After reading the letter my father taped to my steering wheel while I was eating dinner, the dam that had been protecting what was left of my psyche finally broke. I was having a nervous breakdown, and by the end of that night and into the wee hours of the next morning, was medically assisted to The Meadows in Wickenburg, Arizona where I received the in-patient treatment I’d been avoiding for at least a decade for the Molotov cocktail of psychological anguishes that had been simmering in my mind since the day I was born.
As I write this, I can still “see” that moment playing in my mind as though it were happening right this minute and can “feel” the visceral reaction I was having that day as my nervous system was being flooded with unfathomable, raw emotion and rendering me insane. I literally couldn’t breathe, but could feel the adrenaline slowly leaving my body as it bleed out through my fingertips. I was crumbling! Then, when I looked up and saw my babies standing in that doorway, I was absolutely fucking DONE!
It would be years before I truly understood that my burgeoning decline in mental health was the catalyst for some of the best parts of my life that were yet to come and that I was temporarily sacrificing my psyche for the betterment and bulletproofing of both mine and my children’s future. Even so, it was my them who would ultimately make the biggest sacrifices of all. In so many ways, I was their Thanos and they were my Gamora. Like Thanos, the seemingly “selfish” behaviors and choices I’d been making that had led to my madness were, in truth, for selfless reasons. I didn’t just wake up one day and say, “Hey, I think I’ll just destroy everyone’s lives”. I woke up one day and said, “Hey, none of this is working. None of this is right. I have to do something once and for all to try and make their world better.” Even still, the fallout and collateral damage was the same. I hadn’t just blown up my own life, I’d blown up my babies’ lives as well.
I have always been certain that there were angels present with all of us in that tragic scene, and if it is true that angels cry, then they had to be crying their eyes out as they witnessed what was was happening on that driveway. They literally had to peel my 17 year old son from my body as I was being taken away. He, too, was crumbling, and even as I write this, I can’t recall another time I’d ever seen him cry so much. And Gia? My precious daughter who just needed her mommy to pick her up and hold her? She looked so lost and confused, and I can still see that look of fear in her eyes.
What the FUCK had I done?
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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