OPERATIVE DOSSIER
The world sees the beard, hears the sub-harmonic roar, and witnesses the creation of an empire. But every fortress is built over deep, scarred earth. This is the chronicle of navigating life's darkest storms, enduring profound betrayal and grief, and refusing to let the flame die out.
THE CHRONICLE OF TRIALS
Chapter by chapter, the dismantling and rebuilding of a life.
CHAPTER I
The Crucible & Grief
Adaptation is an understatement to my childhood upbringing. I am the result of a person who is not loved by either parent. The man who raised me claimed that I was the product of the woman who raised me and her brother. The woman who raised me claimed that aligation was false. In either way, this resulted in multiple faucets being brought upon me.
The male figure in my life did not raise me. Instead, I grew up as the "Punching Bag" for his anger. I was punished in the most cruel and unusual ways, and eventually begged for a wooping with a "paddle". (For context, the "paddle" was a 2x4 wood plank with a handle carved out for easy holding.). I recall times upon which I was locked in a
bathroom and forced to clean from ceiling to floor with some sort of chemical mixture that burned my eyes and throat, which made it hard to breath. I recall times when I would go to bed hungry. I did not grow up alone. I had a younger brother. I treated him wrong on so many levels, however, he was still the reason I stayed home. Even through the abuse,
I stayed rooted there because of him. My fathers rage knew no boundaries or reasonings. There was a short period in time upon which I would come home from school, put my book bag down, and bend over the couch to take my usual "Whoopings" that father loved to bestow my way. Why? Literally have no clue. I fought hard and long to tackle two very important tasks.
The first task is to stay out of my fathers raging eyes, and the second task was to be acknowledged and loved by my parents. This ongoing fight lasted from around the age of four, until present day. I had spent a lot of summers growing up on my grandfathers small little ranch in Texas. I learned a lot of what a man is supposed to be during those months.
I never got the chance to thank my grandfather for those words of wisdom, but if our paths shall ever cross again, he would be the primary male role that gave me hope, wisdom, and showed me what it means to be a man. My grandmother was the God fearing, bible thumping Christian. While my brother and I both never agree on anything, we both are in agreement that
if anyone crosses grandma, they will pay greately.
My memories of my childhood remain a hidden mystery for the most part. I recall very little bits of events that happened back then. One event I clearly remember well is my mother holding me down and covering my mouth while father continued to whoop me with the paddle. This had left an ever lasting impression as I discussed about it in school the following day.
When my parents heard about this, they scolded me saying that they never did that, I just felt the after effects of the pain throbbing. This was when I was around five or six years of age. From that moment on, I realized no one cares about my feelings. And as time would prove right, everyone that has ever meet me has always downplayed my emotions or tells
me I am wrong. Another instance that I clearly remember is going to a mattress store for parents to get a new bed. Brother and I was being kids, running around, and just having a time of our lives. Upon returning home, I was punished severely bad. Between the usual whoopings, then more intense cleaning, and even forced to be the families servant for an entire month,
I learned around the age of 8 to never have fun. However, I still would sneak away when possible to hang out with friends.
My biggest mistake I made as a child was leaving the house for a whole summer to spend it with my friend. After I was dropped off, my parents where having a yard sale. They went into my room and took all of my cards and was selling them for a quarter each. These where no regular cards either. Yu-Gi-Oh was my choice of cards. After trying to wrestle some cards
from another childs hands, and grabbed my large tote of cards and stormed off into the house, I knew the fathers rage was right behind me. But this time, I had enough. At the age of 13, I finally stood my ground, but it was only because I had evidence. He started his yelling and went for the first thing he could grab to strike me with. However, I remained calm.
I simple stated;
"Sir, if I may explain."
That single sentence probably saved my life that day. However, after expressing that I had been mowing yards for the last 2 summers and using my own money to purchase these, what he did was pure theft. And then I showed him the real reason I was angry. Before I left, I had several high worth cards, and when we got on Ebay, I showed him those same cards going for hundreds
if not thousands of dollars, and this guy was selling something cheap that he knew nothing about. This was the first time in my life I actually felt smarter than the smartest person I personally knew. While this gave me a sense of accomplishment and self-gratification, my years living with the punisher (dubbed that from the local kids that I hanged out with) was far from over.
Mother, on the other hand, did have a much softer side to her. But she constantly initiated my fathers rage towards me. I learned manipulation at an early age from this one. You see, when father came home from work, she would smile and proudly say something like "Do you like how I cleaned the house today?", even though I was the one who cleaned it all, father
still looked at me in pure disgust and then punishment started as I should not have forced my mother to clean the house. Other times, father would come home to a dirty house and I was still punished for letting it get that messy. Literally no winning on this situation. So, I would just clean the house, mother cooked, and then I cleaned the rest of the house
after dinner and then suddenly wait for punishment.
Around the age of sixteen, I had a realization that I was never an important person in the family. I was literally birthed for a personal in-house butler. When my brother and I had our own rooms, I kept my room clean. I feared father greately if it was not clean. Well, I had left for the weekend to visit a friend, upon my return, I found my room an absolute mess.
I figured father went snooping again for something precious to sell. As I stared at my messy room, clothes and cards and books tossed everywhere, my father materialized behind me and asked about my room and why I left it that way. Before I could explain, I was heavily dragged out by the arm and shoved towards the couch and I resumed the position. However,
I did not cry, flinch or anything. After he was done with what he wanted, I simply stood up, looked him dead in the eye and asked if he was finished. After hearing his confirmation I calmly walked to my room and started cleaning. But, he loathed metal music, so I blasted music. After a couple of hours of cleaning and trying to calm down, mother came into
my room and she was deeply scared. You could see this on her face. And she asked if I was okay because I had legit scared the living soul out of father. I simply stated that I was not the one who made this mess, yet like usual, I was punished and I am just used to the abuse. Finally, brother spoke up. He and his friend went through my stuff looking for a video game.
A VIDEO GAME caused my punishment that had nothing to do with me. Turns out, that game was under his bed all along.
My childhood "training" was another joke for those who are interested. You see, my father wanted to teach us some martial arts. However, due to my size and pure strength of working on grandfathers ranch and other small tasks around our house that built strength, another set of tasks I had to endure was punching trees, brick walls, etc. This excuse was to toughen
my knuckles. Then, I would slap concrete or pavement on repeat until blood was drawn out. This caused tough hands to handle anything. I have very limited feelings in my hands anymore. Intense heat from pans is about the only thing I can feel in my hands anymore. For our "punching training", I would have to use a thick dictionary, and even then, that did not help much.
I was able to easily punch through books within about 20 punches, if not less depending on the cover and thickness.
CHAPTER II
My World, My Way
It came to no surprise, that around the age of seventeen, mother and father finally divorced each other. Brother and I relocated from South Texas to Central Texas with our grandparents. I was able to quickly land a couple of jobs. I would work two jobs while mom worked one. I would sign over my paychecks to her and ensure that brother had games to play at the house, but also
made sure I had my tobaccoo too. My first real on-going argument with grandfather came when he co-signed on a truck for mom. I was responsible for insurance and the note on that truck, plus I paid our rent living with grandparents. When I needed to go out for something, I took the truck. I thought no big deal, however grandfather was heavily upset over this act.
This went on for about three or four months. Until one day I was returning home and grandpa was heading out to work. When he saw I was driving the truck once again, he slamed on his brakes parking in front of me forcing me to slam on my brakes and he got out yelling at me. Which instantly triggered something inside of me. So, I stepped out and asked why is this
a massive deal for him? His response was a bit clueless but understanding. He stated that I was not on the insurance and that the truck is leased and if anything happened while I was driving, it would not be covered. I said, I am on the insurance, and I know the truck is on a note, I pay the monthly note for this truck and told him how much I pay. I told him I pay for
the rent, the truck, insurance, and food. He went from a fit of rage towards me, then bestowed it upon my mom. So we went home and he kicked her out that same night. He told me that if I wanted to, I could stay. Looking back now, I should have done that. But instead, I was blinded by not being around any other male figure that could hurt me.
My biggest mistake I ever made in life, became my greatest wisdom. I found this cute beautiful woman at the early age of seventeen, married her at eighteen, and our first born son at nineteen. I was a young dumb kid, but I had so much hatred and drama built up. Now, around the age of eighteen, I was diagnosed with phnemonia and was not expected to live. This woman stayed in
the hospital the entire time and prayed hard for me. I took this woman, broke her over the next sixteen years, and also destroyed my childrens lifes as well. My fits of anger, rage, and everything I knew from my father, came spewing out of me towards our son and my (at the time) wife. I had taken her love, patience, kindness, and support and destoryed this woman with my words
and actions. Never held down any type of job, never could do anything right, and was always in fits of bitter rage an violence. And yet, through my eyes of protecting, developing, and fighting, it was in this very act upon which drove my former wife away. I do not blame her one bit for finally building up the strength to leave. Looking back now, I am deeply impressed she stuck
around as long as she did. But, through my fits of rage, almost the exact same way I was treated, I bestowed upon my only son. Instead of building this child up into a man, I broke him down and I took the family with him.
During my adult hood, I went through college, obtained several certifications in various technology aspects, and became a self-published author. Writing small booklets, articles for various outlets, and designing and building websites for companies all over the DFW metroplex. However, my pride and thirst for more money caused my ultimate down fall. I thought I was the smartest
person in the room. And for the most part, I really was. But my arogance and confidence ultimately kept destroying me. My pride took many hits, and the more hits I took, the more pride and arogant I became. I blamed everyone else for my failures, even so much as blaming my real name. I cursed the day I was born, and still to this day I still curse my own birth. Now, it could be
said that my own anger and frustrations in life caused a whole lot of fires in life. But through all of this, one thing remained the same. When someone needed to move and have to lift heavy items, I was the one that got called. When someone felt that they where in danger physically, I was the one that was called. I was the monster forged from years of pain and
anger that became a beacon of light when life got hard. And through this, I had enough and told people to back off. Why? The only reason people called me was because they needed me. Never had I ever recieved a phone call or text message just to check in on me.
I know that through my own fits of rage, childish behavior, and outrageous operations, I drove away a lot of people from my own life. My ex would constantly hear me say things like she is a horrible house wife, no good mother, and other words that would cut deeper than anything. While I stated that, there where indeed times I would come home from a hard day of work,
clean up the house, cook dinner, help get the little ones off to bed, and clean the kitchen after dinner. While my wife would sit there on the couch doom scrolling social media. At first, I thought this was normal behavior. It was what my mother did, and it is what she did. However, unlike my father, I did the cooking and cleaning a lot. But my son did not contribute,
and that is why my anger was getting worse over the years. But, unlike me, who remained to myself, took the beatings and cleaned, my son did the opposite. He would retreat into his own shell and refuse to do anything. This fueled my anger even more. Which in return fueld him closing down and dropping dead weight on the floor, which also caused the wife to start yelling,
and then caused my girls to start running and crying. Looking back now, I can clearly see they where trying to help me, but my anger blinded me greately.
The famous song by Frank Sinatra, "I did it my way" was literally my life song. I learned how to work on cars, design server racks, build websites, culinary cooking, construction, and all types of other great and noble careers. However, there was an issue. I had a massive problem with authority. When things where not progressing fast enough,
caught managers in lies, or just had enough of not being respected, I left that company. This resulted in my family and I being homeless for a small period of times. Multiple times. My adaptation to the surroundings made me even tougher. I thought when I was eighteen, had a wife, a kid on the way, and was the smartest person in the room, life would go easy. Boy, I was wrong!
Throughout my life, I would call upon my mother for financial assistance. However, I had to pay everything back. Which was fine with me. I understood that. However, as the years rolled by, I realized I was the only one who had to pay anything back that was borrowed from all of the kids. My mother and her new husband would lend aid to the other kids, multiple cars, housing
help, phone line help, literally anything. And yet, I stood there as the only child to have to pay anything back. My former wife and I would constantly make plans with my parents, only to be told on the day of the event that they where hanging out with another sibling or one of their parents. My children often asked multiple times if they could spend the night at my parents house,
upon which they where told no. Which would not be a big deal right, except a few days later, I would call and they would watch my brothers kids for him and his wife. I saw favoritism instantly. And yet, I still held on for over sixteen years hoping that one day, my mom would see me as a son. However, that day never came.
I can recall heading over to my grandmothers place with her new husband to lend a hand around the ranch. From helping with fences, clearing up bushes, helping paint the house, and fixing trucks and tractors. I wanted to test out something with my grandmother. The one who made claims that she will always care and love me. When I go over to her place, I never asked for anything. I never
asked for money, just some dinner if she had any left over. I did this for roughly a week or so. Then, I stopped calling/texting her, stopped going over there, just stopped. Not once did she bother to pick up the phone and check to see if I was okay. Not once did she call for help, nothing. This was my first real moment of realizing, no one cares about me.
Looking back at my past life, I could see where everything had a massive domino effect in life. Everyone see's me as the angry monster who destroyed relationships, broke trust, and left jobs due to my own selfish pride. However, no one subjects themselves into the chapters that forged me into the person who I became. While my former wife, looking on the outside, was a perfect person
for who I was, there was a handful of things. The refusal, or holding, of sexual activities fueled me greately. We would do counseling off an on throughout our relationship. And for a few short weeks, it was a perfect marriage. However, we would instantly go back to our old ways. She fueled me, and I destroyed her. My life was just one large constant battle between
myself and the entire world. I would argue constantly no one cared for me, loved me, or anything. Yet, out of my cries, please, and fits of anger, I would constantly have my feelings be-littled, told I am selfish, and say that I am completely wrong on how I view the world and everyone in it. I constantly saw everyone in my life as wanting to use me in some sort of way or another.
From helping out others financially, giving them a home when they had no where to go, and even offering advice on marriages, kids, and self-care. Ironic is it not? The boy who was broken himself, batteling the world, was giving the same advice he should have been giving himself.
Then, out of no where, I died.
CHAPTER III
The Rebirth of the Realm
My death comes as no surprise. You see, my ex and I had a massive issue boiling in our home. So, we where forced into hotel lifes, and technically seperated as she and the girls lived in one room, and my son and I lived in another. Then, one fateful day, my son and I got into our usual arguments and he looked at me and yelled at me. If that was not enough, he had the guts
to slap the living crap out of me. Which, my instant reaction was to slap him back. Now, yes, this does sound like a horrible case of child abuse. And you are absolutely right to call it that. However, this particular moment when my son was fifteen, was a massive breakthrough for him and I. That particular moment, after it happened, he ran into the bathroom, and I just sat there.
Finally, after several hours later, he came out. I stood up, he was filled with rage and scaredness, and I was thinking about my entire life leading up to this moment. The silence as we stood there was deafening. It seemed like an eternity. And then, I simply asked him one simple question, "Do you want to watch some anime with me?". Naturally, his confusion is justified.
But, it was at that moment, our bond went from the way it was, to best of friends. We both laugh and joke about that day and we both agree it was the best thing we could have ever done. Our relationship has only been growing and getting stronger for each passing day.
My former wife and I had enough of living in two different places. So, we called upon my mother and her husband for help. They allowed us to reside in their home for a short period of time so we can get back on our feet. It was also during this time upon which my brother was going through a divorce. So, he moved in as well. During those first couple of weeks, every day, my brother would
tell me every day, "I need to trust my wife and kids around him and not be around." And then, within an hour or so, turn around and state "I do not trust you, nor will I ever trust you.". When I tried to bringthis up withmy parents or wife, nothing was done, I was told he never said that. So, I gave up on that aspect. And then
I noticed that my brother and former wife where constantly flirting in front of me and the kids. At one point in time, my kids came to me asking if they where doing something that they where not supposed to. In fits of rage, acusations, and yelling, I drove her further away, but by her own actions did my anger come out. You see, one of the instances in question is I had tried so hard to
get my former wife to play some chess with me. She would come up with a reason not to play. However, her and my brother would be up until one or two in the morning playing games. Playing drinking games, and just all around enjoying each others company. I was replaced. And then she hit me with wanting a divorce. Out of control, I broke down and realized what was happening. I decided to end my life
officially. As I walked down to the tracks, my mothers husband drove the car to catch up to me. And while he held me there and I cried, ultimately I was admitted into a hospital for suicidal idiations and attempts. On Valentines day, after three days of trying to reach out to my wife, she broke the official news that we are getting a divorce. She remained in that home with my parents and brother
as I sat in isolation alone. When I got out, I went back to my parents house, and found out that they had gotten a lot closer to know each other. Ultimately, I was told to leave.
At this point, I had a very long time friend of mine. We had known each other for probably a decade at this point. With no where to go to, I called him up for seeing if I could crash on his couch. He said he could not do it. I ended up with an aunt I barely knew, and then had some car troubles. A ground wire prevented me from traveling that night. Broken, lost and deeply hurt. I called my mom.
I cried, yelled (not angrily, but emotionally was dying inside), and I was asking for two very important things on this day. I simply asked why are they harboring my ex and I am forced out? And the second was can she come to me and hold me. I stated multiple times I needed my mom to hold me and tell me I will be okay. Then, out of no where, her husband got on the phone, abruptly stating I am
not allowed to come back home. Stating it is best I stay away for a while. So, at this point, I was the reason for everyone pushing me away, when all I literally wanted was someone to hold me, love me, and prove that I am not the monster everyone made me out to be. After a couple of days, I had recieved a phone call, the parents allowed me in. But stated I had to wait until my former wife
fully moved out. Then, a couple of months later, my parents did help me get an apartment, and then they helped my brother with another car. I was told that we all had to be out of the house within x-months. And then when it was time to relocate, I had my long time friend show up and help me move some stuff over to the new place. And then, when my brothers time was about to expire, suddenly
there was a "medical" issues that came up and my brother was extended a stay a bit longer. And yet, he finally moved out and I got the final call saying no kids are allowed back in. This was a breath of fresh air as finally everyone was being treated equal. However, this breath was heavily short lived. Roughly a month later, my brother and his son was moving back into my parents place. I lost my apartment
and was told to figure it out. The usual answer I would get when I really needed some help. Figure it out.
During my reign on the apartment, I was speaking to this wonderful woman who would come on the live streams and make it appear that she was going to relocate and come stay with me. After several weeks of teasing, the guys I gamed with and I figured out she was just there for the show. I purchased all types of things to get ready for her to come down, but to no prevail. Then, I meet this other woman.
She was in distraught and dispair and needed a fresh start on life. We did start a type of relationship, but when I went to go get her from her state, I told her that we need to take things slow. Let her get a job, get on her own and start living life. Two weeks into her stay with me, she was already deeply involved in conversations with a friend of mine and was discussing relocation. Upon the time
I was loosing my apartment, she made a statement if another friend of mine (one that lived in that apartment) was not such an alcoholic, she was thinking of staying behind with him. Fast forward a bit, and yet another friend of mine caught her attention and they started discussing options of getting her out to his place. All of these happened in roughly seven months. And now, she beggs and pleas
for a chance making proclamations of choosing me since day one, and how she has only loved me since day one. And yet, I have been shown the completel opposite.
However, I have to really heavily thank my parents, my former wife, and these two really amazing women that came into my life. Because through all of this smutt I have been through, I have been treated as a door mate. A safe place to call home. And what do I get out of everything, more hurt, more pain, and more saddness. But through tears I was taught to never let fall, through pain and hardship,
Bearded Viking was born. In ancient times, viking's grew beards to help soften the blow of incoming hits. As a person who has taken a lot of hits in life, this made a lot of sense and I started to grow my own beard. Then, a few years ago, I was tasked with discovering our family herritage from Ireland. Discovered we are ancestors of Irish Viking settlers from way back when. So, that is where
all of this comes from. Now, there is a very tiny running joke I have with my mother. She birthed an Irish Viking, but married a Scandavian Viking. Small history lesson, the Scandavians actually overcame and forced the Irish out of their original places and was taking over. Hence why that makes a bit of a joke on the inside. But through all of the jokes, the sadness, the brokeness, and through it all,
I have literally cut almost everyone out of my life. My mother is no longer in contact with me, nor I with her. My ex and I barely discuss anything, and that is only for the kids sake. The woman I let come reside with me, she (at the current time of writing) is still with me as a roomate. She has a job finally, and she gets upset and cries when I do not allow her to be my girlfriend. But, through everything
I have lived through, I can not understand how, why, or even who could ever truly care for me, love me, or show me what it feels like to be a human. The only thing I know, is that I am a tool used to help out others. I am a safety net for everyone else. I had a safety net, until I realized it was a conditional help and love from my mother.
So, during these hard times of emotional distraught, I emotionally died. I had never had anyone to show me real love, show me that they care, or anything. Until the day I discover that amazing person, the one who gazes into my eyes with absolute pure love, lust, and silly smile I know of no love that exists. For emotionally I have checked out and died. I am literally waiting for my body to catch up.
My days are numbered, my time is limited, my emotions are no longer a toy for others. I forged laughter, I flirt heavily with everyone online as it helps make their day. But when the camera is off, the lights are out, and the sound of silence creeps in, I lay down and cry on the inside. I do not know how to properly cry and let it out anymore. So, I help out others and never expect any help back. I live
my life my way now. But I live it full of love for others, helping out anyone who calls, and being the ultimate funny guy filled with knowledge, wisdom, and support.
THE WARRIOR'S DECLARATION
"I do not share my scars to elicit pity. I display them as armor—proof that I have walked through the valley of shadow, looked death and heartbreak in the eye, and walked out the other side holding the pen to write my own destiny."
STAND WITH THE REALM
Whether you are here for the deep voice recordings, the conspiracy archives, or the artisan beard care—you are part of this brotherhood.