The Joyous Art of Insomnia...

I don't know if its particularly accurate to call insomnia an "art" but I think that over the course of that past few months if it were possible to develop something like insomnia into an art form, then I have most certainly done it!

I remember a while back when I was either on my way home from the suck or I had just gotten home I wrote a post about how the volume on life had been turned down. How not much of what qualified as problems in the states meant much of anything to me anymore.

Now insomnia has struck! Is it from the war or from PTSD? I don't know, but probably.

Insomnia, if looked at from the proper perspective can be quite funny.

I do believe that on my way home from work the other day I saw a pink deer run out in front of my car.

If I try to focus on an object for more than a few seconds my eyes start to rattle back and forth like a guitar string that has just been strummed.

My American attention span, which was limited to begin with, is even shorter now. So I'm basically in dire need of some ritalin.

However, my ability to lie still, in a bed, with my eyes closed, in a dark room, without moving is unparalleled. I can do that for upwards of four hours at a time without falling asleep.

My balance is fun to watch. I don't know if its from the lack of sleep but when I get up from a bed or a chair it usually takes me about 5-10 seconds now to actually have my balance. In the meantime I do a W.C. Fields sway and try not to fall and bust my ass.

Sleep for me is normally limited to a few restful periods (not sleeping) and perhaps an hour or two of actual sleep a night before something comes alive inside of me and will not let me sleep no matter how hard I try.

My body fought through the consumption of an entire bottle of NyQuil without falling asleep.

My body fought through 9 Tylenol PM's without falling asleep.

My body has fought through regular, average every-day living for 3 days without sleeping.

While impressive, those feats of will were not at all intentional.

Now back to what I was talking about before, the volume being turned down on life and problems in the states not mattering all that much to me. That was a nice way for things to be. You could walk up to me when I got home, smacked me in the face and pissed on my boots and...well I would've kicked your ass into the middle of next week but I would've done it with a smile on my face and I wouldn't have even gotten riled.

Nothing could faze me for those first few months home. I was truly Embracing the Suck. That's when I wrote that post about using those words as a philosophic pillar in my life. Nothing at all could get my blood pressure up. I was impervious to pretty much anything.

Then I kinda stopped sleeping.

At first it was sporadic. I wouldn't sleep for a night or two, then I'd knock off for about 14 hours and I'd be fine.

Then it got a bit worse, I'd end up awake for 3 days or so and then I'd be able to sleep for maybe 3 or 4 hours which I suppose kept me from actually having a psychotic break.

Now I'm at the stage where I don't sleep for about 4 days but I do manage to catch about an hour here and there, plus I do the whole zombie thing of laying in the bed for hours at a time, perfectly still with my eyes closed and just lie there.

This not healthy nor is it particularly fun. Not to mention the fact that I'm starting to have some Nightmare on Elm Street type micro-naps. I don't know of any other way to characterize them. I'll be sitting at my desk at work or at home or sometimes even in the fucking car and just out of no where my eyes will kinda flutter and then I go blank for a few seconds.

That's it, blank. Nothingness. I don't remember any of it. I remember hearing that if you have insomnia sooner or later your body has to shut down and rest itself. I remember them being called micro-naps on Nightmare of Elm Street. So that's what I call them.

Now its not the constant nagging exhaustion that bugs me about this. Its not the sore muscles and bones from not ever truly resting them, its not the pretty much unending dull headache that I always have. None of that really bothers me anymore. You'd be amazed at what you can actually get used to.

What is killing me about all of this is the fact that while my experiences in AssCrackIstan turned the volume down on the world. This insomnia shit is turning it right back up, and sending the decibels into the stratosphere.

In any case, I can't let the simplest things go now. Things that used to just roll off now stick in my craw for days and days. Things that used to not even register now send me into a psychotic rage. Things that might have made me slightly perturbed are now causing me to wallow in anger and hate for days, sometimes a week or more.

But I'm not here to bitch about what's happening to me. What I want to know is what can I do about this shit? Anyone got any suggestions to knock my ass out? I'd give my left nut to sleep for 6 hours straight right now!

But that's what's happening in Mud Puppy land.

We'll be moving on tomorrow.

Later,

I love you Mom...

Mr. Weiner's Weiner...

First and foremost I'd like to thank Anthony Weiner (D-NY) for the seemingly endless amount of entertainment he has been providing me with for the past week or so.

Funny Picture Break...

Now I thought that a story such as this, with its obvious humorous potential, and its complete and utter lack of substance (in my mind) I thought it needed to be embraced here at ETS.

Let's just recap the thin and thick of what I'm writing about here.

1. Weiner tweeted a picture of his weiner.
2. To some broad he was trying to bang.
3. He got busted.
4. Women came out of the woodwork to accuse him of sending them dirty text messages (check out the transcripts) and pictures and what not.
5. He apologized.
6. That's about it.

Now let's start with number one. You've pretty much got to be an epic weiner to tweet a picture of your weiner in the first place. (Anyone picked up on my joy at using the word "weiner")

Number 2. Do I fault the guy for trying to do the hippity dippity with some woman? Nope, not in the slightest. It seems to me that if this guy wants to galavant around town knocking down every piece of strange he can find that's fine with me. So long as its fine with the women.

Here's where this thing gets sticky for me. My opinion of #2 is contingent upon one fact. That the Weiner is question is single, unattached, NOT MARRIED.

But this Weiner is a married Weiner.

Interesting aside: According to a USA TODAY article, 30% of New Yorkers think its common for politicians to send lewd pictures of themselves over the internet! (Click here if you think I'm kidding. ARTICLE)

Now I don't know about you, but I'm not above sending a dirty picture or two to my significant other. (She doesn't mind.) Nor am I above looking at your random dirty picture on the internets. I mean c'mon, I'm a guy and a soldier to boot. I've seen a few naked women in my life.

Here's the question I have. What in the blue hell was this chump thinking? How could he not think this was going to blow up in his face?

I can only imagine how the conversation that led to the picture being posted went.

Weiner: I told you I'm a congressman!
Woman: No you're not!
Weiner: No really, I am. I'll tell you what, just think of something that only Anthony Weiner could do and I'll do it to prove I'm a congressman.
Woman: Okay, put a picture of your junk on twitter so I can see what you're working with.
Weiner: Way ahead of you, I already got the picture. I'll be posting it in a minute!

I mean really, how else could that one have gone?

Either way, if nothing else the way this whole thing has played out says a few things about good ole' Mr. Weiner. He's either a complete moron, or he is easily one of the most arrogant little shits on the face of the earth.

In any case, this is not a man who should be making laws.

Why Mud Puppy?

I'll tell ya why. Here's a guy who has been given a position of great power. A man who has the public trust.

Woops, there it was that evil word for politicians. TRUST. Now you could ask any woman on the planet whether what this Weiner did is cheating and you may even find a few who think there's nothing wrong with what he did. However, every man who reads this knows that he may not have actually physically cheated, he was well on his way. No one sends a woman a picture of his junk without the expectation that depending on her reaction to said photo, she may be willing to let you put said junk into...nevermind.

But you get what I'm saying. The problem for Mr. Weiner is that there's a Mrs. Weiner. Still can't quite figure out why she would marry him. I mean if I were a woman and I knew that my name would one day be Weiner I'd be running to find some guy named Gaylord or something. But I digress.

In any event, the trust issue still remains. He broke a bond. And with more than one woman. Not like its okay even once, but ya know you can kinda get over one indiscretion, but not a whole bunch. One indicates a lapse in judgment, a bunch of them is habitual.

Here's another point I have to make about these rich and powerful guys. I don't get why they get married. I really don't. Tiger Woods, Bill Clinton, and now The Weiner. It doesn't make any sense. The fact of the matter is this, women love rich and powerful men. There's no way around it. Women throw themselves at men who have a lot of cash, and they throw themselves at men who run shit!

So I don't get it. What's the point of getting married if you're just going to use your money and power to knock down every skank that crosses your path? It just doesn't make any sense to me. If Tiger Woods or Bill Clinton or this Weiner had done what they did but done it when they were single no one would've really cared. And there would've been no reason to lie about it.

Weiner could've got up there and said, "Hey, I'm a Representative in congress. I run shit. I make a ton of money and yeah, I decided to try and get me a piece of ass! What of it?" He could've said that if he were single.

But he's not single. He's a married man. As such, in my humble opinion. If he's willing to throw his junk around when he's got Mrs. Weiner waiting for him at home and he's willing to destroy her and his family for some chick, then what does it say about us if we are willing to tolerate this kind of bullshit?

That's just my opinion, and I could be wrong.

Anyway,

I love you Mom...

The Battle In The Brain...

So, as you already know, I've been taking some happy pills and talking to a shrink lately. Its been helping. Obviously not as much as I would have liked since the only thing they could've done that would have satisfied me was give me a magic shot and it was all over and better. I mean the mom helped out with her magic bullet, but its not a permanent fix.

I told the shrink about the war going on in my head and he asked me who was winning. I told him, "The wrong side" He couldn't help but chuckle. You know when you get in those shrink's offices its a very uncomfortable place. I mean we're talking about government shrinks not those high priced private ones.

In any event this guy is pretty much an authority on PTSD. I'd put him as an expert for no other reason than he's a shrink at the VA. I think he sees a few more PTSD cases than your average shrink. After all the review of what I had told all the different doctors up to this point and we went over mine and his biography, we got down to the nitty gritty and started talking about the war.

Where were you? How many times did you take fire? How many IED's were you involved in? How often did you take indirect fire? How many in your company were killed or wounded? You know the usual.

During the course of the conversation we got to two things that really jumped out and grabbed me by the throat as what's been happening to me.

(Shrink's words, not mine) Emotional Numbness, and Disconnection. Followed by a general malaise characterized by not being able to find meaning in your civilian life.

Well. Talk about hitting the nail on the head. Blam!!! He nailed it. I suppose there are other symptoms and shit, but for the most part that is exactly what's been bugging me.

Being disconnected is pretty much why my writing fell off to nothing shortly after I came home. Even writing this is kinda me forcing it. I mean how can you really connect back with all these people and all the things here after you did that shit for a year?

Roads are paved...but something inside of me is still bouncing down a dirt road in AssCrackIstan.
Wal-Mart is open...but I still think about guys in the shithouse PX in Waza Khwa.
Beer is cold...but there is no booze in Afghanistan.
I turn on the AC...and remember how hot it is in the summertime.
I feel the comfort and warmth of my bed...and remember sleeping on the ground, or the hood of a truck, or cramped in the truck, or...you get the idea.

Its kinda hard to connect...er, reconnect when something inside is pulling you away all the time. Its a constant wrestling match to keep my brain here, where it needs to be. When, frequently, and normally at the most inopportune moments my brain has flown away to southeastern Afghanistan for an afternoon trip.

Well, we haven't quite made it to sorting that out just yet. It'll come. Right now I'm happy to say that the happy pills are taking the edge off. They haven't quite done what I hoped they would do. Which is magically cure this, overnight. But they are having a noticeable effect. Talking about it helps to a point. I just wished that I had someone around who knew what the fuck I was talking about. But I'll take what I can get.

Then he laid a few other fun things on me. He wants me to go in for a sleep study because I don't sleep well. He's wondering if lack of sleep is causing a lot of this. I told him that he's brilliant and should immediately win the Nobel Prize for figuring that one out. But then he explained to me that sleep has a huge effect on mood and cognitive functioning and energy levels. Once again, Brilliant! But he went on to say I was a prime candidate for sleep apnea. Wonderful. Now I'm going to have to be hooked up to some machine and sleep while people from the VA watch me! That won't be uncomfortable at all...

So that's it. That's where I'm at right now. It sucks that this doesn't move along quickly at all! Gets on my last damn nerve. But I started this and now I have (for my own sake) to finish it.

Plus he told me to get a hobby to start occupying my mind during down time. Too much time to think is a bad thing he says. (I told you he's flipping brilliant) So I went and bought a guitar. Gonna learn how to play that. I'll let you know how that goes...

Later,

I love you Mom...

Have you ever thought about harming yourself or someone else?

Well, I've been away for quite a while. Not exactly sure how long but I know I've gotten more than a few emails, comments, and pokes reminding me that I haven't written anything in a long time.

But oh so much has happened since then. First things first gotta talk about Bin Laden getting croaked. Now was I ecstatic when Bin Laden got offed? The puritan in me was certainly excited. I mean he was the guy who was, by his own admission, responsible for 9/11. So when they gave him his two in the head I was pretty stoked.

Now the realist in me was a bit more docile. I mean, one life for 3,000 or whatever it was that died in the world trade center. Or you could look at it from a completely different point of view and say that vengeance was already had when we went into Afghanistan, totally fucked up the Taliban's world, kicked them out of power, and sent the country into 10 years of war. That's my personal way of looking at it. See I am not the kinda person who believes in measured response, or in the inherent fairness of the world or the people in it. For lack of a better term, I like the idea of using a nuclear missile to kill a mosquito!

So anyway, now that I've said my peace about that. What else has been going on? I don't know if you all knew about this but I've been diagnosed with PTSD by the wonderful VA hospital near my home. So that was fun. Answering the same questions over and over again from 5 different people was fun.

Case worker, social worker, counselor, and psychiatrist.

Okay, so I guess I only had to answer the same questions 4 times. The funny part of the whole thing was, one of the questions they always ask. Without fail, always ask is...have you ever thought about harming yourself or someone else? and they do not respond well when you tell them that if you ask me that one more time I am very likely to try and kill someone, most likely you!

Alright, so that's probably not the best response to that question, and fear not. I didn't actually say that but I thought it in my head at least 4 times. One for every person asking me.

Then after all was said and done, my evaluations were over and they were deciding on a treatment plan for me...here take 1/2 this pill daily and we'll call you in three weeks to see how you're doing.

Me: What? That's it? All of that, just to hand me some happy pill? And then when I get it, I only get to take half? What the mother fuck is that? Excuse me, but I'd like to actually get better. I'd rather not hide my bullshit behind some zombie making happy pill!

Them: Oh, well in that case, we'll get you signed up for this PTSD education class. It'll teach you all about the symptoms, and causes of PTSD.

Me: Lady, are you serious? If I've got the fucking thing why do I need someone to teach me about the symptoms? I'm living them everyday. And as far as the causes are concerned, I've got a pretty good grip on where they're coming from. So do you think it would be at all possible to do something that might actually have some sort of discernible effect on the problems that I'm having?

Them: We'll let you know when an individual counselor or psychiatrist becomes available. In the meantime you can visit your local Vet Center. A nurse will contact you via phone in a few weeks to see if you are having any trouble with the medication.

Good times at the VA.

That's what's been happening in Mud Puppy land. I'm trying real hard to maintain my sense of humor, and my sanity. I'm just not succeeding as much as usual.

Anyways,

Later,

I love you Mom...

Greatest Punk band in history playing just for me...

The Magic Bullet...

So lately I’ve been having some anger issues. I didn’t really think all that much of it at first. I pretty much ignored it and I was fine with that, because well I’m a guy and that’s what we do. We ignore our problems. Particularly our emotional ones.

However, after a little while my girlfriend started to notice and being that she is a female and completely incapable of letting me wallow in my own stupidity, she started to get on me about it.

I can’t complain. She just wanted me to be happy and I can’t say that I’m pissed about that. Having a woman around who is genuinely concerned about making me happy is quite an advantage to have. Most guys I know have got a woman who thinks that so long as she’s happy, then he is to. But that’s a post for another time.

Anyway, I started to think increasingly about my anger. Where the hell was it coming from? What is causing this? Blah, blah, blah.

No answers. I mean there’s always the old stand by of “its the war, man” which in some cases is kinda nice due to the fact I can blame Afghanistan for any little twitch I decide to have. Makes being a moody motherfucker a bit easier.

So after a few weeks of not being able to come up with anything resembling a solution and totally pissing off this wonderful woman who is graciously putting up with my shit, I decided to go for the throat with this problem.

I called the MOM.

I know, I know, say what you will about a 32 year old man who still goes straight to his mother with his problems. I don’t care because she is in fact, the magic bullet!

So she called one night and I laid it all out for her. The job, my life in general and all that I thought was pissing me off and turning me into a Styx song.

She listened patiently, gave me some audible feedback here and there to let me know she hadn’t fallen asleep, and when I was done she threw it right back at me.

You know, the past few years you haven’t been yourself. You know you’ve been dealing with so much and you’ve become someone you’re not. You are trying all these anger management techniques and you went to see some hippy shrink that didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground and you keep trying to find all these soft, lifeless solutions to your problems.

That’s not you kid. Never has been. You remember when you were a kid and you were still in diapers?

No, mom I don’t seem to remember that.

Well, you went out to play one day in your diaper and the kids in the neighborhood made fun of you because you were a baby and wearing a diaper. You came in that day and told me that you weren’t going to wear diapers anymore. I told you that you had to go in the potty like a big boy and you said that was okay, so long as you didn’t have to wear diapers anymore. And from that day forward you never wore a diaper again. You see what I’m talking about?

Nope, sorry mom, not getting it at all. (And I’m kinda chuckling at the fact that I got to use the word “potty” and the phrase “big boy” in this post.

Okay, you don’t do soft solutions. You like to fight. You always have. Its just who you are. You need someone or something to fight against. It gives you purpose. It gives you a reason. It sorts the world out for you. You look at the world and you see friend and foe. Whether it be your job, your anger, or anything else for that matter. You make a decision, good or bad, right or wrong, and you run with it. Except lately you haven’t been that guy anymore.

Its simple, you’re not made to think any other way. Most people want peace in their minds. And you do too. The difference is that there is only peace in your mind when there is something to fight against. When there is a war to be won. Otherwise, you’re just drifting, you have no purpose and that makes you crazy...and angry.

So figure out what you’re going to fight. Figure out who or what the enemy is. And then kill it. Then find the next one. That’s how you are going to find peace.

Nice.

Thanks Mom.

Worked like a charm.

Magic bullet.

I love you Mom...

Anyone who's ever been to BAF, will find this hilarious!

Real Men of Genius: Reflective Belt wearer!