Tuesday, December 30, 2008

High Tide

It has been a while. My PTSD has not improved at all. My psychiatrist has increased my mirtazapine and I did get some of that wonderful slumber for a few days. This, too, has passed. I , just like all of my medical specialists friends, have no control over the sub-conscious. I am now listening to some wonderful music by Jethro Tull. Why you ask? I chose to listen to Tull. I chose to post in my blog. The conscious mind. I have total control. Mistakes and all. I weigh the risks and benefits of a situation then take action. I reap the rewards or suffer the consequences. It is what you and I do everyday. Hundreds of times a day. Sometimes we are not fully conscious of what we are doing. We are not fully aware. There is a finite line between the two. When we allow our bodies to rest our mind keeps going. Why? We fall asleep and our sub-conscious mind takes control. We lose the power of choice. You cannot decide to dream a certain dream before you enter REM sleep. This is my enemy. My sub-conscious mind. It is out to destroy, divide and conquor.I do not have the skill or the strength to defeat what is out to destroy for to destroy the bad will destroy the good. How do I separate the two? I do not have the answer. I can only control the conscious mind. He is my friend. theblogmeister

Friday, December 19, 2008


Have you ever heard of blogdom? That is what I am suffering from. My PTSD is nothing compared to this. I am writing for the sake of writing. I have no legion, no groupies, no followers, not a single solitary sole that reads my blog. Why do it? It is what is called therapy. yeah, that's what I said,too. Somebody out there let me know if what I'm doing is worth it,okay?

Friday, December 12, 2008

thebloggers hangover

i did have one hell of a hangover. I don't know if it was because i went so far outside my norm or it reminds me of when i was younger and i could handle it. For whatever it was i ain't complaining. and ytou make all your animals feel to be thick as a brick. Sorry, just getting into some Tull while i try ro write. It ain't going so good so i hjad to let the Tull go for a minute. Im hope th3e feds don't come after me. That word looked almost likr jihad. ALL i need to know is that if there is one person out there reading my blogs i want to know. If not, I will stop wasting my rime. I can't get nothing past me, believe me , i have heard all my stories. So, if you like it, let me know,okay? later, theblogmeister

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

blogged: A true story

My name is Stan. That is not my real name but I will use it because what I have to say may get me arrested. It is also the name of a friend's dad that i went to hi school with, besides, it's cool. Stan. Yeah, that's me. When I first started this blogging crap i was coming out the gate like a bat out of hell. Post every nite. Spell check. The whole thing. Then it came to me some 6 months later. Ain't a damn soul reading my posts. I had to ask myself, Stan, what the hell are you doing? Nite after nite sitting here trying to make sense out of something i quit trying to make sense out of a long time ago. Make sense? Hell No! se what i mean? 5 months ago i would have added that other e. Now? fuck it. I ain't pleasing nobody but me. fuck, fuck, fuck!!! the whole idea about blogging is it is a lot like logging. you work your ass off for nothing. So, I may as well hav3e fun doing it. where did that 3 come from? where was i? the reason was theraputic in nature. I help myself by telling others of my terrible trauma that has fucked up my head and made me want drugs. lots of drugs. no matter the drug. generic, name brand,i lik'em all. well these drugs caused what we call in the military, collateral damage. you figure it out. i don't care. the question i know must be on the lips of every man, woman, and child that is reading this here post must be, Do I have to pay for this?No. This one is on me. Later, theblogmeister

Saturday, November 22, 2008


I have been told that my illness may well be with me from now on. My demon has haunted me for 29 years, so, I do not doubt that declaration. For 23 years I had no ammo to fight It with. I have the ammo now, yet I don't feel well trained enough to use it. It is strange. At times I feel I have the Demon shackled and feel some control. Then, I feel totally helpless. Memory is a strange part of my brain. Sometimes I can remember years past, other times I can't remember what I did yesterday. The memories that haunt my sub-conscious are so powerful. I may go for days with restful slumber then all hell breaks loose inside my mind. I wish a neurologist would clue me in. Psychiatrists have not helped. Maybe I need to do like the Indians and smoke some peyote or mescaline. I wonder if....... theblogmeister

Sunday, November 16, 2008

PTSD Terminal

After all the classes and all the enlightenment I have received concerning post traumatic stress disorder I had come to the realization that I had a handle on this sickness and could understand it. Information is power. I assumed power I did not have. The information I have gained in these last few months gave me a sense of false power. I thought I had a handle on my sickness and could somewhat control it. Just when I believed that I had the knowledge of PTSD and the ability to deal with my nightmares things seemed to get worse. It was like my demon gained strength the more knowledge I gained. The nightmares became worse instead or better. It came to the point that I considered the only way to get rid of my sub-conscious mind was to get rid of my conscious mind. One cannot live without the other. I decided to separate the two so I could live. Here comes the hard part. How do I separate the conscious from the sub-conscious? Sleep is not a barrier of the two. They co-exist with one another. It seems I must have a split personality with the ability to control each self. Is it possible? I don't know. I do know that living with the demon in control of my sub-conscious is no life at all. theblogmeister

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Thank You

I just want to say thank you for your prayers and support for me and all of us that are suffering from this strange disorder. Reading your blog almost made what I am battling worth it. Keep the prayers coming and I will find the time to reply to your blog. Thanks, again, for trying to get the message out about PTSD.
I have not had any nightmares in the last few days. I spent the weekend with my beautiful wife and now it is back to the business at hand. I spent the other morning with Chaplain Harris, the VA Chaplain, and told him my story that happened so long ago. How the Colonel has been haunting me in my dreams for 29 years. What he told me to do was to study my Bible to gain the strength needed to defeat this Demon. I have been reading scriptures the the Chaplain gave me. I pray that it helps. I apologize for not writing more often. You will be hearing from me a lot more in the future. I think it is important for you to hear as much as it is for me to write. Thanks for listening, God Bless You All theblogmeister

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

There Is Hope

I am sitting here listening to my favorite artist, Jimmy Buffett. Yes, I am a parrothead! I have been one for a long time. When I am feeling depressed there is no medication better than Jimmy. I am not feeling depressed, just feeling like hearing some good ole Gulf and Western music. I am hoping to listen to about an hour of Buffett and dream about a beachhouse on the moon. Maybe a good dose of Barometer Soup would rid the Demon for another night. I doubt the Demon likes Buffett. I go a few days with beautiful, restful sleep and think that I, somehow, have defeated the Demon. It has happened too many times to count. When I think He is finally erased from my sub-conscious mind He returns with a vengeance. The only success I have had with battling Him is by using narcotics until I pass out. Sometimes, close to death. That has been the only coping skill that I have used over a span of 29 years, resulting in living about half that time in prison. The last stretch I did was 6 years on a 20 year sentence. I have been on parole since I got out in 2002. I have been on parole for 6 years and the only reason that I have not returned is because of a wonderful, beautiful, smart, sexy woman. Did I mention sexy? The greatest thing that ever happened in my emotionally distorted life is Lorri Riley. Because of her ability to give me what the psychologist, Abraham Maslow, said that in order to achieve self-actualization you have to have a sense of belonging. Lorri has given me that and more. She took a chance on a drug addict convict with a boatload of mental anguish and has taken me farther than I could have ever imagined. I still have a long way to go but she is beside me every step of the way. One day God is going to reward her with a husband free of demons and the past that has, until 2003, robbed me of a life free of all emotional hell. Lorri, this letter is for you. Thank you for taking that chance back in 2003. Forever and always, your loving husband, Mark, aka theblogmeister

Demonless Sleep

I can't tell you why I have had several days in a row of restful, dreamless sleep. I have not been doing anything different. Taking my meds, going to psychotherapy. I did start a new therapy session yesterday called spiritual trauma. I really believe that this will help me immensely. My spirituality has been non-existent for a number of years. When I was a child I remember it being the best times of my life. I was going to church on a regular basis. We had no choice because that was the way my parents chose to raise us. We had fun. Going to RA's, playing on the church team basketball, having socials, being around good people. That is where I learned my morals and values. I said, "Yes Sir and Yes Ma'am." Was a good kid. I carried that on through high school and into the Air Force. It was when the Colonel (my Demon) convinced me to go against my strong christian beliefs that my life spiraled out of control and is the reason the Colonel still haunts and terrifies me to this day. This is not of God. It rises from what I exactly call it.Demonic. Am I demon possessed? It sure sounds like it to me.I have never once considered this possibility. He that is in me is greater than He that is in the world. So it should be a simple answer. Have the Faith that God can do what I cannot do for myself. It is not easy. After 29 years of having my sub-conscious mind being ruled with evil I am having a hard time accepting that God can change it so quickly. I have fallen so far away from The Great Physician that I have to work at re-establishing my faith In a God that I used to take for granted. I am excited about these sessions with the Chaplain and will be excited to share them with you. This is for those returning Iraqi and Afghanistan war vets. You have been and seen things a normal mind cannot comprehend. Please do not let the pain you experienced in war keep you from seeking help. I waited over 20 years before I told a soul what I had done and it has made recovering from those wounds very difficult. Seek out help from the VA or your pastor . Anyone you feel comfortable talking to. You have to get it out. God Bless You and God Bless America! theblogmeister

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

I have been dealing with PTSD for over 25 years. The first 20+ years I used alcohol and drugs to deal with the symptoms of this disorder. This came with some serious ramifications. I spent nearly half those years in prison. Not the psychological prison but the physical one. Various drug convictions got my ass put behind bars, locked away from society. That was, by far, a lot easier than the prison I created in my mind. Some of you may wonder why I can't destroy it since I created it. I have asked myself the same question time after time. My mind has created such a monster that has power beyond belief. I have been encouraged to talk about my PTSD by the mental health professionals, thus the reason behind this journal. If you are a new reader to my blog I will give you a quick summation of my PTSD. I was a 20 year-old medic in the military with a terminal cancer patient that convinced me to help him commit suicide. That is it. I killed a man against all morals and values that I was taught as a child. If you want the whole story you can click on archives and read it all. My brain, as yet fully developed, would not let me forget that day and I have been haunted by this man since 1979. Only as recent as 5 years ago did I tell anyone of this trauma. I am currently in an inpatient treatment center designed specifically for PTSD sufferers. I am on medication to alleviate the nightmares associated with PTSD. Is it working? No. Is there hope? Hope is all I have to hold onto. theblogmeister

Demonless Sleep

I waited until Hillary made her speech until I went to sleep. That was the plan, anyway. I did not make it.I feel asleep within minutes of her taking the stage. I did, however, enjoy a night free of my demon. Maybe He watched the speech, instead. Whatever the reason He left me alone. I understand I am giving Him life by talking about Him. The way I capitalize His name gives Him validity. The very thing my therapist tells me not to do. So, why do it? I hid my demon for over 20 years and tried to make Him go away by not acknowledging Him.To me, the Colonel is real. Although He is dead, He lives. He has hijacked my sub-conscious. I don't know why there are times He gives me a reprieve. Sometimes I may go for days without dreaming about Him. When I get complacent and feel He has left me I will be at peace. It is short-lived, though. I am trying to take Him head-on. To defeat Him and regain my night. I have stopped having good dreams long ago. He is trying to gain a foothold in my conscious mind. Am I crazy? You wouldn't know it if you met me on the street. I think that I am a little crazy. I believe I have created this demon and have allowed Him to grow. So, I am crazy. Insane? No. Troubled? Hell yes! Just stick around. He will be back. That is one thing that I am sure of. theblogmeister

Monday, August 25, 2008

I Don't Belong

I just walked out of one of my PTSD groups because I felt that I didn't belong. I was the only one in the group that has not seen any combat, yet I am haunted by the same demon that haunts them. The Past. I have been up since 12:38 a.m. because of an horrific nightmare that is hard to share.
My wife came to get me yesterday for an 8 hour pass so my Demon chose to feed on my inner most intimate thoughts. He disguises Himself to terrorize using my dreams as a tool much like a terrorist uses an IED to accomplish their mission. Lorri, whom I have been married to for the last 5 years, came to me in my dreams much like she did in reality, yesterday.It was a truly beautiful day, despite tropical storm Faye. I will no go into great detail, as vivid as my dream was. I had called Lorri to find out where, exactly, she was when a Tuscaloosa Police car approached the building to 137. My heart sank, for I knew that something bad had happened. I could feel it. It is amazing to find a partner that you are absolutely suited for. A team operation. We spent the better part of 2 and a half years together, 24/7, driving for a large trucking company running almost a quarter million miles. We are connected beyond belief.That is the best word I can use to describe our relationship. I believe God put us together for a reason. That is why I am still alive, physically, today.She is the one that has been holding me up, keeping my head above the insanity pool, not allowing me to slip from her grasp into the grave. The police officer came to me and said no words. None were needed. He drove me to the accident scene on the get off ramp of University Blvd. Lorri's Toyota was a heap of smoldering, unrecognizable metal. I frantically began to scream her name over and over. A lone ambulance quietly sat just beyond the wreckage, lights flashing. I approached the medics, their heads bowed in respectful solitude. Tears began to flow. A medic opened the side door and motioned me inside the vehicle. I seemed to float up to the jump seat at the head of the gurney. My heart had been ripped from my chest my throat raw from screaming Lorri's name The medic pulled the sheet back to expose a grey-haired man of about 80 wearing a WWII flight suit with the name DeBarge stenciled above his left pocket. I began to howl bolting up in bed scanning my surroundings. I began sobbing. Thank you God, thank you God. I quickly got out of bed, washed my face with a cold rag and walked into the hall towards the nurses station. James, the nurse on our floor asked if I was okay He could see that I was upset and opened the door to the porch and let me sit outside then left me alone. James knew, instinctively, what I needed. The tears came and I cried until there were no more tears left. This PTSD is a lot tougher than I had thought. Sometimes I am afraid it will be too tough for me to handle. Sometimes. theblogmeister


Sleep is trying to overtake me. I try to fight but the medications win every time. It doesn't take long for the demon to pull me into the abyss of the sub-conscious. He is powerful, relentless. Unforgiving. His only goal is to replay the trauma of my past. My sub-conscious mind is owned by the night. By Him. His power is nocturnal. In formidable. The result of 20 years of bondage between myself and my sub-conscious. He hates the fact others know of Him. He's afraid. Afraid of being locked away in the place where memory has no hold.Afraid of losing His power over me. My nightmares are getting desperate.I have no chemicals to quiet Him. To tame Him the way it was before His creation. He seems to be getting stronger. My therapist tells me to give Him no quarter. Take away His name. Take away any and all of His power. I practice ways of stealing His power by taking away any credit for my sleep problems. Self talk. Self-awareness.The more I learn about PTSD the stronger the demon gets.It's not supposed to work that way. Coping skills are a way of dealing with problems of the light. It seems nothing works for the night. Colonel Reginald DeBarge. Full bird. In life a smart, witty gentleman with a heart of gold. In death He lives on in my mind.Why? I ask God to take Him away. Erase Him from my memory. Give me peace. Rest. Freedom from fear of the night. He is affecting my light, too. Isolation. I stay away from crowds.He watches me but hasn't had the courage to confront me in my world. The light. He knows His power is limited, if non existent, during the day. He patiently waits, knowing I can't stay awake, forever. The dark is His stage. He knows I can't escape the night so he waits. Like a small child waiting on the tooth fairy knowing He won't come while awake. So, the child, with excitement, hurries to fall asleep. I envy that child's innocence. His beautiful, bountiful sleep. theblogmeister

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Trying to fit in

I am trying to find solace in a place of mental anguish. I have become friends with other PTSD sufferers but still I don't seem to fit in. Maybe it is of my own making, though. I have heard stories of heroism that you will not see on network news. Soldiers that have come back from fighting a war that they believe in. I, too, believe. The traumatic brain injuries, the loss of limbs, the loss of innocence. They are all hero's to me. The camaraderie they share with each other is beyond any alliance I have witnessed. Yes, I, too, am a veteran. I served my country during a time of peace and I still feel I am intruding into a secret society that I don't belong. Combat Veterans. Young men barely out of high school with the eyes of men twice their age. They have seen more than a man of any age. To be thrust into combat with training that will never prepare a soldier for what is to come, what they will witness, what they will lose but, most importantly, what they will gain. The respect of other veterans that have not been, or seen, what they have seen. Have not felt what they have felt. Have not lost what they have lost. Have not sacrificed what they have sacrificed. I am with them, yet, apart from them. They have my respect regardless of their ages. I thank you all. theblogmeister

Sunday, August 10, 2008


I seem to be reliving the horror more than I have in the past. Mirtazapine, the drug that I am currently taking for my PTSD, is not FDA approved. I guess that is why the veteran suffering from post traumatic stress disorder is probably taking the same thing. It seems the government likes to use us as human guinea pigs. I recall that the Col., that has been haunting me for the past three decades, was also used as a guinea pig. He would be given a drug that had not been approved by the food and drug administration on several occasions. At one point the Col. got better. Be reminded that he was suffering from terminal cancer with no hope of complete recovery. This was a small glint of false hope that he endured. His wife had a tougher time, at least as bad, than he did. They did get to enjoy a small level of normalcy, however. Is it worth it? I can't answer that. What I can attest to is the Col. was usually in extreme pain. I hurt for him, too. That was the driving force behind my decision to help him end it. I had no idea that my twenty year old mind would have such a devastating reaction to what I had caused. I am working on ways to cope with the emotional torment my actions on that warm day in Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. had caused. If, if, if only........ theblogmeister

Friday, August 8, 2008

PTSD is for real

Sorry it has taken so long to get back to you. I am in an inpatient VA hospital and our computer room has been locked down due to the fact that someone likes to download porn, which is against the rules. Some people won't do right. Well, I have been taking the Mirtazapine for 3 weeks and it seems to enhance my nightmares. I have told my psychiatrist about this and he suggested a little more time for it to get in my system good and get back with him. It really seems to enhance my nightmares, making them a lot more vivid. I am still being haunted by the Col. and he has been chasing me with a syringe. I can control my conscious mind but when I sleep the demons take control. I wake up soaking wet from sweating and I am having sensory hallucinations. I can smell the way the Col.'s room smelled the day that I killed him. The staff at the VA wants me to change the way I talk about it, for example, saying instead that I granted his last wish and stuff like that. I have been trying for 29 years to change my conscious thoughts so my subconscious thoughts will follow. It hasn't worked. I don't think that I will ever have peace. Sometimes I want to just say the hell with it and do to myself what I did to him. Pray for me. Thanks, theblogmeister. At least I haven't went back to alcohol or drugs for relief, yet. Thanks, again

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Someone read my doper tales and suggested that I seek medical advice. I may be suffering from PTSD. Well, I did. And, I am. It's true. I am currently being treated for PTSD at a 90 day in-patient facility at the Tuscaloosa VA Medical Center in Tuscaloosa, Al. I am learning that I did not have to be in combat to suffer from this affliction that usually hits combat veterans. Hey, I am not too old to learn. As my treatment continues, I will share it with you. As of now, I am just starting, my first week, so I don't have a lot to tell you , at this time. If you want to learn more about PTSD, keep checking back and I will fill you in as often as I am able. Thanks to the reader that started this new chapter in my life. Thank you very much. theblogmeister