Strife of Surviving-5 active journal

 Yes, I have not slept, and just made coffee a bit ago. Julie is already off to work, and it's now 3:12 am.

Managing to get through showering, I continued on recovering at the hospital. Not being able to see myself very well, I had no idea that there was soot all over me yet. It was still coming off of me a week later. Even two weeks later, I was just finishing with soot coming out of my ears.

Julie was devastated, of course. Everything was in ruins, when we went back the next day. She was already down south, having to drive all the way back- taking time off of a job I feared her losing. 

Sadly, we surveyed the damages- seeing to all of the details we could. It was weltering hot out. The doors I had gone through were laying in the yard where they had been thrown, as they were ripped from the house. My hand print was such a huge symbol on the soot covered glass pane. I took pictures of the damages.

Going through the house, I was able to locate some of my tools. Moving them into the finished bedrooms was very smart, considering. Finding things in this room was fairly easy- filthy but easy. The floors of the house were soaking wet, and weakened a great deal. My foot went through the floor a couple times. The place was still smoldering in several spots. The horses were frightened and concerned. Cats were everywhere meowing. My table saw was found in twisted pieces. Our brand new Traeger was burned up also. We just got it recently. All of the supplies and a lot of big important tools were on the porch. I also had some fireworks, left over form the fourth. Josh was greatly interested in them. 

Everything kept pointing at Josh but the fire marshal said it appeared to be electrical. Well, of course, the electric panel was located on the front wall- the porch. It was on the inside, in the laundry room which had a door that you could enter into that room with- had it not been blocked by shelving for storage. 

Just a few day before, I had cleared out the area of the house where the door that would be the front door of the house was. It was packed with a desk, and boxes of things being saved and gone through by grandma- picture, videos, whatever. Yes, the door was not accessible. I would never have gotten out that way, most likely going out the back window of the bedroom for mom. The other room's window was right above the horse water. I'd have had a big problem there.  

In the weeks before the fire, I had been down to the new place a handful of time with moving and a chance to get away from the disaster. That is when I found Rocky.

Something in my heart pulled me outside, to look around. I was searching for something but I did not know wat. Going out behind the house, I saw the yard, fence separating the apartment developments, and some trees they tried to say weren't really weeds by letting them grow. Nothing to see here, I thought. Then I looked down at the clover around my feet for luck...and there he was, looking up at me.

"Hey," I said. "You're out of your element." I rushed in the house to get a towel to scoop him up with- having no idea how he was going to react, and having no experience with him. I had to find out thru research, that he was a bearded dragon- A Fancy one! Yeah, Rocky... He's not a cheap date, let me tell you.

Feeling I had to be responsible for him too, I drug him back and forth until I was moved out of the farm entirely. I'm pretty sure it was the day after the fire. 

Several recon missions to the farm yielded just about everything I could find in a short time. I need several hours to sift through the rubble but I was not being allowed the time due to the stress, heat, and circumstances that go along with Not being In Charge of anything but the labor I can perform. Yes, that's a nice way of saying, "fuckin A!" It's now 3:36 am 12/2/2021

This was the show I did before midnight, discussing the situation I discovered at the bank, and with the phone.    https://www.facebook.com/1555170965/videos/657214335273674/

It's now 4:16 and change. Reviewing the video I just put the link in for. With absolutely no one to talk to about anything, I spill my guts to world that mocks me? Thirteen years, sharing and begging but all I get is stupidity and mental midgets- playing in the dirt while avoiding all of the real work that requires men to act. And, why so many families have fallen to ruin.

Where was I with my worries...? Cleaning up the salvaged tools at the new place, after storing what could be saved- along with the rest of the "inventory" which I photo-journaled before we left. Turning all of the power off was a major concern especially in light of the well. I just knew that the tractor would get stolen.

Facebook became my escape, aside from wasting time with the neighbors by becoming the guy who can do anything. Oh, The Hawkshire Chronicles is all part of this tale, and experience.

After settling in, I would soon resume manufacturing the story boards for machine set-up at the plant. Julie had gotten me the gig while I was in the middle of enjoying all of that wonderful leisure time I had, in between caring for all of the livestock, and rehabbing the house without any help... Yeah, I was glad to have something to reflect my diverse specialties. It was a confidence booster that I needed- helping me revive my identity as a Professional Finish Tradesman which as all but destroyed by the accident with the semi in 96 that left me disabled.

The garage became my shop, draping the walls in plastic for the over-spray. We bought some plastic shelving units with a little integrity, organizing what we had left, and purchased for my company. 

During my orientation with my new environment, I took notice of all details that illustrated the voices of the neighborhood. It was easy to distinguish who the drunks and addicts were, practically talking out loud- thing were so obvious. There were children, and few to no signs of concern for their welfare. Things like, you know, adults looking around for them once in a while. Being seen outside, even. Everyone had their preoccupations, understandably but the wine certainly could use some aging before being poured to enjoy...

The "brothers," across the street...one sat in the garage all the time. Certain he was a drunk, smoking and drinking in the garage. And, certain he was involved a bad marriage- I was right. And then, when I suddenly became the chief source of intel and mechanical expertise, I got to know them...just like family! Oh, yes. The red flags were flying but my beer was cold, and I was trying to form a community- rag tag as it was. The general idea was, they were seemingly a few good men but proved to be as useful as a 14 year old girl who's madder than you. They actually had a fight over whose friend I was, very early. 

Historically, I have always had a bad experience with trying to fit in with "the boys." They always try to get me on the football field, in order to hurt me without getting nailed for being bullies that needed a daddy years ago. I'm always the "queer" or "fag"-typical school yard shit. They fear my self, just being there.

And, soon it was time to separate from them by using what I learned in order to make a change for my own life- to be something better than a 56 year old, able bodied "man" who can't put a half inch hose clamp on a fuel line that you can plainly get to without any obstacle. Yes, useless- pissed off because he can't get a girl friend.

So, I started doing live videos on Facebook, and dressing in clothes for stage presence. The stars are painting their nails, so... Fake it til you make it. I started painting my nails. They criticized every single thing I did for myself- for my own career and hopes, while they loved me as I drank with them and performed thousands of dollars in mechanical labor ( and psychological counseling! oh my fucking goodness- these guys are nuts).

Anyway, before they could do it, I took ownership of being "queer"! YES. Oh, Wow. It was great, and I really enjoyed the liberation. The liberation from them and their imprisonment, the liberation of my spirit. My sobriety was magical. February 22nd, I went in to Diley Ridge Medical- the hospital. Staying for almost five days, I was treated like The King of The World. Every single one of the 15 or 16 women, and one man, waited on me, and cared for me like I was the most loved and cherished person ever. They cared for me just like a real family would, in my fantasies. It was a peek inside of the feeling of Heaven itself.

Yes, coming out of the closet was not accepted at all, and I was ostracized and gossiped about like my gay neighbor right next door to us. Only, there was only one household we would routinely communicate with. We called them friends, and there is so much to say. For now, we'll leave it at, "we're no longer friends".

When mom collapsed on the way to take her to the bathroom one morning, I went to him in order to have him help me put her in the car. I needed to take her to the hospital, and did Not want o deal with more idiots in the world. My "biker brother" told me to call the squad, a little too flatly. All respect for him was completely restored to my bank of Respect. That's a huge can of worms that has very bitter taste of scrutiny for men to choke down- but not now.

This roughly brings us to the point of Now. The Now when we must file for custody of the grandchildren, Julie's mother, seize the bank accounts and freeze them, cancel every single thing being paid for digital devices, internet, cable, phones- everything. File adult abuse and financial exploitation charges against Jenny, forcing her to cooperate with receiving treatment and rehabilitation for meth and drug addiction, grand theft auto for selling the car on Thanksgiving, mental cruelty/abduction and financial exploitation of her grand mother and mother. And Arson, property damage, vandalism, and dumping charges against Jimmy, just to get started. I have had it. 5:03 am 12/2/2021

Escaping The Despondent Sea is available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited, and is receiving 5 star reviews on Goodreads.com