Monday, March 21, 2011

Why Does The Other World Speak To Me?

  That is a question I have asked myself a million times. What is so special about me? I am no different than the average male. I love to be around people. I am no different than they. In my junior year of high school while running for student council parliamentarian, which, by the way, I have no idea what a parliamentarian does. The only reason that I ran for that office is I had a surprise for the whole student body. When the candidates made their boring speeches on why they should be voted in. I had a special presentation. While the school was seated in the gym listening to the boring speeches, I made a grand entrance. I was in a wheel chair, had four suits dressed as my body guards, with another pushing my wheelchair adorned withe the flags of the USA on one handle and the Alabama flag on the other. I had a student charge me from the audience, it was all pre-planned, with my body guards taking him down on my way to the stage to give my speech on why I should be their next parliamentarian. I won in a landslide. The office had some percs, though. I sure did get to miss a lot of classes for 'official business'. I was the class clown. I was not, by any means, special. I graduated without ever taking a book home. As I said before, school was a blast. I remember there was an all male beauty pageant and I let two girls talk me into entering. I had long hair in school with a white spot in the front, that is where the nickname 'Spot' came from. Hardly anyone knew my real name. Even in the yearbook under my picture was the name Spot Riley. It was a birthmark I had had all my life. As I got older the spot spread and I was white-headed by the time I was 22 years old.
  After the fun of high school I was in love with a girl I met when I was 16 years old. I was madly in love with her. Her name was S.M., she knows who she is. I carried that feeling with me to the military, in which I joined in 1977. After I was released with an honorable discharge and a deep emotional and physical bonding of a man that manipulated me into taking his life. When I entered the Air Force I had a strong commitment to the medical field. I felt it was where I belonged at first. Then after the situation with the colonel my life became an emotional wreck. Later it was diagnosed as Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, PTSD. My life spiraled out of control after that. It was a life of trying to treat myself with the only thing that worked, drugs. I will tell you that they worked. I did not ever lose my love to the woman of my youth. She ended up marrying my brother. Wow! That was a minuscule part of my emotional self. It was not because that I lost my love for her but she was way down on the list of my emotional problems. But I never lost that love for her. However, I was dealing with such traumatic nightmares I cannot put them all on paper. I had created a demon that was ruining my life. The havoc this created was insurmountable. I went through in patient treatment at the VA in Tuscaloosa, home of the Crimson Tide, Hospital. I was being treated with medication for the nightmares. The were horrific. Go back to some of my earlier post to read about them. My current wife, Lorri, has held me through fits of tears, calmed me and brought me out of the hell I was in. She is a tremendously loyal, understanding, and a hell of a woman to stay in with me. She missed out on the times that I was incarcerated. I made parole in Nov. 2002, met her in Dec. 2002, then talked her into quitting her job at the Anniston Army Depot and taking driver training and we went through the class hitting the road a short time, later. She is a wonderful woman but I sometimes wonder what life with Sheila would have been like. Thoughts of her are still with me, today. Life is crazy, when going through what I have gone through the past 30 something years. I have no answer to the strange things that have happened to me. I cannot explain the night my brother died I was awakened by him and he told me to tell my parents that he was okay and for them not to worry. It was not a dream. I know that for fact. I cannot explain it, but it was real. He stood before, me not in his mangled body he sustained from a head-on collision, but in a body I used to see him all the time. There are several instances of strange things that have happened in my life. The LIFE OF RILEY, you old-timers remember that show on TV. I do not know what else to say but hello Sheila. I will get back to you. Later,  theblogmeister

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