I was very glad that I attended the grief support meeting and it did give me a lot to think about, not only about grief and how to deal with it, but also about my situation. But down hill was coming very fast for me and I was eating little, basically adding up to about two table spoons a day. Any more and I would just start choking, leaving me with the choice of spitting the food out or throwing it up.

Another problem that was also occurring, I was suffering from alcohol withdraw and getting the shakes about four hours into my shift and things were starting to become obvious to those who were working around me.

Not sure myself, I had to consider the possibility that I was suffering from low blood sugar which was an obvious consideration because of how little I was eating. But even with a ton of sugar in me, the shaking didn't stop until I made it home from work and had a couple of drinks.

It was becoming obvious that I was not only suffering from organ failure, I was addicted to alcohol and they reason I didn't realize it was how I was using it. I haven't partied since 9th grade way back in 1980. I also despised getting drunk and avoided it at all costs.

I was basically drinking to relax from work and get to sleep, while not having any type of side effects or grogginess a sleep medication would give me. Also, I could basically get to work without ill effect and fairly sharp. Despite the change in shift, between two naps, I was lucky to get four to six hours of sleep a day but was still waking up every two hours. It was no sense trying to explain to most people, especially the coworkers and bosses.

But then how did I get this way? I finally started keeping tabs and basically discovered I was drinking around one litter of whisky and two to four beers a day. Hey, for me that was a mind blower; but my concern was you really can't do an industrial job with the shakes that are also getting more pronounced and worse, and you can not start drinking during work. To stop the shakes, it didn't take much at all and well below what would affect you as alcohol normally would.

The problem was drinking on the job is something that would end up detected and either get me fired, or worse, a greatly unwanted intervention would be waged. I also had the feeling at this stage of the game, things would simply get worse and somewhere along the line, my problems would become apparent.

With my grandmother's (septic) and father's hospice (pancreatic cancer), even though both had different pathologies in the end state; I estimated that I was one to three weeks away from dying as I progressively stopped eating over a period of about four months, and quite frankly could not only tolerate food, no matter what I ate, it tasted like shit... And that is comparing the taste to the contents my mother shoved into my mouth from the diaper change from hell.

I didn't eat Friday; I went to Jerry D's Saturday and got a Manhattan and two beers which went down fine; but the first bite of a four ounce crabcake got me choking and almost throwing up. I usually went there once every two weeks and they noticed me taking most of my food home. Considering they felt there was something wrong with their food, I did explain to them in a round about way what was going on, but they didn't exactly understand what I was getting at. For the most part, a standard meal from there was lasting me four days, if I just didn't throw it out. It took me two days to eat that crab cake, one bite at a time.

You might wonder what I was thinking, and I wasn't really thinking about things and as far as I was concerned, I didn't view this letting go as either suicidal thoughts or an act of suicide. Overall, despite the unfairness and difficulties in my life, I was very happy and even if I didn't have the difficulties I went through, wouldn't have changed up for lack of them for fear of losing all the things in my life that were wonderful, or all those lessons learned. I just felt maybe it was my time to go. In fact, I was hoping to get things a bit closer as I could possibly arrange a weeks' vacation and without drawing unwanted attention, could pass during that time without drawing concern. I had absolutely no plans to change things or even to try to stop drinking.

I did think about all the crumby crap that befell me in this life; such as Jean's loss, my mother surviving a cardiac arrest with severe brain damage, the marriage I entered into for all the right reasons, and the fairly early discovery that my wife, entered into the marriage for all the wrong reasons no matter what she said, and indeed, believe the plan she had from the start was to totally take from me, everything that I had before that marriage, as well every ounce of blood during it.

Not to mention that despite it all, I was fair about the separation because I still wanted her children to have the best chance of future success. The fact that my employer (my opinion), managed to do to me what the separated wife couldn't manage to do which was to financially destroy me; as well related problems that created 10 years of my house held hostage in near default, or the tax problems that might plague me for the rest of my life in such a punitive fashion.

Another consideration was I spent about two years asking God what I was to him and eventually it would be answered with Jean's voice as if right next to or just behind me, "Mike, you are His eyes and ears." At that time, I winced because I know what my eyes and ears were seeing and hearing and we didn't even get to the good stuff (actually worse I witnessed) at that time...

I had a republican politician that ran for county executive not only harass me, but I felt did something very nasty and that indicated that maybe he had democrat help in pulling that one off. Considering the republican candidate I supported had major resources poured into him being investigated, I had the feeling because of the candidates personal biases and self-importance, put a little effort into investigating me and had state resources used as well.

When I was at Taylor and Harford with my signs, I am sure it was him that hit his breaks and screamed, "Fuck Pat McDonough and fuck you!" His brother and campaign communications director attacked me on my own Facebook page, and he left the following message, "Michael, I whined??? Really??? why would you say that?? very disappointing that you would just make stuff up...... your father was a huge supporter of mine.... he would be disappointed too."

That was what he left in my personal messaging system on Facebook, but it was in the, "others folder," and had I found it before the election, and not the day after, he would have discovered hell on earth! First, one of the first lessons I learned regarding Dad and politics was, "No one speaks for me!" He made sure I got that one too!

Second, much earlier in my life, at a political event in Harford County he and another politician were door greeters and shook my father's hand. When Dad walked into the event, that person turned to the other greeter and said, "Well, here comes trouble... The only good thing about Lou is his money!"

Also, it was what I was seeing on a daily basis, the prostitutes who seem to change up, but neveer go away, the drug dealers and just so much petty crime because of the people they attract. As well the politicians BS regarding crime, including a republican governor that promised to build a new jail after tearing down the old one. He not only didn't build it, he gave the money to do so, to the very city politician's whims that created this problem in the first place.


In addition the governor, boasted releasing over six thousand people in jail, under the guise of, "Prison Reform," and I wondered if somehow I was dealing with all of them. I probably had over eight robbery attempts in about two months, with two tepid attempts within 10 minutes of each other. Luckily for me, they pretty much figure out that I won't make a very nice victim for them.

Also, work was really exhausting me, not only physically, but psychologically as well. Nothing like walking to work on near hundred-degree days and the floor boss grabbing you and literally leading you around like you had a ring in your nose. "Do this, do that," as well bellowing out my name for stretches as a time. There were times, it seemed more about control and bullying, than anything that needed to be done.

What bothered me was as soon as I came in, I needed to towel and cool off a bit and some of the comments got over the top on occasion, "We're paying you to work, not to relax." Just a couple minutes was all I needed.

This also occurred when there wasn't that much work in the shop and everything could be done at a comfortable pace. When it was busy, I immediately prioritized so that the pressmen are taken care of and I stood a chance of getting chores done before I had to move on cleaning the presses.

Just some general statements like, "Do you want to go home?" "You're lucky you still work here." Or some sort of negative comment or insult. Very often other coworkers' comments of insults happened during this time and it wore me thin, as I wondered, Why am I working here? Why am I making the sacrifices that I do? Also wearing me down was that most people didn't like that once a day a week shift change, so I had to deal with moods and at times work twice as hard because they weren't going to help me.

Why I work there is obvious, I do make decent pay and really with the perpetual afternoon/evening shift, I needed the leniency regarding time. Because of the crime situation, that also hampered me getting my hours in as it was safer to get a ride home, then to walk.

I did explore what was occurring as a means of escape but looked at my impending doom more like a rest, a conclusion, a finality and end to the sacrifice. It is so hard to describe my mindset at this time, but with writing this about my mindset and thinking at that time, I would call it, "Going fishing."

The stages of Death from the movie all that Jazz, based off the stages of grief as put out in the book, "On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Los;" I realized that I had accepted my own death and chuckled when I said, "It's showtime folks!"

With my fate and death seeming looming with an ever-faster clock ticking. I realized that I didn't bypass the five stages of grief/death ... I was perpetually living the prior four on a daily basis. Mostly when I walked out the door to go to work, the first four stages were with everyday life! Be it what I saw or experienced on the streets with the creatures now infesting them and invading our lives, at work and even alone fighting the fatigue while pushing myself to get the job done and get out, and increasingly with life's bullshit.

I realized that my act of living was a constant denial, anger, bargaining, depression; though I would sum it up with frustration, disgust and fatigue that these unwelcomed trespasses generated. You weren't just hit with the even low-grade criminal activity of others that invaded your life, it was also the criminal justice system and even attitudes of the police in dealing with it.

What was most frustrating, creating in me an angst as well as anger was the little stuff. One day the floor boss asked me, "What is getting into you?"

"I'm dying..."

He replied with a very off the cuff and totally devoid of inhibition with response along the lines of, "You're not dying, because I didn't tell you to die." I cannot tell you the anger that one generated; then to go home and receive the following Email from the next door neighbor selling his house.

" Sorry to say I have received feedback now from my lawn guy and realtor that your lawn is over grown. Thus not helping the sale of my house. We are still neighbors if you need help." This blew my mind and generated even more anger because the lawn wasn't that bad, just the plantains were going to seed.

I assured him I would take care of it, but in addition to adding insult to injury it helped me to realize me just how much I am declining because a simple 45-minute lawn took me two in a half hours. I did have the next door neighbor on the other side help me out a couple of times, as well hired the lawn cutter that cut the house that was up for sale cut my lawn once as the weather and time weren't cooperating. It helped me to realize just how much time and effort I was putting into other's demands at the expense at the cost of both my waking time and rest.

The addicted street people now constantly hitting me up for cigarettes and money at the shopping center and creating me the desire to scream, "Heal yourselves!" That was from the leper scene from Jesus Christ Superstar, or the mail person giving me a reminder to empty my mailbox by placing my mail vertically so I would have to take it in, even though that mail box could hold a week's worth of junk mail.


[ On a side note, one of the people I became interested with was Phil Robertson of Duck Dynasty fame and he had a show on Levin TV, now Blaze TV and while I purchased the internet subscription for Mark Levin's show which I planned to use for reference, it was Phil's show that made the subscription worth it.

I had very little patience of preaching in my life, especially since I felt many Born Again Christians ruined the concept; as pastors, ministers and priests seemed to be preaching their church's dictates and my father preached at me for most of my life. In Dad's case, it was more, "Do what I say, do what I do and very often conflicting with a creative and exploring mind. With the ministers and pastors, it seemed to be used more as bludgeon or bullying tactic to make them feel that what they were preaching was right. With the disapproval they expressed as more stimulus for their lack of gaining control over your thoughts.

One of the things I loved about Phil's show is seeing how a person lives off the land in a rural and back water setting of the Cajun. But his preaching captured me as well, as he was basically this is what the Bible says, or this is what God demands. You got a very strong opinion, but not in a personally demeaning or off-putting way, that so many seem to produce.

He is very conservative and while I put my own beliefs and observations into forming my opinion, he uses his belief in God as well Biblical precedent for explaining his observations and judgements. With the way he talks and preaches, you feel that indeed you are among a friend and in the presence of God. Even if I don't exactly agree or know it is something that I couldn't follow (AKA disappoint God), you see the point and that doesn't mean you can't strive a little bit more towards trying to live that ideal.

He also wrote a book, "The Theft of America's Soul: Blowing the Lid Off the Lies That Are Destroying Our Country," and I picked that up. He went through what sent him to the Lord and of interest he has a very severe drinking problem and how it almost destroyed his marriage, and sent him into despair to the extent that he went back to his wife and quit, with only suffering from one test that reinforced his belief in God as well his wife.]

I was at the point that I stopped tolerating drinking fluids too, except alcohol and I knew that was coming as well. I accepted this as my fate and one night around the first couple of weeks of June of 2019, essentially prayed as a petition to the Lord, that I was both accepting and resolved to my fate and simply asked for a direction, such as quitting my job, or trying to time a vacation; and whether to stockpile the alcohol to continue to drink.

Sorry, but I saw a certain sense of humor as maybe that is why some people call their bottle a good old friend. I basically let God know I was ready and had an ideal plan as well asked that if possible, God uses the power to keep other people from trying to help me, or worse, intervein. Also, if possible, that things go quickly and without suffering if possible. I also let him know I am completely comfortable with not eating.

But as this was as much a conversation with God as a prayer or petition; I was thinking of Phil Robertson and his faith more and more and it was, "How would Phil Robertson end this one?"

It didn't take much thought and I concluded it all with, "God your will; not mine, not the devil's."

I went to sleep, but just before waking I had a dream, I was walking the halls of Parkville Senior High at night and Jean walked up to me and said, "Mike, I wouldn't want you to do this." She hugged me and I tried to kiss her, but she dematerialized.

I woke up crying and kept that up for about three hours. Again, it was the sense of loss regarding Jea as well, even if I only a dream, that sense of being put off by Jean again. Really regarding things like this or hearing her voice like she was right beside or behind me, it was always came with some epiphany, knowledge or inspiration was required for my life.

Asking God what I was to him, usually seemed answered seemingly by Jean; being saved from a speeding car running a red light, asking God to relieve me of the burden of caring for my mother and family, or when I had a bizarre encounter with an elderly Gypsy woman, when you say, "God, why the fuck did that just happen."

To hear Jean tell you, "Mike, you were her warning." The Gypsy didn't seem to head that warning and ended up decapitated within two weeks. Judging with the details of the story, she did to him what she tried to do to me and that guy in total fear, really took it to heart.

But with this dream I had of Jean, what remained in my mind was how many times I told Jean, "Your rules." I pretty much figured out; I would be quitting drinking. That decision was made right then and there. No more booze!