Robbery of the Heart

We all get robbed, in a way, robbed by a loved one, or someone we depend on. In this day, and age, it happens a lot but we forgive him or her anyway, for ourselves. It’s the only way we can carry on, fulfilling our obligations to those who are entitled to them, our loved ones. The constant reminders of being victimized by my ex-wife, coupled with the loss of my family, identity, business and manhood was the main source of fuel for the vehicle that slowly carried me toward complete destruction- a final release that I miserably sought for subconsciously one drink at a time. The words of my ex-wife would, and sometimes still, echo in my head like a movie that I am being forced to watch. Visions of her and our children bombard me. Little did I realize it was part of my medical condition, Frontal Lobe Syndrome, compounded trauma and PTSD- Shell shocked. My days would come and go, unknown to me. I rarely know what day it is or what time it is. My life is sometimes a blur and I am a madman. Some one should have hospitalized me. Alcohol was the only medication readily available. It was as if I was a Marionette. I had little to no control of anything. Food is of no concern. Bathing and grooming are of no concern. My only concerns were tobacco and alcohol, and weed if I could manage them. I didn’t drink to get high. I drank to die.