I wrote this to the University of Minnesota Admissions to hopefully get admittance to the University. Unfortunately, I will miss the fall semester as they are missing two of my transcripts necessary for acceptance. Both of which the grades are reflected on another official transcript from one of the colleges I attended. They still will not admit me without an official transcript which contained 2 classes I had taken in 1985 while stationed in Europe with the United States Air Force.
ADMISSIONS OFFICE WILLIAMSON HALL
• UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA • 230 WILLIAM HALL • MINNEAPOLIS, MN 55455 ATTN: LESLIE
07 JULY 2017
Dear admissions office Williamson Hall,
I chose to write something that not only explains the gaps in my college attendance but informs you of where I came from, and where I am now. It also details partly what has occurred during that time. This may not be your typical letter justifying my acceptance but hope it illustrates that my past and present life are more than a set of numbers (2.5, 3.0, or 3.5), I don’t believe I am special but unique in many ways. Unique in my life experiences and that which ails me physically and mentally.
I have life experiences, qualities, and attributes that I hope set me apart from others. Yes, I am a 100 percent disabled veteran who suffers from PTSD, Bipolar, a severe depressive disorder, ulnar neuropathy, bi-lateral planter fasciitis, Hiatal Hernia, lower lumbar problems, GERD, chronic arthritis, and the list goes on. I choose not to let what ails me to define me. I have swallowed 12 Ambien hoping not to wake up in the morning and years of waking up wondering what’s the purpose it’s only going to be another day like the rest of them that have preceded this one. I have experienced further thoughts of suicide on many occasions in the past when I have had overwhelming visions, nightmares, and depression which made me feel almost strapped to a chair. I eventually was diagnosed Bipolar. However, I guess I couldn’t accept the label and would take my medications at times than not. I didn’t want the label, I felt week, and refused to acknowledge the premise that I had an illness rather perceiving it as a defect.
I have been what some people call rich or a one percenter making 10’s of thousands per month and still not happy. Having all or most, which any other human strives for and generally never succeeds to accomplish or accumulate. Looking back now I was still not happy rather empty inside.
In a 6-year period I watched four of the most important people in my life die by disease or unfortunate accident. My father and mentor, inspiration, and go to guy. August 27, 2013, 1142 pm my sister, best friend, and confidant passed (breasts Cancer) after a 2-year battle. I went with her to almost most all her treatments including the last appointment when she was informed there would be nothing further they could do for her. 21 September 2015 my Grandma passed after stumbling over her walker and hitting her head at the nursing home. I used to pick her up and take her shopping. She showed me what being an old German farmer and 95 years old is still about. 14 March 2016 my mom, friend, and bingo partner passed from lung cancer (lung cancer). Just, 6-weeks after diagnosis. It crushed me, she was the only person left who really understood my mental state without any judgement what so ever.
But, February 20, 2011 at 11:24 pm I received a call saying my father was hit by the light rail train and they asked me if there was a reason that he possibly would have intentionally done this. They asked me to watch a video of a portion of it which was not to include that portion he got run over as they claimed he wasn’t moving. I watched the video of him falling and they failed to stop it and I saw him get run over and the heard the bells that preceded his demise. My father from what I could see was trying to get up. My life changed forever that day.
I have blamed myself for the last 6 plus years that I caused the death. The reason I blame myself in my mind lacks credible evidence but comes from the fact my father worked for me at my bar in Coon Rapids and I chose to sell to a family member (my sister) and assumed she would keep him employed. I was wrong she did not and my father could not continue to afford his 2-bedroom apartment in Anoka Minnesota that he had been at for the better part of twenty-three years. It uprooted him from just about everything he had grown accustomed too. He, then moved to the housing across from the VA Hospital. At first, he was reclusive and not adventuring out like he should have or could have.
Eventually, over time my father started to enjoy the light rail and travel to the Metrodome when it was there to walk around the inside loop during the winter months. He would also take the train out to the Mall of America, walking around and people watching. Since his passing I have told myself had I not sold my bar he would be alive. The Thursday before he died I stopped out at his place as I usually did a couple times a week to take him to the military reserve base to get his hair cut etc. He was a proud of his military service. He loved talking with the young enlisted guys about his service while he was sitting in the barber chair. I loved it. I watched him glow. It brought new life to him every time. Watching him smile made my day. He seemed to have a new pep in his step when we would leave.
So, over the past 6 years I have not let go of the premise that it was my fault. “If I had not sold my bar” has been what I have been stuck on. I have learned now the thought is properly named a “Stuck Point.” Learning about stuck points from my Psychologist is not what started making sense to me. To put it simple a young PHD candidate from the U of M finishing her studies lit a light bulb that no other person had. For whatever reason, she had a calming demeanor about her and something that made me feel comfortable to more say more than I had to the staff I have seen for years at the VA hospital. She asked me after reviewing my past records if I felt any guilt about anything in particular. I told her I thought it was my fault my dad had died. For some amazing reason and how she said it with such compassion “Don it’s not your fault.” I had never told a sole what bothered me so deeply, and the continued having visions and sounds of train bells I have daily of the video. I hid it from family and all. I was afraid to sound week and not capable. For some reason Helen got it out of me and I can say she probable saved my life! I owe my life to her in so many ways! Whoever provided her that keen insight and maybe it’s something innate within her, neither the less I want to be educated by him/her or all. Wow, it makes me cry thinking I was in the lockdown ward unable to get over something that I really had no control over. Helen freed me from a living hell.
I have had everything in the world most people would love and dream to have and more. Houses, uncountable luxury vehicles, possessions, trips, you name it, I had it. I thought that was the definition of being successful and fulfilled. In my mind, I had it all so I must be successful and happy. Wow was I wrong! I think the smile I had on my face only masked what I was really me feeling an emptiness inside but afraid to let others know.
November 28, 2016, I married the mother of my kids. I had always told her we should get married in case something would happen to me she would not be left without. She raised our twin sons (Kolton and Wyatt) and my daughter Addyson. It is quite amazing over the years we battled over visitation, not so much about child support, but paying and not seeing my kids. I wrote and published a book (A Father’s Cry – My Fight for Justice) which I have included. A book now I know I wrote during a time I was not of knowledge of my bi-polar nor would have accepted such diagnosis. It took six years to get a visitation order even though I was paying. At that point in time I didn’t know I was bi-polar. Funny enough, I was bringing my dad in because he was acting in a way that I absolutely recognize what a duplicate of myself.
It took me years of complaints by my employees and jumping from college to college, failing to finish, self-medicated choosing my own doses and when. I was worried it was more than just a disease rather a label. a flaw, I was concerned people would think less of me as a man or person. That was something at the time I could not comprehend or didn’t want too, I could not comprehend that. I was the guy who helped everyone but didn’t think about helping myself. For years continued to be in denial. If only I had listened to the professionals maybe my life would be different today. If we all had 20/20 vision that could see our past before it happened it would be a miracle.
I will tell you today a guy who had all those things is homeless. Not because I can’t afford a place to stay rather in by choice and more importantly ensuring my children and their mothers stability and safety ahead of my inconvenience and rather humbling and very educating and enlightening predicament. In November after 20 years of on again off again with the mother of my kids I married her. Yes, in hopes that things would be like any other married couple and knowing that she raised the most wonderful children in the world and deserved to be recognized and rewarded for what she achieved. Unfortunately, we still were not meant to be together but be the friends that we have over the years. We parted amicably. We split my monthly money in half which I am more than comfortable with. She is worthy of such.
Jess and I have twins who are twenty years old (Kolton and Wyatt) and an amazing 16-year old daughter named Addyson. Kolton started college his sophomore year of high school and just graduated college at the University of Northwestern Roseville with a major in Biology and minors in Chemistry and Theological studies. His professor and Dean of the Biology department is a former Medical School Professor from Harvard who has chosen to work at a smaller school. She has set my son up for success and Kolton has rose to the occasion. He did six semesters of research with Dr. Winslow and she personally moved the Master’s program that was supposed to start fall of 2018 to fall of 2017 to accommodate Kolton. Sounds farfetched but it is true. I call Kolton my little Doogie Howser. His Grandfather was an Orthopedic Surgeon in the US Army and then had his private practice of thirty plus years.
I guess you may ask how did I write a book with so much negativity about their mother yet speak so highly of her and how she raised the kids in this fashion. I can say when I wrote my book unknown to me I was bipolar and still stuck in the me, and how I was successful and above everyone. Wow, it is now apparent to me I was none of the above. Yes, financially I was successful in a monetary stand point but unsuccessful in all that makes you who you really are. She Jessica on the other hand may not have had money but she had what I didn’t, the full and complete love and admiration of our children. Something I adorned for but did not know how to get it because I was selfish and self-centered.
So, why did I marry her you might ask? Because what and who I have come to realize about her and I told myself that should happen to me I would like her to have everything that I personally have with full knowledge Jess will still take care of the kids first even though she deserves and has deserved so much more! I never really knew how amazing she was as a mother and lady. Jess, instead of working and finding a way to meet someone else and have her own happiness put our children first! That is the definition of a mother. I instead thought money and cars for her and the children meant love or would make up for that which I did not provide otherwise. Something I will regret the rest of my life!!
So back to being homeless and moving from shelter to shelter. It was my choice for that is simple. Should I spend thousands of dollars a month on a hotel or not worry about what may be an inconvenience and what some say embarrassment or ensure my children and their mother are stable and safe. It’s not a hard decision to make.
I have truly come to realize there is a part of society that is very much what I consider the “forgotten.” As I have moved along from shelter to shelter I see some unique individual people who I firmly believe need a break, a hand up versus a handout, would and could move on. Rather, I see staff at some facilities treat them as a number, loser, beneath them, screaming at them as if they were in boot camp which I have a little knowledge with. Why, because they are powerless. If they challenge those in charge they can be kicked out and be on the streets. I have even seen a staffer threaten someone who made comments in a fashion as if to say are you bigger or stronger than me. However, I have also experienced the part of humanity where one person doing my intake called me sir as I entered his office. I said, “I have never heard that before from staff” which he told me “we are all people” and that he himself had been homeless for over a year. It makes me cringe thinking how those who seek shelter are merely seeking refuge in a place they can call home and hope for safety and security yet are belittled by the people that are there to provide the very things that may lift them up. If, only one person is shown the respect and dignity that the most take for granted, and they rise above the circumstances that they currently face I would consider it a success, no matter how small that may be for the system in whole, it would be monumental for only that one person.
Unfortunately, there are those that are disruptive and challenging and I am sure it is difficult. But to overgeneralize the masses by the few is troubling and self-defeating. Shelter workers surely must become hardened by those who choose to be difficult and troublesome. That I am sure diminishes their ability to show compassion for those who only seek shelter, safety, and maybe a break. I wish society would do more to help than to ignore those who have become so used to hearing no that they feel relegated in a rut rather than being encouraged to escape that which keeps them down. Had I endured the same day in and day out “you’re not worth anything” mentality and put down it easily could have been me! Oops, in a sense it is me but able see it from many angles with much less stress. I treat it as-a-means to an end not that which shall define me the rest of my life. Yet,
In closing I implore you to look at me not only from an academic standpoint but from an overall life perspective. I have become humble and driven. Driven to learn that which ails me and others.
Sincerely and Respectfully
Donald .............
Lapses
1987-1989: I was military and taking classes as I had time between the Community College of the Air Force, St. Philips College, and Texas State University.
1989 Riverland Community College, Austin MN: 1 term transferred back to Texas State University
1990-1992: Texas State University: I left school to deal with medical issues after a second attempted correction of a previous surgery and the chronic pain leading to taking Vicodin and Percocet to help with it.
2002 University MN: I will not make excuses other than I was suffering from bi-polar also owning a bar/night club that I gave more priority to than my education. I believe that was part of my manic – depressive stage. Starting something and not focused on the task at hand. Rather than accepting the diagnosis I fought not wanting to be labeled mentally ill. I remember my dad coming to my bar the day they told him he was bipolar. He walked in mad as hell. He said son “they said I am maniac depressant.” I never laughed so hard. I could not get him to believe they meant manic depressant. My dad had hearing loss from working as a Sighting System operator on jet airplanes during the Korean War.
2003-2004 Argosy University: Radiologic Technology program. This was in fact the best thing I had ever done in my life working with patients. I would work my 10-hour 4 day shifts and spend another 6 to 8 hours in the ER Cat Scan Unit or upstairs Cat Scan because I loved the job. I felt like I was helping people rather than getting them drunk. Unfortunately, I was in an elevator that dropped and I was unable to stand for any period-of-time with my foot injury. But, more importantly I would easily get upset and lash out. Ultimately the bi-polar diagnosis gave me a little better understanding why.