"Insomnia, revisted" this brings us current 3/25/17 trailer fiasco

Insomnia is truly torturous. Fortunately, man has the ability to overcome any situation with logic, reason, and rationale. Is that the right word?
With some basic Psychology studies we can turn any negative into a positive... if we choose to. We might not want to but..
For instance, you have to go to work and do some strenuous, filthy job because it has to be done and no one else is man enough to tend to it. You "get to" use certain tools, like "play with" the Sawzall, "Sculpt" mud onto drywall, "Whittle" wood into finish goods, smell like wood, smell (not stink) like a natural man (which most reasonable women LOVE).
Quitting smoking: you get to gain weight, improve the speed and ideas flowing from your mind, stay toasty in the winter cuz you don't have to go outside to freeze for a smoke... I think you get it.
Oh, and if you end up with serious health problems and face a countdown, you just "get to" Go Home early! No more worry and pain. "See Ya, I am Outta Here!"

My thoughts are relevant to my life, of course. Where else would they come from? Anyway, 3 days no sleep, insomnia for a YEAR. Only getting a few short naps while trying to sleep. It will drive you MAD. And then to be trapped in speeding thoughts- imprisoned in my head unless someone comes and snaps me out of it.

Buried in a mountain of problems, strapped for cash, and dying of a broken heart- I am still trying to achieve my goals or die trying. If I do drop dead, I can only hope that my voice is left ringing. To me, that would be a success.

Left to nothing but keepin' on, the story continues: After being released from jail for growing marijuana for medical needs, I decided NOT to continue with the Adult Abuse and Child Endangerment claims against the woman I love...d, however, I did document the conditions of my beautiful home that I was so proud of, and all of the destruction due to internet abuse and her refusal to cooperate with managing 72,000 a year, as well as her daughter, Siena, whom I stepped in to parent and educated. This alone made me thrilled, and gave me hopes that I would have my own children back in my life.
The cases were to defend me from the possibility of 2-8 years in prison. Jenny was compensated by me for prescribed caregiving assistance by way of my yearly auto claim- a claim they want to peter out due to my health and history. It seems they will get off cheaper that way. Thanks Attorney.
Enough of that, for now.

After calling my Mental Health team, they came and picked me up, taking me to The Nehemiah House Shelter, where I stayed for three days until I began to fear for my safety. Once again, the ACT Team from CMH took me to the bank so I could assess my control options. It was decided that I could secure a room at a hotel for a while so, they pulled into a random hotel- America's Best Value Inn of Petoskey. I immediately asked if they needed any help. "George" said, "Yes. Actually, we need a Painter." What happened next would or should have been predictable but I was so focused on the impossibility ( I always do what's not possible) of having my business back together enough to get where I wanted to be. Perhaps, if I would have stopped feeling sorry for myself, fueled by anger and rage over the destruction of my Home, Office, and heated pole building with full mechanics shop to build my bikes and work on our equipment, and the 100 acres of hilly forest to walk through every morning- I might have not tried drinking myself to death in the process. The alternative goal was to work myself to death- the point where I would just drop dead mid-step.

The room was sweet. I went right to work reviving my abandoned Web efforts at selling my work, focusing my energies on Twitter seemed like the right thing to do. I revived my account, last used in 2010 I believe. I only had 52 followers. That was last year, the first week of April or so. Hammering away day and night without having any education on how to use Twitter, really, I went balls out, both on the Hotel, and on Twitter. People actually rolled their windows down and yelled at me, "You're Working Too Hard!" I wanted my Jenny to drive past, on her way to McLaren Hospital for work, and see the mountain I had moved.
The part about the room that wasn't sweet was discovering that I had no time AT ALL to use the gym, the spa, watch a movie, or even play/study my guitar. That was typical, being right in the middle of great things but denied all. Part of that was my own fault. Not to mention that I was surfing for female companions every chance I got. I have no idea how many dating sites I tried or used. It ended up being that, seems how I couldn't control myself, I needed to have my bank card replaced every so often to keep from constant billing that I could not afford since living on $771 out of $1200 social security disability insurance. As for the Insomnia, that was partly what the alcohol was for- that and the extreme pain I was forced to deal with, having no medications to provide any amount of relief. And I could NOT use marijuana because of the bi-weekly drug screenings. I know, I know- sounds like an alcoholic's excuse. It is but now I had no family so, why not drink myself into a stupor? Another excuse...

Eventually, my court day came up for my probation violation directly caused by Jen. The Judge Eckhart of Charlevoix, sentenced me to 90 days- granting me work release. Fantastic! All I have to do is sleep there... AND pay 20 dollars a day housing and medical fees for 90 days. Now I am paying rent at two places in order to have an office and preserve my office files and studio equipment.

I worked out a transportation plan with people I knew, and continued the project, as well as, working on my web publicity to find an income- even though I was forbidden by the court to be on the internet...so, I started using my daughter, or Jen's daughter's, twitter account that no one knew she had- at 9! That's why there are excerpt posts from Siena only for a stretch. I had no choice. I had engaged readers and seemingly interested parties and I did not want them to think I was not serious.

 Eventually, 400 dollars in transportation fees later, I purchased a moped to get back and forth with. Only because I had also been using the local bus to get back and forth with- (18 miles from Petoskey to Charlevoix) and hitchhiking/walking, and sometimes I rode a bicycle when I had to. That sounds like an easy transportation solution but you will see later that it's a disservice. To depend on the bus, I had to return when the last bus went back- at 3:30 p.m. The math on it is 8:30 a.m. pick up at the jail- 3:30 p.m. return + 1 hour round trip + 6 hour day - lunch - jail housing fee of $20 a day - hotel room rent $150 per week - $400 trans expense - $600 moped + (grief) X $10 per hour = 65.50 per day expenses out of 50 dollars earned per day. And then there's coffee, tobacco, and a couple drinks to start the day with= -$72> +$50. Not counting the fines of 1200+

It was my understanding that I could not get a driver's license but all of the geniuses around me said that I could get a moped license. After going to the Secretary of State, and reading a pamphlet about mopeds, I learned that I was correct. So, I rode the moped back "home" with an alternate plan. The plan was to just carry on as normal- look the part, and act the part. I drove the moped right to the jail house, parked it in the lot, and rang the buzzer to get in. That was that. No one ever asked me, and I never said, whether I had a license. Fortunately, for me, I was pretty popular with the staff- for various reasons. They were familiar with my life, and my work. That was what made me realize that I was not what everyone had convinced me that I was- Crazy.

A LOT went on, on many levels, during my incarceration but the day finally came when I was free. They gave me all of my stuff, and turned me loose. I hoped on the moped and scooted to my room at the hotel.
Once back, I returned to my self appointed responsibilities of helping to fill in- like the laundry (on top of painting an enormous building by myself). This was because the laundry was being run by idiots and eventually abandoned entirely. I takes three people, and an attentive staff of housekeepers, to keep the hotel laundry flowing. They were using the laundry for the stock closet. I'll get into this nightmare later. BUT, I stepped in and took it over while they searched for new help. I ended up proving that, if a person really wanted to, it could be done pretty much single handed. They hated me for that.

It wasn't long before they finally got what they wanted- a fresh look to the building. Once they got that, they began their campaign to get rid of me. My motorcycle was vandalized. My bank account was abused and robbed by management. And, recently, I received a 1099 for 7500 bucks- some of it came from my own bank account. So, anyone who thinks I am angry... You are correct.

In the mean time my close friend, Larry, begged me to come to Grand Rapids to help him. Little did I know he only wanted to own me, showcase my work as his own, and try to become my Boss. All the while I was the one actually carrying the "company". It was him that went and got the jobs, put the bids in, and arranged for the material to get there. It was me that actually knew how to do the various aspects of the jobs, and solve the problems. More on that in a later focus. Stories within stories. I think this might end up a series.

Finally, after endless hours playing Call of Duty, never sleeping, always being sick from loss of sleep, avoiding Psychiatric Meds needs, continuously lying to EVERYONE about everything, gambling, scratch offs, and a bullshit religious façade for manipulation- the homeowner of a project two trailers over from his own decided to protest. We hadn't been working on the project due to his habits. He didn't even keep a log book. Finally, she screamed at him and he decided to throw me under the bus to save his own ass- and the women he was using. This after convincing me into buying a rundown dup of a trailer that had been infested with bedbugs, and everything else you can think of, with my auto claim money for personal home attendant care- with the promise that he would help me make it livable but that was only to keep me as his trained monkey.

Larry knew, and it was part of the deal, that I needed medical care, and help with my welfare needs. I have yet to receive any care or meds, and I am making myself look like a fool in the public eye while desperately trying to sell my work to make a life for myself. Adult Services Workers were here to see me after finally speaking to a case worker at DHS, where they straightened out my case, got my benefits back in order, and restored my hope. This only happened because I asked one of my girlfriends to drive two hundred miles to help me. That was about two weeks ago (realtime). The caseworkers suggested, after seeing the conditions I am in, and speaking with me, that I should go to Pine Rest- a mental hospital, for observation.

Larry would soon suggest that we go to his trailer in Mesick, to drink some beers and hang out. At one point, Larry handed me a beer can, saying, "This must be your beer." 
My feelings were that it was not because I never let go of the can until it's empty. 
Putting it to my lips, I could feel that the can was very warm. Allowing a small amount to splash my tongue, the sensation felt like a chemical substance. It was battery acid. Luckily, for me, only a small amount splashed my throat- immediately triggering my gag reflexes with my own thoughts. I vomited several times to wash it from my throat. Coincidentally, Larry had possession of my small motorcycle, and all of the possessions- tools mostly, that I had brought to town.
Recently, I had witnessed heroine addicts trolling the neighborhood, while I had stayed at this cabin of Larry's. A man, and 2 women, strolled the little community- trolling for suckers. Well, there I was, taking the bait from this very good looking girl of about 28. They called her "hooker" quite often. Later, I would accompany them to their "home." It was a defunct house without water. They just crapped off of the edge of the back deck. The man was shooting up pills he got from a neighbor. The girls would fight over the "rinse." Soon, there would be a huge brawl. Tool chests were flying. The place was getting busted up- even worse than it was, which seemed quite hard to do more of. I made a comment about being disgusted with beating up women, regardless of the reason. The man stated that I could easily disappear. I told him that he knew where I was staying, and to come on down and we would talk about it... I left, and he never followed, nor did he show up at the house. I think Larry, and them, were in cahoots. Maybe I should have set fire to their "home." Fortunately, for me, I have better things to do.

I have no choice but to see this through, sell the trailer, recoup my losses, secure my interests, and return to Charlevoix County to turn myself in on a warrant for my arrest over a probation violation. That, because I was at the woman's home who helped me, fro Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving morning the call came in that one of her family members blew his head off with a 12 gauge shotgun. His mother found him at 10 a.m. when she went to bring him over for the gathering.

The next week day rolled around and I went to drop. I ended up dropping dirty and told them not to send it in. I should have just sent it in and took my chances but I decided it was over and I was going back to jail so, I just quit reporting. I am looking at 270 in abeyance currently. I do not know what they will give me. My plan is to take it back to court, withdraw my plea, and challenge it. If I win, I get my license back and all of my money I paid them. Jenny, however, may not get away unscathed. I am afraid of that and I don't know what to do. All of these things makes sobriety very difficult and hopeless. Not working with me at managing our money is the root of all of this destruction. That is what eroded away my strength, and the sobriety that I was so Proud of.
That brings us up to Today, March 25, 2017.
One of the biggest human mistakes we can make is to continue through life without ever being apologetic or remorseful for our actions. Sometimes a simple "I'm sorry" is all it takes to activate the switch in our brain that allows us all to feel Wholeness and Love. That is a spot that lies in the middle ground and is most always never reached because the other person is expected to initiate it. Time then runs out. And just as life is over, it has also never begun... ZSP