Sunday Confessional: Fuck It, And Fuck You Walmart

I am in a serious funk.  I don't know how to explain it at the moment.  It's currently an equal mixture of depression and rage.

I'm somewhat at a loss for words.  I don't want to come across as bitter or bitchy, but I really need to vent and just lay everything out on the line.  Oh, and Walmart almost killed my family last week.  I'm not kidding.

As some of you know, my wife recently returned to work for the first time in almost two and a half years.  Her long term disability payments were cancelled in January, because one of her doctors flaked out, and, after six months of constant prodding by the insurance company, neglected to fax any of her medical records in.  All of this was going on behind the scenes.  We knew nothing about it, until we received a letter saying her checks would no longer be coming.

We had the ability to appeal the decision, which we did.  My wife was told that if she returned to work, even during the appeal process, they would determine her able to work again, and automatically deny the appeal.  We waited for almost three months.  She was ultimately denied, because the very same doctor, again, did not send in any documentation as requested.  She basically sent a one paragraph letter saying that she was under the doctor's care for her medical condition and that the doctor felt she was unable to go back to work.  No supporting documentation.  No medical records of the previous 18 months of bi-weekly visits.   Just "Yep, I don't think she should work."

Sunday Confessional: The Day I Ran Away From Home...And Religion

Throughout most of 1996, I was miserable.  I turned 21 in June.  I was living at home.  At the time, my father owned a route for a potato chip company.  His job was to stock the shelves in a dozen or so grocery stores in the Phoenix area on a daily basis.  I worked for him.

 I was confused, and, to put it lightly, depressed.  So depressed in fact, that I had been contemplating suicide on a daily basis for three to four years prior.  Something about my life needed to change.  Scratch that.  Everything in my life needed to change...and quickly.

It was late August when I decided that I was going to run.  I didn't know where.  I didn't know when.  I just had to run.  If I had stayed, I was going to kill myself.  Part of the initial "runaway" plan involved suicide, but I'll get into that later.

Sunday Confessional: My First Job - The One I've Never Talked About

Note:  I've never been a believer of "The names have been changed to protect the innocent".  Fuck the innocent. If they were so innocent, I wouldn't be writing about them.

When I talk to people about my first job, I tell them that I worked at a men's clothing store in the mall.  I sold suits and dress shirts for $5.75 an hour, starting the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school.

The truth is, I had another job earlier that summer.  I went to work for a business that was owned by one of my Jehovah's Witness "brothers".  He made working conditions so unbelievably horrific, I was forced to quit after three days.

I was talking to an old friend a couple of weeks ago, and she brought up Bill Sturgis.  Immediately, my shoulders tensed up and tears started to fill my eyes.