"The dose maketh the poison," - Paracelsus
Twenty?
Maybe seventeen?
Maybe artistic license because I’m an attention whore?
Three to start the day.
Three to get through the rest of it.
I fought with the idea of drinking after work all day.
A quick visit to my instagram photos revealing pictures of Amelia and I, joyful and playing, promptly made my decision for me.
“Drinking it is,” I said aloud. Maybe it, no, it definitely was, counterintuitive,
Still, my decision was made. A couple kilometers later I was sitting at the bar having my oh so relished bloody mary.
Couldn’t forget my Hennessy. Oh, how I loved my Hennessy.
Double shot. Praise God, right? Nope. I didn’t think I was drunk enough to consider it a sin. Besides, I hated beaten off, so I had done pretty well in the last 24 hours, right?
Wrong. I was still justifying, therefore judging, my own actions. Being my own God.
Before going to Bible Study.
Did I mention I craved literary conventions? Irony in particular?
Pete picked me up for Bible Study. If he smelled the liquor on my breath, he didn’t comment on it. Once we arrived at Brody’s house I tried to cover up the rest of the smell that might’ve been with first a cigarette and then a quick brush of the teeth.
I hadn’t remembered the last time I’d brushed my teeth.
The Church Gang was making peppers filled with… stuff. I popped another Xanax. After that, I popped another Xanax. Actually, two Xanax. That left me at eight or nine Xanax total for the day, and two shots of Hennessy deliciously paired with a Bloody Mary.
I think about how much easier my life would be if I was confined to a wheelchair, yet how painfully anxiety-ridden it would be from not being able to move at all.
I’d started to feel drowsy from the Xanax, and really hoped there would be some coffee to help keep me awake. Something told me that if I passed out I’d either end up discluded from further studies or…
I closes my eyes and just listened to people talking, and passed out for at least an hour.
I couldn’t wait to go home and pass out even more.
Annnd all seemed like it was going okay. Aside from me slightly stumbling over my own feet, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Then, dancing in my blindspot, fluttering in my ear drums, surely pitter-pattering in my stomach (although it had far too numb to feel that) I used the excuse to show a picture of a sandwich I’d made to the guys to take another four Xanax.
What did that bring us to? I don’t know I was going to grab a pepper and make it certainly at least fifteen or twenty.
Xanax was most certainly… wonderful.
I got a message from Brittany about reading my posts. She said that she had been keeping up. It made me happy. At least someone knew what was going on. Or, rather, knew a day later than when it had happened.
I wondered if I could schedule a post to post a day after I had written it on the off chance that I’d died while writing it.
What a wonder to ponder, was it not?
I’d made it this far into the evening, so many Xanax deep. How much farther could I go? The world may never know.
Just kidding. Drinking only two shots, there was no way that the amount of alcohol I’d drank would trigger a black out. Aside from that, I felt completely uninhibited.
Except for my fear of the kitchen.
Which took another three Xanax.
Did I actually take those? I’d better make sure.
I’d filled a small cup of coffee.
What in Heaven’s good name was it about that voice that drove me mad?
Canadian Blue played in the back of my mind, from the Romeo and Juliet introduction with Leonardo DiCaprio as Romeo.
Ice Breaker.
Where is your favorite place to nap?
Hospital beds. Jail. The mental ward. The back seat of a car. Under the stars. Somewhere I’m not supposed to be. I sleep on the floor, but where does this count? I nap where I shouldn’t. Face down in a book. Face-hard-pressed against a laptop.
HOME SHOPPING NETWORK MAKES ME TRIP BALLS, so does QVC… Boomer Tale, NFC.
Twenty deep and I could look at her.
Professional drug dealers could handle that like it was nothing. So could I, to an extent, but handling it and passing out in an hallowed grounds couch were two entirely separate things.
I felt happy with that.
What was Merry's favorite napping place?
Nun. Nun alert.
In Jesus’s arms.
Merry? More like Mary Magdalene.
Shut up, Eric.
I felt Jesus would have objections; to desire she find strength to find peace in Heaven because she is created in God’s image, and Jesus doesn’t piggy back on God like Yoda.
~✍✝️✍~
Actual Bible Study
2 Sam 15 & Psalm 3
Talk about David’s fear. Visualize the situation. How would you feel if an army of people you know were seeking to kill you?
I know the feeling well, when I had totalled Austin’s car, leading him to sling meth.
I’d entered an awful drug deal, lost many people money, and I had become the scapegoat to find that money.
Slandering my beloved skeleton and being threatened for it.
Casting aside the mother of my child and fearing for a torturous death by Salvadoran gangs.
Read 2 Sam 13:5-14, how would being so close to Saul & seeing Saul lose God’s favor and his mind play into David’s fear?
Read Sam
Pete, Psalm 51. “Create in me a pure heart, o God,”
How did David deal with his fear?
Needs clarification.
How could he hold his head high when David had murdered / committed adultery?
Had it been because he was confident in God’s forgiveness? I think he had been told he was forgiven.
Talk about the results of David’s faith listed in Psalms 3:5-8
Read Psalms 118:5-9. David’s faith was at odds with the ncircumstances of his life. Have you ever been in a situation where it seemed like God would not be able to deliver you?
Yes.
“I’ve done bad and I need to be punished for it because I’ve done bad, but that's not how it is, because your sins are already forgiven by Christ,” - Brad not Bradley.
Aside, there is a whole lot of talk about Saul and how Saul fucked up. Something about a sacrifice. This meant I actually had to read the scripture, and find out who the fuck Saul was, and what it was he sacrificed, to make sure I didn’t make the same mistakes.
Cup of coffee; empty. Fuck.
I ought to read something on courtship.
“How does one feel they have truly been forgiven?”
Real repentance, real fearlessness, for there is no fear in the light of God, and no shame, for if you have truly given your sins to the Lord and trusted and loved him, there can be no doubt that your guilt, fear, and sorrow, are lifted from your mortal hands to God’s eternal.
Yet,
In a room full of faith; I felt fear.
No one had been home been when I’d got back to the apartment. Curious, I checked the driveway. Lazily, I decided not to.
Emily was home. I had more than sobered up. Coffee works wonders, doesn’t it?
I knew there were things I was forgetting. Things to be thankful for. Things to want to change. Yeah, last time I reevaluated my values didn’t do much could. The the Xanax was partially to blame for that.
Falling asleep last night with my head in my bible and notebook, I’d felt like a studious devout catholic. Now, I just felt stupid.
I’d apologized. The apology hadn’t been enough. I didn’t know if I was growing more mad by the day or simply maddening as I aged.
Baby Mama filed for sole and legal custody of our beloved child Amelia.
If I had been a stronger man, I would’ve fought the petition.
Instead, I dismissed it. Things would remain the same. If she wanted to rob me of my daughter, so be it. Judgment awaited Ryan Joseph Baumgartner, Hilda Stefany Mendez-Vasquez, and I, Eric Michael Jessen.
I’m sure we’d all enjoy a sweat cup of tea in Hell together at the indefinite end of our days, but until then, adieu, I say.
Let me guide you through the right way to process these emotions.
Stefany wanted sole and permanent custody;
Whether or not she succeeded, I’d always be Amelia’s father, alive or dead, and I’d always love her, no matter how poisoned she became against me through her mother or how horridly sparingly I’d see my own beloved. I forgave her.
Ryan Joseph Baumgartner, a Hawkeye Divorce Lawyer, after lying on several documents,
With all due respect, did profess as lawyer, as an advocate to a judge, and in being that thou shalt not judge or become one who assists in the wicked and sinners, one day, maybe long after my passing, he would not find justice, but forgiveness.
Fighting for anything that dirties your conscience is not fighting that should be honored. That is why I chose no longer to fight; not because I gave up, not because I no longer cared about my little girl, but because I didn’t want her to be the center of a war between two people who were supposed to love her more than anything;
And by any accountant’s perspective, both of us had loved fighting more than we had ever loved our daughter.
Dear Amelia,
I spent over $10,000 to fight your mother to be in your life. Your mother spent $4,000 to fight against me, believing I was inept to care for her, which many only agreed after you took her from me after threatening suicide, leaving her alone in an apartment at three months old, and neglecting medical advice. I forgive you for all those things, and I wish that money could’ve gone to her savings.
I forgive your mother, I hope she and her family eventually can forgive me before I die.
I had been so close to running down to Kum and Go and buying a Corona. The only reason I didn’t is because Emily and I had decided to stop drinking.
I slammed the back of my head against the sliding door.
Nooo, I moaned. Why? She reminded me. So here I am. Sober.
Stone.
Cold.
Stober.
My legs writhed with anxiety. I knew I could take that anxiety and turn it into something good. Do you not know why? There’s a book about it*** and I’ll reference it later. For now, I’m going to battle Emily for her charged and my own sinful desires to go beat off in the shower.
Sprite. I was drinking Sprite. The Catholic Girl of all carbonated beverages.
Sweet, Jesus Christ, save me from these demons. I hadn’t yet read any of the Bible today except for Bible Study, which I really didn’t gather much from. Maybe tomorrow.
So far I’ve cut sorcery, sexual immorality, drunkenness (at least since five PM), fits of rage, laziness, and with every passing minute it grew harder and harder.
Fighting the urges, I mean. Not my cock. However, give it two days and that would be an issue. I’d look happy to see everyone or as if I’d a license to concealed carry.
Church was next Saturday, and I felt like I ought to get a head start on whatever Psalm they were going to be sharing. Or sermoning. Whatever they call it. Terms right by God were difficult, considering Satan was the Lord of Air and Earth.
Yes, that's in the Bible too.
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow to use an actual keyboard and not really on my tiny ass iPhone keyboard to write all of this out. So, for the rest of the night, until I sedate myself to sleep, I’ll be studying scripture, then passing the fuck out, and hopefully waking up to do good in the world.
Stefany had cut me off all together again. She deserved it.
Whatever. Who was I to judge?
I missed my daughter.
It hurt.
She was beautiful.
But the world wasn't.
<<<Previous Next>>>
Maybe seventeen?
Maybe artistic license because I’m an attention whore?
Three to start the day.
Three to get through the rest of it.
I fought with the idea of drinking after work all day.
A quick visit to my instagram photos revealing pictures of Amelia and I, joyful and playing, promptly made my decision for me.
“Drinking it is,” I said aloud. Maybe it, no, it definitely was, counterintuitive,
Still, my decision was made. A couple kilometers later I was sitting at the bar having my oh so relished bloody mary.
Couldn’t forget my Hennessy. Oh, how I loved my Hennessy.
Double shot. Praise God, right? Nope. I didn’t think I was drunk enough to consider it a sin. Besides, I hated beaten off, so I had done pretty well in the last 24 hours, right?
Wrong. I was still justifying, therefore judging, my own actions. Being my own God.
Before going to Bible Study.
Did I mention I craved literary conventions? Irony in particular?
Pete picked me up for Bible Study. If he smelled the liquor on my breath, he didn’t comment on it. Once we arrived at Brody’s house I tried to cover up the rest of the smell that might’ve been with first a cigarette and then a quick brush of the teeth.
I hadn’t remembered the last time I’d brushed my teeth.
The Church Gang was making peppers filled with… stuff. I popped another Xanax. After that, I popped another Xanax. Actually, two Xanax. That left me at eight or nine Xanax total for the day, and two shots of Hennessy deliciously paired with a Bloody Mary.
I think about how much easier my life would be if I was confined to a wheelchair, yet how painfully anxiety-ridden it would be from not being able to move at all.
I’d started to feel drowsy from the Xanax, and really hoped there would be some coffee to help keep me awake. Something told me that if I passed out I’d either end up discluded from further studies or…
I closes my eyes and just listened to people talking, and passed out for at least an hour.
I couldn’t wait to go home and pass out even more.
Annnd all seemed like it was going okay. Aside from me slightly stumbling over my own feet, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Then, dancing in my blindspot, fluttering in my ear drums, surely pitter-pattering in my stomach (although it had far too numb to feel that) I used the excuse to show a picture of a sandwich I’d made to the guys to take another four Xanax.
What did that bring us to? I don’t know I was going to grab a pepper and make it certainly at least fifteen or twenty.
Xanax was most certainly… wonderful.
I got a message from Brittany about reading my posts. She said that she had been keeping up. It made me happy. At least someone knew what was going on. Or, rather, knew a day later than when it had happened.
I wondered if I could schedule a post to post a day after I had written it on the off chance that I’d died while writing it.
What a wonder to ponder, was it not?
I’d made it this far into the evening, so many Xanax deep. How much farther could I go? The world may never know.
Just kidding. Drinking only two shots, there was no way that the amount of alcohol I’d drank would trigger a black out. Aside from that, I felt completely uninhibited.
Except for my fear of the kitchen.
Which took another three Xanax.
Did I actually take those? I’d better make sure.
I’d filled a small cup of coffee.
What in Heaven’s good name was it about that voice that drove me mad?
Canadian Blue played in the back of my mind, from the Romeo and Juliet introduction with Leonardo DiCaprio as Romeo.
Ice Breaker.
Where is your favorite place to nap?
Hospital beds. Jail. The mental ward. The back seat of a car. Under the stars. Somewhere I’m not supposed to be. I sleep on the floor, but where does this count? I nap where I shouldn’t. Face down in a book. Face-hard-pressed against a laptop.
HOME SHOPPING NETWORK MAKES ME TRIP BALLS, so does QVC… Boomer Tale, NFC.
Twenty deep and I could look at her.
Professional drug dealers could handle that like it was nothing. So could I, to an extent, but handling it and passing out in an hallowed grounds couch were two entirely separate things.
I felt happy with that.
What was Merry's favorite napping place?
Nun. Nun alert.
In Jesus’s arms.
Merry? More like Mary Magdalene.
Shut up, Eric.
I felt Jesus would have objections; to desire she find strength to find peace in Heaven because she is created in God’s image, and Jesus doesn’t piggy back on God like Yoda.
~✍✝️✍~
Actual Bible Study
2 Sam 15 & Psalm 3
Talk about David’s fear. Visualize the situation. How would you feel if an army of people you know were seeking to kill you?
I know the feeling well, when I had totalled Austin’s car, leading him to sling meth.
I’d entered an awful drug deal, lost many people money, and I had become the scapegoat to find that money.
Slandering my beloved skeleton and being threatened for it.
Casting aside the mother of my child and fearing for a torturous death by Salvadoran gangs.
Read 2 Sam 13:5-14, how would being so close to Saul & seeing Saul lose God’s favor and his mind play into David’s fear?
Read Sam
Pete, Psalm 51. “Create in me a pure heart, o God,”
How did David deal with his fear?
Needs clarification.
How could he hold his head high when David had murdered / committed adultery?
Had it been because he was confident in God’s forgiveness? I think he had been told he was forgiven.
Talk about the results of David’s faith listed in Psalms 3:5-8
Read Psalms 118:5-9. David’s faith was at odds with the ncircumstances of his life. Have you ever been in a situation where it seemed like God would not be able to deliver you?
Yes.
“I’ve done bad and I need to be punished for it because I’ve done bad, but that's not how it is, because your sins are already forgiven by Christ,” - Brad not Bradley.
Aside, there is a whole lot of talk about Saul and how Saul fucked up. Something about a sacrifice. This meant I actually had to read the scripture, and find out who the fuck Saul was, and what it was he sacrificed, to make sure I didn’t make the same mistakes.
Cup of coffee; empty. Fuck.
I ought to read something on courtship.
“How does one feel they have truly been forgiven?”
Real repentance, real fearlessness, for there is no fear in the light of God, and no shame, for if you have truly given your sins to the Lord and trusted and loved him, there can be no doubt that your guilt, fear, and sorrow, are lifted from your mortal hands to God’s eternal.
Yet,
In a room full of faith; I felt fear.
No one had been home been when I’d got back to the apartment. Curious, I checked the driveway. Lazily, I decided not to.
Emily was home. I had more than sobered up. Coffee works wonders, doesn’t it?
I knew there were things I was forgetting. Things to be thankful for. Things to want to change. Yeah, last time I reevaluated my values didn’t do much could. The the Xanax was partially to blame for that.
Falling asleep last night with my head in my bible and notebook, I’d felt like a studious devout catholic. Now, I just felt stupid.
I’d apologized. The apology hadn’t been enough. I didn’t know if I was growing more mad by the day or simply maddening as I aged.
Baby Mama filed for sole and legal custody of our beloved child Amelia.
If I had been a stronger man, I would’ve fought the petition.
Instead, I dismissed it. Things would remain the same. If she wanted to rob me of my daughter, so be it. Judgment awaited Ryan Joseph Baumgartner, Hilda Stefany Mendez-Vasquez, and I, Eric Michael Jessen.
I’m sure we’d all enjoy a sweat cup of tea in Hell together at the indefinite end of our days, but until then, adieu, I say.
Let me guide you through the right way to process these emotions.
Stefany wanted sole and permanent custody;
Whether or not she succeeded, I’d always be Amelia’s father, alive or dead, and I’d always love her, no matter how poisoned she became against me through her mother or how horridly sparingly I’d see my own beloved. I forgave her.
Ryan Joseph Baumgartner, a Hawkeye Divorce Lawyer, after lying on several documents,
With all due respect, did profess as lawyer, as an advocate to a judge, and in being that thou shalt not judge or become one who assists in the wicked and sinners, one day, maybe long after my passing, he would not find justice, but forgiveness.
Fighting for anything that dirties your conscience is not fighting that should be honored. That is why I chose no longer to fight; not because I gave up, not because I no longer cared about my little girl, but because I didn’t want her to be the center of a war between two people who were supposed to love her more than anything;
And by any accountant’s perspective, both of us had loved fighting more than we had ever loved our daughter.
Dear Amelia,
I spent over $10,000 to fight your mother to be in your life. Your mother spent $4,000 to fight against me, believing I was inept to care for her, which many only agreed after you took her from me after threatening suicide, leaving her alone in an apartment at three months old, and neglecting medical advice. I forgive you for all those things, and I wish that money could’ve gone to her savings.
I forgive your mother, I hope she and her family eventually can forgive me before I die.
Love, Daddy
I had been so close to running down to Kum and Go and buying a Corona. The only reason I didn’t is because Emily and I had decided to stop drinking.
I slammed the back of my head against the sliding door.
Nooo, I moaned. Why? She reminded me. So here I am. Sober.
Stone.
Cold.
Stober.
My legs writhed with anxiety. I knew I could take that anxiety and turn it into something good. Do you not know why? There’s a book about it*** and I’ll reference it later. For now, I’m going to battle Emily for her charged and my own sinful desires to go beat off in the shower.
Sprite. I was drinking Sprite. The Catholic Girl of all carbonated beverages.
Sweet, Jesus Christ, save me from these demons. I hadn’t yet read any of the Bible today except for Bible Study, which I really didn’t gather much from. Maybe tomorrow.
So far I’ve cut sorcery, sexual immorality, drunkenness (at least since five PM), fits of rage, laziness, and with every passing minute it grew harder and harder.
Fighting the urges, I mean. Not my cock. However, give it two days and that would be an issue. I’d look happy to see everyone or as if I’d a license to concealed carry.
Church was next Saturday, and I felt like I ought to get a head start on whatever Psalm they were going to be sharing. Or sermoning. Whatever they call it. Terms right by God were difficult, considering Satan was the Lord of Air and Earth.
Yes, that's in the Bible too.
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow to use an actual keyboard and not really on my tiny ass iPhone keyboard to write all of this out. So, for the rest of the night, until I sedate myself to sleep, I’ll be studying scripture, then passing the fuck out, and hopefully waking up to do good in the world.
Stefany had cut me off all together again. She deserved it.
Whatever. Who was I to judge?
I missed my daughter.
It hurt.
She was beautiful.
But the world wasn't.
<<<Previous Next>>>
17th, October, 2017 23:12
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