I’ll tell you now that I’m tired of languishing. I am bogged down in this mud and I’m fucking sick of it. This is me moving out and up.
The cost is high no matter what road is chosen, but at least in this aspect I have some control over my fate. I decide what steps forward I take and what I give my energy to.
My mental health as the priority, I needed change in order to jolt free of this negative pattern that has pervaded the last few months. That time for change has come.
It hurts, it sucks, but it is totally necessary in order for there to be progress.
Goodbye. Hello! Let’s start a new path onward.
I wish I could write it all out; just how I’m feeling inside… but the haze continues to obscure. I thought breaking away would being the calm I had been seeking… but instead, a chasm has opened. In to it go all my silent words, all the pain I had been stashing. Emptied.
Now, though… I’m finally alone in my circumstance. All the stress is gone, but the misery remains.
I still don’t know who I am, or what I want. I have so much left to give, and a lot of work still to do. Life is meant to be thought of with the arrow pointed up. My arrow is nowhere to be found at the moment.
I am going away for a while. I am walking about to find who I am right now, and what going forward means to me. When I come back, hopefully I will have learned something.
The vacant silence,
A once full room now empty,
Scream into the dark.
I had been feeling very untethered or adrift lately. I was without focus or clarity as to my path forward. Time was spent attempting to properly ascertain what I could do to get out of my funk.
Good self care is about using the right tool when you need it. I found myself turning to music a lot, and songs that invoked an emotional response. This helped me re-live my feelings that I had been suppressing, and memories I had been hiding. It’s better to try and deal with things upfront, I’ve always preached. Now I need to do a bit of that for myself.
I moved on to having good discussions with my therapist and mom. Mom had a bit of a breakdown and I had to deal with a pyroclastic flow. I decided to do a daily check in with her about mental health and good strategies for expression. That introspection is helpful for us both. I need there to be tranquility in the environment in order to have a shot at thriving.
I tried a bit of poetry. It’s not really my flavor right now. I need an outlet. I tried gaming, but I’ve lost the taste for that as well. I just feel like there is something else I should be doing. LIke I’m not allowed to play or something. I think I have this problem with the whole “work at home” phenomena. I need “work” time and “play” time and a way to re-enforce those boundaries.
Overall though I feel a mix of sorrowful, disconnected and lost. I tried all these things and still there is this fog hanging over me. I had a future that I’ve completely lost sight of, and it’s not coming back. I need to do something to reframe so I can emerge from this haze.
The river has stopped flowing. Sunny days sap the ground of its moisture, leaving a parched and blighted waste.
Remembering the kiss of rain on sand; the fragrance of dampened dust.
When the twilight comes and the warmth of day is gone, then, alone in the cold of night.
Deeply breathe in the stale air of the abandoned place.
Even in the midst of devastation, there are morsels of undiminished goodness in there too. I am feeling recognized, appreciated and gratified. By melting off my exterior sadness, I have opened the way for something new. The light of possibility shines again!
I did not like being discarded, but it is refreshing to be found once more.
I know why, yes. But now I don’t have to fret over my status but rejoice in the change of it.
Nothing about this is beyond the realm of understanding. It’s never been about irrationality. Good to have it for as long as is possible, then, no more. Death.
I can’t control anything but who I am and where I direct my attention. Time to mourn, and move forward. Survival is stronger than greif.
Perilous. The road is filled with tears. But redemption also.
I think it’s already making its way through us, this virus. We can’t test fast enough. We’re not keeping up with it. Everyone I know is getting sick. Extended social circles are feeling the effects. We have underestimated the foe, and the only math that matters is the percentage that do not survive infection. What circumstances cause vulnerability? How does one effectively survive, or become redundantly immune? I think all animals on earth face calamities such as this. Rampant infection, plague, or environmental selection.
But really though it’s not like the world is ending. It’s totally not. We’re all going to get sick for a while and some will die, just like the flu. It’s just another catastrophe our species will endure. The many that survive will be relatively immune to the virus, and the virus will lose in the end. I may yet get it, or I may have already just had it… who knows? I’m thinking that we won’t eat bat shit anymore or however this virus came to be. We should avoid that, to prevent future problems.
I, along with countless others, share a general sense of unease at the arrival of this novel coronavirus on the world stage. At the time that I write this post, over 88,000 have contracted it with 3,000 dead. 102 confirmed cases in the United States with 6 dead.
That doesn’t seem at all like pandemic territory, considering the flu has killed 16,000 this season alone. But…
COVID-19 did all that in a little over three months, not an entire season like the flu had. COVID-19 kills 2% of those infected, which is a higher rate than the flu. The global PR machine has been working overtime to spin calm and complacency, but is there any reason to be?
What I see is a rapidly expanding bubble, touching more people than the governments of the world can account for. The bubble infects some that can be explained or traced, and then others who we have no idea how they contracted the virus. These “community” infections are most troubling because they represent an unhinged aspect to the spread which could accelerate into the aforementioned pandemic territory.
I don’t fear for myself, but I do fear for others. I’m unlikely to die from COVID-19, but my parents are in jeopardy due to their age. The novel coronavirus is being downplayed in a way that is largely CYA and less about informing the public of the very real possibility of a much bigger, life-altering event that would reshape how our daily activities are conducted.
What gets me is that we have now made this arbitrary potential pandemic a political issue, like it’s somehow reflective of our absurd politics and not the result of a new infectious pathogen randomly appearing on the global stage. This is not Donald Trump’s fault, nor is it the fault of the Democratic Party. We all need to pull our heads out of our asses and look straight ahead.
Lean times might be coming soon, and we are fools for believing that the divisive rhetoric of the past conflicts will serve any propose in the epidemic to come. Right now would be the best time to pool resources, keep people informed and work logically to halt the spread of this virus as best we can. People will die because our discourse can’t be honest or rational enough to tell us the truth about the crisis looming on the horizon. We will not be pacified and deluded, only to be taken by surprise when the shit hits the fan. Wake the fuck up and start telling it like it is. We deserve your honesty; our lives are at stake.
So people: no need to horde face masks and hand sanitizer. No need to blame your political rivals. We only survive if we are smart and aware together. We will prevail if we work collectively to stay informed and safe. Sadly, this will not be the case, and our petty politics will intrude upon the truth with thousands of lives as the final consequence.
Gaze towards the dark room,
Shatter the presence of doubt,
She breathes, and she lives.
What is the right way to be? Is it who I’m needed to be, or is it just “me?” In the past, I have become who I believed I was supposed to be, for the person that I partnered with I have learned that making oneself fit into a cookie cutter often leaves bits chopped off, or gaps.
Being disconnected from the way K did a few days ago was painful, because it felt like it was also a condemnation of the quality of which I love. As if to say: she felt she’d be better off without my presence in her life, despite her intention to protect me from a perceived future calamity. Said calamity is a growing possibility, but admittedly, not yet set in stone. What I do know, and she came to discover, is we only have the time we have. How we spend that time is ultimately ours to decide. I do not still feel hurt by this, mind you, because she did miss my presence in her life and did not like the feeling of my absence. This turn of circumstance has allowed me to be much more rapidly introspective about the whole thing.
Now, however, I find myself being “clingy.” I got let go of once, I’d like to ensure that it doesn’t happen again due to some sort of neglect on my part. Am I not hearing her? Am I not there for her like I ought to be? Am I telling her how I feel about her enough? So, naturally, this is a sort of panic reaction. I’m noticing it, I’m doing something to regulate the urgency of this unproductive prerogative. I do need to establish that the lines of communication should be wide open, because we only succeed together in total honesty.
I hurt her too a few months ago, when I she felt stifled her sharing about what she was going through with her cancer treatments. This has had a lasting effect, and now there is a barrier of hesitancy between us that distresses me. I understand why she feels this way too… I’m still grappling with how to be in my role in our relationship, given the torment of her every waking moment. I long to “do” something but sometimes the only thing the “do” is be there, talk, laugh and try and move the time along. Share something, have a distraction to engage in. Most importantly though, is proximity, and physical comfort. This is the thing I can’t do, which makes for the source of my emotions. It’s a tough role to mark our first 6 months together, but I’m working my way through this just as she is.
This rant has a point. That is: we are humans trying to survive a particularly stressful circumstance. I struggle, she struggles, I help her up sometimes and other times she’ll help me. Partnerships are built on being equals when you can be, and allies when you need to be. The brand of love I bring is the unconditional variety, which makes me both vulnerable and naive. I long to be loved back the same way, because having someone that close who will protect you when times get tough is the core of surviving this world. Allies are essential to success and establishment of identity. Whether its friends or partners, we need people to reflect back to us who we are, and what space we occupy in the world.
K is my partner, and even if she wanted to brave this thing alone, she still has me, and I’m going to the edge with her if need be. I’m loyal to her cause and I’m desperate to have her in my life for as long as I can. Losing her artificially was toxic, and losing her for real is still a possibility. I would like to do what I can to help her through this particularly dark time. I’m counting on having her, but I know I could lose her. I will take every precious chance to be in her orbit, however distantly. For who she is, for what she believes in and how fiercely she fights… I believe she will emerge from this hardened.
Who am I? I’m still me. I only have a switch that goes from LOVE to OFF and right now that bad boy is stuck open. I only know one way to be a partner, and that’s in admiration of the one who chose me, and a respect to myself to keep that person she loves still vital, healthy and not crushing myself into a cookie cutter mold. Staying honest to myself helps me stay strong and aware of issues when they emerge (being mentally ill: issues always emerge). I can only control who I am, and who I am is a work in progress.
I love like a prayer, whispered as though being heard exclusively, desperately by the ears of someone who understands.
Feeling within an ache and a tumult; like storm waves lashing coastal rocks. I roil, but soon, the tide will flow out and the wasted shore will be laid bare.
More than anything, to be back in the sunlight of her favor. To hear the tone of her voice and her laughter like dandelion kisses on my cheeks. I remember her sweetly like pollen in the breeze. I long to be back, for however long I can be, until her light goes out. If indeed it ever does.
To face the darkness of the world without her is lingering in an eclipse without end. She lives yet she is gone, hidden from casting her radiance wide upon my world. A flourish of that magic that inspired my soul to give itself to her.
The bleak shadow of the darkened moon bleeds into the astral blackness of the chasm that divides us. Cast me down, into that void… reaching for the dwindling horizon. I’m drowning. I’m vanishing.
I wish I knew how to feel differently; to wipe away the congealed pain like grease on a skillet. Instead, I’m left pondering my loneliness.
Absolution is a hope but not a realistic one. Only those who frequent delusions can lock themselves out of reality fully… where I am left grappling with the truth.
I miss her like a spectral limb. The empty vastness of my life now apparent, I’m seeking a remedy to the sudden and harsh lack of communication.
I toil on.
The petal falling,
Into the dust of pain.
Sunlight through glass,
Stained and pitted–
A broken dream of day.
Too deep for memory,
Linger in the aching place,
Cavernous and hungering.
We didn’t have anything new to say, but that we missed each other. I do miss her.
I was so glad to see her text, even if I knew it wasn’t going to end in her coming back. I knew she was sad too. I wanted to text her but I didn’t… I have nothing I can say. She didn’t want to hurt me but she did. She didn’t let the future play out, she kicked me away before I could see her to the end. I have lingering pain because I wasn’t expecting to lose her.
I don’t want to be reminded if she’s lonely. I didn’t create this crisis… I am the one wishing it could go back to the way it was. I know she doesn’t want that though.
I thought I was good for her. I thought our interactions made her feel better.
She seems to be better off without me around at all. So be it.
It’s not good. The hallways are narrow and I’m feeling like my steps are slowing down, dragging out each painful agony where I can’t reach the end. A vacant area swirling with bits of trash and dried leaves.
Looking outward, the sun still shines somewhere. I can’t see anything.
I didn’t do a good enough job to be kept. I was not useful. I created burdens. I reminded of a future that could never be. Another failed attempt at being a partner added to a long history of sequential failure.
I hoped to have stopped my search, but now I must go on alone.
Maybe I will move on one day, but not anytime soon.
Well K decided the relationship is over. After this, I’m not sure what I’ll do. My chest hurts. My nose is all stuffy. My tears won’t stop. I gave what I had and now she’s done.
No more daily person. No more good morning messages. No planning period conversations. No note that she made it to her car. I loved being her support person and I adored her presence in my life. Now that is gone. The hole it leaves behind hurts me.
Move on to the next day. One step forward now alone. Soldier on into the nothing with no one there. No hand to hold. No future to dream about. I’m broken with my heart wide open. I miss you already. I miss you always.
I wish I was able to give her a bean and her pain would go away. A magical bean that lifted the burdens of worry and anguish. A bean to save the day, as beans so rarely do.
But sadly, I have no bean. I only have my own sense of inadequacy, frustration, and sadness.
If only I had a bean that would fix everything. What a happy little bean that would be! Hooray legume of power!
All I have is my love, devotion and upcoming trip this month to bestow my physical compassion on my lovely girlfriend, as she fights to the bitter end with her cancer.
We will get through this, with or without beans.
I’m checking in for the first time in a while. I have been sliding down into a depressed state for many weeks now, and I am starting to use my coping tools to help me find a way back up. I have already begun this turn to some degree but coming back here and writing my thoughts out is a big part of how I process.
My depression is lubricated by the circumstance of K having cancer and engaging in a knock-down, drag-out brawl to liberate herself from it. It’s a very real possibility that she will not be here at the end of this struggle, and that chills me in a cold-knife-to-the-intestines kinda way. I do try to keep my optimism and attitude positive but I won’t hide that I’m scared. I gave her every part of myself that I had to give, and she could be gone. More than just that though, I feel detached from myself like I’m watching my reality through a screen and I have the joystick in my hands. I don’t feel like there is much I can do to influence anything… I feel ineffectual somehow. Irrelevant maybe is the better word. I have lost a sense of what I am good for, what I am doing and why I am doing it. Is anything I do making a real difference? Are people benefitting from the energy I give? Am I even giving enough in the first place? There is a voice of nagging negativity and dubiety plaguing me from afar. Work has felt like a black hole since we lost our office. I’ve had a very hard time establishing a routine since there is no physical location to drive to. I end up somewhere between serious and relaxed, composed and decomposing. I need to get out of this house and I have been contemplating ways I could have a remote location where I do work. I’m actively problem solving my circumstances. Lastly, I just feel that neurochemical imbalance… slow, sad, unexcited, bored, anxious. It’s an all the time stagnant haze which my flashlight only further illuminates rather than provides me with any clarity on the path forward.
Though these thoughts and feelings do haunt me, they are a small fraction of the pervading good that I feel in my life. Many positive things are happening in my world that are cause to be hopeful: I have a wonderful woman in my life who knows me and loves me for who I am; she is with me every day whether physically present or not. I have a loving family that is willing to work on improving their communication skills. I just traded in my 15 year old Dodge for a new Nissan truck! I have a job where being mentally ill isn’t something I need to hide, it’s something that qualifies me to do the work that I do. We just bought a new house for my mom and dad and I, in a very beautiful area just up the freeway from Sacramento. Life has never been as good as it is about to be.
I have these dialectical thought processes: I take the good and the bad and respect both while not siding conclusively with either aspect. I often proceed with things having considered both the positive and negative aspects of said things (or, I try to). I can love/hate with the best of them. I think this keeps me from being too stubborn, or too closed minded. I like having things to add to either column, and since the balance favors the less objectionable option, I have the ability to be moved on issues where most would be unwilling to acquiesce. It also helps me not get too lost in my depression, because I can still see the good too. I know there is sadness, and sometimes it is the only thing I feel… but I also know that the sadness will pass on to something else if I help it do so. A distraction, or a game, a good conversation, a hug if you can get one for sure but we don’t always have someone to hug. There are things I can do for myself to help me get out of this place and that’s what I’m going to be pushing for in the days ahead.
I need to get this body moving again and continue my better eating habits. I have a plan of action to help restore my vital energy and eccentric spunk I’m so often known for. I am coming back, one doofy comment at a time.
I’m fewer than 55 hours from flying across the country to see my girlfriend for the first time. We started counting down 52 days ago, and here we are with fewer than 3 days left to go.
I can say I’m very excited. Scared a little too. I’m going far from my safety zone. However, I do know that I will be loved and appreciated where I am going. K and I have been speaking with the frequency of a married couple, and the passion of two halves separated and waiting to be rejoined. I feel a burning for her that, as I have stated, I have not felt in years. Since J.
Now that the certainty of our union is nigh, I feel a sense of satisfaction with my situation. Life is stable for the most part. My career is humming along nicely. My mental health is in fair standing (with the occasional blip).
I did hear Sting’s “Why Should I Cry For You” and it tore me a new/old wound. It’s amazing how much love I had for J that the echoes of my hurt still remain to this day. It scares me a little that I feel the same yearning for K. I don’t ever want to hurt like I did when J left me. K is a very different person though. We love, we perish in flames, we are reborn of the soot of our prior demise.
I will have 3 days of absolute bliss. I feel the push and pull of my dialectic, but now, the superior sensation is ecstasy. The only tingle that pervades is that of anticipation for that moment when her apartment door closes, and we are alone at last.
I feel both remorse and jubilation given all the things I have been through. So many tries at love, and a litany of failures to look back at. I always believe the litter of past transgressions can be removed, leaving a pristine landscape once more, but it does require energy, time, patience to clean it away. I have endeavored to do my part but it was never a thing that could be done alone.
I get the distinct feeling J is still out there, lurking. She being liberated of he need to find a resolution or a process designed to heal, I am simply followed by a vague shadow of someone I once loved devotedly. I find this regrettable. My whole trajectory in the last 6 years has been geared towards helping build bridges and healing people… yet, I can’t heal her. I can’t even talk to her anymore without having my soul ripped in half.
I know her accusations are the only thing she has left to harm me with (and she has), as they are an instrument that can affect change. I regret who I was, and I would change any number of things that happened to produce better outcomes… but the sad fact remains that fretting about my past is not going to change it in any way, ever. The only thing I have left is to try and build a better future for myself.
I don’t know how to bridge the vast chasm that now exists. From my peer support perspective, all healing begins with open, honest conversation. All steps forward that build us up do not also suppress the feelings/emotions/traumas of the past.
In my new life that I have made, I find myself feeling proud of my accomplishments and not ashamed of who I was in an active way. What good does shame do me? I can’t walk forward with it on my back. I can only hope to reconcile the a source for myself since I am unable to control anyone else’s perceptions. My door has always been open, and remains so to any relic of the past who desires to move beyond what was done, into what can be. Shame is not the answer, systemic change is the only remedy.
Maybe because I am feeling these same feelings I had for J that this is coming back. It seems to be a very odd coincidence… I’ll keep you posted if it turns out to be just a Hunter-Seeker.
I should think about making friends who can keep track of my life rather than pining for intimate companions. That’s why I think proximity is an issue. I’d like to be friends with someone far away, like W, who can look in but not be close enough to be a temptation for something more.
I get lost thinking every friend girl has to be a girlfriend. Now is the time for innocuous friendship and not heated relationships. I’m taking that and applying it to A, K, or anyone else I talk to (though, A is still a short drive away and I’m kinda still mad at her). I don’t want to vault over the best parts of getting to know someone because I’m looking for the endgame.
With any luck, K turns out to be a thoughtful and caring friend with a 2,400 mile cushion.
I guess I’m feeling better today. I have been distracted which is good. I spend time venting out here when I am not doing well, hence the polarized expressions and antic disposition. I just need to focus on being me for now, and not worry about companionship.
I am not forcing the issue and will let things happen in a natural way (if at all). I recognize that I’m not the easiest person to love, but I do think it’s out there somewhere.
My dating account will go unused in lieu of how terrible I feel about it all. What am I doing? I need some time to myself. This grasping for companionship is stupid and wrong. I still hurt in my heart and I’m already moving to the next distraction. Shame.
Instead I’m going to not be a dick. I’m in no shape to be in a partnership. I have too much life right now. My situation does not lend itself to a liberty of choice. I’m not focused on the right things.
I have better things I could be doing. There’s still a lot of shit I need to be responsible for. I have a reality to occupy my attention indefinitely. I’m all done.
I’m sitting here getting ready for my support group. I will admit I’m having some symptoms: anxiety is spiking, depressed thoughts are chewing away at me, and a general sense of dread hangs overhead.
I long for that daily conversation I used to have with A. Now there is a silence that my wheels spin frantically in. I was engaged, and now, no one really cares what happens in my world.
I’ve started talking to other women. There are a few that have responded to my replies. I’m kinda rebounding hard, but this is what happened last time. I had a falling out only to be picked back up again almost immediately. I’m that circumstance back in June, I should have been more conservative. A and I were in bed together on our second date. I don’t want anything like that now. I’m still hurting.
I’d really enjoy talking to someone again. Having a chat buddy to catch up with on the day’s events. Someone who wants to see inside me. It’s so intoxicating to be cared about. I wish I could share my perspective with someone who admired me.
My group will go great tonight. I’ve got a lot I bring as facilitator and person living with mental illness. However, I just want tonight to be done. I’m feeling like I need to close my eyes and shut out the world for a while. I am alone here and feeling like I’m nailed to the shore as the tide comes in.
I’ve done some creative writing to sort through my feelings and thoughts about the breakup with A. I don’t summarize events, I only extrapolate and expound on my perceptions and emotions. I do feel better having done that. Creative expression is my new and most favorite coping tool for hard times.
On the flip side of things, there is (again) quite a bit of interest on the Positive Singles site. I have two conversations started and who knows where they will lead. I’m open to all possibilities and at least for now, both would be long-distance.
I’m still firmly grounded here in CA, but there’s a chance that if something works out, we could still find ways to be together that don’t require me to move out of state. I think it’s regretful that A didn’t even want to discuss this option, and seemed much more interested in finding someone who she could date nearby rather than work on what she and I had.
Nevertheless, I’m moving on to someone who is a better fit for who I am. Maybe this will happen on PS but probably not. I’m still thinking I want to meet someone through work.
But what a confidence boost to be on the market for 1 day and draw interest immediately? Boss.
I guess my reconciliatory tone towards A is founded in the still-fresh ache of separation. I do still have feelings; I’m not a robot that can just shut them off.
I do think our break is for the best. You have to be in the right state of mind to be in a relationship. There were things she and I never really connected on. I had defects and so did she. The more distance I get from the break the more clearly I see things. Plus, I’m hurt by her sneaky actions activating her profile and looking for guys while we were still dating.
This probably means I’m going into silent running for the near future. I visited PS and responded to some messages, but once my premium status expires I’m not going back.
I just don’t think I’m going to find the right person on that or any dating site. I need to meet someone through one of my activities in the world. Whether at outreach or through some professional capacity, I’m hoping to align myself with like-minded individuals who share an interest in good mental health.
I had someone like that, but I scared her away and now C is long gone or entrenched in dislike. I wish it wasn’t so.
I’ll keep my doors open but I’m not seeking. I would like to make some close friends in my profession that become more. Hopefully, this process takes the time it needs to be a worthwhile investment.
Things I feel:
Hurt, alone, remorseful, unappreciated, unloved, lost, curious, frustrated and sad.
Things I am resolved to feel:
Confident, stable, convicted, open-minded, reflective, attentive, perplexed, adaptive and proud.
Things I’d like to feel:
Trusted, loved, admired, respected, tolerated, engaged, humored, bantered-with and assured.
Real things that are also felt:
Abandoned, mismatched, unaligned, disconnected, regretful, passionate, unacknowledged, disregarded and done.
I was feeling very confident in my affection for my girlfriend earlier today, until she made it clear we were not on the same page and became my ex. I worked for a bit on compiling this sequence of songs to (ironically) brush over the feelings of despair associated with losing love, only to find it again later in the playlist.
Mournful, yes, was the appropriate tone-setter but not the end of the story. I still feel hopeful for my cause; my desire to be loved and to give love fully. My life is still moving forward. Sharing that with “A” was what I wanted to do, but I never really believed it or committed myself fully. I discussed the possibility of going my separate way many times in therapy but now to have it play out in reality is a whole different experience. I do miss what we had while it was good, and wonder about how it went astray.
I tried to be honest with my feeling in this playlist and effusive/voluminous would be good ways to describe my enduring affection. Breaks don’t just end feelings… they hang on in a painful remembrance which makes the acuteness of my album’s emotional story ring all the more true now that I sit here listening to it again. It aches where she is missing, but I know that won’t last forever.
I have no bridges to cross out of independence to companionship… and maybe it will be that way for a while.
Beer Bottles & Huggy Times
Length: 74 minutes
So A and I are abruptly, suddenly over. The clues I received to her fading interest have led to her reactivation of her dating profile while we were still together. She’s now out of my life and maybe for good.
In truth, I didn’t see this as a big surprise. I do feel over-extended from expressing my affection to her and having that go unrequited. I have a lot of words, music and love to give and I hate it when its not appreciated.
Now, I’m twisting in the wind with my feelings snapping this way and that. I did and do still want companionship, but it seems I create bodies wherever I go and torch the gardens. I don’t have any regrets… I did my part to be a caring partner in all the ways I knew how. I tried to love someone who was not capable of reciprocating the way I needed her to.
Now comes he push back to relevance and strength. I have been able to withstand many such calamities and will continue to do so through this trial. I hurt, and I am sad… but I will transition on to an active state where I set goals and meet them.
I have a lot of explaining I want to do. Let me gush. Pour out my intentions and hope that somehow it’s all understood. Security is so precious in such insecure times. The ebb and flow can just as easily rip apart what it had just brought together. I often find myself perplexed by outcomes.
I’m always trying to adapt better to my circumstance. My carnal inclinations nonwithstanding, I try to approach things rationally. What presents the best odds for success? What scenario preserves mental health most effectively? I guess wrong a lot, but right too sometimes. My current plateau of success is due in large part to that, but is still picked by failure.
My world is not without turbulence. Disruptions are frequent, and I must evolve or perish.
Right now, all the pieces are swirling about. Like dispersed seeds. Where is down? How is stop?
I get close but still, there is only the guess of ground for which to build my empire. I’ve lost many units and now is not the time to stop.
I’m volatile right now, I feel. I can see it in my transactions, in my expressions. I can tell I’m in a perturbed state and taking my frustrations out as cudgels. I’m divided in my angst, but enamoured in potential. Consistency has to prevail somehow, despite all this madness. I’m feeling tippy and that’s not so good. I’m responding poorly, but thankfully, I have a place to vent my thoughts. I have this sanctum to bite on as though it were my pillow. I have real feelings somewhere under here, like pain and sadness that are unresolved and won’t be. I’m trying to accept my environment, circumstance and mistakes with openness.
So yes, volatile. Feeling like I need to get back to my creative writing, which I have been trying to use as a coping tool. I can’t do much but express myself and get these words out of me. I’m glad this process is so effective at dispensing with my negative thoughts and has for more than 6 years. I’ve drenched cyberspace with my rants, outrage and idiocy unceasingly. It has been both satisfying and revolting.
Okay, off to my world to create some killer fiction.
I am a jerk to some people, a star to others. I’ts amazing how perceptions vary while my demeanor pretty much remains the same. I’m done pining for C’s friendship… I have reached the end of my interest in that area. Sometimes things don’t heal… they just rot in plain sight covered over by a veil of lies and dishonesty. Lack of introspective ability leaves no solutions in sight. Farewell. If you’re fine living in this make-believe world, I am too.
Other than that disappointing outcome, I’m doing fine. I was singing today. Really feeling in love with my partner A. I was crawling all over her yesterday when she came to visit before her long trip to Tennessee. I got all my rub and sniff quotas met prior to her departure, and insisted she roll around in my sheets and get the girl smell happening in there. I should be fine until she gets back, and we talk daily anyway so that really helps us stay connected. I am always trying to heal wounds I create, but this area is a place where a lot of positive energy is flowing out of. I have a future here with her, one that we see together. A shared interest in bringing the paths of our lives into one, where we can both entertain and support each other throughout.
There’s no perfect anything, there is only life. Good and bad, annoying and wonderful, it is what it is. I am confident that I am forging a sustainable path, but we are still pretty early on into this adventure with many miles of road left to walk.
So moral: out with the frustrating, in with the appreciation. I hope A feels my love, and knows how important it is that she be available for me to chew on, and sniff as often as I need.
I’m going to use better tools; the process has begun. Creativity, exercise, expression and ventilation are the means to achieving a better path forward. Better than escape, denial and repression.
I’m back to writing again in my fiction world. A story about legacy. Story XII I do believe will be out soon on the Kingdom site.
I dislike my predicament. I’m not sure how to rectify my circumstance given that it is largely out of my control. Whether people come or go. Live or die. Care or hate. Ignore or respond. Deny or acknowledge. Suppress or express.
I have less ambiguity but more rage. The flippancy factor of life & death should not be higher than zero! Ever!
I’m embroiled but working my way through the caustic marsh. I have healthy outlets at my disposal. I do wish I had not pushed away people that could be commiserating with me. My best buddy has been distant and I know he must be going through some shit. It’s a down time all around. I do have my “A,” who has been a shining light in an otherwise dark room. I really laugh with her. Fully. Healthily. Gutturally. There’s realness there that is holding me on a narrow path toward sanity.
I’m going to handle this whole thing with tactfully responsive ineptitude, but inevitably, I’ll emerge covered in shit but alive.
There’s no undo in life. There is only the pain of errors and the reminders of failure. I have many things I regret, but still try to “do right” with my future actions. I attempt to demonstrate an understanding that I have learned, grown, progressed in some measurable way from the moment of transgression. Still, the inescapable burden of guilt remains.
My vomit-hole aka this blog has served a purpose in that it allows my expression an unfiltered faucet of release. Not right, not wrong, just OUT. Get these thoughts away and let them trouble me no longer! Sadly, my noxious words aren’t cured in my consciousness, only sated for a time. There will be other opportunities to vent and pour out the bile as I wrong others or am wronged.
My real life actions do not resonate with this resentment and anger that get expressed here… rather, they are purged since they had a moment to be free, recognized and detached from the bounds of active thoughts. That’s the basic principle of this place, and the reason I keep the blog going is because it works.
None of this matters though. Regret and pain still haunt me wherever I go. I’ve hurt, fled, and left smouldering ruin in my wake time and time again. I long to vocalize, rationalize, yet turn out to be a terrible person to talk with about the sensitive issues of compatibility, love and the future (or so I judge myself to be).
I sense my current partner grows tired of my pondering the coming circumstantial end of our affiliation, yet, I can’t stop thinking about it. A looming storm that is not yet here while I procrastinate understanding for the immediacy of pleasure. Nothing to be done but watch is it approaches, much like my dad’s death being somewhere on the near horizon.
I’m imploding a little today and not feeling very keen on the prospects of the future. Friends alienated, tiring of the working environment, shared doom of the collapse of the current arrangement where love is transacted. It’s a tough time. Plus, my olive branch to C was ignored and that just reinforces that I’m a fucking idiot.
I’m on the new meds and things are working fine so far. The antipsychotic makes me a bit drowsy in the morning still.
I’m watching Thor Ragnarok which is cute and fun. I wish I had an MCU person to share my enthusiasm with.
Baseball tonight but I’m losing vs Derpy again. Fuck.
I’m thinking about C with sorrow and regret but A with optimism and hope. I wonder what the future stress will hold for me, but I don’t have any idea what is going to happen. Is partnership going to rip me apart or hold me together? Why do I have these dreams where C is haunting me?
I think about both women but in vastly different ways. Permanence vs chaos.
I need a game to play tonight to tune me out of this conflict. This world on fire. Time to burn a village to the ground!
There’s so much I need to learn, and I’m still very much a fool.
I keep finding things I regret in my scoring:
.3 per put out is way too much. This makes 1B the most valuable position player in the game
1.25 per batter DPT is too much. Nerfed.
-.6 per K for batters is not harsh enough. Strikeouts are a sin against the Baseball gods.
.75 per IP is not enough. Pitchers don’t compare with position players. Also 1 per APP is not juicy enough either.
These are just some examples. I want balance damnit! No position should be preferable. Just like in my FFL leagues; rosters are based on previewed talent assessments not scoring advantages.
But why batter defensive plays? I do believe they should be rewarded because its incremental accomplishments that plug on both aspects of position player stats. It’s boring to only care when they’re at the plate. However, I needed my numbers to still promote balance despite the events piling up for certain players. So, I diminished some and buffed others.
Batting & Fielding
Home Runs 5
Runs Batted In 1
Stolen Bases 2
Caught Stealing -1.5
Put Outs 0.08
Outfield Assists 4.25
Double Plays Turned 0.8
Pitching Scoring Categories
Pitching Appearances 2
Outs Recorded ( 1/3 IP) 1
Earned Runs -1
Home Runs -2
Grounded Into Double Plays 1.5
Blown Saves -6
Still stayed true to my beliefs and edged true offensive achievement over big piles of defensive stats. Now increments break ties and keep my scoreboard popping with green no matter who is on the field. I feel like this configuration sticks in my happy zone.
Welcome to Whammy Slammy Susan III!!
First week saw my landslide victory over hopeless Bangle-Doof. Poor bastard lost by 103. My scoring was an overall nerf compared to WSS2 scoring. I like that.
The standings are a three way tie for first with DerpyDerpDerp leading in points. I climbed up from third to second. This week I get FaceWaster V, which has been bad news for me. His pitchers come through when I’m in the reticle. We shall see if he stays lucky.
In other news, I’m doing alright. Dad has been ailing lately. I remain aloof thinking that I have no clue what to expect but aware trajedeybmay be very near. “A,” who I will henceforth refer to as Critter, and I are doing very well. It’s more than three weeks in and things are still clicking. Discovery is happening and we are enjoying our time together. She’s curious about me which I find totally intoxicating.
The sex is unbelievable. I’ve never been more in tune with anyone before. We are dialing in on our comforts, and finding the ways we fit well together. I do light her up, and feel so very appreciated for the way we are together. She does EVERYTHING Blog. Dang yo.
My dreams have been confusing and I know there is some lingering part of me that remains unreconciled post Cheyenne. I don’t know what to do with that. Maybe it’s safe to be a friend now that I’m in a sexual relationship, but maybe because of my past attraction to her that’s not a good idea. I don’t like the way it all happened, but there has only been uneasy silence when it comes to the beat and not the appetizers. I broke it and now I’m trying to super glue it back together. It’s probably a waste of time, but I never like hurting people and just walking away.
I think about the future. Critter and I are thinking about the road ahead. So many more steps to make before logic agrees with emotion. She’s an investment I’m glad to make though. She tolerates my nonsense like a pro. Keeper status earned.
Have a great week Blogomites!
I’m feeling the strain of excessive work, family dynamic disturbances and now some persistent nightmares. There are always positives and negatives in life, and with all these potential stressful things come some good things as well. “A” and I are bonding day by day, and especially under the recent calamities we’ve been forced to respond to. Though, I feel detached from effectiveness… like a distant satellite teetering on an unstable, elliptical orbit. I don’t know what to make of it… but I feel it largely has to do with my insecurities and false perceptions.
I get that things shit gets hard at times. It’s unavoidable that we are made to endure suffering and pain. Our prevailing responses are what dictates how we move forward or handle future calamities. Right?
I’m not feeling much like sharing (in depth) about myself today, however, I realize that not talking things out is the opposite of the model I so diligently preach to others. I can’t expect to do well with my own symptoms if I can’t discuss them in this public forum. I don’t want to analyze it… I just don’t like the way I feel. I’m again starting to scrape for ways to escape reality and all my alternatives prolong my misery (but have not turned back to weed or abusing alcohol).
Right when I thought I was getting on track I start to catch fire and head for impact. That’s what this feels like: Rejection, joy, dismay, confusion, trauma… all bundled together in less than a month. Even with companionship, I’m still feeling like I’m not seen, or that who I am is somehow uninteresting and unappealing. The fallout from “C” still hurts in my heart… even though I was mad and burned that interpersonal bridge myself. I feel cast off (despite being found shortly thereafter) in a way I was blindsided by. I’ve created quite a mess for myself haven’t I?
It’s not anyone fault but my own. I am full of feeling, with nowhere to uncork and be recognized. Everyone sees me through the window that I let them see me through. I’m broken and awaiting trauma on the near horizon. Foreboding clouds are amassing.
I come out here to cope with things… but there aren’t any words that make things much better. Like everyone, I have stress. I worry about the future. I reflect on my moods. My word vomit carries on into the vastness.
I guess I’m wondering when calamity will come. What will happen to this stilted world I reside in? Collapse of some form seems likely. Do I have the strength to emerge from the rubble?
What am I doing? Why am I walking this path? I have failed at everything I ever reached for, and I keep reaching; as if I can ensnare my goals with just the tips of my extended fingers.
I don’t think I’m a good man. I think I fucked up too much to be “good.” I’m an indentured penitent and bound to honor by shame. I have a wake of angry people behind me and a future designed to mitigate the impact of regret.
I now stand in a place in which I see the potential to absolutely destroy it by being an idiot. Ultimately, I’m hurt and too confounding to be worth loving. My words don’t mean shit once the world is on fire.
I’m hoping for a neurochemical reset. A sleep should help that. See my deterioration in this post? It’s been pretty clear.
Having someone again does tend to remind me of just how easy it has been to fuck it up in the past. Will I ever let someone love me without destroying them first?
I had a restless night thinking about her. I see a couple of things clearly:
She’s a fool if she didn’t see this coming. I was clear, all along the way, that I wanted something more. Yet, this got treated like a big surprise.
I behaved poorly as the result of rejection. Which has destroyed any type of friendship we may have cultivated.
I’m resentful but not going to act on any of my slighted feelings. It’s better to cast away those responses just like my affection.
Obliviousness is no excuse. I felt like I was the only one who made mistakes when I wasn’t. I never got an apology for being led on. I just got denial that it had taken place or a reinterpretation of what actually happened.
I’m pretty resolved in my disdain. I know I hurt her but there’s no going back. My past was used against me in an evidentiary argument. I felt especially angered by that. It caused me to be wrathful in the end. I abolished all bonds to allow myself to dislike her.
Nothing I hate more than having my honesty used against me as though my here and then are the same. How unbelievably insulting. You really don’t know me but you sure do know how to piss me off.
My nightmares were about escaping a circumstance where there was trauma. I traumatized myself quite a bit, pining for someone not interested in me. Mashing my face against the wall. My confidence and perceptions were wrong every step of the way, but why do you think that was the case? Is it because I’m a big dumb idiot?
Am I such an ignoramus that I just made up all the encouragement to feel what I had inside me? I’m so delusional I made it all up? One thing I didn’t have was patience, because I thought there was mutuality. Why are we patient if we both want this, I thought? Because she was happy enjoying my feelings but not interested in reciprocating. I feel duped, then cast away when things got hard. Argued with instead of sympathized. I extended her that courtesy but still advocated for my own feelings and beliefs.
Here I am ranting again. Maybe after the weekend I’ll be calmer. Good riddance though. I’m glad I didn’t invest more than I did. You’re a liar and not self honest. You’d rather I be blamed so your way out is easier. My heart is broken but that doesn’t matter to you. You just wanted to tell me why I was wrong. Now you can see why I’m not interested in being your friend.
My life is pointed up and I’m moving on. I do feel more like things are settling back to a familiar normalcy. Now that I don’t have you to think about (in the sane way), I can direct my efforts to helping people who will reciprocate my kindness. Maybe there is a girl out there for me who won’t flight my affection and taunt me with my honest revelations. Someone who will see me for who I am and not who I was.
She never saw me. Not who I was becoming. Not the life I was leading. Not my pride and conviction. I don’t know what she saw but it is pointless to wonder. I’m done.
The truth is, you’ll do better without me. All my unrequited affection only drove you away. The insistence you have in limiting your potential is silly, but it’s your choice. You don’t yet know that you have power but you do.
There is no more us. You are a thing I couldn’t have and now I’m repulsed by. How things have gone from once so sweet to bitter and rotten. An unexplored potential now never to be. I don’t want you. Not anymore. Not ever.
I’m angry as you can see. I’m not a petty asshole who punishes with power. I’ll always forward your career potential even if I don’t want to invest in a friendship. I doubt I’ll ever see you again though. I’ve done a pretty good job of traumatizing you into isolation. Look at how opposite of the thing I wanted to do happened! Isn’t it amazing? I broke the one person I really felt in harmony with. I ruined her chances at friendship with me and her fear of me will keep her away from my organization from now on. She’s been destroyed by my uncontrolled desire to know. She’s drowned in my bile. Goodbye C. You didn’t deserve what I gave you, but you don’t deserve me either.
Now that you’re gone, I have a chance at clarity. Now that I don’t have to care about you any more, I can proceed with an unbiased perspective. You’ll never see me the sane way, and always revile my behavior. My unwanted attraction. My flamboyance. My effusive expressions. I have hurt you and I know it. I accept it. I own it. I did it so you would go away now that you don’t want me. I banished our friendship because I could not do what I wanted. Is that petty and cruel? FUCK YES IT IS! But it still happened. It’s still my response. It is still the reason why I’ll never see you again.
And you know, maybe this is a lesson for me. Maybe traumatizing people and breaking friendships I can’t explore more deeply is a thing I’ll get better at as time goes on. Think of all the innocent people I’ll destroy and leave stunned in the dark. Oh the future is full of pain Blog. Full of pain that I inflict. Why? Because I can’t have anyone. Because no one wants me. Because no one really means what they say. Because even the way people act is a lie that hides a limitation. She lied. She and do many others. She lied to make it easier on herself to say goodbye. Now I am too.
You did lead me on. You don’t admit your part in this but you had one. You wanted me to play into this situation but didn’t want it to perturb your fragile balance. Your reinterpretation of our sharing stinks of revisionist history. You couldn’t decide what you were comfortable with and now we’re both burned up.
C, you’re a great person who doesn’t have much figured out yet. You had no chemistry for me. You disregarded my affection. You settled for the mediocre to preserve your morality. I hope you enjoy the lot you’ve prescribed yourself. I’ve failed enough times to know you take what you want and get stronger. Truth is, you never really wanted me even though I tried to make you. You should have just said “never.” Then at least I could have stopped caring a long time ago.
I hope you cry. I hope it hurts. I’m roiling. I’m furious at you. I’ll never go back to being your friend. This is the finality I always sought, just the opposite result. I’m bitter. I’m fuming, but not going to take one single action. You won’t come back anyway, I’m sure you’ll never work for me again. Why would you? I’m a fucking prick.
Yes, that is the truth of it. I end up ruining more of what I touch than improving it. This situation of ours is no different. I have dashed the glass against the stones, and all that remains are glittering fragments of a once whole thing.
Truth is that I’ve wounded myself because of my inability to regulate my feelings. This is a talent I’m afraid I’ve never learned. I often effuse, and that is received and draws those to me who are enveloped by it. Such a feeling to be cared for so powerfully, honestly and sometimes overwhelmingly. It comes from a deep and unchecked place of loving that I know not how to cap. I have found this to be advantageous in most every circumstance but this one.
Now that has caused me pain and catalyzed my forsaking of the rarest of the rare. I took the bridge away and left her to drown. I left her no way to cross again.
I still have anger, because I acted on something that seemingly wasn’t true… and conducted myself in a way I may not have if not for that invitation or inclination to do so. Did she want me too in the first place? It looks more and more like I just got it wrong and my volatility has created this new and painful rift that I fear will not be mended. My enterprise of selfishness has deprived my life and profession of a highly-valuable individual. I’m ashamed of that. Deeply regretful of my actions, and now suffering the consequences.
What can I do? I can try to lay the first stone back in the right direction but even that seems like it is fundamentally unwanted. I know nothing. I have no insight… only a cloud that conceals her internal discourse. I inflict pain without knowing why, or without the education to respond effectively.
Here I am after that last post saying I wasn’t going to pine… but blog how can I not? I’ve said it time and time again, I’ve never seen anyone like her. It drives me crazy how much I want her and the infuriation of not being able to have her is tearing me apart from the inside. I feel pain, deep and mournful within my chest… knowing she’s very likely gone. What have I done? She was one of a kind and now she’s gone.
I lost her… even the echo of her. All the beauty I came to appreciate I ripped out because I couldn’t have it all. How unimaginably selfish of me. Who the fuck do I think I am?
I did this to myself and she is the victim of my inability to be an effective human. My ineptitude at regulating my catastrophic tsunami of feelings. I am a fool, and yes, definitely and idiot.
Now I have nothing but the memory of how good I felt with her. A reminder of the infantile responses to things I have which cost me a chance at a better life.
It came to an end today. I laid myself bare to her and was rejected. It’s hard to stay a good friend after being turned down like that. I’m back to just having that professional, impersonal relationship that an employer has with an employee. No doubt I’d like to retain her talent, even if she doesn’t think much of who I am.
Really this is no surprise. I wouldn’t have walked down this way if she hadn’t told me there was attraction to me. I was thinking this would be a good thing to explore, but when I did, she ran. Now I have feelings that aren’t shared. Unacknowledged and unwanted. I feel a tad crushed by that. Misled to some extent, though later she was clear about not wanting to lead me on.
I feel a little better knowing that now its really over. I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to be reminded of what I thought I could have that now I absolutely can’t. Never one word was said to me after that first afternoon we shared together where she told me she was attracted. Not one word to give me hope that we could explore each other. I have been turned away by her silence.
Goodbye C. This is probably the last post where I’ll pine for you and bemoan my unrequited affection. Everyone is entitled to their own choices and you made yours.
I just have to move forward.
I’m very glad I have this online domain where I can come and vent out the radical things I feel or think. I have been using this tool for 7 years and it has never been anything other than the place I go to scream or cheer where no one has to hear me. Venting on real people is a kind of abuse (here, let me vomit on you then you clean it up).
I woke up this morning feeling great! It really did help to expunge a lot of my angst and sadness last night over knowing C was not interested in the immediacy of my emotions. Then again, why should she? Our lives are locked-in at this moment, but I’m no fool, and would never abandon my interest in her as a peer and friend over this disconnect in affection. I did want there to be more, but there’s not, and that’s the finality that I often lack in other endeavors. I was hurt last night because my feelings had to go away, but that’s exactly why I vomit on you, internet Blogomites.
The truth of things is still the same in that my trajectory forward is one I look forward to, and am fully invested in. I feel, this morning, very much alive and aware that great things are headed my way (of my own creation). Look at all the shit there is to be excited about blog! So many more positive things than negative… and I have this feeling in my chest like I’m doing the right thing by my life. I know I’m helping and making a difference. Sometimes all the pieces I hope for don’t fall into place, but that doesn’t mean anything to the greater sum of prospects and goals.
I do feel a lot better this morning. Focused. Confident.
I am thinking of making an album that doesn’t have an external focus, but finding the time to just sit and listen to music seems unlikely this week. Pride is coming up this weekend and that is starting to look like I’m going to hit back-to-back 12 hour days. I’m going to do some self-care today and take care of some stuff in my domain and go into work a bit later. Overall, I’m rebounding from my conversation with C last night. Humbled? Fuck no. Infatuated? Not anymore. Despondent? No sir; there was nothing that was lost in truth, only more things to be gained in the future.
Have a day, hopefully a good one.
Torpor of ambition,
The flame of dead sinews,
Fume up the haze of bile.
When does it end?
The outer void of boiling death,
Frozen and gas-ripped flesh–
Breathless words silent,
Glass shattered through the black.
Tired of wanting–
A gasp in a choking cloud,
Flesh melting away while it burns,
Rendered to nothing but ash.
I am this person who strives to improve. I hope that I can better myself and keep things stable in my life. Despite the environmental variables, I think I have accomplished that.
Yet I grapple with loneliness. Like any other man, I have the desires. I have instinct that seek to bind with trusted partners. Having never met a man who can make me feel the way I hope, I often find myself looking to women.
This is an imbedded behavior that I am trying to overcome. I must realize that there is nothing. There is no one. There is just me. I have to stop thinking I’m going to be somewhere other than on the path I built for myself with my mistakes and choices. It’s kinda depressing, but it also has enabled me to stronger than I’ve ever been in my life.
I see it. The way forward is full of brightness and events. New people will be crossing my path every day. Places and circumstances I never thought possible will be realized. So much has changed in the last year and there’s still quite a bit of work left to do.
I’m proud. My future is as bright as it’s ever been, yet it attracts no one. A level of closeness I’ve never had seems to be a level I’ll still not comprehend. With all the good, and all the steps, I’m sure I must reconcile to walk them alone with no one to share in my adventure.
Circumstance and undesirability kept C away despite the clarity of my feelings. Maybe that is what ultimately causes her to realize she didn’t want it. I’m too much. Too big. Too overflowing. But mostly because no one notices me. No one tries to see me. No one will, I think. Like a well shaken champagne bottle of neglected emotions.
I feel sad that this door is closed.
Yet, I have a life full of good people and adventure. There’s a great sum of work to be done and I’m hoping to get out there and do it. With no one to share it with. With no one who understands me. Just me.
I said have a good night, but what I meant was goodbye.
It all goes back in and the stopper on top. The finality of it is reassuring but the future seems emptier than before. A cringe and a retreat is my response. No regret but no more future either.
It helps to not have to hope; reality seems more achievable now. My effusions dispersed and evaporated away. The baggage of wanting removed and only the lasting bond of friendship remains. C and I seem like we won’t be, ever, and even though that is sad, it also helps. No I don’t have to dream anymore. I don’t have to yearn in an unrequited spiral. Now I can continue living my life the way I have been, erring a future built on good mental health.
Done. Back to the routine without the beacon to fill the world with light. Much as I always knew it would be. Much as I deserve. So on we go…
I have all these feelings Blog. I get excited, involved, intrigued… and more often than not I do so but for the wrong reasons. FOR ONCE, this is the right reason, time, person to be enthused about. C is miraculous, and still growing into the person she is headed towards being. I want to jump on the bandwagon, shower her with affection and help guide her safely to be the anything she desires to be. Yet, I’m still a fucking idiot trying to make a tough/impossible circumstance something other than it is. I’m still hoping against hope she and I will find each other despite the paradigm of pain we reside within. I mean… I know I’m a good fit for her as she is for me, and we’d do right by each other in the long run… but… how?
I want to invest in her but I can’t have her… I have to bottle what I feel for fear of forcing her into an uncomfortable choice. I have to say I’m not wanting her when I am… Its a dynamic I need to ether be relieved of or acknowledged for and neither is happening. I can accept both realities, but without certainty, I’m twisting in the wind and screaming in the miasma of the unknown.
The chance to explore this world is held from me. The opportunity to go further is restricted. The future remains totally unclear, even in terms of the trajectory I had hoped to at least foresee. Now, I have nothing but the aching silence of wordless agony where I begin to compartmentalize my feelings for the sake of not having to be reminded of what will not be.
This is all on me though. It’s her life and her choice what she does with it. I might as well be an asteroid in distant, fragile orbit. I see such hope… a pairing unlike any I had even imagined. A future where I could be with someone who nourishes me, and I her. A path we walk together that makes us stronger, not casts us in our own distinct and isolatory directions. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, but I feel like she would not. She is different… aware and centered in a world of looking out for her mental health as the top priority. What an influence I could be on her as she already is for me. Such promise, yet, unachievable… remote and in a future that is not happening and is not being realized.
Do I want her to chose me? Fuck yes I do! Will she? I don’t know and I have more doubts than assurances.
We only live one time. We only have this chance. I’ve wasted so much of mine… and I continue to scratch for meaning in the void of unrequited recognition. I’ll let her pass right through me fingers if that’s what she wants… and I’ll keep my eyes open into the future where my window of opportunity closes a little more every single day.
Things could not be better on the work front!! I was ” promoted” to coordinator of a fantastic program (P2P) and a bump in hours, plus I’m rekindling my efforts on doing some grant writing.
The vision of peer support / case management that I had I’m my mind when I moved here is finally (possibly) coming to fruition. To see the groundwork being laid for a wholly transformative venture is really inspiring. Ultimately, it’s on me to start recruitment and garner the funds we need to execute this plan. I do recognize that there’s a lot of work to do in this area, but very achievable I believe. I’m going to keep getting after it until I have it. I’m determined to succeed and replicate the success of the model that launched my recovery. We have the allies and the platform to be successful, and we absolutely will be.
Slammy Jammy was victorious this week, crushing Derpy into the concrete by 130 points. REVENGE!! This too was gratifying. Boom boom quesadilla.
I’ve got a lot of positives lined up. Good friends, a blooming career, and an upward trajectory which has me poised for advancement beyond anything I have known. This past year has been both joyous and tragic, but always teaching me something.
I’m taking a step back from myself and my haste. All these life changes are inching up from out of the soil; unpacking their aching leaves in search of the sun. I have no expectation of what my future has in store, but one thing I’m sure of is that I’m going somewhere. I built this reality with goal upon goal, and I’ll continue to do so independently for as long as I can. I see no ceiling; I see only sky. However, I imagine that I must be committed to holding myself up alone in order to stay internally strong.
I’m glad to have such cool friends to share this with. I am fortunate in that regard. I know now more than ever what I am (and what I cannot be). I also can relate to their being trauma for me in the future… and pain. I’m building up my circle to help me survive the coming storm, but my greatest strength is who I am right now. I’m so proud of that.
Now that victory has been assured in week 8, I prepare for a third showdown with the Derpmeister. Undefeated on the year and in command of a fantastic lineup, It is hard to project a victory having been beaten soundly twice before. A. Rizzo has been raking but so too have his M. Muncy and W. Merrifield. The latter has cooled off a bit, but the lineup is stacked. K. Yates in the bullpen and E. Diaz has been coming in of late. His main starter is S. Strasburg but A. Nola and N. Syndergaard aren’t exactly shlebs either.
I seem perilously close to disaster again. I’ve had to scratch C. Paddak altogether since I don’t know if his neck stiffness will inflame and cause him to go down mid-week or before that now pushed Wednesday start. If I Start G. Cole he gets two starts beside Z. Greinke. So… my gamble is that even if he eats shit and gives up 6 ER like he did last time, he’ll have another chance to eat shit again in five days and seal my doom. Yes yes, pessimistic. I wouldn’t be starting him if I didn’t believe in the baseball gods. They see my plight, being resoundingly stomped by a ownerless team. Please baseball gods, don’t let your disciple suffer in this way! Give me a shot at first place and allow me to usurp DerpyDerpDerp!! I can’t snatch the Iron Throne for myself mind you, I need at least three to tie, but one against the leader is always extra juicy.
In other news of a personal nature, I’m feeling quite good lately. My emphasis on good mental health practices as a career and personal preference has caused a new sort of person to flutter past my sparkling lantern of electric death. I’m very glad do have positive influences on my interest like C provides. I’ve always looked to familiarize myself better with people that nourish my progress and allow me to be who I am without fear of judgement. I find myself being more introspective too, as I have noted in past posts. I often times impale myself needlessly on self-generated issues, however, this time I managed to liberate myself and carry on despite being perforated. I realized a few days ago how great my life is and that I’m glad I have friends that live nearby again. My work has really brought so many new and healthy living role models to emulate.
My introspective tools are working, as evidenced by the successes I have in expression; out here and in other places. I’m actively processing my feelings without suppression. There’s a lot of room to grow into friendship with C which I am very excited about. So many days of laughing and being productive personally and externally. She likes to get shit done, and I think that’s fantastic! Admiration, you can has.
So today has a slate of early games, after a slate of early games the day before. My bold FMLB projection: numbers down across the board for position players. I’d guess about 20% less. Sending them out for day games after day games is probably a factor. Most guys who play a day game Sunday will take the field for the night game the following day. But since it’s Memorial Day, they will bleed for their country and play on short rest. THAT’S THE WAY WE DO THINGS IN AMERICA SPORTS BALL TEAM!
The final day of scoring and for the fucking THIRD WEEK IN A ROW it’s going too come down to the final day to determine a winner. I was fortunate that R. Osuna notched a W after blowing the save in the top half of the ninth. Mercy of the sports gods shown down on my nation.
Now though, it’s a 30 point margin which, experience has taught me, can be gobbled in an instant. Daily game scores can vary wildly depending on circumstance. We both have our aces going today as well, which facing Verlander is always an upsetting prospect. He’s pitching at home too and Paddak is on the road…
Well, I’ll be monitoring the fading heartbeat of my once proud dynasty as it struggles to fend off FaceWaster V. Best pitching staff of all the teams by far, and mine one of the worst. It would take an unlikely series of events to bend the thing my way, but I’m hopeful that my tenuous lead will be enough of a cushion if my own players do well.
Results will be flooding in all morning/early afternoon. I do love the Sunday day-game schedule. It’s always nice to know my fate before 10:00 pm PST. I don’t much like waking up to finding I have been crushed into oblivion or JUST BARELY defeated in the championship by 1.5 FPs. Sigh, I’m not ever going to let that one go. So close.
If I win today, I’m in a good position to make a run at the leaderboard. The real issue remains: can anyone outscore DerpyDerpDerp? What a fucking juggernaut! It’s over 400 again this week….
Update: ARG!! Paddak scratched with a stiff neck… Fuck didilly uck. Now that 30 point bubble is gone with Verlander on the opposing mound. This will be a foot-race to the finish line with position players as the deciding factor. Yikes. Just a tad more suspenseful than I was hoping for…
I’m doing a lot better mentally since I cratered-out the other day. I recognized my biff, corrected, and began the process of moving forward with a new mindset. I really do harm to myself trying to hastily grab for reassurances, companionship and an end to the affectionless wasteland I’ve isolated myself in. It is a terrain of my own making and I must correct that myself before hoping some outside factor will magically poof me to a new venue.
I don’t want to endanger any of the good things I have going either. I forgot how wonderful it is to be surrounded by people who share a common thread of interest, or many. It can be intoxicating, but that’s (again) on me to regulate. I misconstrue friendship often, adding undesired bonus contexts that often ruin the original thing in my greed.
Thoughts on this help me see my mistakes and correct them with changes in behavior. I can still have all the good things I have been enjoying without the turmoil of the land beyond the radiation zone. I can’t imagine ever getting to the point to needing to explain myself fully, and my precarious circumstance. The ideal I have set out for that threshold is unlikely to be met at all. It could be, but I’m not betting on that no matter how much I long for it. My isolation is for a purpose, and entirely my own fault.
Beautiful as she may be, I’ll only ever be in orbit of her world from a distance where gravity’s distant grip only keeps me from being flung off into space.
Sometimes the lion behind the door is there.
Where there is an absence of language, presumption is allowed to rule. Spun realities that ensnare thoughts in sticky webs.
I always forget to not have unrealistic goals. I yearn to believe even when I shouldn’t.
It’s the truth that very little of my negative expressions have the weight of intent behind them, but are nevertheless tapping into a deep well of raw feeling. I’m guessing that’s a lot to do with my mental illness, but also to the ease at which I slide to the pole in my own cognitive processes. I think of all the failed moments, the disconnects of understanding… I don’t really wonder anymore why I’m alone, I just know it’s better if it ends up that way. I know I’m nearly intolerable, but in a way, that makes the sliver of those who can grapple with sustainable coexistence all the more special. I know I was as close as I was ever with anything when I loved J. She hates me forever times 8 now, but I’ll never ever forget how she made me feel. It’s all lost… burned up long ago in a pyre of crisping, dead flesh. The past is done, forever unchanging, drawing our attention only as long as we can stand to divert it.
Life forward has been hard, as it is for everyone. We all struggle, but we try not to drown. We don’t want to fail, but sometimes we do anyway. I do the best I can to learn something of benefit, and try to avoid hurting more people even though I end up doing just that sometimes. Does it slap at my sense of self-righteousness? Fuck yes it does. I live with pride, and shame, but neither defines who I am. People today have lost sight of the grey – the unclear fuzzy place between the starkness of polarization. The good, and the bad, living in a neutralized purgatory where both are separate from influencing the other but still hugely relevant. I can see why our view of things in the present moment has become polarized with such prominent examples available of the ease of extremity.
I’m a fool, but also fucking awesome. I do so many good things, and yet, I hurt others. Can we comprehend this contrast without totally imploding or blasting ourselves to thousands of pieces? Doubtful, but hopeful.
Admittedly, Night Guy was a response to a changing circumstance and search for companionship outside of the traditional paradigm. While he was a fun and exciting fellow, he was not sustainable. I have sen now that some contortion is good, but too much compromises integrity.
This album centers its themes on the insanity, bizarre and inexplicably unique way I manifest my persona in this otherwise tranquil world. The motifs include hasty sex, strange comparisons, odd quirks, depression, fanaticism and balance (eventually).
I feel like this very-closely parallels my current mood and temperament. Have at with the exposition!
Mood Album: Spunk-Rocket Poof Station
Length: 75 minutes
Just completed class 6 of 8 for NAMI Peer-To-Peer. Leading flips my sullen to smiley. Today I was feeling depressed for most of the time I was at work. Then I got busy, but occasionally my sadness would flutter back in. It never leaves the room, but it might land somewhere else for a while. I put on my teacher mask and somehow that rejuvenated me.
Sometimes I feel like I’m being flattened in a vise. Yet, there is still such joy in life. There are beautiful things happening all around. New people I meet. Fresh faces that have their own stories. I see a future where compassion is the currency. I’m an idiot though. I fumble through doing my best as you have no doubt seen.
I wonder about where my path is going. Abstractly it seems positive, but calamity wears many disguises. I’m lonely enough to fall to my doom over a woman, or become ensnared in the deliberations and reconsiderations of work.
The truth is simple: no one else needs to care if I do. I pine for affection, even here in this vast echo chamber. I give nothing of substance yet expect expect expect. I think the world appreciates me, when I could just as easily be a used gum smudge on the sidewalk. Craving your approval, I bend myself to fit a shape you’d desire. This has always been folly. It continues to be.
Have a good night Blog.
It’s clear I’ve been grappling with my self-created frustrating circumstances over the last few days. I’ve also tried to reconcile what I think I’m looking for out there in the world. I came up well short asking too much of A and not able to see the limitations of S through the veil of sex. That’s my fault, and the hurt on both sides is real.
As I do with most life-obstacles, I grow and change in order to survive new circumstances. I have shackled myself to burdensome people in the past and continued to do so until, well, now. I’m grasping for meaning in a place where there isn’t any to be had. It’s a shame I wasted my time in this way, but I’ve also learned a bit about my “wants” when it comes to friendships and beyond.
I need to thicken up my skin, since my lifetime of rejection and dismissal seems headed in the same disappointing direction it always has. I’ve shed my concern for those who don’t fit into my life. Disregard is all I have left. I feel no shame. This is my life last time I checked, and I’m not wasting any more of it investing resources where there is no value in doing so. Nothing I hate more than being unappreciated for the person I am while pouring unrequited, liquid praise on those in my circle.
So enough is enough. No more scratching around the junk pile for the scraps of a structure long demolished. No more reckless attachment to inadequate figures regardless of physical urges. The future must have someone of genuine, undeniable value to be worth pursuing. I’ve said also that I’m only interested in going it alone in my reality, and that’s still true, pretty much. I’m not making any extraordinary effort to find someone, because I really don’t need anyone. I’m consistently doing better mentally when no one else is involved.
Confidence has always been here, it just got smothered by disappointment. Trying and failing can be tough, but even now, my introspective processes are on-point and rational. I can’t say the same for A or S. I’m angry still at them. I feel like I had so much to give, yet, I get tossed aside like a soggy jizz rag. No more I say!
Okay, so I’m pretty angry that my social experiment has totally failed. What was I thinking, strangers don’t get me, past acquaintances still don’t care about me, yet, this was the place I looked to in order to rekindle my connections with people? I put my faith in people who have disappointed me numerous times in the past and total strangers who know nothing about me at all?
I’m an idiot, period. Ima fry because I’m stupid. I’m alone because I invest in projects that I should leave on the junk pile. I need no one but myself.
Yet, I felt the need to appease my aching loneliness with a remedy destined to disappoint and aggravate. S was a sallow and dimensionless simpleton. A has been a disappointment in all capacities since I got with her. WHAT THE FUCK AMI DOING?!?!?
Laugh all you want. I deserve that. My pain and suffering can be your amusement because it’s deserved. I earned this anger and humiliation. I blame no one but myself. Hopefully I contracted HIV and will die soon.
I’ve never cared about how people read me. If you come here thinking some valuable content is going to be dispersed think again. I’m the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever heard of, and I have not ceased to amaze myself with my own stupidity and foolishness. Go ahead and get a good laugh you troglodytes. Fuck you all. You never did a fucking thing for me despite my pouring my soul out here night after night.
I’m losing my mind. I’m really fucking going insane right now. I hate this. I hate every moment that no one gives a fried shit about me. No one will, ever. I’m alone. I have been scraping the scum to find someone who will care about me, but even I don’t. I wish I were dead.
I messages S and told her I was sorry if I hurt her. I don’t think there was any sort of friendship there. She never once told me that she appreciated our friendship, but did thank me for my kind words. I felt fundamentally unrecognized in that arrangement. I needed to try to express that I did care but didn’t feel like that was mutual. Is it wrong of me to try and explain myself? I acted rashly and that should not go without explanation. We did have a few good moments. However, those ups were overshadowed by my being ignore or responded to with one or three words a day. I mean, why am I investing in that? Why pine for someone who basically doesn’t care what I’m doing? I hate pining. I’m not a beggar, I’m a beacon.
Well I’m probably exiled anyway so at least I tried to reach out and set the record straight. I’m not callous, I just don’t tolerate poor treatment for brief physicality. I don’t pour out my soul to be ignored. Would you?
This is goodnight.
I messages S and told her I was sorry if I hurt her. I don’t think there was any sort of friendship there. She never once told me that she appreciated our friendship, but did thank me for my kind words. I felt fundamentally unrecognized in that arrangement. I needed to try to express that I did care but didn’t feel like that was mutual. Is it wrong of me to try and explain myself? I acted rashly and that should not go without explanation. We did have a few good moments. However, those ups were overshadowed by my being ignore or responded to with one or three words a day. I mean, why am I investing in that? Why pine for someone who basically doesn’t care what I’m doing? I hate pining. I’m not a beggar, I’m a beacon.
Well I’m probably exiled anyway so at least I tried to reach out and set the record straight. I’m not callous, I just don’t tolerate poor treatment for brief physicality. I don’t pour out my soul to be ignored. Would you?
She blocked me so whatever. I’ll settle with whatever awful feelings she has for me. I’ll go forward totally unacknowledged and unresolved. I’m worth more than this bullshit. Why do I even bother with this random matchmaking nonsense. Such crap. Useless expenditure of energy. I tried to explain but why even bother. Fuck her.
I was feeling fairly apocalyptic earlier. That has subsided a bit. I am still unhappy, but in a better place mentally. It’s frustrating. I am glad for my friends and support team.
I wish I knew how I was going to get through this, but I know I’m not going to have anyone with me. I will walk alone most likely. Maybe that’s for the best.
I’ve hurt so many. I live with that.
I don’t know why, but I always seem to hope for unrealistic things. For example: I hope that people in my world would stop and change their destructive behaviors and instead nothing changes. I hope that self-honest introspection would be seen as an aspiration, but still nothing changes. I’m mired in frustration; perplexed by a world of decay and stagnation while I try to emerge. I think I’ve finally snapped.
I’m not in psychosis, but I’m just done with the people that erode my healthy behaviors and perpetuate dysfunction. I’m tired of shallow and meaningless exchanges that build a nothing road to nowhere. Why am I wasting my time, skills and love on people who don’t recognize what I have to offer? I’m such a special person, and yet, I subject myself to a reality that will never comprehend all that I am.
This is my frustration. It is massive, unrecognized and undesired. I have very few people in my world that really matter or make a difference. My home is a wasteland. My social circle has chunks missing from it. My redemption is the hard work I put in to help people advance their lives towards prosperity, dignity and stability. That’s no joke. I really do help people, every day. Meanwhile I’m surrounded by resentment, disdain, denial and escapism. My role models are the worst people I know.
So Blog, I’m detaching. Fuck all that noise. I’m launching into independence of self if not of physical location. Soon enough I will be subject to a calamitous and changing circumstance, but the torture involved is unrelenting while totally unappreciated. I’m frustrated beyond calculation.
I tried to expand the bubble and I shouldn’t have. The world is just jam packed with idiots, mindless wanderers and deplorables waiting to poison my reality. Are you ever just sickened by the life you lead? Do you ever wish you could permanently exit? I think about it now. I didn’t used to, but now I do. This life is frustrating because all the parts that need to change are completely unchanging. Stuck in dysfunction. Sinking into the stagnation in a painfully slow fashion.
I do wish I wasn’t here anymore. Nobody sees me. Nobody is even slightly capable beyond a slim margin of well-traveled veterans of my bubble. Do you know how desolate it feels to know we’re all just faking real life? Every day is a pretend version of actuality. Every interaction is make believe. I humor my way through, but why? They don’t see me now, what difference would it make if I were dead? I’d still be just as ineffectual and easy to disregard.
I feel acutely hopeless. Lost. I don’t know how long I can tolerate this rancid rot that fills my nostrils. Denial. Revulsion. Despair. Goodnight.
Well I did learn that distant relationships with fleeting intimacy don’t work for me. It’s just not fair to S in the end though. I did just abruptly leave after waffling in uncertainty about the irritating nature of our arrangement. It’s my fault for not at least explaining anything. It’s just not possible for me to healthily have that kind of relationship with someone. I snapped off. Blacklisted. Gone. Back to the cell with my broken toys. I am catalyzing. The reagents for my departure were well in place and only suffered my ignition. This is my fault though. She definitely could handle it while I could not at all. She’s right to be angry, but it will fade when her world moves on and I become irrelevant. Or, more irrelevant than I was before. I was already little more than an afterthought, which is not much to lose at all.
Well my escapade with S has cratered into the fertile soil of regret. Not that it was unexpected, but I was hoping for some semblance of closeness and got nothing of the sort (either physical or mental) Isolation pervades, and I grow increasingly alone on my island. This is typical, since most encounters I have attempted in the past end in revulsion, rejection and outright dismissal. This time though, I was just acting on the flammable material that was prepped and ready to be set ablaze. S has no real interest in me (or anything going on in my life) and I in her (arguable, I was denied access to her life in full), so it was natural that once the sex was gone there was zero left to hold us together. She was upset at me for walking away again (because I tried once already), but I need to say goodbye.
Realistically, I’m giving up on trying to build this bridge and evict myself from my unwanted isolation. There isn’t anyone who fits the criteria that I keep hoping someone will meet. This is a hopeless procedure and, frankly, I was doing much better without trying to make something happen. I am tired of smashing inadequate results into a lasting mold that fits my bizarre reality. There is no future where settling for whatever wanders past is the right choice, and it never has been. Not saying that happened, but all the applications for building something of value have been turned down upon review.
I don’t harbor anything more than a feeling of sadness, since I am shining brighter than I ever have. Yet, most women I meet can’t wait to escape my radius. I think it’s back to reason and the incremental successes of life. A and I are as far apart as we ever were in our past relationship… with no real gratification, feedback or anything to judge the ongoing value of continuation. What is this simple chat we have? Is it anything other than an activity to occupy a few moments of my time? Is there meaning to be had in these defused and innocuous statements? I tire. I think this might also be a product of my frustration and not indicative of the pattern. I feel no less alone like I hoped I would, or like I did at first. I quickly discovered just because you have people to talk to, doesn’t actually mean anyone really sees/hears you. Or cares.
Profile removed. Chapter adjourned. Now just to clear out the jetsam that has accumulated and start over again by myself. Disappointing? Oh hell yes. Crippling? No, not at all. I have done what my instincts were asking me to do. I tried, I had, I lost. It seems like the road to partnership has been overrun with brambles and foul smelling carcasses galore. I have little reason to go back there until long after the stench of decay has cleared out.
Here I am with my first interview for a media outlet!
Hey Blog, Night Guy here.
This other guy is a kook pretty much now that I’m going over all these notes and things left behind. Anyway, this music medium is how the previous administration tried to convey or interpret a state of being or emotional narrative for processing and comprehension. I’m not as much in to all the fluffy shit that goes along with this activity, but I guess I can scrutinize what has already been made available for me to cast judgement upon. See this album as a prognosis for the former occupant, and an indicator of the turbulent future he carved out for himself. This album is, basically, how it is; sad, stark and laid out there for all to see. Please don’t send me mail about the deeds of the prior administration, it will all get forwarded to the daytime guy.. or whoever he was. He may have fled the country.
So after listing to it a couple of times, it just wasn’t Night Guyish enough. I spruced this bad boy up with some silly putty and electric shocks. Enjoy!
Length: 77 Minutes
In light of recent turbulence in my world, I’ve tried keeping a better feel on the introspective pulse of regular function. I’m also aware that I’m subjecting myself to an unusually high level of stress and stimuli in an effort to combat creeping depression. I see all the elements like a confluence of rivers forming a mighty torrent… somehow sweeping my brain away downstream or buried in silt. Nevertheless, I still pry open the inner vault of the self and try to understand things happening to and from it. I feel I’m better at some things I used to be terrible at, but still lacking in quite a few areas. What are my true motivations for my actions? Why do I open myself to every nice person that walks by? Why am I such an insatiable prick? What does being understood feel like?
I sit here in my snowman jammies and wonder if expression really helps, or if it just provides a forum for things to garner attention for a time? I think the more ways I can ventilate this shit-smelling barn the better. Activities like the Mood Albums I do are helpful because they give me the chance to craft a narrative in a medium not often used. I don’t think myself anything other than expressive, curious and expositional about my own feelings and path forward. So as of the last album when I was feeling a fair bit gooier than I am now, I needed to revisit my good friend pain, loneliness and rekindle an ongoing desire to see things change.
Tracks from the previous Mood Album: Spatulas & Bandaids are highlighted in yellow. I have pulled from other wishy-washy type albums as well that have been generated in the past. I didn’t go “all in” on the squish, mind you, but it’s there. As you can see, there has been some pretty severe turnover in the track-list. I have listed the previous two iterations below so the whole three-album progression can be seen clear.
Having sealed the door, again, I have no choice but to plod forward in depressed discontinuity and lasting solitude. I have much I need to work on internally. I am a flawed, overly effusive person like a boiling teapot of unacknowledged desire. I’m abrupt and direct, which is generally abrasive. All true things.
Yet, this extraordinary volatility only seems to pertain to finding a female partner. I have consistently blundered and misjudged in this regard, and no more. I’m honestly thinking that maybe a man is a better fit for partnership, if ever there was to be any. I’ve never conceived of that before, though not out of the realm of possibility. In the meantime though, I’m just not going to bother with it anymore. I’ve clearly shown myself that I am nowhere near ready for that type of interaction. My continued abstinence goes on, and hopefully, continues for a very long time to ensure my stability. I am never more clear-headed, hard-working and focused than when not also regulating my emotions due to attraction. I’ve never been able to achieve balance in the past, and that is still the case.
So, on I go as I have. I tried, I failed, and now I have learned enough to move on. It’s back to living my life and investing in my future; one that I build for myself.
Well here I am finding all sorts of exciting ways to process what is going on with me emotionally. I find that the act of putting that to music to be highly therapeutic and cathartic. I don’t really know what story I’m trying to tell here, but it is spun towards a reality that now seems bleak, distant and, ultimately, unreachable. A cookie jar on a shelf that is many years of growth away from being able to reach. Maybe there will never be a time when I do get there, or maybe it will happen in no time at all. There is no predicting the future, there is only dealing with the reality that is presently occupying the “now.” At this present moment, I don’t have much hope at all, which I think is reflected in the composition.
These albums are pretty much appreciated by no one who they should affect, and only end up substituting several paragraphs of introspective analysis. It’s a primitive, visceral discourse in melody, lyric and rhythm that I seem to be the only one who finds that medium relevant, expressive and empowering. As per my usual criteria, these are meant to be 1 hour 20 minute max playlists (fits on a single CD). I do have some sort of structure going on here, but it is quite chaotic, and darting from one abstract representation of pain to an ache of sorrow and glazed over with a sickly sweet sugar coating that doesn’t do enough to hide the foulness underneath.
I’ve come to a determination that I’m still going to be alone. I do not fit with others. I have not found someone able to tolerate me as is. I think this is, again, a stopping point.
I’m going no further thinking my abrasive and inconsistent personality will fit with others. I do not see a future where I am understood. I see no one who can relate to me on the level I am at. Maybe I’m too deranged to be fully comprehended. Perhaps that discontinuity is for a good reason; to prevent future traumas.
You all have seen me flailing about. You watch and probably don’t care one fucking bit. I don’t blame you. I’m no one of relevance to you. The last time someone came out of your ranks my life exploded, then imploded. Never again. I say that, yet I yearn for her still.
Is there any hope of tranquility? I suppose a state of total abstinence and solidarity seems the only path left to me. I scorn those who try to care. I rebuke those who don’t fit. I struggle alone in endless solitude. Not a single fucking one of you cares. This is an empty vessel constantly filled with dispersing noises, fading echoes and then nothing.
I feel like I’m on the verge of launching, but I don’t know when or to where.
#12: We will never give up hope.
The fog is starting to clear a bit… and that is refreshing.
I’m finding my footing despite a deep and painful life-transition — this is something I’m proud of considering my past struggles.
I’m pretty awesome, and people are letting me know.
See you later.
Why is it that these groups help? There’s no treatment being rendered, no prescriptions or policies to follow. How can sharing be so effective? I think it has a lot to do with repressed versus expressed feelings and the cathartic act involved in unleashing things that few others get to see.
I don’t feel particularly rejuvenated, but I do feel like I was heard, which is a profound thing. I expressed my hurt over my dad, my poor coping skills stemming from that. I got a lot of genuine reaction from people who understand the why and the what of dealing with mental health symptoms. It is a blessing to have this support and be able to be exposed by it. I just wish I could have a similar feeling from a caring partner.
I saw people fighting the symptoms and thoughts of mental illness in their lives and surviving. People facing their demons and vocalizing. I’m still kinda running from mine, but I won’t forever, yet there was so much in the group dynamic I benefitted from. I will be resolute in healthily coping, but reaching that state is the struggle I face. For now though, my ecliptic is only a place I hang laundry from and the so-called cushions of my chair are pancaked into squishless plates of unfortunate size that tweak my posture and provide no relief. There are surely better habits out there waiting to be implemented.
All the lonely was scraped off like so much obscuring ice on the car windshield of my destiny. I still have only a small sniff of things that may come, but for the time being, there is an ache which continues unabated, unrequited and unmistakable. Is there someone out there? There are people that I help and those that help me. I tend to think a balance of both is the surest path towards positivity.
I search their names online. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find. Do I expect they don’t hate me? That they somehow have changed? Do all these years help us see something new?
No. It is only pain. There is nothing there but the dead space where something once thrived. If I yearn, I do so foolishly. I hope that the feeling of that love would come back and be strong again. Nothing like that is real. Ever.
I scour for some sight of her. Of them. They just go on living their lives and I might as well be nothing at all. I left no mark. I inspire no second thought. I am a wasted human devoid of value in the scales of companionship.
Of all those I have loved, none wanted to keep me. They tolerated me for a time. Then, no more. I hurt them. Drove them away with my illness. Contaminated myself beyond desire. No bridges can span the gorge.
If J was still out there I’d love her with that fire in me that will NEVER go out. If K had a way to see me, I’d try to fall for her, and if E wasn’t lost in a fool’s dream I’d rekindle the passion we once had.
WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING??????
My dreams are utter bullshit. Just another stupid fucking idea my infected, dysfunctional brain came up with to alleviate the unquenchable loneliness. There is no phoenix; nothing will ever rise from the ashes I created. It is gone. Forever. I can’t bear it. It hurts so badly. I’m crushed under it. Decimated. Defenseless. Lost.
I wish I still had you in my world,
I wish you were someone just a little different than who you actually are,
I wish your companionship was real; I wish my feelings for you would last,
I wish your comfort was physical,
I wish your intentions had been more indicative of your actions,
I wish I wasn’t feeling so very lonely,
I wish I wasn’t such an impossible fucktard,
I wish I didn’t have a lifelong STD,
I wish I didn’t have Bipolar Disorder,
I wish someone would really see me,
I wish for things that will never be real,
I still wish I still had you,
I wish someone cared,
I wish I could love someone with all my heart,
I wish for a time when love helps me feel safe,
I often wish for things that dash hope and reinforce the unforgiving nature of reality.
I’m doing a bit better… having an immersive distraction greatly assists in my not thinking about things. I am sad though, and feeling alone in the way that someone feels when they have no one walking the path with them. The pattern has been “oh lets try to fix that” or “no, you are loved, you have no reason to feel that way” or “I don’t know what to do about that.”
Isn’t that the exact opposite of what I need to hear, and how I’d like to be treated? I’m not a lamp with a burned out bulb; I do not need to be fixed. I am not asking for a cure to loneliness, only to be heard while feeling it. THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO, other than respect my feelings and provide a sense of understanding and empathy. I just hate how nearly every single person in my orbit things my feelings need to be fixed, and I, in turn, never really get heard.
I’ve stopped sharing with them, as a result. I get nothing of use from divulging my emotional state. Instead, I’m buttoned up like a tuxedo jacket and putting on a presentable face for you all to see. Isn’t it shiny, composed and reassuring? If I really told you what was going on you’d fall into a state of useless co-despair… which again, provides me with nothing of substance.
This world is all full up on people who don’t care, or don’t want to care since it is a great deal of work. I feel more alone now than ever before… as I learn new skills, more and more people fall away from me, not able to understand how I am evolving my mentality to survive.
Now, in this impenetrable state of solitude, I have all but abandoned the hope of being understood, and am going to fake my way through my interactions in order to be left unmolested by those who have not and will not understand me.
Not a lot is different than just a bit ago. I ran a Support Group tonight. It was hard to stay on top of my shit. I did though, and it was really good for me to not have been off pooping my brain-pants somewhere alone. I’m still very wounded, having to let go of K again and returning the things I bought for her birthday. It just reminds me how unrelentingly horrible and abrasive I am to everyone not obligated to put up with me. Regardless of incentives, my repulsion is overwhelming.
I keep looking, but I’m despondent. There is no one. There was only “close,” and now, nothing at all. Scaring away potential partners is something I’m just so fucking good at. I’m, like, nationally ranked at that shit.
Well, fuck. I’m tired, sad, dejected and in a big hole right before bed. I imagine I will again dream of things that torture me as they have of late. I have no one to hold me after a nightmare. I have exactly what I deserve. Rejection. Disgust. Solitude.
Feeling broken into many pieces right now. I don’t feel like I have any wind in my sails… no drive to move me forward. I am alone, trapped in a barren waste devoid of shelter from the cold. Each new step forward rings with an ache; a slow decay of the bone, the flesh itself begins to wither rot and disappear. The full space of my heart is opened like a tomb, fresh with the foul stink of confined death. It feels like the sun isn’t shining, or, that I have forgotten how it feels to be warm. I gape at the disparity of days, and wonder if more pain lies in wait for me in the days ahead. I know that it does, and I already am prepared to continue to suffer. My own sorcery confines me, where once it was used to set me free.
I haven’t felt like writing. Real life has been volatile to the point of occupying my attention fully. K was back for a bit but now gone again. She’s not the right fit for my life, which is now abundantly clear. Dad is still slowly dying; withering away as I watch helplessly. Mom lost her mind with stress and grief a few days back, which poisoned the world for a time. Am I dealing with this? Have I become depersonalized from my perception of reality? What hope is there of consistency when all the variables are fluctuating?
I have only what skills and strategies I’ve learned in order to survive this life in varying states of decomposition and growth. There’s no making sense of it; I’ve given up on that. Now, I hang on for scrapes and fingernails.
Sad and missing K. To have all that energy just ripped away, leaving a vacancy. I wish I could still have her, but I am a confounding and undesirable person as evidenced by the actions of others. I’m hurt, and I yearn. Goodbye is what we said, but not what I wanted.
My light is out with hands take the shard
Spinning in a desolate hole of alone
Bent upon the regret of actions
Despair of wanting like a bitter stain
Profusely ignored in a place where things are forgotten
No light finds me here
All who come eventually go away
Do I still convince myself it’s not true
To believe the facts is to accept isolation from acceptance
Tonight I miss everything I had
Alone and without
In the center of no one’s concern anymore
There is a place that is again, found missing. It grew and then it died. How badly it aches within me, pulsing with regret and sadness. How it is to be left behind, not advanced into a brighter future. By my own admission, I am deserving of this state. I feel the sorrow, blog. I hurt now, and I will for some time. How I yearn, and how I will scream into the silence. I wish she was still mine, even though she is not. Goodbye to those days when I felt the breath of affection burning my lantern brighter still. Into the darkness I fall, at least for now, to lament what is gone and be present with my sorrow. I never wish to dream again.
My dad has a limited time left with us, and I’m coming to terms with his upcoming death. I see only one path forward; to be there as needed until the end. I’m his son.
I feel everything one would expect me to feel, but I’m not expressing any of it right now. I’ve made the space in our reality for my mom and sister to experience things while I direct reason and action; providing stability. This role I fill helps us endure the hard times to come, but also works healthily for me since nothing gets repressed. The postponement of response is a promise, not a lock on a safe.
I know my time to process is coming, but right now I accept and embrace the role I have filled in this family unit. I am proud to be a member of it, and fighting to keep us from listing.
Will it work? There’s no telling. I have a good support structure in W and K. I need to be able to use my own tools in a crisis rather than always go looking for the answer outside of myself. I must survive with what I have if I am to survive at all.
I wanted to highlight something that happened a couple of days ago. I believe in significant acts, and this was one of them.
I injured my back lifting my dad the other day and it is an area that has consistently given me trouble in the past. These sorts of injuries can vary significantly in severity, and this appeared to be a bad one. It was just about his time that K entered my sphere, and her response to my shabby state was to procure a massage session so I could seek proactive treatment. She, thinking of me, did something direct, relevant and useful to assist me in a way I was not able to do for myself. It was a gift, and a memorable one. I can’t recall the last time someone did this for me in such a poignant way, as a partner. Done in honesty and through concern, there is no more wonderful thing to do for someone than to comfort. She took care of me, and the feeling of it is euphoric.
In the past, I have been in both roles, but still, I can’t recall a feeling like this. I don’t recall ever feeling really cared about in this sort of tangible, fundamentally generous way. Something enduring fuels that bond that is forming, which represents a transaction of trust and understanding. She spoke to me the best way she knew how, and it was impactful. It showed real care, from a very early point in our journey, which in and of itself is a fantastic indicator of trajectory.
It also makes me think about my own past and potential generosity. I will soon have a significant income compared to sitting on a leaky balloon as I have been for many months. I’d like to be able to give back to her as well, in kind, but I will need to find unique and relevant avenues to explore to sate my standards of fairness in the immediate future. I am a contributor first and foremost, and a gracious penitent when provided charity. I have my own conscience to deal with, which recognizes the fragility of this; acts accordingly. I give, and I can’t wait to be back in a position to do so again.
My mood scores have been in the 4 area, which is the high end of normal. I am paying extra scrutiny given the change in environmental variables.
However, it is a fact that I’m elated, what can I say? I’m developing real feelings again for the first time in many years. Unlike the previously employed fake-it-to-make-it salve for loneliness, this is the real fucking deal. It has a hold of me somewhere deep, primal, and magnetic. I’m activated in a way I wasn’t expecting at all.
My physical scores have been wonky since my back, and subsequent rub rub rub ouchy time. I’m doing better though. Heat pad required for a bit and not too much wiggle wraggle.
Things are happening!!!
Twins of twilight–
Pixie-blink a flicker,
The grounded stars dance,
Their fires alive.
Back across the stretching sky,
Racing alone to a distant–
Dust falls to ash,
Dimming until dark again.
My thoughts run tonight, bucking through the crisp air. J is back in my thoughts, as she has been of late, and always to a lesser extent. I can’t help but spin alternate realities where she brings a stabilizing force to my family dynamic and a new balance is achieved. A place where her quirky, clever humor and woman’s perspective provided balance and helped us feel equal together. Laughing with frequency and living in a state where stability was enjoyed. Dreamy, bleary and almost laughable at just how far from reality it actually is.
The world is cruel, and through it I too have also acted cruelly, and kindly. All at the wrong times, it would seem. Now that the alignment of her life and mine has passed, there is no going back to change what has already been written. The view that accompanies this thought is inevitably folly.
I’m embracing my life now as a caretaker and forever disciple of family. It is so nourishing to protect those we love, and do our best to preserve their safety. I only have so much I can give, but what I have, I do. I love them and I will help guide them to peace in whatever way I can. In my dreams, I reach out to J and open my arms to her again, despite the furious rage she has aimed at me. I have always known her regardless. Somehow, there is peace again.
I can’t help but long for a parallel reality as my own comes under strain. I always imagine one with her in it, when I project myself forward. She is still just as jubilant, having not been thrashed by my disorder. I see so many alternate realities where we coexisted splintering off into infinity.
She opened me up: I got tattoos and pierced my ears, and she exposed me up to a world I had never known before, but was curious to explore. I too gave her things as our paths intersected often once we grew. But I was a fool, and so was she. In thus reality, she may have been able to, but I was never going to live that dream.
Night falls on a turbulent evening. It’s at times like this that I feel truly alone, with no confidant within my bubble to relate myself to. I remember having that though, and it is the greatest joy of my life. For a time, I was blessed.
As in my current predicament, I am granted the strength and stability to endure the changes my family is going to transition through. I am fortunate. I can do more. I will do more for them.
I have dreams. They will forever say dreams. I look back, and I am filled with regret.
I just know I will never be over her.
There is no better place to test one’s coping toolkit than in a crisis. Conveniently, I happen to be in one of the familial variety, which as indicated by previous posts, is an ongoing, developing and mutating issue. I’m near to this unfurling destructive situation, with no hope of achieving the proximity of safety due to the bonds of conscience. The variables causing the conflict are also unstoppable in their perspective; aligning them to a path that only leads to a continuation of trauma while the gap between the energies seems destined for concussive retaliation.
I’ve been surviving in this environment by figuring out what expectations I need to have rather than wish I had, and living wisely within my means. I know I’m only going to be able to relate to them on a limited set of issues, and the window they see me through is made smaller by my accommodation rather than personal obstinance. I’ve learned where I need to have my own strength, because depending on an external source is much less stable. My parents don’t know any other way: mom can’t be strong on her own as she’s dependent on him for her consistency, stability, assurance of survival… she has no mutual or self-imposed logic, discipline or interest in a healthy conversation aimed at a resolution.
It’s sad to have to “defend” oneself against loved ones, but I have a history of instigating and now enduring situations of high emotional volatility. I have a talent for knowing when I am in a sound moral position (promoting radiant strength) having not been so on many regrettable occasions. It is sad to see the deterioration of more than just their physical selves; the very fabric of what used to make them strong has been torn and continues to unravel as they insist on stretching without strengthening it. The result is that I end up being alone and introspective for my own benefit, knowing the details of my process might as well be Japanese to them.
Acceptance of things that will not change has been hugely instrumental in helping me focus my energy on things that I can have some sway over. My priorities are healthier, my expectations (if any) are realistic and I am keenly aware of my own interpersonal mechanics as I improve in handling stress and conflict within myself.
I still see myself, as a 15 – 17 year old man, effusing, erupting, devastating my environment with my uncontrolled emotional irregularities. I used to get so full of rage, and I would cast it out to everyone in my proximity, unfiltered, unregulated, uncontrolled. The long-term repercussions of that become clear, along with the burden of inflicted catastrophe on the clean white sheet of morality. I got tired of that way, the turmoil, the imbalance.
The reach of my gravity is minuscule in this place, like Io at aphelion, hoping it’s going to move Jupiter closer to it with a good yank. However, it’s always just going to be a tiny little blip in the orbit of something much too large to be influenced. Sometimes, it’s best to just let gravity take you around and worry about having a clear path to do so.
I don’t have the best coping tools either, mind you. I’m drinking a little more, smoking a little more, just slightly disconnecting myself from this place. It’s agony when the air is full of hate like this, and I’m trapped in here most of the time, too fearful of the environment to be free. It’s not the healthiest way, I know. I’m not perfect by any means, but I am going to survive.
How much time is quantifiably “enough?” How long SHOULD things take… or how long do we want them to last? Time is happening, but, I find, individual perceptions of it vary greatly. Including my own, within my own life.
I found something on the internet while clinging desperately hope and scouring for words and images of my past. I found some text and read it, from 6 years ago on Christmas… It was the spark of something powerful, frozen in time). A check-in from a previously unremembered interval that seems now more like decades ago. My chronologic sense of this period, not the same as memory, is vastly different from the actual measured steps of days recorded. Things were accelerating towards a peak in these words, glowing and radiant. I feel far removed from parallels or similarity now, but the hurt of it is still near…
What I think my askew sense of time shows is that it doesn’t take long for our lives to change. In the years since that note, I’ve fundamentally reprioritized, changed professions, passions, goals, and embraced a new reality that works for equilibrium in my present environment. I look back and both sigh with awe, and swallow hard knowing what dark days lie ahead. When I reflected, I thought about how many things I had yet to learn, and how fundamental a reboot I would receive in the years to come.
During the decay after that peak, things seemed agonizingly drawn-out, but smeared and indiscernible, like grease on drywall. Such distant turbulence is hard to accurately document with memory, but little glimmers like this one remind me that, regardless of outcome, it started the right way. I had forgotten, but the origin was well intended, innocent, pure, impulsive and magnetic. It was like a dream, but I didn’t work nearly enough to make sure it stayed beautiful, and we fell into decay.
A gift from the past, but one that carries the weight and responsibility of reality. I am a creepy stalker asshole whatever to go sniffing around… but my heart is broken and I don’t have enough ways of coping that channel my emotions productively, apparently. I look for her words somewhere out there, with an ill-fated desire seeking an alternative reality that doesn’t exist. I know it isn’t hiding on some website, waiting to be found, which rends me even more. There is no end, only an ongoing state of realized, unrequited incompleteness… and our remembered laughter echoes down the long hallway of time, reaching my ears as little more than screams.
I must resolve of my own accord, and in a time that suits me best.
A great deal of pain comes from this place of knowing there is no way to heal the gaping wound wrought by past trauma. No matter how badly I desire the bridge of communication to be passible, it isn’t. No dawn in the future, only a lingering dusk just after light has been sniffed out.
Once a thing is broken, the only choice has been to destroy it completely. Once a stain appears, the whole is forfeit. This absolutism deprives one of the responsibility of repair, or repurposed use. I scrap only what is irreparable, and despite the portents of death, there are still some damaged, tattered things I believe in.
Figuring out what to do with this has been a struggle for me. I am powerless, in the dark and unable to find a safe way out. The constant reminder of my previously earned solitude hangs on me like a bundle of meaning over my shoulder. I long so desperately, yet don’t exude and effuse in my daily life. This torment stays almost entirely within, in a place it can be kept away from contaminating the rest.
I’m pretty sure this is indefinitely ongoing. My future filled with the anger of years carried on across the plain like a ceaseless thunderstorm. All the while the wind and rain, I keep hoping.
In the curtain shadow,
Lingering like a ghost.
Echoes of laughter,
Open window hiss,
This tired refrain,
Polluted in nostalgia,
Screams are breath–
Erased by the wind.
Her face was here again. This time, her cuteness expressed in toy-batting playful behavior and boisterousness. I remember most keenly that she was with some friends of mine she never knew, captured in home video handheld camera nostalgia. In a booth at the restaurant, they gathered for a lunch that had and will not ever take place.
Earlier, I was delivering a sermon, saying “hosannah in the highest” and “praise be to God” before a massive crowd of soldiers with spears and axes. They waived their weapons of war and cheered in their clanking armor.
Some of my friends were doing a stage play before the sermon, which pleased the soldiers greatly. My friends were dressed is little old men in white robes and had little candle holders in their hands. They all three scooted out into the stage barefoot while a man in a gold cape tried to reach out and grab them from the wings while I held on to his flappy and tattered cape.
J looked beautiful. Her hair was kinda poofy, like she had styled it. She was on video playing with a keychain toy the dentist gave her in his office, then eating food at a restaurant with my old friends, mentioned earlier. She was eating a plantain it looked like, and the food she was attempting to conquer was too big to fit in her mouth. She laughed at the situation in that joyous way she does.
There was fire burning the land earlier, before J was anywhere. My old home had been reduced to ash as I saw from above. The fire was still burning over a few ridges. Smoke billowing up into the blue sky.
It wasn’t just me watching J, my whole family was there gathered around the TV of my childhood home. We were commenting on how cute she was and that she didn’t know she was on camera. My mom laughed while J spun the little keychain around on her finger as her eyes chased the toy, spinning around in the air.
At that moment, even though a screen and distance divided us from each other, I knew she was still a fit in this family, and a part of us somehow.
Waking up alone and too early, I wonder quietly if she is out there somewhere thriving, living a new life that is entirely her own. Once she flew away, I could not see. I do not know, or truly want to know, because there is no reality comparable to the one I’m in when I sleep.
The time for celebrating is nigh Blog. After all this time volunteering, I’m gainfully employed nearly at full time starting in January. I’m an employee of NAMI Sacramento and Mintz Computer Guyz for nearly 30 hrs/week. This is enough to replenish my lost savings and then some. What a relief that is!!!
I hear my negative voice trying to put a damper on my progress. It says: “you’re a liar and a crook. Your soul is black and you destroy everything you touch. You will bring only destruction to these people and your so called work.”
While I appreciate how much that voice hates me, evidence speaks to the contrary. I am valued in my occupation for my honesty and legitimate results. My heart is full of effusive joy, and I make those around me desire my company. I build things with effort and work, and promote a positive future for myself and others. I bring the advancement of goals and fulfillment of possibilities to all things I apply my passion to.
The proof is right here in front of me; laid out in deeds and actions done. That negative voice from within or without doesn’t have much fact to base a claim of ineptitude. I look at the proof of assumption and see the truth.
The voice demands a polar reality, where any transgression is tantamount to the worst conceivable result. Inflation, roiling resentment and unending hate are the motivators for this contributor. So, as I have with other persistent negative voices, I’ve learned to tune them out.
It is a tough habit to break, the indulging of the voice. We listen to it sometimes. Believe in the self-destructive lies. A pattern repeated until learned away from. I have not finished indulging that voice… which takes in the potent form of someone once loved (but now jailed in resentment).
The voice is only as sustainable as the environment allows. Once the climate is positive, it doesn’t make sense to listen to it anymore. I hope for more days like that ahead, as the barrage continues regardless.
The days are growing again, slowly, coming to bear full as we travel around and around that big yellow thingie. We have been pointed at darkness for long enough, I say.
I’m hoping not to dream anymore. Rips are forming in my canvas, and the formerly delightful introspective brush set seems to paint only in black. It is this dark hour, when cuddling up by a warm seem the most honest if truths, that I mourn. I yearn, pointlessly.
The sun is coming. From out the shadows, it is blooming, growing. Radiating. I wish for that return to the hissing summer ghosts on the dry wind. The far away pollen smells of distant places, deep wet mountains and trees gulping in and breathing out.
Maybe this is it. Maybe not. It’s better to be prepared to deal with a difficult outcome than to be surprised by it. I can be surprised by all sorts of other things, but not calamity.
Down to the last few days before Christmas. Family, friends, fire… and freaking huge buds. Beer, bread and BADDA BOOM! We do know how to have a good time.
I do t think anyone is getting in the circle now. Not anyone new. It’s just too late.
Twisting, stretch-snapping the expanse,
Shredded down to an impossible wire.
But feeling it there–
Some thread still binding,
In unrequited twitterpation,
Escaping the fury of torment,
Yet yanking at the throat–
Scraping the hole left by death.
It’s only in dreaming–
That some bridge still exists,
A span still endures,
Where she can still be found.
Down is there under the mask.
In the flesh itself.
Broiling with fever just underneath.
It is a pressure.
A slowly increasing a downward force.
Feeling bones crunching and snapping.
It is a beat of the heart.
Agonizingly drawn out and scrutinized.
Grasping for purchase where there is none.
Pulsing, gulping and sputtering on.
It is the mirror of memory.
All the second guessing and reassessing.
Spinning alternate fates.
Musing on impossible realities.
Wishing to live in a dream instead of life.
Saddened by the depths of dejection.
Wilderness-bound, cold and wandering.
Screaming only where no one can hear.
Where is this place? My feet are not on the ground. I am compelled by the gusts of pain, upon an uncertain wind of remembering. How to escape it? Flee to some other world where things are different, albeit temporarily. Long for rest where dreams may bring me near to someone I used to love. A pervading sense of ongoing solitude restricting my oxygen. The waves crash ceaselessly. Pounding the craggy shore. Again and again.
I wish my pinky toe would die and fall off my foot. All it brings is pain, being a magnet for hard corners.
There is no resolution here, only an ongoing application of filter to restrain the localized toxicity of reality. The bitter bile of truth, ingested agonizingly.
Before Ja* there was Je*, and last night I was again visited by a spectre of my past. in Je*’s relationship, there was a very physical, carnal, fuel abundance. My dream ventured deep into the entwining moisture of sex, the spontaneity of passion, the strip-down clothes-shredding-seizure that ensures when the moment is nigh. But yes, there was still that anger and conflict. Even amidst that largely satisfactory arrangement, there was the tension of misunderstanding, the vast gorge filled with resentment looming. The fire burned fast, flickered, and then was gone forever.
It is emblematic of my past relationships. Starting with an explosion of similarly mirrored energies, then dwindling as the strands tear in the drift. It makes me wonder if I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. It makes me wonder if I am even capable of being a good partner. It reminds me of what it feels like to be loved by no one who doesn’t have to.
This dangly, barely alive leg is about to cross over, yet, the gasping push is microcosmic in relation to the race. We are all running, flailing, falling, but still trying to break that proverbial ribbon.
The silence of hate. Somewhere far away, a sleeping mountain grumbles beneath. It’s all rose petals and la la la, right? That’s how this goes? Why don’t we all gather round the marmalade and sing a merry song of doom?
There are no stories that go how we think. There is this life, here, now… we do what we can with what we have left. The container is corrupted now. The whole spiraling nightmare is true, and from that irreconcilable oblivion the state of things is found. No fur-brained delusions will come true no matter how many are fed to the blood altar.
Wallow or wallop. It’s really up to you.
After a night of purging my emotional turbulence (see below), I find myself again, reflectively pointed toward action. Even after all the castigation and ridicule I subjected myself to, those pestering voices tend to get quieter when I’m being proactive in my life or meaningfully responsible, or using the evidence of such to validate the truth. This helps me do battle with that negativity when it shows up, most of the time. I tend to be more rational than spontaneously emotional, so going back over my thoughts and feelings helps me quantify and understand my responses to things. My reaction to J memories returning has been to vent, which I suppose is working in some ways. However, there is no real cohesion to a response or a course of action.
However. there is not a fundamental desire to make this a focal point of my ongoing life, even with some gesturing. Instead, it has taken a passenger’s back seat to several other priority items. Right now, I think I am my most well equipped to be a functional communicator In my life, however, not rushing to fill the space a partner would have. I still yearn for something abstract, shaped like a nostalgically recalled relationship I once had that was seemingly wonderful. None of that is rational. The assignment of emotions and blurriness to the memory is harmful at best, and arbitrary in nature since any number of other emotions are attached this way as well, and not destructively.
I see my wound, that place inside me that is still hurt, but there is no action to take, no tool to pick up and use. I just get up, and continue walking forward undeterred. She and I hurt each other, and now that pain reminds me of how not to fall into a similar situation, for myself or anyone else. My learned diligence as a result of my collapse has helped me take on the responsibilities I have today, and the fulfilling life so-far crafted. It was a scarring, agonizing lesson to fail, lose everything, reboot… and I still remind myself of that failure, as has been apparent.
What am I doing? I’m coping through expression, the best I can, to deal with my mixed up feelings and try to appease the part of me that is still fractured and splintered with pain. If I will never be able to help her resolve her pain, then at least I can work to resolve mine. It frustrates the logic motor to have nothing to “do,” per-say, no way to repair or permanently heal, other than to do one’s best obelisk impersonation for as long as possible. Survive, learn, and adapt. The pain will never stop, but it does not have to be a focus as it has been of late…
I find myself engrossed in the mud of memory, slipping Back with each grueling step forward. There is sadness dragging me down, forcing me into the decompositional murk.
It is J. The memory of her. The impact she had in my life. After 4 years, the sting of her absence is just as real as the day she flew away. I know not how no let go of that pain. I feel her like a piece missing in my soul; at the very core of who I am. She reached me like no other, and I must accept she is gone forever.
I have not been able to do this because I still love who she was. I still love what we had when it was beautiful. She understood me like none before, and now she will never come back. The pain I feel here is something years have not reduced. Her departure is as fresh and bloody as any recent wound. Now, during this warm and family time of year, I miss her the most.
In times like this, when I remember, I tend to reflect in order to preserve my sanity. Having no word from her but another hateful disconnect in our frail communications is all I have left to remember her by. Her animosity. Accusing me of rape. She must truly despise me, which is a pain I must accept. I hurt her beyond repair, and now… now I am scum. A criminal. A pile of dirt. I wish. I wish she could see how I still love her. I wish she knew.
Blog, I come here to express, not to resolve. Unless clearly stated, my feelings are cast out into the ether with no expectation of understanding or compassion. I have only my own life to answer to.
I got a job today, and now I will have an income. I am a part of a team growing into future successes and possibilities. A whole new life built on pride and honesty is available for me. It is a future brighter than I have had in a very long time. I wish I could share it with her. I wish she was here with me, in these joyous times. I love her. I will not be able to stop, even if she wishes I was dead. All the wishes in the world will fall into the endless silence. There will be no reply. The dead do not respond. My broken place remains as it was, ever hoping, never knowing.
How fragile the whole thing is. Just a scratch and the blood pours forth. Right there, still, after all this time.
And yet her vibration is hatred. Animosity, rage, disgust. How does one reconcile such a schism? There is no way forward from back there. Such deep prolonged sadness. A terrible regret for such a thing to go unreconciled.
Alas there is no answer. Just hopes cast like screams into the wind. Carried off again to some unknown fate, there is nothing left to hope for. No trace left to be found.
Deep in the dark, alone, I wonder where she is. Does she still feel me, the way I feel her? I tease myself with impossibilities yet always hold out true hope for a future that has almost no chance of being possible.
Music scrapes away the armor. Recollections of deep potency. These and many other tribulations of the heart of someone lost. Spinning down into a space filled with cold. I have not been the same since then, and I’m still figuring out how to be at peace with having lost her.
Retreating into a cave where destructive activity prevails. Gross meat smells. Funk. Sweat. Not many fans lining up for a sniff.
Sadly, this is the way that seems most likely. A slow half-life decay into subatomic oblivion. Casting no shadow in this world. What does it feel like to be erased from desirability?
I love someone who is gone from my reality. Gone forever with no trace; as though whisked to the ethereal plain. More an idea than an actuality now. The shredded hopes of a forgotten time. Writhing with the mournful despair for the dead.
Dried in the sunlight. Wasted to slurry in the dank dark of rotting loss. Grasping at the walls, hoping to climb out of it. Nails shredded and flesh-raw fingers rake the walls with blood. There was never any way out. Lying beside her corpse in the darkness.
She hated every last piece of me. Maybe hates me still. Nothing left. No part of my past that was worth keeping. Only the foul stink of decomposition remains. Yet, I wallow beside. In the festering bile, I still hope.
Blunted by time’s decay,
Fractured rivulets across the plain,
Sometimes brushed or bruised–
Maimed and tarnished by use,
Alight a feather’s grace,
Delicate fingers unfurl,
Blessed the slightest droplet of dew,
Unchanneled and free–
A transient of history engrained.
Taken back. Days that seem brighter in their nostalgia. Is it misplaced fondness, or some bleary portrayal obscured beyond reality? I doubt there is a polar answer, but an amalgamation of both imagination and scar tissue.
Dreams can be triggers. Who was she to have left such a deep mark, one I have never healed from? It seems impossible, but it isn’t. The pain is very real. It’s with me always.
Numbered pasts. Counted scenes. Missed chances. How different would it have needed to be to have sustained? Are there parallel universes where we are still?
Drowning in my thoughts is s fitting way to disappear into unconsciousness.
It started with a big social gathering at some neutral site. J was there, but she wasn’t how I remembered her: she was tanned, rounder but absolutely beautiful. We sparred with playful words across the ballroom then retreated to the side. I saw what I felt was true in her eyes.
There was a house, but it was Kyle’s house. I don’t know anyone named Kyle, but we were both invited to go to stay. The house was huge beyond comprehension. I was on the top floor with my cat in a room that was strewn with papers, books, clothes and other loose objects. Other cats were lingering outside my door which worried me.
She was in another room somewhere, but we were so far apart we had to call each other on the phone to talk. We expressed our explicit desires, intentionally, and fully.
When i found her in the house, the same fire she had from my memory of our past was there as we tossed, giggled and touched lips briefly in our private bedroom. There was untapped passion there, just on the edge of revelation. We did not go to all the places we could have; there was ecstasy in savoring the moment.
The house began to spin. I stumbled to find a way out. I tried to rescue my cat as it was assailed on all sides by resident cats. They attacked, clawed viciously. I grabbed them by the scruff and tossed them away, but they kept coming.
I made my way to the bottom, but kept tipping over, crashing into things, scattering books across the floor, hitting the ground and getting back up. I got out, but fell down on the concrete curb outside, for the last time. She was there, but she couldn’t rouse me as my consciousness slipped away. She wished desperately that I would wake, but I was gone.
Kyle’s house was on the shore, and as I looked out for the last time, the tide was coming in.
Reflecting after group, I see how common issues build bridges of compassion or understanding. I’m feeling extra introspective:
I keep hoping I’ll dream about J like I did a few weeks ago. She’s the only echo left… all the others have faded into nothing. In my dream, we had a strange encounter, but it reminded me of several aspects to my past feelings that feel very real now. In that moment with her, things were like they used to be… a familiar sort of estrangement. A sense of elusive excitement. It was a piece I could hold in my hands that now is shrinking down into nothing.
I know I’m not doing my best. I have recently, but not anymore. My best is too expensive; all I can afford is meh. Dwindle.
Longing for spark, or poof & rabbit. The friskyfied feelings. The electric arcs fingertip snapping their crackle. I remember what it was, that I had it, but that was long ago it seems.
This is a fool’s errand.
The cauldron churns some new rancid elixir which will grant stupendous charisma at the cost of unfathomable isolation.
Sunk-shaft in throat-deep brown,
Residual, pungent excrement of time,
Aspirate viscous words,
Review abhorrent scenes–
Snarled in knotted forever nevers,
Plopped firmly in the mud of then.
The stink of hate–
Long permeated through cracked windows–
The dank, mildew-wet scent–
Sometimes I fly away from the ground. I go up high above my body, above the clouds, and I see the Earth. I see the weather in the lower atmosphere… the distant glinting of sunlight on the surface of the ocean…
At other times… all I can see is a narrow circle resolving a tiny window of reality at the end of a long tube. Whipping and whirring around to expose the miniscule window to as much as possible.
This flagrant, caustic world we reside in coaxes out our demons and turns them loose with fast fingers and poorly conceived, later regretted, actions. Do you pride yourself in being full of demons waiting to escape and consume your opposition? Do you disappear into an irresolvable point of light amidst billions of others?
The way is unknown.
I’ve decided to change therapists and go back to the one I had a rapport with in the past. I need to be challenged not placated, based on my current standing. ML has been much more useful to me in the past as an introspective coach which MB was not. I need advanced thought-level conversations about my mental state. I look forward to catching up and starting a new chapter with ML and jettisoning MB.
On the other hand, I still struggle to reconcile my feelings. I ache a bit with loneliness, but I also have a flare and passion for where I am now. I’m trying the dating site again, as indicated by my probe post. I have no investment in it honestly, other than it be a guide for others to be filtered through if applicable. So far, no one has survived the crucible of my derangement, as was expected. The standard has to be high because anything less is unsustainable.
Do you ever find yourself saying: “what the fuck am I doing right now?” I ask this of myself daily, as if it were something to be regularly challenged. Truth is I don’t check often enough. I still fall victim to the aches and agonies of the past. The palatable longing. It lingers, renews and ultimately, remains.
I also have little made up interactions in my head that never happened in real life because the voices inside my head are responsible. These exchanged are nonsensical at times and nearly always fictionalized in some pleasing way. There is no resolution to some past events, and that is a fate I have come to accept. The pain involved is unbearable at times, which might be why my wounds remain freshly agitated. I don’t think I’m alone in this predicament.
Well, things bloom promisingly on the horizon for me, while Critical Susan is murmuring foul things into my ear. It’s a world full of different voices saying what they need to say. Their overall impact is still, hopefully, mine to decide.
I was accepted into a very selective training class to become a mentor for NAMI. This has occupational relevance as well as financial. One more step towards sustainability of independence.
A spark of direction! Purpose! The beacon attracting so promisingly in the echoing dark. It is incentive for a cause for living curiously. One never knows what is to come.
Speaking of echo… the vacillating barrier between what is pined for and what is happening continues to churn undecidedly. I have come to expect unrest as the new operating norm.
Living with uncertainty can be taxing, right?
I have terrible dreams. I see places, symbolic of present time and illusively representational of the past. Fire consumes my flesh as I die. The plummeting abyss beckons me forward, pulling me down with the incessant of gravity. Inching. These troubling portents cause dire warnings to sound out internally. The vividness of nightmares float up to momentary prominence because of the importance of the residual byproduct created by resetting the conscious mind, which provides them the necessary buoyancy to be remembered.
Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone… gone. Still I hold the thread tightly.
I haven’t seen her avatar since that night several days ago in that perplexing dream. Nothing absurd or skewered with context in the meantime. An ever pervasive fantasy to just to hear her words, know her thoughts. There is nothing. It is gone.
What will we learn when we can see far enough into the past to find out how it started? I mean, that in both a mentally local and literally cosmic sense. One day we will actually unveil the distant reaches of the past, but solely to learn a truth we had not known. One day I may be able to let go of my own reaches, for there is nothing more to be learned, and no path forward that begins there.