. Pointing out how absurd the word is.
  3. Douglas Adams – I love fun fiction with interesting characters and plot-lines. His are the best!
  4. Christopher Hitchens – The man that made me an activist. His writings inspire me to be open and truthful in all ways.
  5. H.P. Lovecraft – His haunting tales will take you to the brink of madness and back. I love the atmosphere he creates in each on of his stories.

These are my top 5. Who would be on your top 5 list? Comment below with your answers.

The Diary Of My Mind

My Name Isn’t Sam, Though I Am Atypical

So today I had the pleasure of seeing someone who assumes they understand autism because they watched the TV Show, “Atypical” on Netflix.

Now if you have been reading my blog for any period of time you will know that I actually enjoyed the show even though I thought it had a lot of flaws. My main issue with the show was that it would give people the idea that they knew more about autism than they actually do. Well my assumption came true today.

I’m honestly not upset with this person because I think if I were in the same situation I would think the same thing. I’ve watched shows on the Middle Ages and felt like I knew more about the Middle Ages. I watch documentaries on paleontology and believe I understand more about paleontology. So why wouldn’t a person believe they know more about autism by watching a show based around an Autistic character?

However, at the same time, the inner workings of my mind are much more specific than anything you could gather from this show. While I do connect with some of the situations on the show, I am definitely not the clueless and inept character portrayed in the show. I am not Sam anymore than I am a Sheldon or a Rainman. My mind is my own and no one else’s mind works exactly like it.

Autism is a spectrum disorder and the actor portraying Sam is portraying a single solitary person on the spectrum. He is no more indicative of the whole than James Brown would be indicative of the whole of music.  You could not say you understand all of music by listening to a single song. This is the same with Autism.

Over the last several months I have made friends with many folks on the Spectrum. Some are verbal, others are not. Some can write beautifully and eloquently, others in short snippets. Some speak in poetry, others in an incredibly academic way.  Some are interested in romance and love while others never give those things a second thought. Some have loud and violent meltdowns, others meltdown almost entirely in their minds. I have never met a single autistic person who I could point to and say this person is exactly what Autism is and looks like.

It’s sad really. I wish the show did a better job at portraying a strong character with ASD. However, it once again portrays the main character in a comedic fashion. Sam is little more than Sheldon with less physics knowledge, he’s Rainman with better communication skills. He is a shell of compressed stereotypes that won’t lead you to a better knowledge of autism than you had from the very start.

If you want to understand autism, speak with someone on the spectrum. I think you will find that most of us are open about it. You will find that what bothers many of us the most is that we are constantly told what autistic people should be and how we should act or think. Many of us have spent a large period of our lives attempting to fit into society and then we find out that we are autistic, only to be told that there is a new mold that we must attempt to fit into. Well it doesn’t work that way and it never will work that way.

I am not Sam. I am just me.

Wednesday Woo

Wednesday Woo #8: Pwning Clickbait “Evidence”

For last week’s Wednesday Woo, click here.

Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a contrarian as:

“A person who takes a contrary position or attitude; specifically :  an investor who buys shares of stock when most others are selling and sells when others are buying”

If this be the true confines of the term, then I am a contrarian, since I refuse to buy into nonsense beliefs in things without evidence, conflations of the truth, and suspect definitions. I just cannot bring myself to invest in stupidity anymore, no matter how popular it may be, or how happy it makes people feel.

For instance, this shitpost I saw the other day from “author unknown”…


This author should remain unknown, and their ideas should be well hidden under the moldy rock from which they came. And yes, I redacted the photo and put a cat there. It felt about as silly as the original pic. So yeah – I’m not linking to this credulous drivel. I wouldn’t grant it the privilege of clicks nor the money it receives in ads as a result of these clicks, but I will address the article’s ideas, which I have seen expressed over and over again in woo-woo circles.

One cannot help but wonder about the terms given here. What do they mean by “activation” and “ascension process?” Perhaps the article sheds some light on the writer’s meaning. Turns out, they go on to say that the ascension process is “going back to” the twelve strands of DNA as opposed to two, explaining that these extra strands are on other dimensions. Although some stranded structures could potentially develop artificially or hypothetically, DNA is typically known to be a double helix, and I have no idea why they have conflated mathematical systems like “dimensions” in their article for any other reason than to confuse the reader. Why the hell would our DNA be in the math we made up? Sure, there is the element that we created the math, but that seems to be the only logical connection I can make to DNA being even remotely close to the concept of mathematical dimensions. But don’t take my word for its meaning.


Multidimensional Systems

Dimensions and Equation Systems

Check this one out.  I don’t even like math, but it was easy to define the terms that have been misused in this piece by doing a quick google search. It just goes to show that either “author unknown” didn’t understand what a dimension is, or they are willingly being deceptive. Clickbait would never be deceptive though, right?

Next it goes on to describe how the right and left hemispheres of the human brain are disconnected, so the only course of action to reestablish connection is activating the DNA strands in the other dimensions, and ascend!


Whatever that means. Assuming they are describing the real, physical human brain, the corpus callosum, a band of nerve fibers, already connects the right and left of the brain.  Knowing the terms the article uses makes it seem like utter hogwash, doesn’t it?

It then continues on to appeal to the ancient, invoking the pyramids and Egypt. Then echoes “spirit science” with the whole “we are evolving from carbon forms to ‘crystalline’ nonsense. It also boasts about how the chakra systems are so wonderful they can cause this newly activated DNA to send and receive messages from the “higher self” to the “soul” – God, right? They must mean god. The next section discusses how you will gain special new “programs” so you can connect to the mythical Akashic record, which supposedly contains all knowledge of the past, present and future. All you have to do is “vibrate at a higher frequency” by altering your thoughts and emotions. Yeah they want you to believe you can talk to magical beings with your DNA and obtain all knowledge that exists in the fairyland dimension by the power of thought and emotions. Cool story, bro.



It concludes with a short description of how this is an ongoing process, since they say children are being born with 3 strands of DNA. (Uh…citation, please?) It ends with the conspiracy theory of how the Annunaki (aliens) altered our physiology, and we must look for a “cosmic wildcard” such as solar flares or cosmic wind in order to activate our DNA back to…however it was. It never says what a cosmic wildcard would look like, so I’m guessing it takes the form of whatever you want it to. I cannot help but wonder what the folks that took this article seriously are keeping an eye out for. Perhaps they took it literally and are awaiting actual wild cards from the game “uno” to fall from the sky.

How I feel reading articles like this:


While it may feel good to wonder about other dimensions, aliens, and if there is some super-duper space we can tap into in order to gain instant knowledge of everything, there’s simply no evidence to justify believing these things are real. Using these this article and others like it as confirmation to ideas that make you feel superior, and on a path to some kind of super power is pure mental masturbation. Surely if there were a way to activate our DNA and obtain all information of past and present it would have been done already. There would be human encyclopedias among us who could answer any historical question presented, easily demonstrating their knowledge by pointing to the exact location where Jimmy Hoffa is buried (or some other unknown fact that science could verify). The fact is, this idea is utter fiction, and such articles should never be taken seriously. I suppose it just takes too much work to be a skeptic, and far too easy to believe whatever the hell you wish.

The Diary Of My Mind

Goodbye Grandma…

Today I went to see my grandmother in the hospital, to say my final goodbye. She has been very sick for about two years now. Her kidneys are failing, her liver is failing, she is unable to breathe on her own. The doctors said that it’s only the machines that are keeping her alive. On Friday they will be removing her from life support and her life will end.

I’m writing these words not because I am sad but in a way I am comforted that her struggle will soon be over. I’m not a believer and so I don’t believe she has some marvelous new life waiting for her on the other side. I don’t even believe that there is an “other side.” I just don’t want to see her in pain any more….

Growing up my grandmother was one of the strongest people who I knew. She was hard-headed, a great piano player, a ministers wife, a house painter, the most amazing cook I’ve ever known, and my most absolute favorite person on this Earth. My grandmother had a voice that was like no one else and she I remember sitting beside her during many church services, listening to her sing while she gave me Redhots from a small container she kept in her purse.

My grandmother taught me how to bait a hook and how to wait patiently for a fish to strike the bait. She was at every concert, band performance, and grandparents day that she was invited to, always waiting to give me a hug when it was over. I spent several weeks each summer at my grandparents house. Each morning we would go fishing, and every night we would watch “Wheel of Fortune” or play “Aggravation.”

I love my grandmother but I think she is better in my memory now. I’ve seen her lose the ability to walk, lose the ability to talk, lose the ability to care for herself. I’ve watched as health issues destroyed her body and dementia took her mind. In a lot of ways I mourned for her more over the last couple of years than I have today. It was a sad day but I still have all the happy memories of my grandmother, in my head and in my heart.


This was the last truly happy photo I have of my grandmother. She had just been placed in a nursing home after they had found that she had dementia. She wanted so badly to have her hair permed, having always done it herself, but the price that the nursing home was charging, $40 dollars, was out of her price range. I went to the nursing home and paid to have her hair permed as a surprise. She was so happy that night when I went to see her.

In remembrance of her I am going to share a gospel song. I loved hearing her sing this song. Even though I am no longer a believer, I will still hold this song in a happy place. She sang it far more beautifully than you can imagine.

I love you Grandma. Goodbye.


Fiction and Stories

A Cruelness To The World

If you could see the pain in my heart

When laughter breaks the calm

Knowing I’m the brunt of the joke

For doing something wrong.

I jumble my words before they exit

My mind it clearly sees

Superiority in your eyes

Looking upon me like a flea

You have no idea, how hurt I am.

Because quietly I sit showing no pain.

The pain in my mind surges forward

My thoughts the pain does claim.

I only wish to be accepted

As another human being

Yet laughter crushes the man inside

I’m broken, torn, and bleeding.