My Hilarious Facebook Text Conversation With a “Helper”, I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE BLOG

Pictured is the amount of time left until I land back home in New York.

Mom’s down in Auburn this week helping Krystle with the kids and Chad is up here working in this part of Alabama . It’s nice to have him here and to be with my brother as grown men, spend time together visiting just the two of us. I was in Birmingham yesterday and got a text from him that said, “How many cups of food for the dogs?” I texted back, “One cup.” Then I thought about it and added, “For each dog.” As it turns out, I was too late and he had already given each dog two cups which is no big deal of course. I appreciate his pitching in. The only thing is, after having gotten to bed late anyway, I woke up about 01:30 with my eyes watering because Willie’s farts were filling the bedroom. Even Sydney seemed to be worked up about it a little bit as he was groaning a bit in his sleep. In my half-awake state, I realized, “too much food” and then rolled over, pulled the comforter up over my nose and mouth and started to go back to sleep. Then Willie started whining. “It’s not my fault, buddy. You did it.” My words were muffled by my makeshift gas mask. Then I realized— he wanted to go OUT!

“God dammit!” I said as angrily threw back the covers. “Let’s go!” I briefly considered putting on at least some underwear before taking him out in the front yard. Fuck it. If a car passes, they’ll just have to see. It’s dark out there and their headlights won’t provide more than a second’s peep show. Willie tiptoed quickly out into the yard doing whatever the dog version of crossing the knees is. As soon as he got a few steps from the front porch he half-squatted before the explosion occurred from his aft exit. It sounded like the amount of toxic gas was about the volume of a volleyball. Guess I’m glad I went to the trouble of taking him out.

When we got back inside, I heard the buzz associated with Facebook Messenger app on my phone. Remind me again why I have that app? Is it really  that important that my Facebook “friends,” only a fraction of whom I really know be able to reach me right away? Anyway, with blurry eyes I looked to see who is was from. The name was familiar but its no one I know for real.

I read the message which was talking about my blog— something I regularly ask people not to do, especially without asking permission and then a little bit of his advice of what I should do. I guess my sleepy state added to the aggravation but I was immediately wide awake and I was in “combat mode” boy! If I’d been awake I might have exercised a little more restraint of keyboard but I just let him have it. Before I hit send, I thought, “Well maybe this poor bastard doesn’t know that I’ve told people that I don’t want to talk about the blog, that the blog is helping immensely, that the blog is doing its job just fine, and that if my blog brings up anything for them, they should work on their own shit. It is my firm belief that in 99% or more of the cases, if someone writes to me with some advice about my life, if I were to look at their life— especially in the areas/categories into which I have divided my goals (health and fitness, finance and career, spiritual and emotional, sex and relationship) that I would definitely not want what they have and that the antithesis of the saying “if you want what I have, do what I do” is also true. If I don’t want your life, why the fuck would I want to do what you did to get it?! But I was, as I said, willing to cut this bastard a break. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he was drawing the fire that— oh, that’s part of it! Part of the PTSD is that if I’m awakened by something “going on” (dog’s explosive shitting, unwanted message on the phone) I go right into Iraq mode. I was awakened soooooo many times over there in that war-torn cat box with “Hey Key! We’re rolling!” (I was an LAV driver— like a tank with tires) because some asshole somewhere had pulled some trigger and now it was disturbing my sleep— that I almost never am awakened into a good mood. I even avoid using an alarm clock if at all possible but getting to be early so I’m awake early on my own. Plus, I need my sleep.

Last night, as soon as I realized that I had been awakened and thrown into the cortisol bath, I was also immediately resentful because of the badly needed sleep of which I was being deprived. But maybe this well-meaning “helper” (the worst kind) just didn’t realize that I had asked people not to comment to me about my blog (or if they absolutely felt like that absolutely had to, to ask permission first) or to please, please not give me advice— maybe he just didn’t know. But then I noticed that last night’s—well, this very early morning’s to be more precise— this very early morning’s advice was not the first correspondence. So scrolled up to read that he had actually written to me on November 9. When I read the opening sentences of his help bomb, my blood pressure went through the roof. “Hi Jeff, I’ve been reading your blogs and you and I have several things in common.. I know you don’t wanna talk about the blog…not here to do that. You don’t want advice. not here for that either. “ Oh. My. God.

Here is our text communication in its entirety. I have done him the courtesy of not using his full name. I may not be so generous in the future.

TERRY: Hi Jeff, I’ve been reading your blogs and you and I have several things in common.. I know you don’t wanna talk about the blog…not here to do that. You don’t want advice. not here for that either. I just want to say that I admire what you are trying to do and I want you to live, but more than that, I wish and pray for your success as you and your God define it. Welcome back to Alabama and I hope your holidays are good. I just needed to give you some gentle encouragement. I know you have many ears to bend, but if you ever need a stranger’s ear, I’ll offer mine and tell you anytime bro.

TERRY: also, don’t let Adam steal anymore of your joy!!

November 19th, 11:11am

I won’t pal! I know it sounds like the opposite but “coming out” about the way that my molestor(s) and abusers hurt me has actually been reclaiming my joy

Saturday 6:54pm

TERRY: Hi Jeff, First, I want to say that I am so sorry for your loss of your friend. I to, hope he is at peace now. Second, I’d like to thank you for your blog post yesterday. It really hit close to home with me. The “culture of silence” almost killed me as well. Like you, I was a good actor at masking the pain I was in, and no one that knew me in any capacity, including my parents had no idea that I was going to kill myself. I was struggling with coming to the realization that I was gay. I thought I’d rather be dead than be gay, and I tried very hard to kill myself. Well, obviously, I failed. I was in a coma for two days, and when I awoke, the first thing to cross my mind was that I was a complete failure. I couldn’t even kill myself properly. Everyone in my community was shocked. They all had no idea I was capable of doing such a thing. But, as you said, there was no one to talk to because you just don’t talk about such things to anyone. And for many years afterwards, I could not even speak to my shrink about how I was feeling because of that ingrained ‘you just don’t talk about such things’. I won’t bore you with anymore of my story because, as you have said many times, people like me need to work on our own shit, and I am working on my stuff.

TERRY: Thank you for your blog. It has been a gift to me. You put to words what I cannot. I could never do what  you are doing. I could never make myself that vulnerable. I’m a very private person by nature, and to be able to read what you so eloquently write, it makes me feel better that people are getting the message of what you feel, and what I feel as well. We have a lot in common in past experiences, and I’m glad that you at least can put all that into words. I would like to be able to talk to you in the future, but with my shirt on if you don’t mind.  I am a couple of years older than you, and believe me, you don’t wanna see me without a shirt. I hope that whatever project you have going with “the stud” comes to fruition. I also hope and pray that you will be able to see your goals come to fruition as well. You are a blessing to this world Jeff, and I am glad that you recognize that you have a great talent with the written word, and it needs to be shared with the world, in any capacity in which is made known to you. Someone once told me, when my mom had died, that the universe unfolds as it should. At the time, it didn’t make me feel much better, in fact, it pissed me off. But afterwards, when I thought back on it, I found some kind of peace with that statement, I hope that you can as well. Thank you for sharing yourself so intimately. It’s a pleasure to know you. I’ve read all of your blogs, and I feel as if I’ve known you all my life. And I hope I can look forward to getting to know you better. As I write this, Alabama vs. Auburn is just about to start, so I’ll close all this rambling up with ROLL TIDE ROLL!!

TERRY: One more thing, I thought I’d ‘friended’ you on facebook a few weeks back, but for some reason you aren’t showing up as a friend, so I’m going to try one more time, if you don’t mind.

Thank you for your time,

Terry

ME: now we’re official! I accepted the friend request. thanks for your kind words too

24 hours ago

TERRY: Jeff, I’m sure you’ve probably already thought of this, but I thought I’d throw it out there if it helps…I’m sure you’ve worked many jobs, so that means you’ve paid into the system, have you checked on Social Security Disability for PTSD? I don’t know what that process would look like. For my disability it was difficult, but with being on VA benefits I don’t know  if this is something you can do…just a thought….

17 hours ago

ME: I get $810 per month for being 50% service connected disabled for PTSD through the VA

10 hours ago

TERRY: Hey Jeff,

I wasn’t sure what your disability rating was, but I just brought it up because I think you can get SSDI and VA benefits as well, but I’m not sure how it works with a 50% rating from VA. But if I were you, I’d just call SSA and ask what happens in that case. The number is 1-800-772-1213.I hope it helps you some…Congratulations on getting back to NYC.

ME: Thank you I’ll call. That’s very kind of you.

Can I ask another favor?

TERRY:  yup, you sure can

ME: Will you check in with me on Wednesday and ask if I’ve called? I know it seems silly but I have an extraordinarily high amount of anxiety about that sort of thing I tend to put it off. It has something to do with the PTSD itself. I know it’s weird but if you would do that for me I would appreciate it

TERRY:  sure, i’ll check back on Wednesday to give you a reminder..I hope it goes well for you

ME: Thanks

about an hour ago

TERRY: Hey Jeff, I just read your blog, and I don’t  want to draw your ire at all, but I am bipolar, and I went undiagnosed for many years.That is part  of the reason I’m on disability. I was bipolar before it became the cool thing to have. I experience soul-crushing depressions that last weeks, if not months. What you described in your post was what my former shrink called ‘rapid cycler’s’ and he said that a large percentage of people who suffer with this are some of the most creative people on the planet. Many famous people throughout history have been bipolar. I’m not trying to ‘diagnose’ you,nor am I trying to imply that you are bipolar. I just wanted to share a bit of my story, and some of what I’ve learned along the way. I am NOT a very creative person, so I’m kinda jealous that I didn’t get that part of it. Just some food for thought, or hopefully comfort. Have a good night.

ME: Hi Terry. Have you ever considered publishing a blog?

TERRY: hey Jeff, no I have never considered it. I don’t think I have the talent for it

Why do you ask?

ME:Terry I am so very angry right now. You know I have asked people not to talk to me about the blog and you decided to do so anyway. Now I am unable to sleep. Do you know what helps me more than all the unsolicited advices and lay diagnoses in the world? Getting some sleep. You are fifty-five years old and tell me that you’ve had all these years of therapy and treatment and recovery. Saying “I’m not hear to talk about the blog” before you go on to talk about the blog is not acceptable. Please don’t remind me on Wednesday about the SSI thing. In fact, please don’t contact me anymore. With all those years of therapy I would have wished that some of it would have been in the “fixing” arena. I suspect that this is pattern for you. Please stop. Stop.

ME: I’m going to post our conversation as my blog tomorrow to try to dissuade others from doing the same thing. Really, did you think that after working for years in the mental health field, going to thousands of meetings, and working as long as I have to get better I would not have considered that daily highs and lows could fit into some need pharmacology-benefiting diagnosis?

ME: No.

ME: Because you didn’t think. You just said, “I know you don’t want to talk about the blog” and then dove right in

ME: thanks for a sleepless night

TERRY: I won’t contact you ever again. I was only trying to help you. I’m sorry you are sleepless, and I wish you well on your journey

ME: make sure you read my blog tomorrow

TERRY: i don’t know what I said that would cause you to be sleepless, but I’m sorry

ME: You fucking wrote to me and said “I don’t want to diagnose you but” and then diagnosed me with rapid cycling bipolar disorder!

ME: Do you take medication?

ME: Terry do you take medication?

TERRY: I don’t know why that matters but yes I do. I understand why you don’t want to take any medication. You haven’t ever been diagnosed.

ME: that medication may have made you “feel better” but it has also clouded your judgement. you are a victim of the pharmaceutical industry and you are trying to push it on me now.

ME: You knew that I had asked for people not to talk to me about the blog did you not?

ME: Terry?

ME: Hello Terry?

ME: You read that I had said the the blog was doing its job and to please not write to me about it, did you not?

ME: Terry?

ME: is that what medication does for you? Can I have hopes of that too if I start playing chemistry set with my biochemistry too? To completely disregard people’s boundaries?

TERRY: I apologize for crossing any boundary you have about  anything.

ME: Is that your MO when you’ve obsessively done this in the past?

Know better. Do it anyway. You can always apologize?

You are trying to fix other people to avoid looking at your own shit.

Stop

Stop doing that.

If the meds make you think that’s okay, stop.

Fixing is a disease like drinking, like compulsive sex, like overeating. Fixing isn’t “helping” it’s not kind, it has hurt people in your life. People who were in the middle of their own process when you “stepped in.”

The dog was crying to go out and I got up to let him. I saw there was a new message and I made what I now know was the MISTAKE of reading it.

You say you don’t know what you did to deprive me of sleep? My point proven.

That’s why I don’t want to participate in the great psychopharmacology EXPERIMENT because that is exactly what it is.

The reason I suggested you have a blog is because you had started writing one to me.

I had another man who, similarly, started his EPIC messages to me with, “I know you don’t want to talk about the blog but…”

TERRY: You’ve made your point. I won’t contact you by any means ever again. Once again, I offer my apologies for crossing your boundaries. I’m sorry.

ME: ”Hi Jeff, I’ve been reading your blogs and you and I have several things in common.. I know you don’t wanna talk about the blog…not here to do that. You don’t want advice. not here for that either. ”

Think about those sentences and then think about what you went on to do/say. Sleep well, Terry. Don’t miss tomorrow’s blog.

(end of conversation)

Do you see? Do you see what a dick I can be? This poor old man was just trying to share the hope he has found with me, reach out to another human being, maybe make a friend even. Do you see what a dick I can be? (not supposed to say “dick” to mean bad, its man-hating. But it’s the only word that seems to fit right now— “jerk” maybe) Do you see what a complete JERK I can be? (doesn’t hold the same punch) This is the JERK-DICK you can expect to meet you if you try to talk to me about my blog or give me advice. This is the angry, combat-ready Marine you can expect to hear from— especially if you try to drug me into the same submissive state that most Americans are in, the diverted-attention-trance, the delusion that somehow makes them think it’s okay for what our government does in our name! You think I’m sad and angry? You bet your ass I’m sad and angry. You would be too if you’d seen what I’ve seen. But thanks to the bank controlled government and media, you don’t have to. Here’s your pill; go back to sleep. I’ll take my place on the barricade, thank you very much.

The blog is doing its job— very well. I am into action and moving forward and dumping a lifetime of unwanted, unneeded bullshit like bailing water out of a lifeboat (great analogy)!

If you find yourself wanting to help me, I WELCOME IT! Hooray! I think you are wise and good and have found and EXCELLENT person to help! Here’s what can do to help if you find yourself in that position: SEND ME MONEY! Lots and lots of it if you are able. Sell things of value you have and send the money to The Mehadi Foundation! I want to build an entertainment EMPIRE that employs other Iraq and Afghanistan veterans. I want to start my empire by producing these five scripts I have (one Broadway musical, one straight play to open off-Broadway and then move to Broadway, a full length motion picture, and two short films). I want to people these efforts with artisans and craftspersons who are at the TOP of their field and at the elbow of every single one of them, I want a post-911 veteran learning to do what they do. I want the veterans to be PAID for the internship, be housed and fed during the whole thing and have access to be very best resources available on the planet for whatever negative residual effects they may be experiencing. I want this like I want nothing else! I want it to start yesterday! Yes, I want your help. Send me money! Your mind-numbing drugs, your religious dogma, your snake oil miracle cures, your judgement and your advice, YOU CAN KEEP ALL OF THOSE. It’s your money I want. Money I’ll take.

Thanks for understanding.

I love you very much.

See y’all tomorrow.