I grew up on the West Side of San Bernardino, California.

You ever want to shock a cop? Tell them you came out of West Side San Bernardino. San Murder'dino, as we call it.

Violence, poverty, drugs, and instability were familiar parts of that environment. You learn to read people, recognize danger, and navigate situations most people would prefer never to encounter.

But some of my most damaging experiences happened inside my own family.

My first suicide attempt was at six years old.

I've spent much of my life trying to understand how a child could reach that point. I've spent decades trying to function with my family, particularly the contradictions between how they present themselves and how they behave in private.

Learning to surgically describe a situation brings me comfort and sense of control. Pecksniffian, from Charles Dickens' Martin Chuzzlewit, someone who professes exceptional morality and benevolence while behaving hypocritically and selfishly.

Another is cravenness, a failure of moral courage, particularly when doing the right thing requires discomfort or sacrifice.

I've realized that, even as an adult, I never entirely stopped being terrified of my mother. For example, she would tell my high school friends that I had been being a bad friend, to the extent that one would hit me on occasion for "being a bad son." When my friends reported instances of abuse when talking about events to their parents. My mom would have private "meetings" with them and 'explain' how bad I am, that I make things up.

I remember being locked out of home as a child by my grandmother. Family conflicts, being yelled at that it's my fault, my experiences and my memories not real. That I am lazy and do not take responsibility for things. - classic

My classic response of defending my intentions, and trying to reconcile what I experienced with what my family yelled at me is real.

Finally accepted they were the epidemy of the upper-middle-class culture surrounding Redlands. Not to the same extreme as my family, them literally willing to 'sacrifice' there sons life to maintain public appearances.

The passive-aggressiveness, moral cowardice, and obsession with appearances is a cultural norm. I went the other direction and learned to be confidently confrontational.

Outside my family, I was exposed to radical suffering.

I've dated someone struggling with addiction. I've dealt with human trafficking, exploitation, incredible violence. An isolation incompatible with the human experience.

I still see those women and children's faces. Screams, the isolation and desperation of the innocent. Knowing my interference was not survivable decision. It bleeds the soul.

I spent years working in education, including special education and with children experiencing significant behavioral and developmental challenges. I've worked with new parents navigating poverty, violence, instability, and complicated relationships with public institutions. I was once formally accused of leading an "insurrection of 4th Graders against the administration." Their parents and teachers were so proud of them. Kids even went as far as creating a petition, as they began adding random names, I tried to do a lesson on perjury, but they were already on the literal march to the office. Story for another time.

Earlier this year, I became involved in helping a young woman experiencing homelessness and trafficking.

She was approximately nineteen years old and had reportedly been homeless for about two years. She described being abandoned by her parents.

I encountered her in Griffith Park during an increasingly serious crisis and became involved in trying to help her, including contacting law enforcement. It ended in tragedy. I am trapped in the "rescuers loop" of a unended story. Being on the support line, "Parents of Missing Children" was not on my bucket list. - Who are amazing, by the way

-- I spent the next months in and out of psychiatric emergency rooms. Decades worth of memories slammed my mind like a Mind Flare's Psychic Spike <- D&D reference, didn't expect that did you? Basically and alien squid that attacks and explodes your brain with its larva

-- I CAN'T EVEN PLAY BOULDERS GATE RIGHT NOW! I am at the end of Act II *sigh*

Without my meds, I go into deep obsessive studies of niche subjects. Not sleeping for days at a time, minutes to me are hours. Hours to me are days. I lose entire months of time in self study in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber <- Dragon Ball Z reference, keep up.

Basically, I had a nervous breakdown and I am all fucked up. My inability to function...and a stupid loan I took out to find her myself...I would call my finances a dumpster fire, but jokes on the fire, nothing in the dumpster to burn. Oh and I got hit by a car two days ago in a parking lot.

...November 2 is my last day in my apartment...I know I know, you guys are about to blow up my phone for not contacting you guys earlier. I finished my Full Metal Logic project and demos. Great timing, terrible timing. I'm simply a mentally ill economic survivor.

My housing navigation team is trying to arrange an appropriate placement. They congregate shelters could significantly worsen my symptoms. It would be a Rorschach moment of, "I am not trapped in here with you, you are trapped in here with me."

One possibility is a private room through a behavioral mental health program, but it would involve sacrificing much of my independence. The program is primarily intended for people with serious psychiatric and substance use issues. Housing Navigation doesn't want to put me there either, but it would in the very least give Jack and I a roof.

I'm a mentally ill economic survivor, fortunately that is the extent of my challenges.

My housing navigation team recognizes this distinction, but the approaching deadline leaves very few alternatives.

I've encountered assaults, exploitation, and dangerous situations before. I know how difficult it can be for me to remain uninvolved when someone is being harmed.

Meanwhile, my dissociation has been worsening. I've experienced intense flashbacks, panic attacks, and impulses to physically wander away.

Recently, I felt an almost gravitational pull to walk away indefinitely. I had to consciously resist it.

My mental health is quickly detreating

-- Story Time--

Halloween, I visited my parents.

I was sitting in the living room with my head in my hands when my mother offered me a Tylenol.

I explained that losing my apartment and my worsening dissociation were overwhelming me.

I told them I will probably have to sleep in my car. I explained that Housing Navigation doesn't in congregate shelters (first come first serve) would be dangerous for my mental health. Explaining I am on police records for confronting drug dealers and dangerous people in the neighborhood. They know my already hypervigilance and focused response to danger and protecting others. It would be a Rorschach moment of, "I am not trapped in here with you, you are trapped in here with me." Then jail. Friends would post bail, but that's not the point.

My mother suggested that the being committed to a behavioral hospital might actually be good for me.

I explained that I already receive excellent psychiatric care and that what felt like "basically being committed" would make me worse.

I realized that they genuinely seemed to believe losing my possessions, becoming homeless, living in shelters, and potentially entering a restrictive psychiatric facility might somehow be beneficial.

I realized I time travelled back to to the year 1850 Victorian. My family literally rather have me institutionalized by the state than acknowledge their son is homeless in 2 days.

My brother and his girlfriend arrived.

She asked what was happening, and I explained that I was about to become homeless.

My brother suggested it might be a good opportunity for me.

"What opportunities!?" I responded.

I emotionally collapsed.

I made the decision to end my life.

My father already knew I'd been struggling with suicidal thoughts throughout the preceding week and admitted to me he ignored it.

Fully panicking, I asked whether I could leave my service dog with them for an hour.

He angrily refused.

My mind shattered.

I left my dog inside and drove to nearby train tracks intending to end my life. There were too many people present, so I turned around.

When I returned, the front door was locked.

I went to the back glass door, crying and asking for my dog.

Nobody answered.

I kept repeating, "You locked me out of home."

My grandmother on my moms side did the same thing to me as a child. I am in total regression in fit of uncontrollable sobbing asking for my dog back. They ignored me. Until my dad opened the door and told me he would give me jack only if I got in my car. My mind sobers for a moment, recognizing the insanity.

I called 911 to get my service dog, Jack, back. Dispatch said, "Oh they are already in the area." I assume because it is Halloween so of course they are close.

Police arrive, I am handcuffed. The officers explained that someone had reported a gun threat.

I was shocked but not surprised. Previous family conflicts had involved allegations of going as far as claiming I was physically abusing my parents. Ironically, I have a good relationship with PD because they literally saved my life years ago and kept my parents at bay. I had my own social worker at 33 years old.

I began calming down once the police arrived.

Their presence brought predictability. They had procedures, questions, and a clear purpose. -- Also helps being a conventionally attractive male Caucasian, so I knew this is just a matter of 'out calming' my family. Easy.

They looked through my car windows with a flashlight. I offered them my keys. "He can just have my keys, unless he likes using a flashlight to look through windows." Female cop was kind'a cute too. Performance under pressure.

As the encounter progressed, realizing there is nothing to find, officers relaxed.

The lead officer jovially but seriously stated, if I needed so much as a mug from my parents' house, I could contact the department and have an officer accompany me.

I go to my car in the driveway. The officer goes up to my parents door. From inside of the front door my dad hands off Jack, my dog, like he is "Demon Core." <- 6.2-kilogram (14 lb) sphere of solid plutonium developed by the Manhattan Project during World War II.

I shook the police hands and thanked them. Great way to prove I am not crazy. Rather than screaming I am not crazy.

On my way back to Los Angeles, I stopped at 7-Eleven for gas.

A gift card my father had given me earlier wasn't working, so he offered to bring cash.

I accepted because I also wanted to say goodbye.

My father is often a completely different person when my mother and brother aren't around. He was kind, helped with the gas, and even gave me extra money.

Apparently, I am not, Hannibal Sean Lecter.

I told him I needed to end my relationships with my mother and brother.

I was in handcuffs tonight, I can't have this in my life.

He then criticized how "rude it had been for me to put my dog down and leave earlier."

I responded, "I left to commit suicide."

He said, "I know."

I stated, "Your son just said he left to commit suicide, and you just got mad at him."

He quickly returned to his car and left.

Keep in mind, I view my Dad is more like a POW who's been tortured into bending the knee. Years ago, telling me my mom told him strictly that she, "always comes before the kids." My mom had also shared very inappropriate issues, including sexual, between my father and her. Not stopping even when my brother and I asked. I cannot remember when that madness began but I made her stop telling me. She does not do so with my brother.

I've spent so much of my life trying to reconcile some definition of a stable reality. When I tried to commit suicide at 6, the person whom's car i jumped in front of banged on my homes door. Asking my mom why i was trying to commit suicide. She just continued to scream at him till he left. A memory she admittedly denies to be true.

My friends, people who love me, have been telling me for decades I need to take care of myself before I take other care of other people. I realized, I was taking care of my family. I need to take care of myself, that includes not only asking for help, but finally saying this situation 'out loud.'

Last offerings, I will answer some age old question

1. Which came first, chicken or the egg? The chicken, The genetic capacity had to exist before the production of the egg.

2. Ship of Theseus - if you replace a ship planks, plank for plank. At what point does it stop being a different ship? Immediately, the entire makeup. No different then cellular decay, literally we are not the same person at any slice of time. Nor is the plank until it replaced, unlike the example. In name vs structure are very different things.

3. Grandfather Paradox - traveling back in time to stop yourself from being born, how did you travel back in time? It is redundant. You didn't. You don't exist.

You're welcome.

Stay awesome,

Thank you for your help

PS. Friends! I am working on packing at the moment, it will be hard for me to take calls.