I was born February 21st, 1984 in Paw Paw, Michigan. I grew up outside of a little town named Decatur in South West Michigan. My dad was an electrical engineer. He was one of General Electric's finest, frequently flying overseas to work. My mom was a homemaker. I had three siblings; One younger sister, one older sister, and my brother the oldest.
My childhood was, well, not normal, but pretty much stable and normal to me. Things were pretty good until my parents got divorced when I was 13. My dad had mad us move from our house to a small apartment. My lil sis had to use the living room as her bedroom. Anyway, mom got hooked on drugs pretty bad. She had always smoked pot, which to this day I believe is fine, better than alcoholism anyway. But what she was into was a lot worse than either of those. She was shooting up coke and meth on a regular basis. I remember distinctly one time I got up to use the bathroom; ma was passed out in the hallway and there was wet blood in the bathroom. She had shot up in her ankle and got blood everywhere.
By the time I was 16, mom had spent everything she got in the divorce on drugs. We got evicted, and because I was on the outs with my dad, I moved to a gospel mission shelter. I wasn't alone either. I had a girlfriend, a pregnant girlfriend, who's family had pretty much disowned her. Enter the streets. Unchecked racism (toward me), drag queens, gangs, thugs, and hookers all became a part of my day-to-day life.
I could go on and on about my experiences on the streets, my daughter being born and brought home to the shelter, my first job, leaving my wife and becoming a single dad at 17, etc. But I'll keep it short and sweet and say that I busted my ass, and with a little help from family (very little) and a little help from the state (again...) I got on my feet.
I moved to Texas when I was 21. My brother had called me up one day and told me he could get me a job as his assistant doing apartment maintenance. I jumped on it because I had never really gotten a chance to get close to my brother. He had left home when I was a kid, about 11 years of age. He and my father had a big fight, he threatened my dad with a hunters knife, cops were called, and my brother left town with his heavy metal band.
Although we lived in close proximity to one another, and we worked together on a daily basis, we never really hit it off. I looked up to him a lot, but things just never fell into place so to say. I moved back home after a year, shortly after he and I had gotten into an argument about whatever trivial thing pissed us off at the time. We patched things up before I left, but I still wanted to go home.
I liked my brother a lot and I looked up to him. I always thought about him. I'd find a new band I thought he would like, but would never get around to sending him a copy of the cd. I'd watch a funny episode of Family Guy, our favorite show, but wouldn't call to talk about it. Then, after being home for about a year, my dad told us that he, my brother Danny, had committed suicide. He was having a rough time in his life and went to his doctor to help him deal with things. He was already on anti-depressants and a mood stabilizer, and the doctor went ahead and perscribed him Effexor XR. Three weeks later his wife found him in his car with a garden hose running from the tail pipe to the driver's window. Two months later, about three weeks after being prescribed the same drug, my step-sister hung herself.
This was a hard time for my family. My mom became very depressed. I've always been very close to my mom, so I notice when things aren't right with her. I noticed she had become very irritable and just always angry. I asked her what was going on. She told me she was having strong urges to cut herself and "do what Danny did". I asked if her doctor had changed her meds at all. Turns out, he had prescribed her an SSRI, the same class of drug as Effexor XR, a few weeks prior to all of this.
I told her to stop taking it right away. Not cold turkey, just to halve the dose every week until she was off of it. I think this is why she is still living today. She quit taking it completely within two weeks, and a few days later she told me she felt like herself again. Thank goodness.
The reason I decided to write and post this is because this is a conspiracy (hate that fucking term) site, and I wanted to share with anyone who cared to read this, why I'm a "truther". These bad things that happened in my life were a direct effect of the US government. From the CIA importing street drugs like the ones that ruined my and my mom's lives when I was 16, to the FDA approving drugs that haven't been properly tested by the pharmaceutical industry or are outright known to be harmful, the greed of the conspirators has had a very direct, very powerful effect on me and my loved ones.
That is why I'm here at 12160 today.
That is why I relentlessly pursue the truth.
That's why I don't care if I make my friends, family, and coworkers uncomfortable when I tell them that they don't know shit about the real world yet.
That's why I try to teach them.
Because everyone needs to know what these people in power are doing to you and me.
Yeah I know, people have it worse in other places. Other Americans, other people from around the world. But this is my story. This is why I fight for liberty, but more than that, fight to expose corruption and greed and the pieces of shit that attempt to run our lives.