The first three months
I worked on developing our little website business, “dPhilip.com LLC” and
getting a Microsoft Certification for myself. I picked up some skills with a
program called “Flash” and felt very creative in this new media. I networked
our “Small Business Website Program” to large corporations looking for support,
guidance and, of course, cash for my unique, innovative marketing concepts. I
attracted the interest of a large Internet Service Provider called “Earthlink”
when I presented my general ideas to their regional marketing director at
conference in Dallas. By late March he set up a meeting with the marketing
department in their corporate headquarters in Atlanta for the second week of
May. I negotiated and obtained a license agreement to resell a web authoring
software from a California company. They sent me a beta-version of their latest
software, it was a simple web authoring program with great advance application
potentials. I got the local Gateway computer company store to support the
program by having them “customize” a small, affordable laptop to my design specification.
I was authorized to sell this customized machine to my potential clientele. I
tried to partner with the cell phone provider, Sprint because I anticipated the
transition to the cell phone age and I saw an opportunity to “bundle” the
Sprint service and products in my marketing plan. I didn't get Sprint to fly
but I did establish a working relationship with the local Sprint
representatives, we got hooked-up with a multiple line cell phone account (in
2001, cell phones were still a very new concept). I built a small team around
my idea, at the core was Kelly and mom, they handled the money and
administration functions. I recruited a couple of ladies willing to work on
commission to sell this idea around the greater Hot Springs area, or anywhere
they could in the region. Both of them, Kim and Kathy, were attractive women
with very positive personalities. I had a kid from Boston named Aldo, a
programming geek who got involved for a while, but he often flaked out. The
final technical issues were left to me but I'm not a technical guy yet somehow
I got it all going. I accomplished the design, building and launch of our
business website on April 1st of 2001 with mixed results. There was a lack of
real interest in the product and service, my sales team had trouble getting
potential customers to see this inevitable vision of the future. Kim did land a
local gift shop as dPhilip.com’s first client, then Kathy got a larger sports
card trading company in Dallas to also buy our services. These two customers
helped establish our skills, build our reputation as a real company with real
website design services and floated our little company for the first 90 days.
Monday, the 16th of
April in 2001 was a very warm morning, sunlight beamed through the small
windows in my command center office/studio room. I had been up and at it for
several hours, working away with that manic energy focus and determination. I
was walking from the office/studio room, down the hallway when Kelly emerged
from the bedroom and stopped me, “Babe, I just got off the phone with your
mother…” there was that tone in her voice, that tone that tells you something
is not right. Her eyes were welling up as she held 6 month old Maggie in her
arms, she placed her hand on my forearm, “Your mom’s on the way over now.”
“Why? What’s up?” my
heart was racing and I knew there was death, “Tell me, Kelly, what happened?
What’s going on?”
“Just wait…” Kelly
started, “…until your mom is here.”
“Just fucking tell me!”
I gripped her shoulder and tears of confusion started building up inside of me,
“What the fuck is going on?!?”
“Valerie…” Kelly’s
voice cracked and her tears streamed, “It’s Valerie, she’s dead.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it, I did not just hear
that, I stood there a moment and repeated to myself, “What the fuck is going
on?”
“She was found dead
this morning…” Kelly was sobbing, Maggie started to cry and the gravity of her
words clobbered me in the heart of my soul, “Valerie died, they found her in
some condo in South Carolina, dead.”
“What?” my knees
buckled, I slumped to the floor and Kelly followed me down, trying to hold me
while holding the baby when my mother walked in and found us in a heap on the
hallway floor. I was in shock, the tsunami of tears yet to hit me, “What
happened? How?”
“They don’t know…” said
mom as she group hugged us on the floor in the hallway before lifting Maggie
from Kelly’s arms and standing back up, “I’m flying to Raleigh this afternoon,
Rachel just called and said Valerie was found dead of unknown causes in Myrtle Beach,
South Carolina.”
“South Carolina?” it
sounded so absurd, so out of synch with anything that seemed normal or
reasonable. My daughter, my first born child, this poor girl who’s had a
terrible life, who I just got to know, who I was trying to rescue and save, how
could she possible in all God’s wisdom be dead? “Dead?”
“Oh God, d’Philip…”
Kelly hugged me tightly as the wall of tears started to simply slip from my
soul, first a drop on my knee, then another on Kelly’s arm, a few more tears
that seeped into my beard before they all started streaming, like a crack in
the dam, those wet spots suddenly burst, spewed violent, deadly painful water.
I cried harder. Kelly slowly rocked me, I remember her softly saying, “Okay
baby, she’s in a better place, we can make it through this, it’s alright, just
let it out…it’ll be okay.”
It was over two weeks
before I recovered from the first shock, but there was still so much pain,
crippling agony and nothing seemed to make sense. I didn’t go to North Carolina
with my mother, I wanted to go, I should be there, Valerie was my daughter.
However, my mom in her wisdom and careful diplomacy, convinced me that it was
for the better for me to stay home in Arkansas. Mom knew Rachel was not be
receptive of my being there, it would cause all sorts of drama and maybe even
legal troubles. Out of respect for Valerie, because I was feeling so catatonic
in those first few days, I didn’t go to North Carolina for the services. I’m
glad I didn’t go, in retrospect, had I seen Rachel, feeling so much blame and
pure hatred for what she’s done to this poor child, I might have strangled her
immediately. Mom returned a week later, in tears, the scene at Rachel’s was so
terrible. Mom described it as an awful gathering of thugs, a lot of heavy drug
usage, there was no respect for Valerie, let alone for those who loved her, it
was an awful party scene. Inside the apartment was so filthy, so full of a
horrible drug smell, mom stayed outside. While mom stood outside grieving with
Valerie's Uncle Mark, Rachel and her lover came crashing onto the lawn, rolling
around, punching one another, pulling hair, screaming, spitting, cursing and
fist fighting until the police arrived. Before mom left North Carolina, Rachel
showed up at her hotel room with the plastic container of Valerie’s ashes.
Rachel offered them to my mother for $1,000; only because the container was
still sealed with the certification label and had not been opened, my mother,
for the last time, paid off Rachel.
I sought out help from
a local center for mental health and saw a crisis therapist because I was
concerned about having some kind of psychological relapse. They were not much
help because of their limited resources, they wouldn’t even be able to get me
in to see a therapist for several weeks. I then thought about my roots, my
religious roots of being a Jew and so I found some refuge in the one of the
only synagogues in Arkansas. Oddly, it was at Temple where I ran into my former
psychiatrist, Dr. Waterman. I told my troubles to the rabbi, then to the
congregation and felt supported. Dr. Waterman prescribed a mild dose of Valium
for me, he saw me for lunch or coffee, outside the office for therapy. While I
continued to get support from the congregation, I used the Valium twice a day
and smoked a lot of weed so by the end of summer, I thought I had a solid and
stable base again. After all, I reasoned with myself, I have a wife and three
other kids to think about and care for, I can’t let this awful tragic event
sink my spirit. I was, in truth, in such great pain and agony, I felt such rage
and anger but I internalized it, I put it inside a box someplace in the back of
my mind. I did this so I could carry on with the work at hand, so I could get
out of bed each morning. It was my place, as head of the family, to continue
and take care of everything else except myself. I just locked it away, out of
sight, out of mind; pain and fear and rage? No, not in here, not inside my
head, not inside my heart! What a fucking liar. I wore that mask so well that I
even fooled myself so life would just go on, in the most ordinary of ways, life
goes on.
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| www.dphilipchalmers.net |
This week’s blog article is an excerpt from Chapter 4 “2001, A Space/Time Oddity; Life in
The Natural State” from my 2014 book, “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” (published by The Intrepid Editor Press) and available almost everywhere. I
selected this passage today because this week, on Thursday, April 16th
will mark 14 years since the day my daughter was found murdered in a South
Carolina vacation condo.
It’s a magnificently heavy issue to deal with, a completely unnatural and surrealistic experience for any parent. Being BiPolar only made it worse, naturally, because I was very adept at hiding and compartmentalizing my feelings. I was an expert at wearing a mask, stiff upper lip with the chin up and all that…I had a wife and three other children, I had a new business I was launching and despite the crushing pain and agony I was feeling, I barely let it out…and that’s how I developed PTSD; however, PTSD didn't manifest itself for another five years. I had been showing symptoms of this order all along…terrifying nightmares, feeling detached, estranged…having uncontrolled feelings of fear or random outbursts of violent anger. But I didn’t notice, no one around me expected it and so for five years I carried the PTSD monkey on my back.
It’s a magnificently heavy issue to deal with, a completely unnatural and surrealistic experience for any parent. Being BiPolar only made it worse, naturally, because I was very adept at hiding and compartmentalizing my feelings. I was an expert at wearing a mask, stiff upper lip with the chin up and all that…I had a wife and three other children, I had a new business I was launching and despite the crushing pain and agony I was feeling, I barely let it out…and that’s how I developed PTSD; however, PTSD didn't manifest itself for another five years. I had been showing symptoms of this order all along…terrifying nightmares, feeling detached, estranged…having uncontrolled feelings of fear or random outbursts of violent anger. But I didn’t notice, no one around me expected it and so for five years I carried the PTSD monkey on my back.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), is a
psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of a
life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist
incidents, serious accidents, or physical or sexual assault in adult or
childhood. Most survivors of trauma return to normal given a little time.
However, some people will have stress reactions that do not go away on their
own, or may even get worse over time. These individuals may develop PTSD. People
who suffer from PTSD often relive the experience through nightmares and
flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged, and these
symptoms can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the
person’s daily life.
I have been successful in getting a grip and healing from
this disorder, although there are still moments, especially around significant
dates like this week or her birthday, when the trauma of losing Valerie will
stir my emotions and prompt some PTSD-like symptoms. By and large, however, I
am managing with it and I know that although the pain will NEVER go away, how I
choose to feel about the pain is different. I make the choice to use the pain
to create something expressive, I use the pain to feel empathy for others, I
use the pain to increase the value of my joy. I don’t prevent myself from
feeling these feelings anymore. I give myself a few days, a couple times a
year, exclusively for grieving and feeling the pain. This week, from Wednesday
afternoon until perhaps sometime Saturday, I know I will be carrying tissues in
my pockets, welling up with sadness at the slightest provocation, knowing the
ghost of my daughter’s murder is haunting me. I allow this for myself, I need
this to survive and I believe if I didn’t do this for myself I would be far
worse off…so that’s my game plan for the week.
I’m having mixed
feelings about all this because as much as I like talking about this issue, the cost on my soul is very high. It really takes a lot for me to keep it
together, I can skate through it while it’s all
happening, but when I’m done, when I’m home again, I’m
wiped out and need to seclude myself to regenerate, gather my energies and
re-focus my mind.
I again appreciate your reading my blog, leaving comments
and staying in touch…I am Grateful for friends I have gathered here and indeed
hope each and every one of you has a superlative week filled with good fortune,
excellent health and a lot of fun and Love!
Peace,
d’Philip
13 April 2015
The San Joaquin Valley
Republic of California
Earth
