While You Were Asleep

I was out making new things happen. I’ve been giving OkCupid my attention in recent evenings, in which I’m struggling against many odds to find a friend. All things start as friendships, and should progress from there. Not just running full speed into commitment. I can’t even imagine the futility of trying to conjure a relationship to mend my own personal heartache, or whatever. Relationships don’t cure anything, they just add a deeper, more intense layer to life that dramatically affects observations and outcomes. I guess a lot of people out there are incomplete, and really need someone else around to make them feel good. This seems problematic to me. If, for some reason, I can’t make myself content, why would the solution be to make someone else provide that feeling for me? Doesn’t that take the power of feeling right out of my hands and leaves someone else to be responsible for my happiness? Why would I want to compromise my own sense of self-worth in order to have my ache for fulfillment appeased? It seems like this train of thinking leads to more disasters than it prevents. So, good luck Jax, but the odds are stacked against you in your quest to fill the void. Meaning is an expensive, hard-earned commodity of the healthy contender.

 

I found someone who is GORGEOUS, and wants to actively engage me in conversation. I have a lot of hope for this, as friendships with chemistry are among the more fun things to have in this world. I seek meaning, so nothing is going to just “happen” without a great deal of thought going into actions. Unlike my ex, who said “It just happened” when she cheated on me, I take responsibility for my conduct. When you base a relationship of honesty, openness and understanding, I don’t see how that could come back at you as a bad thing. UNLESS your partner is concealing their feelings, in which case there’s really nothing one can do to prevent being lied to, or otherwise misled. We have the best of intentions, which is really as far as the sphere-of-influence extends beyond myself. I can’t dictate how you are going to react, or not, so why put much stock in attempting to control outcomes.

 

I’ve had a lot of criticism for Jax lately. More to the point, is that I can’t really understand why she can be ok with everything that happened. Does she feel regret for having cheated on me, smashing my family, breaking my heart in my weakest moment? It can’t be weighing on her too much, as she has someone one new to play with and get excited about. Yipee. I just don’t get it.

 

But what does any of that matter to me? Not much. Jax has no relevance in my world anymore, and I don’t listen to what she has to say, and I mostly don’t care what happens in her life, good or bad. I guess this has a lot to do with me still feeling wounded or outraged. I gave that girl my heart, and she smushed it. But this is already known, and the past is done and unchanging. I’m just trying my best to be mindful while I stumble my way through life.

 

 

Wing It

The boys invited me out to Wing-Stop tomorrow after I get off work. I’m going, totally, and why shouldn’t I go? I have apprehensions, but those guys all look up to me, and I’m the commissioner of the fantasy football league for fuck’s sake! And rightfully so. I’m not a follower, I’m a leader, and I’m only really happy when I lead by a rock-solid example. I just go out there and fucking nail it like 90% of the time dude. I rarely get kickback about things, and when those guys have a question, they come to me and ask me what to do. I don’t go to them and ask them what the fuck to do, I just KNOW. And even the more veteran guys like Steven and Ryan are coming to me with their billing questions. Yeah. And Mike is at no end of wanting to introduce me to people, which I don’t mind at all. Dave actually came by and shook my hand today and said that he was not going to be in on Friday and wished me a good weekend. Badass, right? Things have been clicking.

Now, if only I could get over her.

 

I’m still struggling with a lot of raw, munched up feelings all not sure what to do with themselves. Feeling hopelessly lost, unrequited, perishing slowly like the embers of some great wildfire. Nestled deep in the scorched ruin, they burn.

I imagine that people do move on from these sorts of things, but it takes it’s sweet time bleeding itself out of you. I’ve tried fucking everything to get over this sadness, and still, it lingers. It hangs around, collecting tadpoles and heating quickly in the summer sun. I’m through with it!

But my words are ultimately meaningless, because I’m still feeling the same way as before. I’m still locked in a deep struggle with regret and pain. I’ll eventually find my way back to the surface again, but I don’t have a schedule or a need to just be like “poof” I’m cured. I’d prefer to think that genuine reactions, real, deep feelings that are hurt and that remember do not just get over it in a minute. That tells me that they were never that deep to begin with, as the palate itself is the limiting factor in the creative potential of the painting. And why have I done this tom myself, falling in love for beautiful women who had disturbing families and regrettable flaws? I’ve done wretched things at their whim to have me do so. I’ve endured such humiliation from them, repeatedly. I’ve been beaten, bitten, struck, ripped, pounded and castigated on countless occasions in which I have been unrelentingly subjected to abuse and not reacted but to hide myself in a ball and weather the storm. It’s been so hard to find out what love could really be like, when I’ve tried to make it with so many unfulfilled, morally confused people. When I’ve been forced to swallow love, choke down my sadness, forever, more than once. The amount of heartache I’ve put my family through is hard to fathom. It’s a deep history mired with regrettable pairings, hardy (well intended) endorsements, and destructive outcomes. Enough of that, I say.

 

I’m just going to go out with the guys and have a rad ass time, and take it easy on a Friday evening. And talk football. Hell yes.

For What It’s Worth

I’m being proactive about companionship. It’s not healthy to isolate away from the world. Ultimately, I still have my life to lead, and I don’t want to force myself to not enjoy it. Which I guess some part of me says that I should cut myself off from people because it’s my punishment for fucking up my last relationship. That isn’t a strong argument in the long run. I can punch holes in it with logic, fact. But it still hurts to think about having to move on and that I’ll never have back what I had. But progress is somewhat inevitable, and I’m inching my way along a path to success. I don’t expect things to miraculously change. The passage of time can either weigh on you, or propel you onward. It’s hard to just go out there and never expect anything to happen, and that was the real problem with my isolation. I’m in no need of a relationship or even an answer to my myriad thoughts on the subject. I’m making the effort to try, and that helps me feel good about my lot. Like I said, I don’t need there to be change. I do need to have hope that this effort I put into getting to know people will not be utterly wasted.

Stale Flavorings

I’m not the kind to complain, really. I’m only ever alarmed when things are disproportionately wrong, like today at work when Kevin just ignored 2 calls and let someone else deal with the customer, because he was busy talking about headshots. It’s a known fact that retarded behavior is not tolerated. And this looks like a turd smudge on the face of the company. These are the sort that are directly interfacing with customers, which is good, if you know what you’re doing. If you don’t, there will be problems. I’m certain of that.

What I like to do, is when I get on the phone with a drive thru troubleshooting call, I like to imagine myself in a greasy fast food kitchen, looking for this absurd piece of vital equipment, where to find it, what size, shape and color it is, what it might also look like… you get the picture. I then tell them exactly what to do with it, and how to make a malfunctioning electronic device work again, in mere moments. It’s a satisfactory turnaround, with immediate payoffs in satisfied people who are (now) not wondering why they have a monthly subscription. Now they’re saying: hey, I’m sure glad we have that service. They just fixed my problem!

Sweet. So I get that when you do this job right, it can be totally rewarding, not frustrating, but simple. And it’s repetitive, as the same types of equipment fall victim to the same EXACT problem, because they’re all exposed to identical conditions. It’s easy to save the day when you know what you’re doing. Right? This should all make some sense, I’m not the exception.

I, rather, fall in a range with some good, hard working folk who have a mutual respect for what I do. To date, I have not had any kickback, no reprimand or castigation, rather, they prefer to point out procedural mistakes and imply that they be avoided. At least, I presume to learn something from these “coaching” emails. Of the 2 I’ve ever seen in my time at the company. Meanwhile, everyone around me is eating the poop and dying. I hear horror stories about kickabck from other departments, or orders gone wrong, resulting in a failure of service. If we promise that we’re going to do something, we sure as hell should do that thing we said. I hope this isn’t like, shocking. Everyone aught have enough moral presence to observe some essential behaviors. Application of effort, comprehension and learning, adaptability and progressive thinking. Aren’t these kind of important if you want to go far in the world? The exception to this rule are people who violate morality, like criminals, degenerates or other lesser beings. If you want to exploit your way to a living I do not endorse you. I would condone no such action.

I’ve been thinking a lot, because I find that we don’t really need all the people we have. There are too many, too much dead time, where not a single call is coming in, and everyone thinks it’s super great to meander around and barf about this and that. I have had the good fortune to get a chance to talk NFL with Joseph, who knows a lot about fantasy football as well. It’s been nice to be able to drop names like Bernard Pierce, John Kitna, Harry Douglas… we have a deeper than average understanding of the National Football League. Is John Kitna even in the NFL anymore?

There was no real point to any of that, other than to say that dead time means people come flock over to my desk and check out what I’m doing, or strike up conversation with me, or SIT on my desk and hang out. I mean really, I don’t ever have to go anywhere, the party comes to me every day. It’s TGIF at Westin’s desk! Bitches!

So I was tossing back song lyrics on Google Chat with Mike today, and I stumped him twice, once with The Moody Blues’ The Voice and then later with Gerry Rafferty’s Waiting For The Day. I’m a music stud. Seriously. Get the fuck out the way, I got you.

Well blog, I’m going to toodle around the internet for a while and then call it a night. It’s been fun catching up with you after a very stimulating day. I really appreciate you always being here for me, whether it’s good or bad, you always listen. And I’m thankful for that.

 

To Begin

I’ve been good, in that I’m not exposing myself to bad things. I stopped reading Jax’s blog after she got together with her most recent boyfriend. It’s all still very fresh and painful. I can’t seem to be just “done” with sadness. Maybe I’m punishing myself a little, but then all feelings are legitimate; even the unwanted ones.

I’m not moving out this week after all. Just couldn’t make the management company happy. They wanted an awful lot of paperwork and documentation from my work that I didn’t feel comfortable giving. So, we keep searching, never stop trying.

I’m just a few minutes before therapy. This week wasn’t as painful as last week. I guess some little things are starting to work themselves out in my head. If that makes any sense.

Struggling with emotions is not unknown territory for me. I’ve dealt with this all my life. And yet, it never gets any easier having to choke-down a breakup with no one to help pick up the pieces. Abandonment. They’re tough realities to face. I am doing good though. I’m not going to give up on trying to make new friends or relationships. It’s effort well spent in the pursuit of tranquility.

My mind is like scrambled eggs. I thought I had therapy this week. Turns out it was next week. Damnit. I didn’t have to wake up at 6.

Thunderstorms today. I already heard some thunder. But knowing San Diego, we won’t actually see much weather action. Big line of cumulonimbus clouds stretching northeast across the county. Maybe some extracurricular fun but probably not.

#602

I’ve come a long way since March 3rd 2014. That’s 168 days of recovery, and yet, my heart is still heavy with emotional burdens. I think a lot about what it used to feel like to be loved, cared about by a peer, or understood in some capacity. it’s hard going from that, to ignored in one day. Sometimes things fall apart, I get that. But one day and love is dead? Does it really happen in one day? I know the process, and I emphasize, PROCESS, takes time. And I have thought oft about that night, and cried again, and again over it. I remember each vivid second of that agony, that feeling of having been cut off by your wife, of knowing she had drifted to far from me to ever reach back and get her again. My love didn’t die that day. It held me up while I was in the hospital, thinking about when I was going to come home to her. Things change. People make up their minds about you. One way or the other. I still have to be the same me person. How else can I ever hope for success? If you start off the journey with a lie, all the rest is poisoned. So being straightforward is frowned upon. But still necessary. I think finding agreeable parties is a daunting task. But what the fuck do I have to lose?

The chance of finding someone is only as possible as you make it. With the right amount of effort and patience, there is an inevitable match. Or a coincidence of characteristics amounting in marginal friction in select nonessential places. There are supposed to be differences in personality. There should be unity of life direction, comprehension of love, and morality. Is that really too much to ask? And I’m not saying this has to happen soon or anything. I’m just trying to find a friend. A single friend who might stop and give me a second thought. It’s going to amount in a lot of me being ignored, but what the fuck else is new? People have been stigmatizing me for decades, and the shit is the same color no matter what part of the world you’re in. But I guess people who are attractive can get away with being choosy about who they want. The rest of us have to fight over the leftovers. The rejects from the first cut, for all the geeks, losers and outcasts to sort out for themselves. Sometimes we get lucky, and a truly forgiving soul comes along looking for a mate of personality. In those circumstances, some people can truly see us; the frail balance we so desperately struggle to maintain, the exuberance of spirit, the crushing dark of madness. They see is and they love us all the more because we are so rare, and see the world through a prism of our individual mental health journey. We struggle so hard for peace, a thing we see flagrantly abused and taken for granted by regular people. We try so desperately, to be like you. We wish so much that we could just obliterate your soul and steal your body and it’s perfectly functioning brain. But then, I’m only wishing to be something other than myself, which is destructive.

I’m days from signing the lease. They are drawing up the paperwork for me and will email it over. I’m so close to getting it all back. So fucking close. I’m just doing so good at my life, even after all that hell, I’m still going to come out ahead. And more stable. And less preoccupied from my own personal mental health journey, which is my driving concern. Either you’ve joined the 400 or more followers, or you represent the majority in your disregard.

Not For Lack Of Effort

I’m going to keep trying to make a connection with someone, even if they all don’t pan out. I have to be real with people, it’s not like I can hide my disorder, or make believe that I’m someone I’m not. I don’t know how to be artificial and fake. That is a big turn off for a lot of people who generally live in that world. There’s nothing I can really do about it, however. It just lowers my resolve to be continually defeated in my efforts. I’m still forging new territory, every day, making strides towards something better. I’m just on the verge of going totally independent, which is really exciting. I have a lot of good things to look forward to, and I shouldn’t be so mired in my past. I get so hung up feeling distressed and alone, and having something die in me somehow. I have poisoned myself with her memory, and emptied myself of tears.

I get this way sometimes. Despondent. I don’t deserve the bulk of the nastiness I carry with me. I carry her regret, and mine, even though she doesn’t carry anything at all. She’s free of grief and back to being in love again. I’m a lot more rudimentary in my recovery. I don’t bounce back perkier than ever from catastrophe. It takes me some time to get my bearing back, and figure out what new thing I need to try to avoid hurting myself again in the future. It’s a frustrating plight sometimes, but necessary as a precaution. I just can’t afford to go making the same mistakes again. Ever.

So what the hell am I doing on OkCupid? I’m probably inviting trouble, but I may be allowing myself a chance to blossom under a new regime. The possibilities of finding someone are low. And I’m not giving it my best effort, nor is it the driving goal of my life. Hopefully I can find meaning within myself, and not need to go running off to the next great relationship to fix my pain. Or have it satisfy a need that I could not satisfy for myself. I want to be self sufficient, so here I am doing the best job of that I can muster. I’m not expecting to find love. I just want to find my own place to call home and have shelter. I want to prosper in my environment. I also don’t like being so very lonely, but I have to go on this way, I suppose, until I’m strong enough or ever in a place to handle something more than that. I don’t imagine that day will be soon. Because I’ve had some time to experiment and I’m already a lunatic who clearly can’t be affiliated with. Or some such other reason to be totally ignored. I guess the truth is a reality no one wants to face. We’re all so happy living our make-believe lives. And the fake and superficial pervade our interactions and poison the deep well of the mind. I’m so tired of thinking what I had was so great. It wasn’t She’s got a lot of problems that probably haven’t been addressed. And I do pity the next long term guy she goes with, because he’ll learn how unwilling to change her own vices she really is. It’s so easy to point the finger at me, because I’m the one who took the time to acknowledge all my actual wrongdoing, point by point. And she gave me no such respect, but little more than a sentence a few months later acknowledging my words. But there’s just nothing for her to write about, because nothing was ever wrong with her to begin with? What is the lesson I’m supposed to take from all of this?

I ask a lot of rhetorical questions. Or maybe just ones I don’t want to have the answer to. I wonder where all these moving pieces are headed… where all the collisions that amount to our interactions finally are tallied up. I think my asteroid has pummeled a few other ones in it’s time flying around the sun. I may have some steam in me yet to pummel a few more.