Monday Bumday

I guess things are not going so good. I don’t feel like anyone is really excited about anything I’m doing right now. I’m in a physical place where I have no privacy, schedule or spark in my life. Things are starting to taste bland.

Part of this is the fact that no one has any reason to invest anything in me unless I’m in crisis or causing a disturbance of some sort. I’m useful, mind you. I do often work my ass off and contribute. I am appreciated for that in a small sense.

The thing I am beginning to understand is that I’m not desirable. I’m not someone who would compel one to invest energy, love, time or words in. Some people got excited about me for a time. Then they learn who I am, and they distance themselves. They did not like the whole-me thing apparently. I can understand that, most of the time I don’t either.

Puts me in a tough spot. No one is giving me feedback about what makes me so undesirable or repulsive, so I’m not sure how to change. I don’t want to be this way, where I am just a piece of luggage. I’m clearly easy enough to walk away from. I think the reality of all this is starting to really harden around my ankles.

Today, I realize that even if I wasn’t permanently diseased, stigmatized and obese I would still probably be pretty easy to hate. Or forget.

My parents will always love me, it’s true. They’d prefer I not be too much trouble, which is no burden on them and I agree that I should aspire to that end; as it should be. However, they are under no obligation to give a shit about me beyond that. My passions or my thoughts however, are neglected the attention I feel they deserve. I’m not worth investing the time into because no one ever engages me fundamentally on any of the things that are strictly in my court, no matter how many times I do the same for them. This is the story of my relationships: give to my partner endlessly to keep her around, and loose her once I’m to tired to maintain the charade.

If not for my eagerness to try to do right all the time, I’d be just another mentally ill degenerate living like a parasite in the intestines of the middle class. Since that fate didn’t sound particularly fulfilling… I sought alternatives.

Somewhere between penitential servitude and true happiness there is a grey space. Things here seem real, but never feel like they are. What I have now are the distant cosmic echoes of massive emotional explosions, peaks, troughs and all the feels in between. They hang in my night sky like fading stars, with only the most distant of outlines left, reminding me of what they had been.

There is no where to go from here. I’m not going to be able to change myself into a more desirable person. I am at a crossroads where one direction leads to implosion, and the other leaves me fighting for my life an a sealed compartment rapidly filling with seawater.

I wish you the best on your journey. I don’t know if I really want to keep going on mine anymore.

Far Away

Hey blog. I’ve had some time post impact and I’m feeling pretty resolute about my interpretation. I gave her a last chance. She squandered a great opportunity to be a part of something special. Creativity is awesome.

By Jax. Never more.

In other news, I’m in Barstow, CA on a rockhounding expedition with my mom. Oddly enough, I came here on my honeymoon with Jax and we had a great time. This time around we are systematically attacking the Calico Mountains. Today we went east / southeast and found some Opal and Chalcedony. Still much more to be had out there.

The details of the move north have been made. Plan equals the finality. We know when and where, now we just have to do it. There will be a busy time while things are boxed. I would be looking forward to the moment when the loading truck is empty outside our new place.

I’m planning on being a care provider for the next 25 years or so. My family, and my career dictate that my role be about redemption, hope. I like that in concept. I had my life. That time is largely over now. Understanding the value of family and the bonds of love are the lessons to be learned.

I’m looking forward to another long adventure day tomorrow!


I’m still in a thought-provoking place about all this. I know my own intentions, and I stand by my transparency. You can read my whole process, I have no secrets here.

I only wish for positive steps forward, hence why I am not uncivilly engaging in a poo war (despite being invited). I think that first poo salvo she launched flew right over my ship, narrowly missing. I didn’t fire off a poo in the first place HMS Jacqueline, but hey, I’m not going to judge.

What I need, is to remember to have high standards for companionship, and past evidence nurtures that philosophy. Good thing my right hand can’t free itself of my arm or it might have joined Jax in the big pile of exes who hate me now. My hand is like: you never appreciated me, bitch!

I life is already so dramatic. Does it have to be that way all the fucking time? NO GODDAMNIT, WE’RE AT WAR.

Hope you have a good day blog. Hopefully no one you still love holds contempt for you in their mind.


In response to my request to say goodbye to my ex before I move north: She doesn’t want to see me. She has great contempt as well. I am to never contact her again. Ever. Ever.

Seems pretty final.

Not the way I had hoped things would go. Considering how much I have managed to change and grow over the years, I was hoping the same would be true of her. One of the really valuable things I came to learn is that what I carry with me can either propel me forward, or hold me back. Resentment, anger over past mistreatment, hatred… these are such crushingly negative emotional burdens. The worst part about it, is that nothing from the past will ever change. What was at first glance outrageous continues to be so long after the events are passed. I call these types of people “past-lookers.” Despite the passage of time, they remain anchored to a moment in the past that causes anguish or preoccupation in present times. Amanda was a product of this mentality, and she always wished she was back in high school or earlier in life, when she was younger, when life felt really good. Jax seems to be much the same sort, unable to release herself from the burdens of admitted and unaccepted atrocities. I’ve done and seen some pretty fucked up things, and boy oh boy do I have a lot I wish I could do over again. Living in that regret does nothing to help me now. Wishing I was back in a time when things were good is basically the same thing. Nothing that was will be again.

So Jax still hates me, which I had hoped wasn’t the case. But now at least I don’t have any lingering questions in my mind. Since “[She] only hold[s] contempt for [me], what [I] did and how I treated [her],” it is clear to me that things haven’t changed or grown. All of this is actually great fodder for my ongoing independent status. Jax isn’t right though. I’m not who she thinks I am. I think I became that in her mind, because that allows her to live life despite the truly treacherous things she’s done. Hateful things that I had long ago released myself of concern for. It’s a terrible weight, carrying around that badness. It’s like trying to fly away with your feet stuck in the mud. Going forward is all the more difficult when you can’t release the burdens of the past.

I’m a fucked up guy Blog, but I am not as irreconcilably awful as this woman thinks I am. I have so much more pride in myself than I did then, with her. Since that time, I have grown into someone I can feel good about being, doing a job that returns me to worth. I can feel proud of myself, without blaming anyone but me for my problems. Not very many people choose to do that, because it’s easier to demonize, assign blame, and emerge unscathed. I have taken my lashes, and I wear the scars proudly.

Maybe someday I will meet a “forward-looker” and together we might talk about possibilities instead of regrets. We only have so much time here in the world. I’m not going to spend it regretting. Let’s make a new adventure, shall we? See how fucking eloquent I am? I’m not wasting my time on Jax anymore, these mad skills belong with someone worthy of them.


As time marches forward, I feel the opportunity for partnership slipping away. If there is any one glaring truth about my past relationships is that none of them were ever all that interested in me, or lost interest after a period of time had gone by. I am also a rarely constant person, which can be misinterpreted at so many intervals it boggles the mind with possibilities. I look at myself now, as I am, and I see someone who is too unique to be related-to or loved. I am a compilation of irritating flaws and brilliant insights colliding explosively on volatile ground. I have had only a handful of people in my world who have any hope of truly understanding me, and none of them are all that interested in me. Its intoxicating to have someone in your world who is excited about you. It’s a thrill to feel elated with relevance, and have the concerns of your mind inherited, embraced and expanded by another. Such a thing is worth waiting a lifetime to have just a glimpse at, and I fear, something I will never know.

I have old, unrequited love in my heart that lays there on the shore like a decaying trout. I’m not sure what to do with this, but all looking at it does is make me want to reach out to my exes which I am certain would be a bad thing inevitably. That’s not the answer, I tell myself. Why? Because they left you, and largely because you weren’t interesting enough to keep them around. When they got to know you, they didn’t like what they saw. Am I destined to repeat a similar pattern the more I try to find someone? I feel like there is no one alive who would willingly inherit my burdens for the chance at something transcendent. I do believe in love, very strongly as a matter of fact. I believed that love was something that wasn’t just abandoned when it was no longer interesting. Love is worth fighting for. I loved each and every one of my exes with passion, but that wasn’t enough to keep them when things were less than ideal.

No blame, but definitely a case study in what the future will likely hold. In the profession I am headed into, there are possibilities that I could meet someone in a potentially impossible context. I really think there is a glimmer of hope still, but not something I will be sticking my nose into for more sniffs. I feel thrown out enough times to be okay with being trash. Knowing what you know about me, I’m clearly not a hot commodity. Maybe one day I will be. I don’t think I ever need to be, but I do sincerely miss that feeling of having someone who was excited about getting to know me. Being explored, exploring someone else in return. Swapping truths and secrets. Making love together for the first time. These moments are like images captured in frames, still, lifeless, but forever ensnared in a shining moment where things felt beyond this world.

It is a struggle, but I come here to cope. Knowing that you will probably never be loved again is a hard thing to deal with, and not at all certain (even if it feels otherwise). It is, nevertheless, a truth I am preparing for since the path to companionship has become long ago lost in the obfuscating shroud of perception. I have not enough desirable to outweigh the repulsive. It is reality I strive to change, which is clearly an exercise in futility. Stigmatized and appropriately relegated. I’m not in a great place mentally. I don’t feel good about myself as someone that someone else would ever want. Physically I’m about as repulsive as I’ve ever been in all my life. I’m headed downhill as of the end of this post.

Down a Peg

Well I’m having a down day after game night last night. The lowered dose of Latuda might be a part of that. I had to step down as the higher doses were causing me some barfing of the not good variety. Mainly though, I’m feeling sad inside my body, penetrating all the way through my skin. I feel weighed down, slow, unresponsive and lethargic. Nothing captivates me, or even renders much of a distraction in my current state. I find myself thinking about being alone, and feeling lonely. I cherished companionship as much as I squandered it, and that truth has left me empty handed and futureless. I knew such vibrant women, and they all went away. Now I am all by myself in this world, being the only person I know who can consistently tolerate me.

My parents have done masterfully in regard to protecting me and keeping me from imploding. They are a constant anchor in the real world that I cherish. However, they are not that piece which represents a level of unattainable completeness or symbiosis. A central expression of meaningful union in partnership which has eluded me my entire life. In truth, the disability is my own, in my inability to conduct myself properly or consistently in my past relationships. I may be unloading the guilt cargo onto myself.


Now what? I have a frustrating amount of uncertainty in my future and also I am feeling less than inspired by my situation. It’s been a year since I even touched a woman, let alone had a relationship. The ache of absenteeism from participation grows over time, but becomes no more attainable as the moments pass. What are these memories of love? Are they joyous or are they a burden? I look at them and see what could have been, if only I knew then what I know now, and so on. The hindsight helps nothing. The core of it is that I am alone and remain alone, because that is what my life is right now. Largely by my own manifestations, but some due to exterior decision making, I have forged a path of aloneness.


I don’t think I should be allowed to hurt anyone again. I am quarantined, restricted and buried deep at the bottom of a mine shaft. I wish I hadn’t blown my chance to really be that person I had hoped I could be. The shape of my life has moved me past that point, and only the echoes of the days that have passed in the rare light of summer sunset. Every man has a time in his life where he sees the top of the mountain, the pinnacle of emotion, the height of passion and has a chance to relish that moment. That time, was some of the best time of my life. Subsequently, there were polar extremes in that time but the emotions I felt, the passion, the love, it was all so real and more beautiful than anything I have ever known. Those times are gone as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. I will never forget. I could never forget.


Maybe the future has something more for me, but I have no expectation. I plan to give whatever I have left to my family. They are the only thing that matters now. They never left me, they always helped me when I obliterated my existence. Many women have told me they loved me, but none of them did enough to want to stay and help me when the shit hit the fan. The terrible truth of my disability, the rapid deterioration of functionality, the heinous obesity of decay which permeates. I was too ugly to love in that state, and something more appealing was elsewhere. In the arms of another man or another life, there is a lure stronger than the word “love” which calls louder than the morality of the implication. What does love really imply? Is it worth fighting for? What does it mean to fight for love? See if there was even a shred of functional communication in any of those relationships we might have had a chance. Rot led to infection and then death, ignored, untreated, unaddressed. If ever I am to have happiness in the arms of another in my life it will need to have a FOUNDATION of communication. Core principle.


I don’t want to go back. What was back clearly didn’t work. I have evolved since then, and become more of a complete person now than at any point in my life. I do believe I have the tools I need to succeed despite my circumstance and emotional hardships. I loved them, but I couldn’t really talk to any of them. I didn’t know how. Neither did they. It took me nearly 15 years to learn, but fuck, I’m not going to sit here and bitch about being alone and not do a damn thing to change the reasons I am alone. If you can’t communicate, learn how! If you want to find someone who understands your definition of love? Try making it really clear what you stand for, what drives you and what you believe in. I’m not hopeless. It’s stupid to be hopeless since the future is entirely unwritten.


Thanks for being a part of my process this morning. I’m just dealing with my thoughts out here.