Open, Honest, Transparent, and Vulnerable part 2

It's  hard not having a support system here where I live. Not at home and not in the community. What I get online doesn't seem to be helping. This past week I blew down through what I thought was rock bottom. As I look up, it keeps getting further out of my reach. I am falling further down. I cannot reach the walls. There is only empty space under my feet. My shouts, cries, and pleas for help echo and echo.

It feels as though God has given me the finger and said "See ya. Glad I'm not you." And is laughing at me.

I can't talk to my pastor as some have suggested because we don't have one. To get to what many of us would consider a good church is something we could do every other Sunday morning, due to finances.

My health continues to get worse and I actually have thought about being hospitalized for hernia surgery, insulin  (to get my blood sugar down) and hopefully some morphine for the constant pain I am in. I am in too bad of shape to work according to my doctor, but not bad enough for disability according to the specialist I have seen.

I am under a ton of stress here at home. I need to get away for a bit. I need to be able to breathe, unwind, relax, and de-stress, but I've nowhere to go and no way to get there. A wonderful couple had invited me to come stay with them for a short time when all this started, but I  couldn't get there. I believe having been able to and submitting myself to Adam would have been a big help. I still do. There are others I feel the same way about, but they have not offered. Another wonderful family has offered twice to take all 4 of us in. I just don't know if another state to state move would help, or hurt, my daughters. Thus here we still are.

More and more I am going back to my headbanging teen days. Why? I don't know.

I do not like who nor what I am. I don't like having a distrust of people and being shocked and surprised when they are honest and keep their word. Right now I expect people to be lying when they say something.

Maybe this is what the beginning of a mental breakdown feels like. I just don't want to be one of those people who finally snaps and goes full psychological and hurts someone, or worse.

I want to be happy, but am convinced I never will be. Daily I wish my liberal mother would have loved me enough to abort me and not hate me enough to have birthed me.

Then add in the catastrophe that is my non relationship with my biologically oldest daughter and my grandson, and the terrible job I am doing to my youngest biological two and I am introducing you to a man with no hope anymore.

This is me. It is who and what I am. To you who have been kind and generous over the years, I again say Thank You, though it doesn't feel like it's enough. I feel like there is more I should say, but I don't know what.

I have tried everything I know to fight this, yet I have become the person I could show from the Bible where they are wrong. I stood for the faith. I tried to warn others and encourage them to do right and have lost friends and am now one of those others.

I am Jim Ward and I am a Grade AAA certifiable mess

Open, Honest, Transparent and Vulnerable

I don't know where to begin this post, or if it should even be in a timeline format. Do I just ramble and hope to make sense, or do I put a lot of though into this post?

Do I worry if I will lose friends? Probably not, though I am sure I will lose some, it is after all the nature of the beast. I've had pastors turn on me after sharing some of what I will share here. My family has churches we are not welcome in anymore for the same reasons.

What will happen? I don't know.

Life for started in March of 1967, to parents who divorced shortly after I was born. In 1968 my mom remarried and the man she married, soon after adopted me, changing my name from James Monroe Parish III to James Michael Ward.

I grew up knowing nothing about my biological father, and wondering often if I had been abused my "adoptive" father. Some of what my mother has shared makes it sound like I was, but most of my childhood is a blank space that I cannot recall. What I can recall, is being the unwanted black sheep of the family. The one who could do no right, and was blamed for every wrong. A trend that continues even to this day.

I have spent most of my life looking for the love and acceptance I never got at home.

School and I were not a good match. Though I needed help, it wasn't available for me. To this day, I still cannot do what was at that time 7th grade math, nor do I understand the nuances of sentence structures. I am 100% incapable of helping my kids with their homework.

My health stinks. I am in too bad of a shape for a regular 8 hour a day job, but not in bad enough shape for disability. I have tried some self employment stuff, but in this boro and in this valley that is easier said than done, and has, like the rest of my life, proven to be a miserable failure.

Thus we are stuck here. Wouldn't be as bad, but this all is holding my children back and I fear daily we are losing them.

My family has a history of depression and it has reared it's ugly head in the lives my youngest two daughters.

I live daily with pain in my neck, right shoulder, back, knees, and right ankle. I also have high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and diabetes. Pretty sure my blood sugar is up. To top that off, I severe case of Trypanophobia and Vaccinophobia so you can guess what does not get checked very often. Going in for blood work is thus an exercise in extreme humiliation.

It was a shock to find out in my early 20's that I was adopted by my mother's second husband. Sadly, like the two men who have followed him, my biological dad wants nothing to do with me.

People tell me I should start a church because there is no sound solid Gospel witness here, but if they read the above I am sure they will change their minds. I really need a pastor. My family needs a church, but we usually don't have enough gas money to put in the tank to make the hour drive to the nearest one. Watching a service on line is nice, but we also need the fellowship. My family agrees we need to be in church, but sometimes I wonder if they say that just because they think I want to hear it.

The more I type, the worse I feel.

I have been homeless several times.

I never thought I would live this long, nor that I would have kids.

I have a very low tolerance for stupidity, lying and arrogant people and refuse to dialog with them.

I currently have a low tolerance for people in general.

Outside of a bad example, I have no idea of what purpose I serve in this life anymore.

I can't move out of this dead valley soon enough, but know that without a miracle it won't happen.

I would still rather be an Independent Fundamental Baptist than anything else. Why be a pea when you can be bacon?

I cannot type anymore. The pain is overwhelming.

Thank you for reading.