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The Never Ending Nightmare…(Part I)

    I don’t know if I mentioned that I am from Texas born and raised and I have loved it here. I must update you on a year of untold stories and heartache before I go any further. Last Christmas Eve, the year of 2012, my children were taken from me by the child protective services of my city. Before any judgments will can be cast  I would like to tell you the truth the way it happened for the first time in over a year…
     The month is December, the month has never been a good month for me. I had become increasingly anxious over the weeks that lead up to the Day. In no way am I excusing my behavior but the foreground in necessary for this story. I cannot remember clearly the small details but it’s Friday morning before Christmas break and my oldest boy is getting ready for school. He is crying, sniffling as he usually does when he gets up and I become inappropriately angry. I admit that I jabbed my son lightly on the back. I jabbed him because he cries every morning that he doesn’t get enough sleep. I jabbed him because he was late. I jabbed him because I didn’t think. I did a horrible thing. It is so shaming to have to admit that but it must be said. I became more angry after my wife tried to calm me down and push her down as I storm out the door for what I believe will be my last time…
           As I walk out the door I feel so ashamed and empty. I was once a warrior and a leader, was a  good person, and now… Now I am a monster to my family. As I walk out the door I am planning my death. I don’t want to live anymore, I don’t ever want to hurt my family or anyone ever again. I walked around my suburban neighborhood and look for some where quiet, alone, and peaceful to take my life. All I had was a Gerber knife and I was thinking of the fastest painless way to kill myself. As I walk around I find a park, a small park that had a lot of small doe wandering around the trails. I found a quiet place in the shade of some trees and I began to cry. I can’t honestly remember the rest of that day except that I came home at night and my 1SGT arrived. I can remember driving in his car to the VA Hospital and being admitted to the inpatient mental ward for the second time in two years. I can remember meeting my new psychiatrist who prescribed me my meds that I have between taking for over a year now. I am doing much better with my PTSD because I am talking to another Doctor who is helping me work through my issues. I have a short stay and I’m ready for the world again.
     The next week is the week of Christmas and I’m home for a few days doing much better before a very young, very inexperienced CPS case worker knocks at our door. I willingly and honestly answer all questions and explain exactly what happened. Pictures were taken of all of my children in there under wear at the case workers request. No bruises were found, the kids were all happy. As a matter of fact when she entered my home my mom, my wife and all our children were on the living room couch by the Christmas tree that cover a barrage of presents. The lights were on, the atmosphere was up and at the end of a three to four hour interrogation in which all the parties involved were happy and calm. The case worker decided to remove the children from my care. I asked, my wife asked to talk to her supervisor and we were denied that right. The police were called and I had no choice but let a stranger younger than me who had no kids of her own to remove my children from their home.
     My whole world broke in that moment. I was with my kids every day and now I have to be supervised when I could see them. I don’t beat my kids,I have never been physical with my children except for that one isolated incident in which I received immediate medical attention. This is just the beginning of the horror I have had to endure over the last year. As you read you may inquire and I will answer relevant questions without specifics and I will ask you to put yourself in my shoes because in this society I don’t see how anyone is safe from the system. I plan to unravel my story day by day in short doses. I know I am a good man and I ask for compassion when reading my blog for this may be your cautionary tale.
     Over a year later and I feel this story must be told. /Nothing Follows

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About soldierspoem11b

I am a Father. I am 32 until March. (at which time I will update this) I am an Infantryman. I have seen War. I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I love the Walking Dead. I am on mission to find out who I am.

One response to “The Never Ending Nightmare…(Part I)

  1. jerryrscuba ⋅

    It hurts to read this. I will not be pretentious and offer advice or say I know how you feel. I didn’t put anything in writing until I was sixty two years old. Even then it was edited.
    Please remember that once posted on the internet, it is there forever. If writing helps, I will read it.
    You are not alone.

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