Family Ties

On 7 November 2023 I sent two of my sisters the following email:

Kyra and Elena,

I’ve attached a letter to explain some of what I’ve been experiencing and feeling recently so that you both have an idea what my life looks like.

Also, I haven’t received any of Mom’s ashes yet and am wondering if that will be happening anytime soon.

Much love,

Philippe

THE FOLLOWING COMPOSITION IS THE EMAIL ATTACHMENT (minor edits for typos, clarity, and ease of understanding):

Kyra and Elena,

Let me start by saying how much I love and adore both of you and remind you how much I looked up to and idolized both of you growing up; in many ways I still do. I am also extremely hurt and saddened by what I have been experiencing in my relationships with both of you. I don't know how to, currently, communicate effectively with either of you and so I am resorting to writing... for me, now, it's too emotionally charged to speak directly.

This letter is what I have experienced from my perspective... I have been finding that not all of my memories are accurate, nor do I have all of them. That said, I absolutely am having very strong emotional responses to those I do possess, even when inaccurate.

If anything I write or relate is inaccurate or needs more developed context, please let me know. My intent is solely to relate what I have experienced and how it has affected me.

I'm writing this with a heavy heart, emotions that are at war with each other, and very little capacity to think intelligently... I apologize in advance.

WHAT I EXPERIENCED...

I went on Facebook this past 11 February 2023, Mom's birthday, to leave Mom my birthday wishes, and saw a post David made, “Felt weird to see Facebook's birthday reminder for my mother-in-law. On our way to celebrate her first birthday since her passing.” Allison and Sandi both left Care reactions, I did not.

Allison knew I was having a rough time and a particularly rough day and shared a meme to my Facebook page that read, “dear best friend: just a daily reminder that you are beautiful and i love you.” I left a Love reaction as did seven of our other friends.

Tom Peck, our half-sister's husband, left the following comment, “Hi Philippe and Allison, I attended the Indiana memorial in LA. I met all the Swedas, [w]as sorry I didn't get to meet y'all.” I left a Care reaction to Tom's comment.

I then responded, “Tom Peck... please define 'all the Swedas' Our invitations (reminders?) must've gotten lost... somewhere.” Followed by, “Tom Peck... don't know if you were able to meet my daughters...”

Tom's final comment on Allison's post was, “Philippe Sweda Yes, I didn't meet ALL the Swedas. I would have liked to. Hopefully someday.” I again reacted with Care.

Kyra's Facebook post on 16 October 2022 announcing Mom's memorial service at St. Thomas on November 3rd included that, “[t]here will also be a celebration of life for our mom in California on her birthday, February 11, 2023. Details will be provided as we get closer.” I will be referring to this memorial (which I'm fairly certain took place) as the “LA Memorial” (nod to Tom P.).

I had COMPLETELY forgotten all about there being a memorial for our mother on the west coast. Nor do I recall talking, receiving an email, seeing a smoke-signal, or getting any other form of communication regarding our mother's west coast memorial.

I searched high and low, all over Facebook, and specifically the personal pages of: Dad, David, Eva, Mom, Sandi, and on both of yours', to find any mention of any details regarding the LA Memorial. I found nothing.

My immediate reaction was to suffer a combined meltdown and shutdown.

TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT HAPPENED

I reached out to Sandi...

As I became able to finally even address thinking about this “situation,” knowing I wouldn't be able to handle a direct interaction with either of you, I initially reached out to Sandi Miller to see if she had heard from either of you (K+E) regarding an LA Memorial and, while she could remember the reference to it on the post for the NY memorial, she said that she had not and was interested in connecting with everyone since it was Mom's birthday.

On 13 February 2023 at 19:34 I sent Sandi a message:
Did you remember my mom's west coast memorial on her birthday? I only ask because I didn't, no one reminded me, and I only saw it had occurred because of a comment Tom Peck made on a Facebook post of Allison's... [I chose not to divulge I had also seen David's post on Mom's birthday, 11 February]

At 23:14 on the same day Sandi responded:
I remembered that they were planning to have one. I asked about it... I haven't heard back so far. Wanted to zoom in if possible. I went to the woods on a treacherous hike alone, a birthday tribute because that was the best way for me to feel fully alive and connected to Indiana.

The next day, 14 February 2023 at 00:56, Sandi elaborated:
I still don't know who did what and where other people did or didn't

Allison and I spoke to Sandi this past weekend (28 October 2023) and I was finally able to make her cognizant of the extent to which I was not involved in any LA Memorial and expressed hurt that she hadn't received an invitation to the memorial.

I reached out to Jorge Vera...

Wednesday, 26 April 2023:

Me (08:46): Did you attend my mom's memorial in February?

Jorge (09:57): I did.

Me (11:09): Where was it? Were there a lot of people? How'd you find out about it?

Jorge (11:22): Someone's home by Elena's
There was.
Elena sent me an email.

Me (11:26): Cool... my invitation/reminder got lost in the mail apparently. Very nice to be reminded/remembered...

Jorge (11:31): I asked about that.
Your absence.

Me (11:34): I'd be curious to hear about it... it wasn't intentional on my part.

Sandi (my fake godmother and my mom's best friend from high school) also neglected to be invited or reminded.

Friday, 28 April 2023:

Me (18:58): So, why was I absent from my mother's memorial? Inquiring minds would like to know...

Saturday, 29 April 2023:

Me (21:18): May I give you a call manana?

Jorge (21:21): You may

Sunday, 30 April 2023:

Me (22:08): Tried calling; left a voice mail...

Tuesday, 2 May 2023:

Jorge (20:57): Hey bud

Jorge (20:57): I will call you later.

Jorge (20:57): What time do you go to sleep?

Me (21:03): Around 10p, 7p your time.

I haven't heard from Jorge since this last text exchange; I haven't reached out to him because I know he's got a lot going on in his life, and I'm certain he feels in awkward situation.

I reached out to Dad...

Dad and I have been communicating via telephone semi-regularly. He and Helen both send me texts regarding his surgeries, care, and things that have been going on. Keeping his health in mind, it was only recently (but probably almost 2 months ago now) that I was able to inquire about Mom's LA Memorial...

He told me that lots of people attended, that it wasn't at Dave and Elena's, but was nearby. He informed me the Mamouzian's were there, as well as a few people from Mom's work with Fire Prevention and Code Enforcement. All of these are people I would have loved the opportunity to commiserate and share grief with over the loss of our mother.

I told our father that I had completely forgotten that there was supposed to be an LA Memorial for our mother. I elaborated that not only had I forgotten, but that neither of my sisters, nor our half-sister, had reached out to remind me about it or have me even participate in the planning for our mother's LA Memorial.

He was aghast for me. And I believe his sincerity; Dad and I have been connecting emotionally the way I needed him to connect with me when I a teenager. Who knew he had it in him.

Spoke with another friend

Most recently, I spoke to a friend of the family that doesn't want to be involved in this but that shared with me that an email was sent to them on 4 February, seven days before the memorial. I asked them to forward me a copy; they did not.

It was suggested to me that I call Eva and ask her about the LA Memorial and request a copy of the invitation and who it was sent to. I have serious reservations concerning involving her in any of this... AND, I feel like I want to get every single piece of information I can before I actually speak with either of you. I texted Eva requesting an opportunity to speak but she hasn't responded yet.

AND MEANWHILE... WE'VE ACTUALLY COMMUNICATED POST ST. THOMAS

Communications with Elena...

Tuesday, 28 February 2023, Elena texted me:
Dad's surgery went very well! He should be going home today. He already feels much better, less pain!

Friday, 3 March 2023, I texted Elena:
Best wishes for a fabulous birthday!

Elena texted back:
Thank you!!! [hug emoji][love emoji][kiss emoji]
[and three hearts]

Tuesday, 14 March 2023, Elena texted me:
Happy birthday to you! May your next trip around the sun be fabulous and fun!! XOXOXO [and emojis]

I responded:
Thanks!

Elena wrote back:
With pleasure!
It's hard for me to believe we're all in our 50's... seems impossible.

Communications with Eva...

Sunday, 1 January 2023, Eva texted me:
Happy New Year to you and Allison!

And I responded:
Thank you, happy new year from us!

Tuesday, 14 March 2023, Eva texted:
A very Happy Birthday to my brother from the same mother!!

And I responded:
Thanks

Prior to Mom's memorial but after her death, on 29 August 2022, Eva texted me:
Thinking about you! I had to go to NYC for a memorial so I squeezed in a whirlwind 3 day trip to Kyra's. I wish you could've come too! I also got to meet Sandi in NYC... love her. Hope you're feeling well.

This was a difficult text to receive... knowing that you were all having the opportunity to see and meet each other in the flesh. I got particularly irked that there was time to meet Sandi... I absolutely would have loved the chance to meet, and could have if anyone communicated with us (Allison and I live within 2 hours of the city). I found and brought everyone together, yet it felt like I was being excluded. I know this is not rational- it IS emotional.

I know (or have a vague recollection) that I was invited to Georgia and declined; I know the meeting between Eva and Sandi was pretty much spur of the moment. It still smarted. It's emotions; they're not rational and yet demand their say.

Communications with Kyra, Elena, and Eva...

Realizing I hadn't sent out texts, emails, or any communications for Christmas, on 26 December 2022 I texted:
Happy Boxing day!

Eva responded:
[con emojis]

Kyra responded:
Merry merry!

And Elena's response was:
Joy joy!!

The group text remained idle until 24 July 2023 when Elena wrote:
One year today and I'm still surprised Mom's gone.

Kyra responded:
I know. Me too. I miss her every single day!

Elena responded:
Same.

Eva responded:
[con emojis]

Communications with Kyra and Elena...

On a text string that had languished since 2021, on 8 March 2023, you both started texting regarding Dad and his surgeries.

On 25 July 2023, Kyra texted a picture with:
Last meal that we were all together.

Elena responded:
Shalimar?

And Kyra responded:
Yes

NOW WHAT??

I'm flummoxed. I don't understand how this happened. Mom's NYC memorial was extremely emotionally challenging for me – I'm hoping to make it apparent why. While I can imagine I might have said I wouldn't be going, or shown negativity towards the idea, I don't understand how that was understood to mean that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with Mom's LA Memorial. I would like someone to explain that to me.

I ABSOLUTELY remember asking to be communicated with less, that I would reach out as I felt comfortable, and that I would absolutely include high-holidays and birthdays. If this was understood to mean not including me in the planning and/or attendance of Mom's LA Memorial, I would like someone to explain that to me.

Mom, and I, spent over 20 of the last 30 years living on the west coast. Not only do Mom and I have a lot of friends in common, I also hold those that aren't (in common) in high-esteem, and love connecting with them. I feel like I was denied the opportunity to connect, share, and take part in communal grieving with the people that knew Mom best. And even if I'd absolutely refused to accept a ticket from anyone, I still could have participated in so many other ways...

Which begs the question... was I just a black-hole that wasn't present at my mother's memorial? I'd like to know EXACTLY what was said and how that was explained. I know more than one individual asked; no one will tell me. Again, Dad didn't even know I hadn't been invited; what, if anything, did you tell him?

And that's kind of the crux of it; I can NEVER get that back. I am hurt, sad, angry, disbelieving... it's a long list. I would hope, roles reversed, that I'd reach out again at least once... because, again, this is a BIG DEAL... this is LIFE... this is saying goodbye and sharing the pain of loss... so, not only did I miss that opportunity, I got the joy of learning I'd missed my last opportunity on Facebook.

THIS IS WHERE PHILIPPE IS COMING FROM...

I've been having a rough time since 1988... depression was first diagnosed after leaving Deerfield Academy. It's likely they missed quite a bit.

All of that aside, I sustained a major head trauma in 1994... lost two weeks memory and no short-term memory for almost a month... and I've always had issues and been just a bit out of sync with everyone around me. And quiet! I recently reached out to Southampton Hospital to see if I could obtain any records of my care and was told they're long gone; I was particularly interested to see if there was ever any follow up care because, as far as I can remember (and it's not a lot), I didn't. And that's a shame.

Tied to the MOST major head trauma I received (but by no means the only major head trauma I've had) is the fact that, if anyone recalls, at the time I worked with none other than Annie... she is INTIMATELY aware of all my medical issues and psychiatric concerns... we'd go to TJ together to pick up meds when I didn't have insurance and we lived in LA; she was the one that made the connection with ADD after speaking with out neighbors when we lived in Lansing... she knows everything about me.

Elena and Dave got married the next year and I helped out a lot with the financing of the wedding though, I admit, possibly not as much as I remember. I do recall getting very little assistance repaying the money to credit cards, while at the same time David was purchasing very nice things. My recollection was that no assistance was offered until I had decided to file for bankruptcy. I'm not saying this to make anyone feel bad- as far as I'm concerned it's water under the bridge... I use it to demonstrate my communication skills or lack thereof; I absolutely, as a person, should have been able to make my needs known; unfortunately, I'm not that person.

While with Annie, it seemed like everything was an issue for me to fix, or bend, or accede to her will. The amount of attention that woman required (don't know if she still does) was prodigious. Elena and I have had conversations regarding Annie's inability to self-soothe... this became a major issue while attending law school. From the get go, Annie spent the month she was in Michigan ahead of me hanging out with family and friends instead of looking for a job (which was what she said she'd be doing). After my first year I dropped to part time so that I could work as well.

I got diagnosed with ADD in my second year of law school. I was given prescriptions, but no real counseling about what that meant or what I should really do about it... I know I did a ton of research. Some things got better; most kept deteriorating.

At marriage counseling, which I requested, during mirroring I did fine. When it was Annie's turn, she couldn't mirror back what I told her. The counselor even told Annie that she wasn't hearing me after the 3d attempt. This is the very first time I had objective, third-party, independent evidence that I wasn't being heard, let alone understood. Annie was not happy. That evening, at home, Annie said that she would not be returning to marriage counseling.

My response to Annie was that it couldn't always be me... I couldn't always be the problem, I couldn't always be the one that had to change or fix things, and that if she wasn't willing to engage in marriage counseling then what she was telling me was that she was done, and that the marriage was done. My understanding is that she believed I would come back; I can assure anyone that asks, when I walked out that door it would've taken quite a bit for me to return... however, before that even had a chance to be tested, I inadvertently activated Annie psychologically to such a degree that that was an impossibility.

While staying at Brilla's house across the street and doing bird's nest parenting, I explored my sexuality while masturbating and fingered my ass for the first time. Because I'm me, I used a condom to cover the finger I used and then thoughtlessly threw it in the trash. Annie found it and could not be convinced that the condom had not been used to engage in sex with another woman, despite my telling her exactly how I had used it.

Annie's parent's broke up over infidelity; I understand where she's coming from. What she's done because of her wounding is not acceptable. How many lives are being affected? But there's why Annie hates me – she believes I slept with someone while we were separated but she thought there was still a chance of reconciliation. I'm sure there's more, but her aim appears to be to inflict maximum damage to me. I cannot imagine that's good for Hannah and Gabby.

Dave and Elena visit that first Christmas and stay with Annie and the girls. It's kind of devastating for me. I'm happy for them, but they're not seeing very much of me, and they're absolutely getting to see more of my daughters than I am. And when I do speak up I'm told how much more convenient it is and I feel like I'm being too sensitive.

Then Gabby broke her arm and there was an investigation that found it likely happened when in Annie's care but, because I expressed relief that it hadn't been while in my care I get supervised visitation?? While I'm having supervised visitation (the time period, not an actual visit), Gabby has another accident and falls off Annie's bed while at home. Annie tells me in passing and that it was no big deal. Casually asking Hannah later, Hannah tells me how there were all the ambulances and fire trucks, that Gabby wouldn't stop crying and her eyes rolled up into her head, that 911 had to be called. I FOIA'd the call; it's not good. I take the high road because one parent already has supervised visitation, what happens when both do? Also, there's supposed to be a hearing and I'd like to be able to demonstrate that accidents happen.

There was a call where Annie offered to let me out of the marriage completely, all I have to due is sign the girls away and I'm told how I never wanted them in the first place... I start recording calls and drop-offs because I don't trust Annie.

At the hearing, the Friday before Memorial Day, the judge tells the parties that we have two hours to reach a settlement. I have witnesses sitting out in the hallway. My attorney has prepped hours for this. Annie's behavior has been atrocious this entire time; I've swallowed everything because I believed I'd have a day in court before an impartial judge... I'm a fncking LAW STUDENT for goodness sake... WTF is going on??

I disappear from existence from time to time... my family calls the police or someone and, on at least one occasion, there is a wellness visit to make sure I'm ok... I'm not. I'm not ok, but what can I do? I hold it together as best I can for my daughters who are my only reason for living in Michigan... Michigan, where I went to law school so that my wife could have her ENTIRE family to support her while I was attending to the rigors of school... Michigan, where people visit only when I have the girls... which is fine, but what about Philippe? Kyra is better than most, probably because she's been through the process of divorce.

I get a job in Kalamazoo and move there so that I'm not commuting and hour and a half each way; Annie and the girls have already moved to South Lyon. I gather the courage to ask Annie to move the exchange point to a more equal distance given that I've moved further away. I'm told that she's not comfortable making the change and that I should go through the court... she's fully aware I won't do this since I feel so maligned by the entire experience.

And when I have the girls, Annie has to call- each and every day. I could go on... this divorce has been worse than the marriage.

My meds seem titrated well for making me able to work at least...

And then crohns, and fistulas... oh my!

I spend a winter on high-dose steroids and sweating rust and running the air conditioning in February and March... in Michigan.

I'm working too much to distract myself from my life; there are times when I'm happy... I have a girlfriend from time to time, I even get engaged to the last one in Michigan... but the depression always returns. There's some complaint, some slight (real or imagined) that sets me off again.

Xmas 2011... I have the girls from Xmas to New Years and we're having a wonderful time until Annie calls and tells the girls that there's a dog at the house for them... the girls aren't present with me anymore, they're at their home in South Lyon, all the new gifts they've received from Santa and me forgotten. Later Hannah asks if they can go back to their mom's early and what am I supposed to say, no?? They've got a new dog at mom's... but I don't have to be helpful; if their mom wants to make the drive through the snow and collect the girls, she can. And she does.

Sometime in early to mid-2012 my Humira that I take for crohns stops working and all my psych meds start passing through my system undigested...

Have you even skydived?

Without a parachute?

I crashed... and I don't think you all understand how burned out I was, have never fully recovered from, and then voraciously fed said burnout by recent events.

I have reached a limit... and I can't even afford to. I MUST press on because I have no other option.

I sometimes imagine what life would have been if I'd never left Michigan... but I did.

My understanding is that EVERYONE knew why I was leaving Michigan, including Annie- and this is important. I know I told my psychiatrist, my gastro, all of you, the girls, and I even finally came clean with work about the issues I was facing... I feel like an opportunity was missed

Also, this is ADD burnout... I didn't even realize what this was until this year, all I did was survive. It's so much more than just physical and mental exhaustion. And don't forget the depression.

ARRIVED TO LA

Perhaps no one understood the trouble I was in because I was happy to be around family... maybe it was because I left to see Simon and unburden myself to him. After awhile things were beginning to look up and a colleague I'd worked with reached out to me about a job doing eDiscovery in LA for DTI... I applied and got the job.

I went to Atlanta for two weeks of training and will report that the training could have been better, more complete, etc, but whatever. In the last day or two that I'm there I have a conversation with the VP Operations who starts telling me about becoming the manager of west coast operations and IMMEDIATELY I'm toast and I can't hear anything else and my mind is locked on all that responsibility and I can't even handle a lease and I'm sure there were other things he said and more training, he mentioned more training, but the WHOLE west coast is looming in front of me and I fly home and I take the weekend trying to work myself up and Monday morning I get up and I'm dressed and I'm taking the KLR downtown and I open the back door at Mom's and... nothing.

I stop. I can't move, I can't think, I need a cigarette, I need Solitaire, I need tea, I need to sit here and disengage, I can't think, Elena stops by and talks with me, I might take a valium or something I can't remember it's all just too much and I can't be responsible, I'm homeless, away from the girls and people think I can do things and I can't I can't I can't.

I have less than $2000 and I can watch it waste away slowly, or I can try to escape, at least for a little while to a place where I feel safe and no one asks me for anything, and I can be involved or not involved to whatever degree I am comfortable with, and no one pushes me to be anything other than present, and not even that because I can run and hide if I need to... and so I leave to visit Simon and Tara near their one year anniversary... I sob in Simon's arms about what a complete and utter mess my life has become and he rocks me back and forth in his arms... and all I can do is cry until there are no more tears... but the tears never stop.

I return to LA. I lay on the couch. Time passes.

Burnout can be cumulative like mine and you can get worse and worse over time as you lose the ability to do various things and some tasks just become too much... for instance, I have a MAJOR aversion to opening official looking mail- I don;t think I opened a single letter from the Michigan courts while living at mom's... I knew it was important to, and I could not. Full stop, complete inability. It's very infuriating for me and I'm trying to work on it.

I start working on contract eDiscovery jobs... slowly I start coming back to life again.

I start excelling at work and am asked back for more reviews. I have a girlfriend but I let her know from the very beginning that my intention is to move back to Michigan as soon as I have the money so I can be near my daughters... and all this time I'm trying my best to keep good communications with Hannah and Gabby, and I know it's not great, but I love them and they love me and I hope they understand that if I could snap my fingers and be by their side I would, but I can't and I feel so many conflicting emotions and bad about myself for even having fun while away from them...

At some point I reach 235 pounds... at least I carry it well (my brain tells me).

And finally I seem to have enough money... I tell Hannah and Gabby that I should be able to move back soon and I break up with my girlfriend who thinks we could do a distance thing, so I start ghosting the girlfriend because I can't handle all of it at once and I have to pick and choose unskillfully because that's the best I can do and I go to the bank to make a withdrawal and... I have no money.

The Michigan Friend of the Court has drained my bank account. This is sometime, 2d half of 2015...

I am honestly very curious to know whether Annie went after my account because I was just getting ready to return to Michigan and face the music, or whether it was just a case of bad timing. I spent a long time believing that one of the girls (or even Elena, Dave, or Kyra) must've told their mom that they were excited Dad was coming back and Annie was threatened and came after me. It doesn't really matter... the result was that I was plunged into a VERY deep depression again. I couldn't even bring myself to reach out to the girlfriend... EVERYTHING IS DIRECTED INWARDS. I must be a horrible person for this much horrendous crap to happen to.

The girls visit sometime in early 2016... honestly, it's all a blur... I know we spent some time together, they stayed at Dave and Elena's, and it felt more like I got to see my daughters while they were on vacation to see Elena and Dave... and I appreciate even being able to see them, but it's not like I'm their dad... I'm some guy who knows a lot about them and loves them, but they don't stay with me, and it's very confusing emotionally for me. I love them and I hate that I can't be the father for them that I want to be.

I start working again or I never stopped, but health is getting worse and worse and now I'm missing a lot of work and now I'm getting medicaid so I can see a doctor and I have kidney stones that make it feel like my intestines are exploding (I end up passing 20, the last in December 2019). They're 3d world stones from dehydration and malnutrition related to crohns that has me making more and more toileting visits and I'm bleeding and there's never a decent bowel movement and it's disgusting and I'm getting worse and then I finally find a Dr that sees I need some semblance of continuity of care and makes the effort... I'm in my gastro's office complaining about my condition and lack of improvement and my weight's down in the 150s (from 190+) but I'm wearing a baggy sweatshirt and he pats me on the arm and tells me I look good.

Within a week I'm admitted to hospital because my Dr at the Venice Family Clinic can see that it's enough, I'm done, I need 24-hour care to reboot... It's just before Christmas, 20 December 2016. My weight is in the 140s and I'm done, had enough, just need to rest a moment before I go on...

While in hospital for two weeks, Elena and Dave are wonderful about bringing Mom around to see me, even while I have the rhino-virus and everyone needs to mask and gown (practice for Covid?) while we await the all-clear... and then, Dad's supposed to bring Mom by on Christmas day to see me on the way to Kyra's for dinner, and I'm excited because it'll be the only visitors I'll be seeing on Christmas, and it's Mom and things will feel better because I'm spending the holiday in the hospital alone.

And time passes... and three goes by, and four... I may've called Dad's home line first or called his cell... I may've spoken to Mom and been told that he was on his way to collect her and that's why I tried his cell first... he answered, “we're just pulling up to your sister's for dinner.”

Gutted.

A nurse in the hallway passing my open door saw my face, she was my intake nurse and was familiar with me but wasn't part of my care team, and she immediately came in to see what had happened. I related the story through tears and breakdowns while she held me and cradled my head and the tears just streamed down my face... Christmas, and I had been forgotten, over-looked, an inconvenient detour that was too far afield. I was, continued to be, alone.

When I was released from the hospital my body was functioning, but my soul was crushed. It's January, 2017.

2017...

Most of 2017 is spent trying to get back pay, disability, and seeing whether there's a case for ADA non-compliance with my last employment. My weight rises rapidly on a diet of ice cream, snicker's ice cream bars, and fast food. Most of the time I'm Mom's day to day caregiver at some point (and I can't even say when, we all did so much, but I was living there, and later, became much more involved – is my recollection, but times are all a jumble for me). I have physical therapy and begin walking... a lot. It's mostly a blur, time passes, I was likely fermenting, or beginning...

I start dabbling with graphic designs for expressing my political ire...

Physical therapy starts in June; a friend and his mother from DA turn me on to the GAPS diet for crohns

18^th kidney stone on 24 July...

Laser surgery, both eyes, weird swollen glands in face as if I've got mumps...

Quit smoking for over 100 days

I ask Dave at some point for information about ECT because Dave has a friend that got the treatment and seems better, and I'm done, and I just need SOMETHING to give me some relief from the utter despair.

Disappeared from facebook from 9/2017 until 8/2018

At some point I make it back into the mental health system at Edelman and the LA County (or I'm confusing them, there's one up by Pico, and another down Sepulveda near Ballona Creek – I went to both). I start dating Astrid, though I can't really remember how or when, but I believe it started just before Christmas and into early/mid 2018 (April at least)...

I start doing psilocybin because it's supposed to be good for depression and mental health...

I meditate... a lot.

2018...

Time passes... and then shit gets weird[er].

In March I get a postcard in the mail from the Public Storage facility that my unit has been sold at auction for non-payment of rents and that I owe a remaining $600+, and would I be so kind as to pay them at the earliest opportunity. I stared at the card for a long time. I may have giggled or snorted a bit. It was all gone. The entire History of Me belonged to someone else... all I had left was in this room, my car, my motorcycle... and it wasn't even as if I could afford anything... just gone. I was in shock... and there was just a small piece of me that was so very thankful for the one less item I would ever have to think about... and a lot of sadness for EVERYTHING that was... gone. The girls artwork, clothes, toys, books, my artwork, furniture, bikes... pretty much everything.

I don't think people would consider me homeless during this period... I didn't even consider myself homeless until much more recently. I spent the years between 2012 and November 2020 homeless. Admittedly, it's soft-homeless, but it's still homeless. But for family, and later the grace of individuals who barely knew me, I would have been sleeping without a roof over my head. I paid no rent (usually), utilities... I may as well have been living out of a vehicle.

Sometime before March I have an epiphany about caring for Mom, a chore that has become all-consuming for me because I live there and I'm available, and I can be taken advantage of (is what it feels like), and other people disappear, and sometimes we see Dave more often than we see Elena, and this sense of overwhelm and it being a chore to help with Mom began in 2017, but the epiphany was in early 2018.

Mom's days are numbered... I feel the truth, finality, brutality of this viscerally, and all of a sudden, all the anger and resentment about being stuck with Mom just disappear... and joy and gratitude and thankfulness that I get the OPPORTUNITY to have this time with her come flooding in... I try to impress this on Elena so that she can find the same joy in spending time with Mom because I see the exhaustion in her eyes.

In April I make shroom tea for Astrid and myself; I am not miserly with the dosing. Astrid decides not to drink the tea and I decide not to waste it and drink both teas... it is my first hero's dose; I have a mystical experience that includes falling into/through my pupil and the mirror which becomes the heart of the universe. I also see a decision tree and I chose the road less traveled; I break up with Astrid because we do not share a common reality, and I am not entirely comfortable in hers. I think it's May when we break up, but I knew it that night...

In mid-August 2018 I have another mystical/spiritual experience that, if I were indoctrinated more, would likely be found to be of a religious nature. I am completely sober at the time. I have a digital recorder and am able to capture my immediate impressions as the experience is unfolding in a series of audio recordings. I share the recordings with Elena but, while I remember her response was generally positive, I can't recall her actual response. I told Dave about the experience one evening not too much later when he was visiting at Mom's with Juno, sans Elena. I have never seen the face he made before or since, and he tore out of Mom's like a bat out of hell.

I speak to my psychiatrist who removes me from meds because she doesn't believe I need them anymore... I am generally happy and spirited. I do not hide how I found my relief – I believe it's the psilocybin, and she agrees that it's the most likely cause. I tell her I feel like I went to sleep back when I was 15 or so because I could see it was too much, and somehow I needed to protect myself, but that now I was waking up and seeing things VERY differently. She is VERY happy for me and my future. [I'm elated and feel a sense of purpose... the world is in pain and I can help, I have come through darkness and peril and emerged (for the most part) unscathed... and I am HORRIFIED that ANYONE should ever have to go through what I have, but if I can ease suffering, if I can help someone else through, shouldn't I?]

One of the first things I do is reach out to Hannah and Gabby (Sept 2018) because I know I've been horrible as a father and I want them to know I'm getting better and how much I love them and how wonderful things can be... I also ask for George's number because I wanted to reach out to him regarding my divorce and that I didn't have any ill-will towards him. He died just a few months later – I didn't find out he'd died until 2020 when we were in lockdown and Elena informed me while we were chatting one day. I can't imagine Hannah and Gabby thought it was a coincidence, but that's exactly what it was. On 29 October, Hannah texts me “Please stop contacting me” and I'm devastated. For the most part, I accede to her request. One the one hand, I'm proud of her for setting boundaries, while on the other... I just want to reconnect with my daughters.

I've been fermenting and I'm interesting in trying to sell some of my ferments, maybe at the farmer's market or some similar situation. Elena dives in to help me... all of a sudden we're talking with kitchen people and talking about the future and selling ferments all over the country and all of a sudden it's too much again- I just want to do something small that I can handle... because this is DTI all over again... I'm in burnout- I cannot handle things over a certain complexity and comfort level.

I start having persistent heartburn and, after taking the recommended course of Prilosec, my Dr gives me a prescription for Prilosec. I've been walking a lot and there are times when my chest gets heavy and I have to sit for a few minutes before continuing- it's not pain, more like a limb that's gone to sleep... almost pins and needles... I later learn that persistent heartburn is an early indicator of heart attack.

I know I left LA very unskillfully... quite honestly, a lot of it is a blur and my mind was a mess. I know at one point I even tried to coerce Dave for a ticket to Florida... it was a very high-stress, emotional situation, in addition to the “other” things I was experiencing at the time... I'm not particularly pleased with my behavior at and around the time. It didn't avoid my notice that Hannah visited shortly after I departed LA... again, without a word to me, her father... I feel as if, where it comes to my daughters, I don't even exist, and that this is perpetuated by the way my family handles the situation.

I made it to Florida and began decompressing... I have a heart attack but no one knows it. I'm complaining of banding pain around my midsection and I have crohns; they give me pain management and a CT and tell me my crohns is in remission. A few days later I begin having the same pain again. Elizabeth calls Simon who tells her my pain is psychological and Elizabeth refuses to call 911 and HIDES MY PHONE... While in agonizing pain, suffering from a 2d heart attack, I find my phone and call 911. Same results as last time; crohns is in remission.

Another few days and this time my shoulder starts hurting. I've torn both rotator cuffs so we think it's just that my shoulder isn't seated properly and Liz tries to set it... not good. Pain starts radiating through my chest and we call 911... the EMTs put leads on me in the apartment. After getting a reading they say I'm having a heart attack (now my third within 2 weeks) and hustle me out on a stretcher and begin giving me sublingual nitro and tracking my pain levels... I'm maxed out but I refuse to say ten... 9.9, 9.95, 9.96...

We get into the hospital and everyone is staring at me... death would be a welcome release from this pain. Wheeled into an operating theatre that I'm not sure wasn't on a spaceship and I am 9.997 out of 10 and they put me under...

Wake up with a stent. Beg to be released even though I have no clothes. Get a few items at Goodwill across the street from the hospital and make it back to Liz's. I need rest and recuperation; I need a job. Liz starts becoming very demeaning and berating of me and how I choose to do things; she's particularly mean when she drinks, which is about a suitcase of beer a night... I tell her she needs to change or I need to leave. She chooses she likes the way she is. I reach out to Kyra to see if I can crash on a couch or anything, just for a week or two to figure out what to do next- I don't want money or anything else, just security to figure out what to do next. Kyra says no.

Not only does Kyra say no... she tells me I should return to the woman that is psychologically abusing me and give it more time. This is not a possibility and I walk out with my bags and walk to a nearby shopping center. I reach out to Fedo who says I can stay with him if I can get to NYC. Another friend purchases a bus/train ticket for me- all I have to do is make it to the bus station about ten miles away. I reach another friend who professes to want to help me... I tell him all I need in a ride to the bus station; he offers to put me up in a hotel room for the night... I tell him again that all I need is a ride, Uber, whatever; I can sleep in the bus station. He offers a different hotel room...

I set off to cover the ten miles walking- I have about 12 hours, I should be able to do this, even dragging my bag that's mostly books. It's late, I'm cold... I have to bathroom but I'm in the middle of nowhere... I duck behind a transformer that's set back off the road and squat; thank goodness I have paper napkins with me...

I cover another mile or so and come across a closed mall. I see an outdoor smoking table and ball my body up, trying to get warm, while having a cigarette. A security person passes and doubles back- I shouldn't be there. When they see what condition I'm in they bring me inside to warm up and use a proper bathroom... they let me sleep/nap for an hour or two in the security office while I warm up again. Later, they give me a ride to a gas station next to the interstate where I should have better luck finding a ride the last 4 miles...

Hanging out at the gas station I ask EVERYONE if they're headed up the freeway and can I have a ride to the next exit... no luck. I call the friend who got me the ticket, I'm crying, I don't think I can make it to the bus station in time... and they call me an uber and I get to the station and I rest for a day and a half as the train takes me north.

I hawk stickers I made to make enough money to take a bus uptown to Fedo and Juana's... a few hours after getting into the city I arrive and get a hug from Fedo. I spend a lot of time meditating and resting, recuperating.

Fedo gets pissy and I have to go after a month or so because I don't fawn over him and I'm living with our three uncles for a spell. I'm connecting with Sandi and trying to figure out what to do next. I get a job as a lab runner in the hospital I was born in; immediately I'm hit for child support and arrears – I barely clear $300 a week, if that... I'm paying uncles for food and rent and then Julio touches me inappropriately and now I'm sleeping on the floor in the kitchen... another uncle keeps borrowing money- $20 here and there, sometimes paid back, sometimes not, but I'm keeping track, balance $80 and he won't pay it back, won't even try, and why should I, his little nephew, be giving him such a hard time (and I'm thinking, because $80 is over two weeks of food for me)... I'm desperate to feel safe, to have a place... I'm asking everyone, and a friend from the sangha where I meditate once a week offers his couch for two weeks and I accept.

I'm staying on a friend's couch in a small apartment and he's a sex addict bringing home different women every night and it's almost as if they're performing for me in the next room... whatever, just sleep. Two weeks pass and I still haven'y found a place and I'm given another week- the last night I stay there I get an ominous call that there's a woman staying in the apartment and she's gone to sleep on the pull-out couch and we can just share the bed... and so I creep into the apartment and slide under the covers on my side and drift off to sleep with some women in the bed that I haven't even met. This is my life.

I stay with Mama Donna, an urban shaman I've been doing odd jobs for, for two weeks- she has a room that she lets, but I can stay there while no one is scheduled... she works out of her apartment and I can get in between 10 and 11p so as not to disturb her. I do my best to find housing and just... can't. I decide that if I'm going to be homeless, I'd prefer to be homeless in LA...

I reach out to Astrid to see if I could stay in her garage for a week or two to figure things out; they're all going on vacation to Europe and I can housesit and watch the cats while they're away... I leave NYC 5 July 2019 and fly into Long Beach, uber to Astrids, and lay in bed for a week or two, unable to really do much else. I drive up to see Mom using Astrid's car; I unblock myself from her phone which's been sending me directly to her voicemail for months. I contact Dad and inform him of my situation and how I'm understanding I'll be homeless soon, can I keep my things (two bags) in his apartment and use his bathroom from time to time and he tells me that would be ok. Mom is also aware I'm resigned to sleeping in the streets. It doesn't cross my mind to even consider asking Elena and Dave because of how unskillfully I left LA.

Mom and Elena presumably talk at some time and a day or two shy of homelessness Elena offers me their spare room and I accept. Astrid drops me off at Dave and Elena's with my things. Dave doesn't talk to me for almost a month- almost completely disregards my presence... I hide in my room. I walk a lot. The dogs missed me... slowly I come out and start spending time; The buildings were sold or something, so another move is in order.

Elena has projects and projects and projects... I just need to be... I'm looking for a job but everything requires responsibility I don't want because I don't think I can handle it. I apply for a job as an assistant in a law office but I'm not getting a lot of responses and I'm also attending to Dr appointments... I see a cardiologist and he schedules a stress test to begin my cardiac rehabilitation, but it's the wrong kind (chemical vs physical) and insurance declines the procedure; when I reach out to the cardiologist again I learn he's lost his hospital privileges and the referral process begins anew...

Just before Christmas 2019 and I start a job at the law firm where I applied to be an assistant. They need someone to do electronic discovery for them and I tell them about my experience, the last of which is from 2016... they're more impressed that I worked assignments for MTO and do I have a reference to confirm I worked there and when they check I'm hired... it's MUCH more responsibility then I'm comfortable taking on in my current mental capacity, but the people are nice and I do my best, as always, and, compared to most, my best ain't too shabby.

I'm trying to quit smoking in January 2020 and I start taking Wellbutrin, something I've taken before for smoking cessation and depression- this time just for the smoking, but something is wrong... I start hearing voices telling me the vilest things and just pressing in on my mind and I want to stop but I'm afraid to stop cold-turkey and risk that things may get worse and I'm trying to reach the doctor and I'm isolating in my room and I've got a new job... I finally hear back from the doctor- stop the meds; the voices quickly dissipate and I can return to work after a few days.

I don't trust banks after Annie had mine drained; I walked around NYC with all of my money on my person... ALWAYS. I purchase visa cards if I need to use a credit card; I have direct deposit from work but I withdraw the money starting the day it's deposited... I have almost nothing. Elena and Dave saved some of my things from Mom's apartment, so I do have a little more.

Living at Dave and Elena's is challenging... relationships are running smoother, but the house itself is a state. There are pathways to move around. As soon as I've been working for a few weeks Elena approaches me- she wants $600 a month in rent; I do not respond well and demand a receipt and am told that I need to start looking to move out, and I'm hurt because I've pretty much got literally nothing but a few bags of clothes and some books and a laptop... no savings, no furniture, no life, no nothing... and instead of being given an opportunity to start trying to build something so that I can get out of there PDQ, I'm being asked to pay. Elena tells me that she and Dave had been thinking about holding the money and then giving it to me as a gift when I would be moving out... (?) and, even if true, I cannot be expected to respond to information I know nothing about. Shortly after this interaction with Elena, there's a call from Kyra (I think we've got her on speaker) and she's heard that I've got a job and then Kyra starts asking me for money to help with Mom and my head's just about to explode because, again... I HAVE AS CLOSE TO LITERALLY NOTHING AS A PERSON CAN HAVE; there are homeless people that have more possessions than I do... and Elena takes the phone off speaker and speaks with Kyra and I'm SO confused because I remember when you all were looking for Mom and kept looking at places that were more than she could afford and I kept thinking at the time, yeah, they're all nice, but she can't afford them...

I'm back on Remicade and crohns is responding well. I finally get the gastro to let me see the colo-rectal surgeon for a consult regarding my remaining fistula, the one that has to be irrigated (ideally) after every bowl movement, the one that's a major fucking annoyance to my quality of life... and the surgical consult goes really well- surgeon says it's a mature fistula (completely healed) and requires a simple incision and stitches and we schedule the surgery for the end of March or early April 2020.

My credit score suddenly rockets to over 700 because, for whatever reason, my student loans have disappeared from my credit report... apparently, at some point I enrolled in a program that forgave my loans ten years after graduation (2009)... I watch to see if they realize their mistake... I start looking at motorcycles because I'm sure they're going to recognize their mistake and I'd like to take advantage; covid has begun to appear and I like the idea of a motorcycle and being able to get around- this is southern California and a motorcycle is an absolutely viable mode of transportation. I pick up a new motorcycle Friday or Saturday; I get a call the next day that the law firm has had to lay off all the support staff.

COVID AMONG US

We're in lockdown but I've hit it off with a woman in Michigan and it feels like it's meant to be and towards the end of April 2020 I depart for Michigan on my motorcycle, where I arrive on May day. Within two weeks she starts exhibiting signs that she's no longer comfortable with my being there; I ask very politely if she needs me to leave and am told yes... everything is very amicable over the days I'm preparing to leave but I'm in a bit of a situation... unemployment has a snafu and I'm not getting it yet. I don't have enough money to make it to LA, but I was invited to stay on an Anashanabi/Ojibwe reservation with another friend I met online and I accept... Michigan woman asks me if I've ever spent time on a reservation and looks at me ominously when I say no.

The ride to northern Minnesota is an adventure; George Floyd is killed while I'm there and not only can't I leave, I'm afraid to because of all the unrest, and I look white. I spend a few WEEKS on the reservation before I'm finally able to leave and make my way back to LA and Dave and Elena's.

Time passes and I spend a lot of time walking, meditating, searching sticker art with Elena... and I see this image of a girl on Facebook that looks remarkably familiar to someone I met when I was 18 and at Bennington on Thanksgiving break in East Hampton who I tried to connect with at the time and had never forgotten and I reach out to her and OMG... it IS her! And we talk and connect and devise... that we're going to take a road trip to see Mom and see what happens over the time we're together. It's early July when we connect for the first time online; it's 2 August when I land at La Guardia and into Allison's arms.

We drive from NYC to Georgia and drive to Mom's facility where we're told to wait after explaining who I am and how I came to be there... someone else comes out and tells us there's no visitation currently because they had someone break the rules, and I'm heartbroken- perhaps they notice this because they tell us to wait again... when they return they say that we can visit for a half-hour to an hour, but make sure we stay in Mom's room and follow any directions, etc... basically, don't fnck it up for others the way someone else ALMOST fncked it up for me... and I'm so grateful and they actually forget we're there (I think) because we end up getting just over a two hour fabulous visit with Mom and she got to meet Allison and see that I'm (relatively) ok...

Allison and I connect more and more as we wend our way back to LA and decide we don't want to leave each other. We return to East Hampton for her to tie up things and collect her belongings... we end up in Vermont and find a very small, charming apartment and race back towards LA to collect my things. While in Oklahoma headed west, Mom is sick and on a call everyone keeps trying to get me to turn and drive for Georgia or fly from LA to Georgia to see Mom, but it's covid times and they're not supposed to be letting people in or something, but both Kyra and Elena are devising ways for me to sneak in, and it's making me REALLY uncomfortable because I almost didn't get to see Mom in August because people broke the rules and, as much as I want to see Mom, I cannot in good conscience break rules that are there for a good reason and, frankly, I'm somewhat upset that Kyra and Elena are suggesting this, but I know grief and high emotion can do things to people, AND, I've been riding and driving all over the country since mid-April and I'm exhausted and running on empty, and I just don't have it in me (barely enough to get back to LA and return to VT), and I feel like people aren't hearing me when it's got nothing to do with desire, I'm just empty...

Our first winter in VT (2020-21), Allison and I settled into knowing each other and beginning to work on creating a life together in our roughly 300 square foot apartment. I know I was unskillful during this time with regards to my motorcycle; I honestly was looking forward to getting a job and having it shipped or finding some other way to either get it shipped or returned to the financing company... hopefully it will become apparent why I mention this...

Late spring 2021 we decided to have our DNA analyzed to see what kind of mutts we are; Elena and I had discussed this in the recent past (I think during lockdown), and I was aware there was a chance of finding our half-sister Mom had given up for adoption before meeting Dad, and that this was something we were hopeful of finding... and we got our results in July I think.

On 10 August at 14:38, I sent an email to Mom, Kyra, Elena, Dad, Dave, Allison... and our half-sister, Eva, introducing everyone with brief details and Eva's email address. Allison and I were in Montauk, a day ride for us to get away together while visiting Allison's family in East Hampton. The moment I hit send I immediately felt a sense of dread and turned to Allison and said something to the effect of- I have a feeling something might not go well with me sending this email... that someone might have a problem. To be clear... Elena was intimately aware that I was in communication with Eva at this time and that I was sending the email.

Within 30 minutes I was engaged on a call with Kyra who was belittling me and asking/telling me what did I think I was doing... that Kyra had found Eva a year and a half before, had spoken with Mom who had said she didn't want to meet Eva, and... my daughters are there visiting... and... OMG, what?!?! You found OUR half-sister over a year prior and said nothing to anyone?! (Kyra may have said Elena knew, I can't recall the specifics and my journal is somewhere else.) And what state was Mom in when you asked, how did you ask... are the questions running through my mind... because all of my experience has ALWAYS been Mom desired to find her first born daughter... and you're getting VERY upset with me??- who's spoken to Mom and Eva and Elena and everyone seems excited, and I can hear my daughters or you told me they're there but I had no idea and all I'm trying to do is something that was requested and feeling like I'm being treated like complete and utter garbage?? It was TOO much... after getting off the phone with Kyra, I immediately got into contact with Elena.

Speaking with Elena confirmed that Elena knew about EVERYTHING Kyra threw at me at least a day or more before my email was sent introducing Eva... and had decided not to give me a head's up, not to warn me that Kyra might have MAJOR issues with the email, not to mention that my daughters were visiting... and I felt complete and utter abandonment by Elena and all I could think was that one of Elena's favorite ideas is that, sometimes you have to let the trains run off the track or crash into one another... and I felt complete and utter revulsion and immediately suffered from a breakdown that lasted 15-20 minutes where I could not communicate and all I could do was bawl and cry and rock back and forth at the sheer horror I felt towards my sisters over something that should have been a joyous occasion... that I whole-heartedly believed was going to be a joyous occasion... I am devastated. I text Kyra and Elena on 13 August 2021:

Kyra, I am sorry that I can't comprehend you at times. I received this text from mom earlier today (technically yesterday) via fB. I am hopeful you assist mom in connecting with Eva. I love you. (The image showed a text snippet between mom and me... Mom: Wow Beautiful !!! [regarding an image] I didn't receive the information about Eva. Please resend. Mamala. Me: I gave Eva your number... she's planning on calling you today! I'm VERY excited for you and can't wait to hear all about it!! Love you tons and tons!!

There was never any response to this.

Crohns, which I had been successfully keeping in check through dietary choices and restrictions, immediately roars to life and, while I'm supposed to be looking for a job, I'm immediately in digestive distress and figuratively tied to the bathroom and start having daily cramping and have to toilet first over three, then 5, then 10, 15 times a day as my weight slowly starts to slough off me... a neighbor who sees what I'm going through and I've shared a little of my story with donates MJ so that I can curb the nausea and cramping, and boost my hunger while supplementing with Ensure, and going ULTRA- healthy, return to GAPS, return to basics... and I can't, it's already too late and I slip from low 180s through 170s, 160s, 150s... I text Simon and ask what he weighs because we're roughly the same height and he tells me mid-150s, and I KNOW my skeletal structure is much more dense but I feel some relief because my more general cohort can exist at this weight, but food is NOT doing well upon consumption and I'm supplementing with apple cider because it's natural sugar and water and can supply SOME energy... and I ask Allison to eat foods that smell good because I can't eat... and winter passes into spring and you're all getting acquainted with Eva and I feel like I've been forgotten... again.

I speak to a Friar that invited me to study with him during the summer of 2020 during the initial throes of covid (Elena's aware of the invitation I received) about the trouble I'm having and how I don't want to go to the hospital but my weight is 132 pounds, I've lost over 50 pounds with no end in sight... I have no energy to read, to follow a television program, to have a real conversation... Allison is scared (terrified?), but is letting me drive the car since I'm the one with the experience, and I'm having another burnout and meltdown and it's too much and I can't fight anymore... I've given it EVERYTHING I had, but it's not enough and crohns has me again... it's 14 March 2022 and Allison and I are sitting in the ER while I receive fluids... and learn that I have to transfer my medicaid to VT before I can get seen by a Dr here outside the er...

I'm able to get my health insurance transferred (didn't do it earlier because it appeared a daunting task that was too much – as in, physically impossible usually for emotional reasons) and convince “a power that be” to consider my ER visit as a referral for gastro so that I don't have to wait two extra months (remember, I'm 132#), and by April 2022 I have a new gastro... I get placed back on remicade and restart infusion therapy in May or June and begin trying to come back from 132#... meanwhile, the help I was supposed to receive getting services and a general physician, etc, seems to have disappeared, and I'm in NO shape to be relied upon to follow up with people so I don't have a GP, have had little to no assistance accessing services and have been doing the best I can... which isn't great, but I start to get better and life starts returning to me... a little bit.

On 17 May 2022 I receive a text from Annie:
Hi Philippe it's Annie. I wanted to know if you could sign a paper stating that [G]abby could take a trip to Europe this summer?

Two minutes later Annie responded with:
Why? What is the issue?

I chose not to respond to Annie's last text because I thought I was extremely clear in the text I sent her... namely, that I had considered it carefully and, because she didn't give me ANY information or details (and I didn't think I had to mention there was a land war CURRENTLY being fought in Europe), I wouldn't sign her paper... There was a part of me that was VERY excited because FINALLY we were going to have to enter a discussion and TALK... that I would finally have SOMEONE from the court, or even the Friend of the Court, to talk to, to let them know why I wasn't agreeing, and what has been transpiring over the course of the divorce... AND I WASN'T EVEN DEAD SET AGAINST HER GOING... I was just excited that I would HAVE to be included!!

But I never heard back from Annie.

A neighbor is a Justice of the Peace... they serve running the polling places for elections, handle property tax appeals, serve as notaries, and are able to marry people anywhere in the state... I want to make connections in the community and what better way than to run for office... and I complete the paperwork with the required number of signature and my name will appear on the ballot 8 November 2022.

MOM PASSES

In July 2022 I had barely received one or two of my remicade infusions and wasn't more than 140 pounds (for reference, when I was hospitalized in 2016 I never dropped below 146) when Kyra reached out via text asking me to call her and that it was important... I was VERY prickly and wrote back that unless I knew what the subject was I would not call Kyra... AND INSTEAD OF JUST TELLING ME IT'S ABOUT MOM (in which case I would have called IMMEDIATELY), Kyra writes back, “Please call me,” and, “Or Elena.” And I'm SO frustrated because I feel like I am SO clear in my request... “You need to let me know what it's about...” feels to me like it's clear but I guess it isn't because I keep getting really frustrated that the people I'm related to can't seem to understand what I'm asking for.

And I'm invited to go to Atlanta to help go through Mom's things, but I'm still trying to recover from the reaming I was given by Kyra while my daughters were visiting her, and that Elena just couldn't be bothered to warn me was coming, and I've got no money, we're living off Allison's credit, and every time I feel like I might just get something going something happens to just gut-punch me again... I can't go to Atlanta with no cash, and I certainly don't feel comfortable staying at Kyra's with what's happening between us because, again, it's a lot... it TOO much of a lot and it's not healthy for me to have these strong reactions to stimuli and these people who are my family just don't seem to realize just how fncking sensitive to everything I am because I mask SO well and I don't even know that they know what masking is... but NO... that would be just WAY TOO much, too much... and I walk around in a semi daze for a few days and mourn in my own way.

Around this time I chance upon a meme... it's a little info-graphic showing the intersection and overlapping of symptoms/expressions of ADD, ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), and Giftedness... it's a bit of a moment of looking and staring and thinking... I recall Elena talking about wondering whether Dave might be “on the spectrum” or have Asperger's... Elena's always remarking about how similar Dave and I are – there are times when she can't even get our names straight... I think more... Allison experiments on me – she has me watch ASD comedians and watches how I light up as I find common ground in our experiences... she hasn't even told me they're ASD before I'm remarking on the similarities... things start to click and there's a paradigm shift as I start trying to figure out the WHY behind what feels like AN ENTIRE LIFE OF (mostly) UTTER CONFUSION because I can't figure out how/why people could, and would, do these things to each other... do them TO ME, who's never intentionally borne any ill-will towards another living thing (though I did intentionally trip Sass that night we were playing Ultimate and EVERYONE knew it and saw it and I said it was an accident and NO ONE would back Sass up because he really deserved the lesson I was giving)... and I start to see why people might think I was frustrating and complex when I'm ANYTHING but... and I learn that ADD and ASD are kissing cousins... that when I got my (very) late diagnosis in law school (and was told at the time how great my coping skills must be – but I don't recall mention of masking) of ADD – the DSM didn't allow a dual ADD/ASD diagnosis... and when I was being evaluated, I was evaluated for ADD because of my similarities to our neighbor, I don't know that they were looking for anything other so when it checked boxes they figured they were done... AND IT'S A COMPELLING STORY that I'm trying to get to the bottom of because all I want is FOR MY LIFE TO MAKE SENSE and for life to not keep assaulting and kicking the living shit out me... because I am SO fncking exhausted.

I left birthday wishes for Dad on his Facebook page late in the day, 27 September 2022, and was surprised when I saw that Annie had left him a note; I had never seen Annie leave a note for Dad's birthday, she never liked him while we were together... so I went to Annie's page and find... on 22 August 2022 Annie posted seven pictures with the caption, “Pics from Day 2 in Tuscany. Since it was Sunday it was a lazy day of swimming, drinking wine and eating!” The first picture is of Gabby and Annie in front of a stone building.

Annie took Gabby to Europe despite my explicit refusal, for what I thought were valid, pertinent reasons. I couldn't believe what I was seeing... either she perpetrated a fraud on the Court, or she forged my signature was all I could think! And my sisters and Dave liked and/or loved the post! Kyra and Elena liked/loved EVERY picture!! This is just stress upon stress upon stress... I'm trying to focus on my health and get better and it just seems like EVERYTHING is conspiring against me, and I can't handle this now, so I swallow my pride and am looking for work... and I seek counseling – my healing is as much mental as it is physical; and I see an advertisement for something called a Peer Support Advocate, someone who practices Intentional Peer Support (IPS). The idea is that people with lived experience with mental and psychiatric issues provide peer support to others who are currently going through their own experiences. I complete updating my resume and apply for the job. It's the first week of October 2022.

Mom's memorial at St Thomas is coming up... I'm getting call back interviews for the IPS job and they're all going really well; Allison listens from the bedroom as I attend multiple interviews, including with the entire IPS group, and every time she comes out grinning from ear to ear because she thinks I've nailed it – I'm unsure, but I do feel positive... about it... we're not counting chickens, but we kind of are... and Mom's memorial is LOOMING, and then I start thinking about the possibility that Annie and the girls might attend Mom's memorial and I KNOW that that's something I really, REALLY don't feel I have the competence and ability to deal with in my current, extremely sensitive state...

I had a VERY strong reaction to the suggestion by Elena that Annie be included in Mom's obituary and memorial program... beyond Elena telling me that she was following a norm – it isn't any norm that I've ever seen to include an ex-in-law in the “survived by” section... certainly not one that is NOT on good terms with the ACTUAL BLOOD relative that created the familial relationship, and I know Elena and Dave and Kyra might be getting along with Annie, but that's not a good reason to override my EXTREME discomfort over having her included in any way shape or form, or anywhere near my mother's memorial, and why does it seem so difficult to get Elena to understand that I can't have Annie included??

To protect my sanity and sense of safety I text Kyra asking “Do you know if Hannah, Gabby, or Annie are planning on attending [mom's memorial]?” Kyra responds “I don't believe that they are able to attend.” To me this is vague and unhelpful at a time when all I need is to be reassured that Annie won't be there – I'm asking about the girls as well because if they're there, it's likely their mother isn't far away and I would need to be on SUCH high alert... and so I text Elena, “Kyra's answer was vague: Do you know if Hannah, Gabby, or Annie are planning on attending the NYC memorial?”... and I think I've fixed the problem of Kyra's response by including that she was vague – I'm looking for a concrete answer, but surely I don't have to say that explicitly... and Elena writes back, “I don't believe they're coming...” and my brain struggles to maintain equilibrium because I said I got a vague response, and now I get an almost (in feeling at least) verbatim response from Elena, and now it feels like my sisters are trying to be coy and play with me and I am SO NOT IN A PLACE TO BE DEALING WITH THIS... and now I have to call and interact DIRECTLY with my sisters, which I am VERY ill-equipped to deal with at this time because there's SO much going on in MY mind, and I feel like I made such a small, direct, clear request for information... IMPORTANT information to protect what sanity I possess in these times just after Mom's passed... and I just want to get in and out and not lose it...

The night before Mom's memorial I'm up all night because I can't sleep and I have to drive to the train station early in the morning, and I'm chain smoking, my leg can't stop tapping, I keep having minor meltdowns where I'm sobbing and crying and completely inarticulate, but I pull myself together... TERRIFIED that despite assurances I might run into Annie at the memorial... and I'm also meeting Eva for the first time and this is NOT how I'd like to be meeting our half-sister, because I know I'm under extreme stress right now and barely holding it together, and it wouldn't be this way except my sister, who found Eva previously never told anyone (or if she did, the news never made it's way to me)...

We make it to the city and my nerves are frayed... we're walking directly up 5^th Avenue... we're running early and that's not good – early means I have to interact more when what I ACTUALLY need is to interact less and give my nerves and emotions a chance to settle down and reach a level where I don't feel like I'm in a constant state of fight or flight... we visit St Patricks and burn a little more time... Kyra texts asking where we are and we're ten minutes away, moving slowly because Allison has RA and she's letting me drag my feet because she understands how difficult this is for me... and we're approaching St Thomas and I'm on SUCH high alert to EVERY SINGLE THING in my environment because I feel SO UNSAFE and exposed and vulnerable and I do not trust myself or my reactions to stimuli...

And we see Sandi approaching from the north just as we reach St Thomas and I see Thomson and Eva at the top of the stairs, AND IT'S TOO MUCH... and we walk directly past and I focus like a laser on Sandi because Sandi, the chaotic mess that she is, represents more safety than I could possibly find (short of Allison, who's already clenched in my hand while I fear I'm crushing her RA hands), and together the three of us enter the church... and people are hugging me, and Kyra's hanging off of me, and people aren't respecting my person, my boundaries, and I'm so not comfortable...

And then... well, this IS a somber affair... and it's weird, and it's ok, but... and then I'm reading the program and about how “over-the-moon” Mom was, and Eva's talking about how much she would have given to have the opportunity to meet our/her mother just once before she passed, but Covid and circumstance... and I'm thinking, well, Eva WOULD HAVE HAD THAT OPPORTUNITY, but for Kyra keeping it a secret when Kyra found Eva a year and a half BEFORE me... and I can't believe I'm having these thoughts at Mom's service... and people read who I barely know and, as far as I know, barely knew Mom... and I read the program more, and Allison's name is spelled wrong while I'm reading the “survived by” and I read, “former in-laws” and all of a sudden I can feel my heart thumping in my chest and my pulse in my ears and I point to the passage that I'm seeing for the first time because no one sent me a final draft even though I was told I would receive it to make sure there weren't any last edits... and I was CLEAR than Annie WAS NOT to appear in any way shape or form, and this is where my mind jumps because, in my mind (at that time) only two people fit this bill: Kenny and Annie – and since I was SO CLEAR (I thought), this is just an ENORMOUS blow and I feel like my sisters just don't care because this means SO much to me and I can't understand how they don't comprehend this... and because everything is SO raw, EVERYTHING is a tiger... paper or not. (Nb. I have since considered that former in-laws could also refer to Mom's siblings' marriages, but at the time I was in ZERO frame of mind to see this, especially since, in my experience, we had so little interaction with Mom's side of the family growing up – I went to school IN THE SAME CITY and, when I had free weekends when I didn't go home and was alone at school... I never saw Mom's side of the family... and I was less than two miles away. At the time, however, it was just an enormous slap across the face.) NOW, as I'm writing this and looking at materials again so I'm not misremembering, I see the last line in the service program, “There will be a celebration of a life well-lived in Los Angeles on Indiana's birthday, February 11, 2023 (details forthcoming).”... and I can hear my pulse in my ears again because it says it RIGHT THERE... details forthcoming... and I can't cry again because I have to get through this because I spent most of the day in tears...

We make it out of the service, the reception... I enjoy seeing Sharron and Michael, Jodi and her husband, I have good, meaningful conversations with people and accept their condolences... I try to avoid my sisters, Augusto... I try to spend time with Juana... We make it out of the city and back to Vermont and I collapse and it takes days to recuperate.

I get elected. I get a BRIEF note from HCRS regarding the IPS position and that I didn't get the job but that I should reach out to them again in the future... and I hustle because I need a job, and I keep being told by the hiring system for Mount Snow that I've got a job and who to contact for next steps, but then when I reach out I'm told that they're already fully staffed, and I'm looking, and finally convince the manager at the local hardware store to take the chance and I start the first week of January working outside in the lumber yard in freezing conditions while I'm GROSSLY underweight (mid 150s), being paid barely enough to cover insurance and rent, and then the garnishment for child support kicks in again, but it's kind of invigorating to be in the cold, testing my body and what it can stand, where will it break, where will it hurt, will it recover, will it get stronger... learning new equipment, meeting new people...

Early February I'm inclined to reach out to HCRS again... and I get offered a position but I need to clear references and background checks... and I discover that I missed Mom's celebration of life in LA, that no one even reminded me or involved me to any degree... and I can't remember everything I said at the St Thomas service (and I certainly don't recall asking for ZERO involvement in the LA memorial), but surely someone would have reached out at least one last time because, this is it... there are no replays... and then I start poking around to see what happened and I start getting uncomfortable... I get the job assigned to an Assertive Community Treatment (ACT) Team and get a start date in two weeks so I can give my current employer notice... and then the stress is crescendoing again as I research what happened surrounding the LA memorial and the week before I start at HCRS I'm in the ER three times because my body knows the score and I keep having SEVERE abdominal cramping and nausea/vomiting that I cannot get control of... and it's not my heart, and it's not my crohns, which appears to be responding well to restarting Remicade infusion therapy...

Almost forgot another February event... when the payroll garnishment for child support kicks in again while working in the lumber yard, I request and receive a copy of the paperwork so that I have the contact information for MI Friend of the Court (FOC)... after a week or two I gather my energy and courage and call while on my lunch break at work but I'm unable to contact anyone... I try again on an infusion day when I'm not working and finally reach someone... I try to explain to them that there's been a fraud on the Court, that my ex removed our daughter from the country despite my explicitly disagreeing... and the FOC employee asks me, “why wouldn't you want your daughter to go to Europe?” And I'm flabbergasted because... well, that's not the point is it... and they tell me the last address they have is in Florida, but Annie knows where I am... I'm not hiding... if I'm working in Vermont, and you're taking money out of my paycheck in Vermont... why are you sending me legal notices in Florida?? And yes, I understand it's the last address on file but... CLEARLY, my ex COULD have, SHOULD have given me an opportunity to appear in my defense, right?... and I learn that the FOC is really NOT that friendly and I'm told I need legal representation, and she gives me a number to reach Legal Aid in Vermont, but I have no energy, no drive, no expectation that I won't just be beat down again, and again, and again... and here I had HOPE that there would finally, at least be a DISCUSSION... because I cannot believe that Annie hasn't known everything about where I've been and where I am all this time, and she knows ALL of the health issues I face: depression, add, crohns, major head traumas; and actually SEEN me experiencing these issues when they're at their worst, AND STILL, she CHOOSES to let my life continue to be a trial and tribulation... and for what... because she believes I had an affair (I didn't) when we were already separated... grow the fuck up... Annie's parents, who bestowed this little gem on Annie, didn't even carry on their hate for each other this long. I'm angry, annoyed, pissed off... I don't deserve this, and she takes advantage of the fact that I have these DISABILITIES... and she's trained as an educator (Annie received her bachelor's degree in Education from NYU)??

I start the new job 13 March 2023 – I race to Brattleboro to collect a laptop and phone, meet my new supervisor, and receive my schedule for the first two weeks of training and race home because I have a Dr appointment with a new GP that afternoon and we're scheduled for a snowstorm... and the Dr appointment does NOT go well... the Dr doesn't listen, he's tired and distracted, he hasn't read the notes about my three ER visits... I tell him I need an MRI and he asks why, and I say there's a spot on my left kidney, and he asks me what I'm talking about and I have to point to the bottom of the second page of the CT report that notes an anomalous finding, and we're talking about crohns/ulcerative colitis (UC) and he keeps speaking unclearly, swapping crohns and UC and confusing me, and when I tell him I'm confused – he gets confused about it (which made ZERO sense to me), and he's argumentative with me about why I don't want to take a statin drug – if I don't REQUIRE a drug I tell him, then I don't want to start taking it... I don't have high cholesterol (I did in my 20s), so why would I take a statin... and he continues to try convincing me after I've told him I'm not comfortable taking medicine unless absolutely necessary, and he STILL seems totally perplexed by this and other things and... I check out of the conversation and know I will never be seeing this doctor again... we race home again before a snowstorm drops almost four feet of snow.

The job is going... so-so. Allison and I were concerned that I might have a hard time talking and interacting with people that are in extreme mental states while undergoing homelessness and other marginalization, but that's the easy part of the job... Within my first few weeks there's a murder at a homeless shelter we provide services to – the attacker is a woman we were supposed to see that afternoon... the walk-in shelter we're affiliated with shutters for a month and we lose their staff from our team, we're shorthanded and in limbo as higher-ups are discussing how to continue proving services in a safe manner...but, even though I'm new and don't know a lot of the people involved, it's stressful, AND, one of the people I support is a VERY close acquaintance of the attacker and isn't being provided an outlet because other team members can't handle it... but there's me... and it's even more stressful because I know how stressed everyone else is...

My supervisor is having issues of her own and is distracted; I'm not being trained as effectively or efficiently as I should be and it shows... I'm mostly reading and attending online trainings and wondering why we seem to be doing so much less than the other ACT team members... it's getting very uncomfortable in the small office and I finally go to my supervisor's supervisor and we talk and it goes well and we have a plan for me to talk with my supervisor when she returns from her vacation on Monday, and...

I get a call on Thursday afternoon while working from home that a coworker on the ACT team made a complaint that I made them uncomfortable and can I possibly recall what I might have said and to whom; initially I'm flabbergasted, and then I recall that I was having a conversation regarding sexual identity with a coworker, and maybe they mistook what I said... I'm told not to go in and that I'll be getting a call from our HR department the next morning, Friday. I speak with our HR, attend an online training that afternoon, and reconnect with HR at 4p and I'm told that it's clear there was no malice or intent on my part to make anyone uncomfortable (after considering the entire situation and it's context), and that I should report back to work on Monday, and I hang up... and I turn to Allison and tell her I've been cleared to return to work, but I don't know exactly what that means because the person that made the complaint is the same person that told me my first week working in the office that I was in a safe space if I ever accidentally overshared... and they and I sit with our desks (in a very cramped office) face to face... and I know I can compose myself and get through, but what how am I expected to interact with this person and the rest of the team?? Sunday night I send an email to my supervisor and HR asking all the important questions; Monday morning I'm told to stay home and that I'm on administrative leave while they're figuring out what to do – there are four agencies represented on the ACT team with multiple HRs.

I go somewhat mental as I'm on administrative leave; I learn that another agency found me guilty of sexual harassment and I can't believe it... no one from their agency even SPOKE to me... nothing is handled as it should be and I'm stuck at home, seriously stressed and not understanding what's going on, and when I ask if I need to start looking for another job, I get told, “Well, we're still paying you,” and that doesn't make me feel comfortable AT ALL... and another two weeks go by and I'm offered a position in Springfield working in the adult Life Enrichment Center (LEC) temporarily while another position might open up in Crisis management, because I won't be returning to the ACT team because they want to “protect me” (but I absolutely don't feel safe)... and I accede because what other option do I have?

I connect with my initial supervisor who's EXTREMELY upset over what happened... that the entire ACT team is in jeopardy of collapsing because of personnel and communication issues... and I start at the LEC and have a new supervisor... I try telling her what I've been through and I get a very curious response that leaves me feeling uneasy, mis-heard, and misunderstood... I keep trying to revisit what happened on the ACT team with my new supervisor, to make her understand that I experienced a traumatic event... and she's gaslighting me... A LOT.

I finally get my colonoscopy, following up from the three ER visits the second week of March, and the prognosis is mixed... the crohns is in remission but, apparently, I have a VERY active case of IBS and a new diagnosis of IBD... and for much of this time I've been eating a REALLY healthy diet, but it's all FODMAPS crap that wants to kill me like garlic and onion, and, once these get removed, things improve, but I'm also now on a daily regimen of anti-spasmodics and Imodium to control my gut... AND I STILL have to be SO careful currently with portion size, every single ingredient, etc... and there are days when I do EVERYTHING right, and it just doesn't matter. It does wonders for planning outings.

And I learn a prior IPS worker had a relationship with one of the people supported by the LEC, and we're mandatory reporters, and so I report to my supervisor... and I'm talking with a co-worker about the issues I seem to be encountering with my supervisor... my co-worker was present when we learned about the inappropriate relationship and also reported to our supervisor and tells me she told our supervisor that she was sure I would've reported already and the supervisor asks why she would say that and my co-worker tells our supervisor that it's because she knows I'm an ethical person... and I burst into tears because SOMEONE at my job finally sees me and doesn't doubt me, think the worst of me, or try to gaslight me... I was told, by my supervisor, that based on how I was raised, she considers me white... but that's just HER opinion... and there was SO much more, and I felt so unsafe and was having such a hard time...

I reported to HR and was given a week of administrative leave... I returned to quit and return all of my gear but the person I needed to see was out of the office and another HR person spoke with Allison and me, and after hearing what I'd endured told me, “wow, that sounds like a hostile workplace.” She wouldn't take my gear or my resignation because she wanted me to connect with the other HR person I'd been dealing with... the next day, Friday, 27 October, my resignation was accepted.

And the very next day... I woke up with covid. So now, after being extremely brain-fucked TWICE at the same job, for two weeks Allison and I can't do a thing... it hits hard for a day or two and recedes and makes us think we're lucky and clear of it... and then it does the full body slam and Allison seems to me ever-so-slightly better off, but I'm probably just complaining more, and we're both sweating through our wardrobes, can't eat, and when we finally can, we've lost our sense of smell and taste, and we're isolating and quarantining ourselves and we're both just SO done because it's not like we're around a lot of people and it feels like it's just one last fuck-you from HCRS since that was the last place we were around people we weren't familiar with and no one else has come down with covid in our minuscule circle of acquaintances...

And I need to find a new job, and I need to write this letter because it's eating me up and I have to let you guys know, give you some sense of the things that are going around in my brain... and this isn't from time to time, this is a daily assault and triage for survival... what can I handle... is it a phone call, is it two... can I open this official looking letter I received in the mail, or do I have to let it sit on the table and stare at me for a few days because I can't handle it yet... telephone call from a number I don't recognize – will not happen... I am SO limited right now... I am at the end of my rope. I am burned out and experiencing meltdowns most days where I just cry and sob and become unable to communicate... my worst meltdown recently was just over a month ago and lasted over half an hour; I can recall roughly 5 minutes of it – all centered around someone finally seeing that I'm an ethical person, for finally seeing me after suffering at the hands of co-workers and supervisors that have ZERO business working in the mental healthcare field...

I need to find a new job, so I can pay the rent that's due, but what I really need is to feel safe and secure, listened to and understood... I need people to be gentle with me while I heal and recover from 30+ years of trauma, abuse, injury, and being scared of the world and my shadow... and I can, but I need the time, space, and protection to become the best version of myself that I fear my own sisters wouldn't even recognize because I can't fathom the last time they actually saw me and truly saw what I experience every day...

And I recall Kyra bringing up all of the wonderful things she's done for me in the past... as if maybe you think I'd forgotten... law school, my divorce, all the times you helped me, and that's wonderful and I remember them all... and my immediate feeling was – I've done things for you anytime I could and was able. And it saddened me because, reminding me of things you've done in the past – doesn't make me feel the pain you're inflicting on me now any less painful... and what I hear in that is that I don't have a right to be upset, or that I shouldn't be upset, because you've done wonderful things for me in the past. My mind envisions me with all my limbs broken and you're telling me to be thankful and stop complaining because you repaired one of my legs – meanwhile, I still have two broken arms and another broken leg. Yes, you are both correct – you've both done wonderful things for me in the past. AND... currently, I am EXTREMELY hurt, raw, and sensitive... and my emotions are REAL for me... and I can change them greatly if I remembered something wrong and have my memory corrected... please, I invite the truth; I am FULLY cognizant that my truth does not always fully intersect with The Truth... but it is the only truth I currently possess.

I've tried to make sure that I'm being objective in explaining the way things have appeared to me and how they have consequently affected me, my health, and my emotional relationships. I have not mentioned a SINGLE thing that Allison is dealing with in her life... and it's also prodigious. Meanwhile, I can't seem to gain weight, I maxed out at just over 160 and then dropped to the 140s with covid and am again low 150s; I've lost my insurance because of the job and I've missed an infusion; I had a consult with the northeast's premier GI team with the understanding that it was an added benefit without cost and then received a $2-3000 bill that I need to call them about, but you think I have the ability to take care of that right now... not a chance... and so I ignore the emails, texts, and letters for now, banking on that I'll get to it and handle it as I'm able, or it'll become more urgent on it's own and then I'll address it because, right now, I've got nothing, can't give anything, and just can't handle the likely brain-freeze I'll experience if I try to handle it before I know I'm ready...

I don't know what you guys are going through, and I don't know what you were thinking when you excluded me ENTIRELY from our mother's celebration of a life well-lived. And I am hurt.

I love you both... and I am hurting, hurt, injured, and trying to heal...

I love you both... and I can't understand how you don't see how hurt I am that you both appear to have better relationships with my daughters than I do... and that you all seem ok with that... with their alienation from me, with their disappearance from my life when I truly LITERALLY was unable to maintain the relationships due to health concerns... and Annie was acutely aware of this.

It's a lot... and I carry it every day... and this is just a BRIEF overview that glosses over a lot, and the bits that don't even concern my sisters that I struggle with as a daily function of living. And I think about my daughters... every day. And I am in pain... every day.

And it feels as if no one cares.

I love you both... and I can't understand how you watch Annie destroy me and, as far as I can tell, do nothing... again, when you see MY daughters... am I just a blackhole that never gets mentioned?

I'm so tired of trying to make myself understood and believed... Kyra told me that she finally understands crohns because she has a friend that has it and it's cyclical... and, yes, it can be, but if your friend was really good they would have told you that crohns is different in each and every individual, and that even for AN individual, what works today may not work tomorrow... and how I feel is – why couldn't you believe me when I told you about my experiences with crohns... because when you drag someone else's experience, or your own understanding over mine, you know, the guy that actually has crohns... you invalidate my experience and do violence to me whether you intend it or not. And I'm so very tired of I being hurt.

I love you both... and I feel like I need to protect myself from both of you for my own wellbeing.

I need peace and quiet... I need time and space to recover and think straight long enough to accomplish something... I need to feel safe and secure... I need to feel like I'm heard when I communicate... I need to receive answers to the questions I ask – I ask for a reason and not to hear myself talk or to cause problems; but when I don't get a response that makes sense, it's extremely frustrating for me... I need to be heard and believed... I need to stop hearing how complex I am – I'm NOT... if you take the time, there's a gem hidden here – and it's just waiting to shine... and YOU could help... or, you could continue doing the same thing... I know what I hope my sisters would choose.

Sincerely,

Philippe