Joller

It's Tyler, but my back is really fucked up I'm an ugly disabled FREAK.

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Wife: @madison

If it's not scripture, assume it's a shitpost, and I'm here to have fun.

Last Notes

2026-08-29 08:43:31 UTC

A couple days ago my youngest daughter, following her older brother (who was instructed NOT to go into the pool until an adult could supervise) followed her brother into the pool, and drowned when she walked down the steps into the pool. I was in another part of the yard, fucking with a canopy so when we were ready to go into the pool, we would have some shade, as it was 116f out.
My son, to his credit after disobeying and sneaking into the pool with his sisters in tow, called out for help when he noticed her drowning and I was able to snatch her shaking unconscious, blue body out of the water, cleared her throat of excess water (children will try to swallow the water as they are drowning) by beating the hell out of her back while compressing her belly, and once her airway was clear, moved her to her back and performed CPR on her then limp, blue, lifeless body.
ABC for drowning victims, as trained: Airway, Breathing, Circulation.
The new widow, an old lady, her great grandmother, visibly shaken, rightfully asked if she needed to call 911. I said yes, call an ambulance as i transferred my dying daughter to a flat surface where I could work on her
The first breath resulted in nothing. I had already shouted the command to call 911 to the elderly women there with me, and both they stood there stammering and wandering in and out of their house, until i gave my second breath to her, and then after holding, immediately pushed back down on her chest to try to force some more water out, which worked, and she stirred. I again shouted at the old woman, who had asked again, 15 seconds later, if I wanted her to call 911. Yes. YES CALL NOW!
Third breath to my dying daughter, her eyes no longer rolled back in her head, not even convulsing or shaking as she at least did before when I pulled her from the water. This one I held as I felt her chest rise with my hand, and a very slight stir from her. I look up to see her great grandmother still standing there in the doorway, asking me again, if I wanted her to call 911. In disbelief I use some precious seconds to scream at her to go inside and call 911 and get an ambulance here now, then return to my daughter.
I push on her chest a bit, and some more water comes out of her mouth like a bubbling brook and she stirs, her head moving slightly side to side, but eyes still open and unfocused on anything.
Fourth breath, and hold, careful not to over pressurize, and her eyes turn from blank to "what the fuck!!!" And she coughs up immediately, gasps, and starts hyperventilating. I immediately pick her up and hold her, holding her with her mouth down so she can easier expel whatever is left in her. She starts screaming and crying. I beat her back, as it's more important her lungs are clear than it is she comforted.
Once I'm confident she's not going to need another breath, i pick her up and go to the doorway where I be tell the older women that I got her breathing and ask what the status of the ambulance is.
They never called. They never called. Over a minute and a half had gone by between her being discovered drowned and the order to call, and her being revived, the order to call being given 3-4 times, and still no call.
Women cannot be depended on for anything. Later she told me she didn't call because she was "respecting what I was doing (cpr)" - but if I would have forgotten my training from 12 years ago that I never used or got a refresher on, my daughter would have died. She ignored the call for help. What if I failed?
My daughter would have been dead if I wasn't there. My son, through disobedience, almost killed my daughter. Her great grandmother, could have killed her through her own disobedience if I had failed to revive her.
Then, the women had the gall to try to pressure me into taking her into a corner store urban urgent care (cheap retarded "doctors", inventing things such as "secondary drowning" - which doesn't exist by the way, as "you just need to get her checked out (which is meaningless)" fearmongering, when by every metric, blood o2, heart rate, body temp, breathing sound and rate, she was completely back to normal. Check the red cross website, there is no such thing as secondary drowning. Once a rescued person comes back to normal, they don't magically drown again.
I am sick and tired of women thinking they are more competent than they are. Trying to assert themselves in places of control where they have no competence or consequence. I am disgusted by the behavior of the inlaws.
My son has yet to atone for the near death of his sister through his disobedience. I don't think he understands the gravity of the situation. I threw his happy ass in the pool and as he struggled to get to the edge and called out for help (which I ignored while staring at him, but I would have off course pulled him if he was in any real danger) - the concern of the women was not the near death of my daughter, but the potential of making my son, who's disobedience made the situation in the first place, "AFRAID" - BITCH HE SHOULD BE AFRAID.
I want to kill myself. In a world of insanity to where you are the most attacked, after literally saving your child's life and disciplining the one that endangered it, I conclude there is no point left for a man, even if he has "everything figured out" - there will always be people to sabotage, doubt, and enable further danger. I am so tired. Between things breaking, all the shit the state put my family through, and now this, this isn't a tired that sleep can't fix.
I'll have to admit that when my daughter was revived, and i sat there with her in a chair across from me, her with snot dripping down her face and giving me a dumfounded expression: it wasn't relief I felt. I was glad she was alive sure, but it wasn't joy. It was a feeling of dark vindication, of the total futility of trying to continue living in such a fallen and retarded world. It was looking at my now alive, breathing, conscious daughter that I loved deeply, and feeling pity that she had lived, that she too will have to experience such torment as is life, and a very slight jealousy that it had not been me that had drowned and been done and joined with the Lord.
I will admit that I am in an agitated emotional state as I'm making this post, and that you should not probably take this as gospel for my worldview or how I feel about my family: it's only how I'm feeling in the moment I'm retrospect. Perhaps some will feel a vindication of their own.
I don't know why I press on. But I do. Not for me, though. It hasn't been about me for quite a while now. I be suppose that's what it means to be a father. I am tired. I am glad we don't live to 200+ anymore.