On Faith

Just wondering… Where are you on your journey?

In spite of the depth of my depression, there is one I can hold onto. My triune God. Three in one. Amazing, isn’t it, that there can exist such a Godhead. I will be the first to admit that it took some time for me to comprehend such an entity.

My faith has not always been so strong. There were too many years of believing in mind, but not holding on with my heart. That changed one day when I had a near death experience. Something happened that day, which destroyed me psychologically. An event that left me not caring for life anymore, and shook me to my very core. I went home that day, and laid down on my bed, and yelled out loud, “Lord, IF you are there, then take me home, there is nothing left for me here”.

He did.

He held me on His lap as a very small child, and held my head to His breast. Gave me the love I so desperately needed right then, along with a life review. After a few questions I was allowed to ask, He said He was opening a door for me, then sent me back, as it was not yet my time. All I found, was a hole in the floor, which I mentally crawled into. It wasn’t until ten years later that He opened that door for me, and it was certainly not what I expected.

It was the door I had not been able to open on my own. it was that door to my past abuse.

It had taken over four years of homelessness, more years of self recrimination and self abuse, and finally coming to stand with Him in an unshakable faith. During that time period the emotional turmoil, and pain, was simply unimaginable.

I really do not know why I am here today, other than to share His Word. That, and try to be there for others that are struggling.

There just simply is not much of life I have not experienced first hand.

Please, take a minute to share yourself here. To say where your faith is, and how He has helped you grow.

By the way, I strive to be as Paul, the Apostle. My depression is the thorn in my side. I pray that my faith will continue to grow, in spite of it.


If you are not yet bold enough to share it publicly, write me at cj@mypoddymelt.com

Men, do not cry.

One word. Bullshit.

In my life, there has been too much buried in the quicksand of emotion. So much compartmentalized too, in the house of doom.

Where is it written that boys, who become men, are not supposed to cry? Not supposed to show emotion, at the risk of being termed “weak”. I now know where mine came from. As a child I stopped crying, because it was my only way of fighting back. I made a choice then, even though I didn’t know it, to never give those that abused me the satisfaction of seeing my tears. That word NEVER, stuck. I didn’t know it then, but it grew to include any future mention of the trauma. Somehow, I should have been able to stop it from happening.

The fact that I couldn’t, must have meant that I was weak. It was deeply ingrained in me, and became one of the compartments, with a door that was to remain locked.

How does one face, as an adult, a decision based on the raw emotions of childhood? Decisions which just do not fit into this lifetime? Tears, which if could be allowed to flow, might tear apart the fabric of time. Just might, heal.

The problem remains, I cannot cry.

It still “feels” like weakness, and instead of great strength, may be looked upon by those near me, as a break from reality. Nothing good to come from them.

Confusion, is the operative word of the day, with fear running a close second. Yes, I am afraid to appear weak. To open up a side of me that is as raw as it was as a child, only to have it stepped on, again. To have it reacted to with anger, non-acceptance, and ridicule.

Men, are not supposed to cry…..



I know.. This is supposed to be a womans movement dealing with the aftermath of molestation, and rape. That was brought home to me by a friend whom told me that when I had gained enough courage to post.

I was not ready then to talk about it. To tell about my own abuse, and brutal rape at the hands of a stranger. A stranger with a pistol, that told me he knew my family, where we lived, and if I told he would come kill everyone.

i was just eleven years old..

Tonight, I was eleven again….

It came out of nowhere, but all of a sudden the pain was there. The burning, tearing pain as he shoved himself into me, and kept doing it until he was satisfied. I wanted to scream out, to cry hot tears of confiusion, and rage. But like then, I did not. It was then that I stopped crying. No amount of hujrt could bring the tears, at least physical hurt. I do remember a time or two of crying over some emotional pain, but even then, the tears were far, and few between. I had buried the rape in amnesia, along with a childhood of confusion, and emotional distress. I did not recall that rape until I was in my fifties.. But even then, the pain was at a distance.. Not like tonight.. I was there, in that stinking barn again, expecting to be joined into a “club”, my older brother belonged to. My childhood excitement turned to horror, and brutality.

There are tears tonight, not of the hot kind that washes your face, but the tears that fall from your heart, and sear the soul.


I guess I do belong to a club. But not one of choice.



Ok, I want to know just what it is going to take before cancer researchers, Dr’s, and the money behind them get the message that we are tired.

Tired of “efforts” without results, and watch as friends, relatives, and so many others die while they dance their money dance.

Maybe I am wrong in expressing this, but I don’t think so. So too, I may be wrong in the assertion I expressed in an earlier post about the real “cure” not only being readily available, but proven to exist.

Big Pharma, with its barbaric proliferation of chemo, and feel good meds that destroy lives most assuredly does not want a cure that does not benefit its profit margin. The medical community as a whole, apparently wants nothing to do with a cure that comes from outside of their establishment.

Prove me wrong. Prove to me that physics is not the answer. SHOW me by trying it, if you have the guts to buck the system.

SHARE this post, along with the earlier blog I wrote with everyone you know, and encourage them to do the same.

If you are fed up. DO it.


What about today.

Oh wow, just what ABOUT today?

Will be going to the Y to exercise my body, and my mind. Play some racquetball too. Trying to do those things that will bring me peace, and joy.

How about you?

What do you do to stay healthy? What hobbies do you have to keep your mind active? I used to have a ton of things, like golf and photography. Don’t know why, but they all fell by the wayside, one after the other. Water color painting was a favorite, and even it went away. Perhaps it has been the dark Spector of depression, and its insidious way of encroaching on every aspect of life. Not too long ago I went out and purchased a bunch of colored pens. Bright, bold colors meant to bring some color back into my black and white life. Bought a few sketch books too, and even a few mechanical pencils.

I have yet to use any of them.

Used to do what I termed, was art in the round. I would draw a picture so that whatever angle you viewed it at, as you turned it around, a new image appeared. Was fun, and a challenge too. Suppose there may be a few of them still around, but I don’t know where. Did a few murals too, along with some portraits. Gave it all away, or destroyed it.

Think that I will try to draw again today.

Wish me luck!


Ok… This is Wednesday, the 29th day of the new decade, and I am back to fighting.

This time. It is very personal.

I am battling an enemy that is ruthless, and unseen by anyone else, save for the effects of it on me. It is mind numbing; insidious in its carefully planned, and executed ambushes of mental anguish. It lays in wait in my subconscious, waiting for triggers so that it can explode into waves of anxiety, panic, and psychosis where it will force me into hiding within a dissociative personality that is derided by those that know it, and loathed by me. It is like hating your arm, and hand, that can at the same time help, or hurt you.

I, am just tired.

For over fifty years I have struggled on a battlefield where there is only one enemy, and that enemy, is me.

I do not know anymore, how to cope. I cannot give up, simply because to give in, is to cede defeat. The battle is on too many fronts right now though. It is easier to pick your fights, and confront the enemy within when the results are predictable. But, what if you lose the skirmish?

What happens then?

I will tell you what happens. A dark cloud descends, blocking the light. Been surrounded by it for to long. There is no joy anymore, and nothing which I can do is good enough to bring it back.


Viet Nam

Ya know, I am sad this morning. Have been thinking of my service time for the last few days, and have come to a conclusion. We, the combat vets from Viet Nam, are experiencing something unexpected, and quite unwelcome. It is worse even than the derision we faced at the time of our tours of duty.

We, have been forgotten.

The embarrassment of our Nation at the mistreatment we experienced, is causing us as a group, to be swept under the rug. Yes, we are now receiving, on an individual basis, recognition, and thanks. But as a whole, outside of our close ties to the brothers and sisters we served alongside, collective attention has shifted to the immediate. To the troops involved in our current theaters of operation. The lessons learned from us, have been applied to today.

They are not retroactive however.

And so, we continue to hide. Our fears unexpressed, our PTSD if not immediately “cured”, shoved aside.

I lost my brother to Agent Orange complications. He developed Parkinson’s, with dementia, and passed away after just a few short years of developing symptoms. it still angers me I cannot get his name on the wall. He, like me, came home as the walking dead. We physically arrived back in our communities, but our souls were stripped bare of humanity, and left in the jungles to rot.

He died a combat death just as much as if he had never come home. He deserves a purple heart to go with his CIB.

The diseases we caught while there, just kill us slower is all. Depression. PTSD. And the list goes on.

Please, don’t forget us.



Hi there everyone!

Where has this week gone to already! It has been a busy one I know.

Getting guests lined up for the podcast is taking far more time than I had anticipated. Scouring the internet for people that are interesting, and in Niche area’s that are not usually talked about on the net is fun, but at times frustrating as replies to e-mails are not all that forthcomeing.

Do you have an idea/subject you want to hear about? Let me know in an e-mail to chris@thepoddiebreak.com, and I will do my level best to put together a show you will enjoy.

Thanks for stopping by, and have a great day!!


It is Sunday! Do you know where your kids are? Lol

Good morning everybody! Yes, it is Sunday, and I am thrilled to have another day to live. Every day I don’t wake up dead is a good one!

This afternoon, I am fortunate that I get a chance to interview chopper pilot Bob Leach. Bob, or Mr Leach as I referred to him back in the day, was the primary pilot on the helicopter I crewed in Viet Nam. We will be discussing some of our shared experiences, and different viewpoints. Things just were different from the left rear seat where I sat with my M60, M79 grenade launcher, M16 rifle, 38 caliber pistol, flares, and rounds of ammo to feed all of them, than the front right seat where Bob sat to fly our bird. I could keep her mechanically sound, but he had to keep her in the air, and land safely! He did a great job of it too. His touch was so gentle, that he made that old bird an extension of himself. He gained my trust as he put it through its paces, and could get it to perform perfectly. Yes, he was that good.

The show should air next Saturday Morning at 8:30 Pacific time. 11:30 for those on the East Coast!

Now, I want everyone who reads my Blog, to start to follow me! There should be a follow button here somewhere to click on.

As with Col Mikes interview, Bobs will be posted here, first.

Hope you enjoy!