Anxiety

I think about the good times of relative mental stability I’m having. How long will this last? Spinning…

My mom is of deteriorating health. She refuses to admit the problem or get help. She struggles on in stubborn silence and suffers the consequences of neglect. Dad is already dying. Getting weaker by the day. His spirit is strong, but once he becomes unable to speak, he won’t want to be alive anymore.

The future of these things happening has become suddenly apparent for some reason. Is this a rush of anxiety? Do I now realize my station is contingient on having a parent to take care of? I needed to find a way to sustain beyond this limited role, and I have not done so of late. I have not secured a future beyond the shortening lifespan of my parents.

All along the way, I had hoped to sustain a relationship that would be my “net” once the parent world fell apart. I thought I had this in some limited capacity before (with K), but now realize I’m back to zero. I have as much to give as I ever have, but I have more energy than my parents have time left to enjoy it. Things are leaning towards decay, at an ever increasing pace. I wonder now what I am doing, and if I am safe to continue doing so into the foreseeable future.

I gamble all on the devotion of love.

I will always be there for my parents, even if it ruins me in the process. I owe them everything, and I will give everything I have if it will help them have a better transition. I have nothing to lose. No property. No wealth. I have only my time, energy and words to give to them for as long as I can. The end seeming nearer than it has been before.

I also must try to find someone who can understand my plight and still love me all the same. I have not given up hope, but it is not a viable thing to invest much time in. I am trying but who knows what will come of it. I have had glimmers of success, to be followed by sadness (in recent memory). I have no more allowance for excessive sadness in my dynamic anymore. I’m full on woe.

 

Good luck me. Keep my path all the same! Persevere (and find evidence of life on Mars)!

It Was With Us

It’s been here for some time, we are beginning to discover. The testing is so far behind we have no idea what the scope of this thing encompasses. I remember the numbers on the daily ticker… when they were much smaller. How long does this go on for? What a frustrating apocalypse this is.

My transition has been smoother than most, but still a dramatic deviation from the well-established norms. I don’t know what lies ahead, but my first guess about the scope and scale of the pandemic was pretty right on.

I hope we do not reach 60% infected. I hope it stays where it is… around 3%. Does it just keep getting worse, further stuffing us into our little security compartments? I already hate the way we are surviving this and I’m surely going to hate it more when there are fewer things for us to do.

I hope you all get through this with no COVID-19.

Dry

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.

Breathe. Breathe.

 

 

COVID-19

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.

Broke

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.

Blast From The Past?

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.

 

 

 

Before The Group…

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.

Distance

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. 

Ownerless Album

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

  1. Play The Game – Queen
  2. If I Can’t Have You – Yvonne Elliman
  3. Just Like Heaven – The Cure
  4. Laid So Low (Tears Roll Down) – Tears For Fears
  5. Just A Song Before I Go – Crosby, Stills & Nash
  6. Spiderwebs – No Doubt
  7. Radio/Video – System Of A Down
  8. Drunk Sincerity – Bad Religion
  9. Beds Are Burning – Midnight Oil
  10. Let’s Go – The Cars
  11. Diamond Girl – Seals & Crofts
  12. Saturday In The Park – Chicago
  13. Don’t Get Me Wrong – The Pretenders
  14. Escapade – Janet Jackson
  15. Just One Look – Linda Ronstadt
  16. Baby I’m-A Want You – Bread
  17. Biggest Part Of Me – Ambrosia
  18. I Want You So Bad – Heart
  19. The One – Elton John

The Break

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.

Blap

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.

Face Wasted

I’m pulling ahead of FaceWaster, but not after tomorrow… he has his starting pitchers going and that will be the real test. I need to establish enough of a lead to overcome his Verlander, Shcerzer and Greinke. Shcerzer is on paternity leave until Saturday, so no double start possible. I get a double start out of Minor but we will see if he has any mojo left after that 9 inning miracle. Personally, Scherzer is due for a meltdown and Greinke hasn’t been terrible (or fantastic) for months. I don’t know how the future will unfold, but my viability will be clearer as of tomorrow.

I’ts a marginal lead at that. I need some more magic. I did hand my opponent Pittsburgh’s Bell and he promptly raked in 3 HR for my opponent, He’s at moer than 44 FPs on Thursday blog… on fucking Thursday. There’s still a lot of baseball to be played, and all I can hope for is a random alligator attack. I find myself looking closely at voodoo curses and other forms of divine intervention.

 

Still a lomg way to go in this round, but I imagine I’ll be screaming illogically at some point tomorrow afternoon.

 

 

Dread

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.

 

Splatty Susan

I’m about to “secure” a third straight defeat in my FMLB league. More than 100 point margin in this: a fantastic humiliation taking my league rank from first to third. Sigh.

Wholesale roster changes commencing. The injury bug has DECIMATED my team. No other roster has been hampered by injury. None. If anyone has a goat they wouldn’t mind letting me “borrow” so I can make an offering to Jobu please let me know. And for the record: I DID NOT STEAL JOBU’S RUM!!

Alas, a new week begins and another chance to get right. Hopefully.

In the rest of my world I went through some dad drama. He seems like he’s doing the best he can to make his slow decline unabashedly miserable for my mom. I’m not present enough to help ease the burden but I do need to earn a living. I’m torn in this capacity as son and man. I can’t propel independence without betraying my foundation. I resent my dad and his hedonistic way of living out his final days. He doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he gets to feel good all the way to the end. It’s grotesque and selfish.

In my secret life, “A” and I are thriving. I’ve troubled her with my symptoms lately and I feel bad about that, but I’m also a human so it seems unavoidable. She has her own life to sort through. Bullying ex. Distant family. She calls me by my first name.

I sympathize with our current plights but see a stable future out there somewhere, and not too far from here as well. I get scared but remind myself of the steps it took me to get where I am. Nothing worth having is achieved without struggle.

I’ve been having strange dreams that border on nightmares. I’ve also been having astoundingly good sex for the first time in many years. There’s a stability here in this dynamic that I’ve been missing. I’m glad to have it. Ow that shit in my family and beyond has hit the fan. So many variables. My antipsychotic is not cutting it at my current dose. I need to talk to my doctor again. Self care.

I’m going to bite my pillow for a while. Bye.

Bonk

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?

Nightmares

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.

Burned

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.

Idiot

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.

End

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.

After

Torpor of ambition,

An atrophy–

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.

Mirror

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.

The Jar

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…

Well…

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.

Lessons

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.

Lametown

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.

NPR – Capital Public Radio PSS Article

Here I am with my first interview for a media outlet!

http://www.capradio.org/articles/2019/03/28/peer-mental-health-workers-could-become-state-certified-under-proposed-california-law/

Shelf Of Issues

I don’t know what functional looks like right now. I’m taking the walls of the pit to find a way out. There is no out. Prepare for an onslaught of allegories:

Instead of feeling stable, I feel like there are issues that just get stashed on a shelf somewhere out of sight to promote the impression of not being overloaded. There’s no argument that the stashy is not s solution by any stretch. It’s not even a temporary anything.

Who am I right now? There’s a bunch of different personas colliding in here. Vicarious and pragmatic alike, with a sprinkling of ardent skeptics and jubilant idiots. I don’t know what to make of the lot and their shouting. Who emerges… the ambiguity of leadership falls in line with the rest of my reality.

I don’t know. I think that’s the real deal right now. I don’t fucking know what I’m doing or who I’m failing at trying to be. Am I this adaptable fellow? He’s all bendy and detached from concern. Do I have my “scrutinize the fuzzy shit out if this” pants on? I don’t much like those pants now that I have them on. Have you ever felt utterly lost in trying to understand who you are?

I do admire that adaptability I seem to be warmed beside the glow of. Hopefully it also doesn’t destroy me.

Night Guy Does A Mood Album

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.

**UPDATED**

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!

Mood Album: Emo-Slave Resurrection v. 2 (Night Guy Edition)

Length: 77 Minutes

  1. For Your Love – Fleetwood Mac
  2. More Than A Woman – Bee Gees
  3. Chains Of Love – Erasure
  4. Ventura Highway – America
  5. Rikki Don’t Lose That Number – Steely Dan
  6. The Other Side Of Life – The Moody Blues
  7. Don’t You Know What The Night Can Do? – Steve Winwood
  8. Feels So Good – Chuck Mangione
  9. The Night Owls – Little River Band
  10. You Don’t Have To Cry – Crosby, Stills & Nash
  11. Owner Of A Lonely Heart – Yes
  12. The Heart Of The Matter – Don Henley
  13. Cowboys & Angels – George Michael
  14. Nothingman – Pearl Jam
  15. Because The Night – 10,000 Maniacs
  16. Conviction Of The Heart – Kenny Loggins

Yearning In Stupidity

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.

Unchanged

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.

Shattered Mirrors

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

Daddo

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.

Everless

Twins of twilight–

Pixie-blink a flicker,

The grounded stars dance,

Hands catching–

Their fires alive.

Back across the stretching sky,

Racing alone to a distant–

Faded horizon.

Dust falls to ash,

Dimming until dark again.

Pillar Talk

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.

6 Years

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.

J Sequence

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.

Tomfoolery

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.

Solstice

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.

L

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.

Real

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.

Daily Plop

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.

Bloosh

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.

Under

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.

Dreaming Again

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.

Untethered

C Score: 2.5

E Score: 1.5

The drag of time. A hook sunk deep into the meat, constraining and directing. Sometimes questions are louder because they can’t be quickly answered, if at all. Screams echoing in the chasm. Where ambiguity pervades, depression follows.

I don’t long for companionship in a way that dictates action, and have no motivation to flip reality upside down to satisfy the ache. In the end, I’m too enmeshed to risk toppling stability over an uncertainty. Knowing when to extend is a talent I’m getting better at. Still, old harmonies remind, and invite a reprisal. The palisades and balconies in my dreams are the only vistas she still makes sense in. This figure who is with me. Whoever she has or will be.

I’m lost to old glimpses. My edifice paraded by uneasy crowds, ingloriously, in a city frothing with unrest. Little more than an icon from a long dead time. My world is made of things that can’t be forgotten.

Maybe the next few upcoming days will provide some clarity, or maybe there is no escape from the shadow of love. For all my griping, I remain untethered.

Evening Thought-Purge

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.

Dredge

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–

Careless doorseams,

The dank, mildew-wet scent–

Of irreconcilability.

Specked, Re–

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.

Ed.

A full day of training behind me, and one step closer to another employment qualification. Signature Program Leader… sounds pretty fucking real, eh? This accomplishment will undoubtedly take its place with myriad others to represent the structure of success I am erecting. All that LEGO training is paying off!!

I’ve changed in the past few years. Truly, the environmental variables and my own emphasis on progress have promoted my success (yes, there is many of success, just look at all these bricks). Even as I say that, I’m laying in bed exhausted. Each component of the structure that has contributed to where I am now has been difficult to set into usefulness. An arduous proposition, even. That’s why I know the foundation is strong; it was built with now calloused hands, thousands of hardened bricks and the inflexible rigidity of mortar.

Right now though, I’m tired, snarly and generally looking to push the power button until the screen shuts off. I’m all done for today. I would wager this is a familiar state for many who push themselves despite mental illness.

Tonight though, I hope I do not have troubling dreams. Visitations from the loves who are lost. Splintered memories of joy and agony. Mortal danger. Fire. Death. There aren’t many things I look forward to anymore, but uninterrupted, fulfilling, restful sleep is clearly high on that list. When maintaining mental stability is the concern, priorities change along with expectations.

Upon further reflection, I feel… integral. Zipper-like. I’m a part that would be missed if it were gone. I don’t have an incessant desire for self destructive behavior to combat regularly, so usefulness is a motivator instead of an antidote.

Basically, I’m satisfied being one of a select few who have any idea just how fantastic I am. I’m sorrowful that the number will be low, and companionship impossible, but my vivacious charisma will still infect this vulnerable world with unrelenting smart-assery, poignant sarcasm and deadpan, monotone responses that do not make any sense.

Gibbersplats

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.

Ficky-Foog

I’m seeing that there are a stack of factors contributing to my degraded mental health in the last few weeks. In my effort to be constructive, there are some steps I’d like to take in addition to diligence respected since last required. On that specifically: the one activity I have neglected has been my exercise, which I am suspending only because of the air quality. My recognition of the state of emotional decline does not have a logically rationalized outcome, despite my brain trying to address it as such. Some factors simply have to be understood or accepted as they are. I don’t have any sort of spirituality, but I do have a sort of faith that my own struggles were necessary to harden me into who I am now. How I proceed with my “struggle” will define who I am, what I stand for and provide a path forward from despair.

The accountability of self-honest justification binds me. Period. I wear such shame from the past as it is now… crushing shame. Memories I can’t ever erase or actions I cannot undo. Why would I further burden myself with new regret when life under the weight I have can be relentless? When I stare into the mirror, I see someone who I was ashamed of, for a time. How should I spend these precious additional days I have been granted? What is going to help alleviate the burden on my consciousness? What must I do to not continue to be someone I regret being?

I don’t feel anything but agony in surrender. I do not have zero worth. No one has zero worth. There is always something within that is 100% unique. I have that too, and it enables me to give back honestly, proudly. In the end, I’m only looking at myself. Only I have seen the whole journey. Can I ever be truly understood, or better yet, who would want to know? I contend that may not be anyone who would care enough to untangle such an elaborate, confounding knot.

I try to measure reality in terms of variables that are unlikely to change, and ones that are. I have moved companionship to a nearly inactive state, which has its own consequences. I have been in a mode where the avenue to this potential emotionally effusive destination is little more than a cul de sac of my own consternation. Having changed as much as I have in recent years, I begin to feel a glimmer that I may have acquired the skills to, at least, increase the probability of being successful. Maybe I’m sabotaging myself by having a standard of expectation to high to be met or to high to be rationally deserved. All I have left to do is experiment with the variables I can change, and hope for a positive outcome of some kind.

This blog has always been my thought stream splash pad, and now more than ever I am glad I have a place I can go to work through the various responses to my symptoms and changing factors in my circumstance. To survive, and not be at the mercy of my surroundings, my behaviors, actions, thoughts and expectations have changed. Is this a 2.0 moment, or are we still in beta?

Toxicity

The world is swimming in poison. Is it any wonder I have such conflicted states? The environment is a variable. That contribution is destructive.

I can’t blame the air. I don’t blame. There is only here, now. I have a chance to set on in a better direction. I’m learning, adapting. Change is constructive.

Many days under the shroud.

Two Night Terrors

I was all nicely dressed, in this massive office building. It was clear that I had just given a presentation or something, and I was packing up and mingling With indistinguishable dream people. I was so distracted that I forgot my computer bag on the filing cabinet as I left.

I was walking out to the parking lot and a friend from high school (BD) ran out after me just to tell me I had forgot my bag, but when I looked back across the parking lot I was stunned…

In the night sky behind the hill and row of offices and houses, a red and orange glow was growing brighter. Then, towering, carnivorous flames emerged on the hill and rapidly began to descend. An unrealistically massive wall of consuming fire bore down in hunger.

I remember the wind. It was violent, tornado-like even. Houses were being ripped apart, glass was flying everywhere, debris was strewn on the ground. The fire devoured the city before me, and I ran in thinking I would go back for my computer. I did not make it out.

Poised on an odd carpet saddle-like bucket seat on the edge of a thousand foot drop over cities, towns and homes, I was somehow needing to move a collection of small objects to relative safety away from the perilous edge.

My hands were sipping with sweat, and I felt things could slip through my grasp and fall into the world below. The howling wind tore at me, begging me to fall to my death, pushing me with each insistent gust. There were people down there, lives, unaware of my situation.

My fingers and toes burned with nervous panic each and every second that my legs dangled freely over the immense expanse, and having so many things I needed to move back from the edge was an overwhelming concern. My hands were slipping and jittery. The computer tower was so big and heavy… how was I going to move this away when it was so close to falling? The wind kept pushing me closer, closer.

Exfoliate

All this revisiting of my past, and for what? It seems like an inherently counterproductive venture, but I assure you it’s not. Note that I don’t spend much time acutely regretting, chastising or otherwise reiterating failures. I must know now to then know better later on.

An irreconcilable divide. The constant gaping wound. Just one trigger unleashed a series of impassioned posts. I wasn’t expecting to go there, but I did, and gladly. I’ve had positive thoughts about the way I processed all these images and feelings.

The gain is strength from acceptance. The past goes on unchanging, but each new step carries the memories. How to address that effectively? I write. A lot. I write as much as it takes to exfoliate the brain meat.

I have tons of stupid fucking thoughts. Don’t you? It’s hard not to judge even though it’s my brain.

The consciousness glops like cold molasses out of a drippy faucet. There is no good time for brain. Only time.

Incinerate

Creaky hollowed and bone-dry,

Brittle stuck to twisted agonies,

Piling through the seasons–

Combustibly warped in crisped gapes.

Scowling shift hisses an unloading–

Cast of up leaves and old tinder,

Snicker-snapped with a snarly pop.

Bored moments and crumpled memories,

Transformed in a rush–

To pillowy piles,

Refined, but still–

Nourishing roots.

Birdy Letter Revisited

A letter I have written before, but write again as the clarity improves to the benefit of my understanding. For my heart, for my mind, these words are sent:

~~

Dear Birdy,

There seem to be no words that can be said to bridge the span that lies between us, but I am nevertheless compelled by my conscience to send these words out into the expanse as a mark of my intent, truth and the desire of my heart to be at peace:

In my life, I have transitioned from state to state, trying to achieve stability with my mental illness since I was diagnosed. In my right, back when we first met, I lured you unknowingly into that turbulent dynamic and you were destroyed by it in many ways because of my inability to prepare you for it. I did not adequately equip you for how to respond to my mental illness effectively, nor did I remotely or appropriately respond to yours when you called out for help.

I remember in the truck one evening with you coming home from my parent’s RV. I was stoned and you were a bit tipsy. You remembered a trauma about your old best friend and I was chastising you for thinking about something from the past, like it wasn’t important because it had already happened. I think back on how you were hurting that night, with tears in your eyes, and it breaks my heart. You were calling out to be comforted, and I just argued with you, scolded you. I was not able to see the way to hear your pain, and acknowledge your trauma, or even to comfort you when you are feeling vulnerable. I failed then. I know it, and I accept that I must grow to do better. I am sorry for this time, and the many others like it.

I did not have the tools to communicate effectively with you or express my feelings to you appropriately. I was not able to help you, when you needed a partner, a friend, someone to trust. This disparity and neglect is my greatest regret, for the beautiful person you are was hidden by my inability to see you, address your feelings, and be the partner you needed me to be. I was not a healthy person and did not deal with my issues in a functional, sustainable way in the time that we knew each other. I lied to you, hid things from you, and never told you how I felt inside. The lesson of my inability to sustain our relationship has taught me the skills I needed to survive further calamity and caused me to regret the missed opportunity to have done better with the woman I loved more than any other.

I am responsible for harming you, abusing you mentally, psychologically… because of my unchecked disorder and poor coping skills. My sanity was not consistent, and I was reeling in the end, compensating poorly, neglecting frequently. I have a great deal of ongoing shame over this which keeps me thinking about how I can be a better communicator in my future interactions. I was not the person I needed to be to have properly participated in a relationship, and for all the damage that caused to you, I am sorry. With a pain that I feel every day, I am sorry for what happened between us. I have never been over it.

There is no word, or words that can take away the trauma, the pain. I must bear that responsibility forever. I have done what I can to learn and listen or try to. I am accepting of my part, but only hoping to release the emotional burden by the recognition of spoken, actualized thoughts. For all the times these powerful words and memories have been whispered between my ears, I give them back to the endless void, echoing on into the silence: thank you.

Sundown Cold

The night that creeps in is wet and chilled. The weight of it is like resin or gooey snot seeping, sludging and glopping in. The smells of the coming winter.

Do you ever feel not alone in bed at night even though you are? When the cold comes in, and it surrounds, do you feel the echo? I do. I remember, and sometimes that’s a nail in my chest, and other times it still warms me. Perception can be momentary, circumstantial.

Now, there is only a space for understanding. A process where comprehension takes a back seat and settles for not knowing where the car is going. Think too hard and the tunnel develops a slope downward. For me, I often find myself contextualizing and interpreting: wrongly, optimistically, starkly…

Logic’s devices are stunted with emotion’s geyser-like eruptions. That’s the place where the echo comes from, I feel. The indelible imprint of a soul touched, the intoxication, idiosyncrasies, passions that once flared but are long silent, and have been. Something that I have know is there, and will clearly linger for the rest of my life. What to do with all the images? Cherish, I say.

We have so little time to be alive. Only a blip. A tiny fragment of a fragment. I’ve been guilty of abusing that gift… squandering it; laying waste to it on occasion. The fact that I still have it despite myself is a thing that can’t be ignored.

But here, now… this fragile place where the remembrance is strong… she remains with me. In some delusion where peace had pervaded, the outcome was different… the story continued, but changed to survive. Again and again we see that those who are suited to adapt, endure the cycles of changing chance and circumstance. Such is the case in our lives, however brief they are.

Why? I won’t deny I missed her. She was right there with me again. It hurt to wake up. I was bleeding. I won’t forget. I dreamed for a reason; and will never deny that.

Sometimes the best thing to do is dream, for it is there where I will see her again, in a place where no new harm can be incurred.

A Dream…

It was a house I lived in now, but not one I had ever seen before. There were many well-lit rooms, hallways and balconies that opened up wide. There was flashy yellow trim, and the blue in the sky was vibrant above.

Yet, somewhere within the house, there was a door that went down. It was a door I opened and looked into freely. A solitary ladder stretched on into encompassing darkness of the featureless shaft, to some unseen place.

I began to descend. Down came with markers, years, I knew, ticking by the deeper I went. I knew it was a measure of time, but I couldn’t read the numbers. It wasn’t cold, despite how far it went on into the abyss below.

At the bottom, there was a dimly lit chamber. There was no visible floor, only endless shards of something small, shiny and black strewn or piled from wall to wall.

You were there J. You held the shards up in your palm so I could look at them, and then I realized what they were. They were once letters; literally large, black three dimensional letters that one might expect to find at an old timey gas station or cinema. The letters were broken into unrecognizable pieces. As I looked around, there were thousands of them, knee-deep in all directions. Your black hair glinted in the pale light filling the room and I remembered.

You wanted me to follow you, and we started walking through the catacombs, but it felt more like I was chasing you. Between the archways and pillars, you slipped away from my view. I knew I couldn’t stay, because I had to go back.

Then, it was gone.

35th Anniversary Portrait Album

Clearly this sort of activity truly excludes me from my peer group as most people my age hate all the crap I listen to. This is a good filter though, as this portrait is a fairly good rendering of myself in music. Though, the aspects I chose to depict, and how I chose to express them, is a matter of some debate. Nonetheless, the album is here and it is full of contrasts and apt comparisons. I highly recommend giving it a listen if you are old and h really have nothing better you could be dong. I find this type of thing puts me back in touch with my traits and memories of varying emotional gravity. I highly recommend toiling in this way. The act of pairing oneself to aspects of music seems inherently like it’s at least exploration and quite possibly transformative.

 

  1. Impression AWhat A Fool Believes – Michael McDonald
  2. Impression BPork Parts – Ensemble Studios
  3. CharismaticThe Power Of Love – Huey Lewis and the News
  4. Mentally Ill(Sic) – Slipknot
  5. NaïvetéYou’re The Inspiration – Chicago
  6. CarnalWild Sex (In The Working Class) – Oingo Boingo
  7. IntrospectiveMan In The Mirror – Michael Jackson
  8. “Old Soul”Tomorrow – Joe Walsh
  9. ImmolativeRegular People (Conceit) – Pantera
  10. DetachedHey Nineteen – Steely Dan 
  11. CuriousOn The Road To Find Out – Cat Stevens
  12. AdaptiveI’m Still Standing – Elton John
  13. Original Still Alive – GLaDOS & johnathan Coulton
  14. RegretfulThe Other Guy – Little River Band
  15. HopefulThe Voice – The Moody Blues
  16. ResilientWaves – Blondfire
  17. Obscure Flavor Cats (In The Comfort Zone) – Ensamble Studios
  18. Unsatisfied – No One Like You – Scorpions

Remember When..?

1. TV was received from the air with an antenna on a 30 foot long pole?

2. There was no internet?

3. A cell phone was the only thing you could put in your pocket, and the antenna still stuck out a bit?

4. When A CD player was as big as a microwave and jukebox shuffled them around between tracks?

5. Music was good?

6. Kids went outside and played in the dirt and had a great fucking time?

7. There was ice year-round on the North Pole?

8. There wasn’t an area the size of Texas in the Pacific Ocean known as the Great Garbage Patch?

9. Things weren’t so fucking nuts?

10. There were only 25 people waiting an hour early out front of the DMV, instead of 250?

+

Dear Head,

Your relationship to my brain has always been central to our cooperation, so, I believe you will trust my words (said in earnest, from the heart). I know that the information you are being inundated with right now is some pretty rancid, unrelenting vitriol, however, that is only part of the reality you and I reside in. I am not discounting the relevance of allowing emotional expression, but I do expect a bipartisan effort in forward operations regardless. Everyone can have their say, as long as we can all still function normally (ideally).

Despite the revelatory insurrection, there are several things which can be said, truthfully, definitively:

Eric, you have a magnetic personality, a deadly poignant sense of humor, and a charisma that inspires others.

Despite all the numerous mistakes you have made in your past, you are still out there trying for better (nearly) every single day.

Lastly, you are proven strong through fact, capable and dependable in your aspirations, and your duties are done with love and honor.

Despite a history littered with debilitating landmines, there are still compromises, missteps and occasional mutilations. The future can’t be set in one direction, because it is an amalgamation of myriad recesses, peaks, troughs and all the undulations of a matured life.

Sometimes just a few freely flung words have a significant impact…

The self is a puzzle with pieces that change shape, move on their own or hide somewhere far away, never to become a part of the completed picture.

Blind

Smeared streak across glass–

Prune-like pulp chunk,

Blasted splat to barrier.

Vacantly gulping–

Eyeball-seeking,

The other side.

Embossed in “la la” afterglow,

A faded twirly skirt no one wears,

In a vacant room–

11th floor–

A light was left on.

Spatula’d off the surface–

Plorped into a dustbin,

Mingling with the glops–

Deposits within firmament.

My Head The Tree

I think I’m temperamentally inclined towards observation on a geologic scale, but still momentarily vulnerable or shortsighted in the face of other organisms. It’s an odd comparison to resolve, and the places where they meet are the confluence of contrasts. I tend to think of this place as a rural village with ox-plowed fields and people eating beans. The volatility of places being a magnet for interest, I allege.

I’m starting to develop an appreciation for how far off the deep end of existence I have fallen. Down in the abyssal trench, there are lots of tiny blind crabs eating thin flakes of compressed dolphin poop that fall from above like a shit soaked snow globe. It is a sustainable existence, if not an inglorious one.

FYI: I need to do more metaphors where I’m not eating poop at the end.

I have several meat flies following me. Maybe that’s because I’m carrying a big hunk of rotten flesh in my pocket. I can’t help but sniff and remember back to when in smelled like meat.

Oh meat, you and I could have had it all. This has been the main issue.

Now, much maligned by necessity, my stumbling forward is sure to agitate the Nargles. I’m sure they are up to something, but I’m not concerned enough to google them to find out what they are.

Fleeterly

For me, being a part of “something” is a carnal need. I do not exist to affect nothing or no one. The beauty of being alive is a one-time gift even in the darkest recesses of contemplation. Have the traumas of my life shaped who I am? Undoubtedly and proudly. There is no strength quite like being whole unto oneself. Am I there yet…? No, I’m not. There is still a big nasty growing of snaggy brambles and thistles in the way. Better than I used to be, though. This last should be a damn mantra by now. I believe, I act, and I empower. The answer has always been in me, which makes me aware of how to stimulate the joy of realization to someone in need.

Today positively added to my recovery journey. I ventured out to talk with my psychologist and enjoyed a table outreach event at a utility company campus. I’m looking back on all the events I’ve done this. So many more than I would have projected months ago. I’m growing, Blog, and I feel myself unfurling and snipper-snapping into a crisp breeze. I am making my path through the world, proudly.

Reaching people is a wonderful feeling. Establishing a connection, agreeing to build a bridge, or even just a firm, earnest handshake can be beneficial. I see the pieces of realization scattered about in disarray for the present. One day soon, the picture will begin to develop from all those pieces. Integration, driven by genuine enthusiasm promotes my outward identity. Put the mask on and vanish into a persona. I wish I could take it off and show someone my real face. I have many strings being pulled by loneliness.

The empty space. A hole in my core self that can’t be healed. Ever. Trauma takes me back there, for a time. This is acceptable in comparison to stuffing feelings into an already crowded lunchbox.

There’s today’s thought-vomit. Enjoy? >.>

Have a good night.

Concealed

Ghost-fingers cold–

That spine-shuddering touch,

Eyes scream out in unknowing fear.

Emptied of dreams; memories–

They fall into a dark chasm,

Forsaken, purged by lightning,

Agony–

Again! Again!

Those hopes in trust–

Smeared into opaque nothingness,

Irrelevantly hoping–

Still met by a stranger,

Bereft of words,

Emotions swirling downstream.

Cast into the crucible of torment–

Straining against the surges that come.

Once proud foundations–

Crumbling decay into rot,

Detritus swept away by an outgoing tide.

Chuggy McChuggerson

Score: 3

Today was one of the better that I’ve had recently. I was active, productive and further entrenching my relevance in the workplace.

Tonight though, I’m still a little sad. I played a lot of music that brought me back. I do miss them, and their love, but the time for that has passed. I am what I have earned. I carry the weight of my decisions, every day. There are just some moral boundaries I will never cross, so no guilt or need of repentance is shielded from plain sight.

There is no point in struggling over the past, and the tendrils of regret slithering their way through it. Nothing can be resolved. Never. Wounds that don’t fester, but stay open and fresh, reminding. That is my quandary.

I have already said goodbye to them. There is no more to be done but turn away and walk into a new yet distant narrative.

Expectations should be realistic, and therefore, achievable. There is a big cookie of satisfaction for those who meet their target. I have on multiple occasions enjoyed that glorious victory cookie, but have also dropped it into the cat litterbox more than once. Goals should be achievable, not powder puff nor Mount Everest.

I feel relevant. Involved. I’m not fading away in shame, I’m thriving in the only reality I know.

12. We will never give up hope.

Flatness

Back from event this evening, many tired. My body hurts, and breathing wildfire smoke all afternoon was not a friend. I feel stretched, like thousands of tiny hooks are trying to peel off my skin. Achy creaks and general grunty responses are commonplace.

Good was dispensed this afternoon, assuredly. I muscled up and strapped on the happy smiles professional guise. La la! Have a happy fun!

Retreating to my soft place now, I recall how I was haunted by music today. Their faces came back to me. I saw things, and felt. I remembered. It was largely not a good thing.

All day it has been this way. I need rest, peace, sleep. I tried to do a good job, and I was told that I had. Positive affirmations. Progress. Steps forward, despite foreboding

It’s just me now. There will never be another. I am all there is left. I must go forward.

Action Distraction

Today has been difficult so far, but this afternoon’s booth duty should help that. I’m at the 24th St. bypass today at the Kumbaya Festival and I know that will keep me occupied. The festival lasts until 7 pm so I should be good and tired. I’m hearing a lot of music now, all the time today unless I am focusing on something else. Idle times bring the strings and beats of emotionally charged melodies. Lyrics marked as impactful slide next to amplified connectivity to memories, moments, good and bad. It sends me reeling at times, contrasted with a crushing weight of sadness that flattens me between hard metal plates. The defenses and constant optimistic spin has a cost, and the energy has been diminished over the last few months.

Salvation will be in the strength of will I contain in my desire to not collapse or crumble. I have taken action to remedy my neurochemical status but still have a good deal of time to go. My hope is to continue to prevail against the symptoms, the deep gravity of the abyss strengthening. There are so many things I feel pain over, for the things I have done to myself and others… there are many moments I wish had not been, but were nonetheless. Making sense of that pain has been my lesson, and it never stops hurting no matter how I cope with it. I can have benefit, but still know the ache of the sorrow. It reminds me of why I step forward.

I have no desire to fall apart, only to endure this challenge and emerge stronger. I used to quit on things, and myself, but now I know I won’t. It will be hard, yes, unavoidably so. So are all things that are truly worth having.

Blurb

Tonight’s town hall had some ridiculously good moments:

-Was the only representative of NAMI there until after the event start time, and DOMINATED the organizing and preparation.

-Was called a “fine looking man” and was described as “very cool” by separate FEMALE individuals.

-Endeared myself further with my ED and accompanying staff, and will inherit the full responsibilities of my new title: Peer Connections Program Manager.

-Was thanked dozens of times by all sorts of people for my assistance, and was smiled at more times than memory can accurately retain.

-Provided solutions and tech insight for future meetings with free tech stuff given and access to a working projection system.

Basically, this was another exhibition of my invaluable self to NAMI, on a night when it was desperately needed. They would have been lost if not for me: fact.

I’m doing a good job of being introspective lately. I’m aware that depression is there, and creeping in. It invades like a tiny, little leak, reducing quantity at an undetectably slow rate. Tonight though, I felt like I gave that depression a kick in the teeth, or patched the leak with gum… or something. I was struggling, but I kept pushing forward, lifting, checking, helping, pacing… I was in motion, but, satisfyingly, thoroughly exhausted. It feels good to be deservedly tired; an ache I can reflect on and be proud of.

In the past couple years, I’ve endured doubters, neglecters, forgetters and haters. I offer no argument, for there is no debate to be had when it comes to judging the merits or flaws of my identity. This person right here is who I am: subsequently, it’s who I will continue to be for now. I would like to note that I am constantly improving to find a better way forward, but sometimes I slide down the hill into the poop-trough. My engine runs on work, commitment and respect, and makes lots of foul boy-smells come out. The fires that feed externally derived hatred from others originate from irrelevant, dry and lifeless roots of a long dead tree, reduced to little more than a pitted and rotten stump.

I’m satisfied with my integrity at this point, after years of positive reinforcement. The future is a big green arrow pointed up. Evidence being impossible to ignore while staying honest, I’m quite elated at the current direction I’m going.

Goodnight.

Symptoms

I’ve indicated in past notices that I viewed my current neurochemical state on a downward slope and recent observed evidence confirms that. I am alert in this state, but struggling to maintain good health.

Symptoms I have observed in the last several weeks:

Lack of interest in extracurricular or fun things

Slowness, soreness, delayed response time

Inconsistent sleep

Dramatic increase in effort required to motivate

Isolation

Neurochemical imbalance/deficiencies/symptoms

Dependence on substances in effort to self-medicate

___

So most of that is pretty serious shit. There was no sneaking, these things have been accumulating, or increasing. Now, as I try again amidst the fray to gain some objectivity, I see how the symptoms of increasing depression have begun to surround me. At first, I turned to some default negative coping mechanisms like escape, or regression. I was having a lot of angry thoughts, and consistently find my arrow pointed down at the start of every day.

However, as I told my boss yesterday: “this isn’t my first rodeo.” I’ve been down in the black pit before, and my reluctance to go back is all the reason I need to be introspective. I was also talking about that topic last night at my Peer-to-Peer class. I spoke about how I began to grow “tired” of being down, having my life collapse and all that. I continually sought to treat my symptoms, but for years I never really understood myself, my habits, and my flaws which can cause me trouble. That lack of comprehension provided a parade of doomed solutions for me to splay myself upon prior to detonation. That dynamic proved both painful and unsustainable.

 

Responses I have taken to the onset of depression:

Initiated process with GP to achieve referral to see local psychiatrist (top priority)

Discontinued consistent alcohol abuse as escape mechanism

Discontinued abundant cannabis use as escape mechanism

Established regular exercise requirements outside for at least 60 minutes

Current medications are taken on time and regularly. Organized for minimal dose confusion.

__

I know what steps I need to continue taking to improve my condition. More activity will help contribute where my current neurochemical cocktail is lacking, but it is not a long-term solution. I need to be doing everything I can to sustain until I can see a doctor and get my medications looked at by a professional. Medication management is one of my “three pillars” theory of sustaining good mental health. All pillars must be strong for stability to be achieved, otherwise, things get tippy.

I continue to walk forward, set on improvement, while conscious of potential pitfalls and internally-generated danger.

Yukon Ho!

I always admired Calvin for his cleverness (although usually devious) and his imagination. Right now, I wish I had the same fire he has for venturing into new worlds. Frankly, imagination is a drug of escape in its own right, and has to be desired to be fulfilling. This might explain why I have been non-existent in my creative writing ventures, or gaming, or any of the peripheral fuzzy things I used to do. Real life has been fully front and center in the months since the move, and I guess it seems there is no battery for that.

Love. A strong bond as well as an aspiration for living. Over time, I have seen why it is better to invest in positive feelings, thoughts and ideas rather than negative ones. I have done better as a human being by accepting my failures and flaws, but still insisting on going forward/up. What choice is there? There is no joy to be had in suffering, darkness, and relived pain. Agony builds no bridges or houses. I was this once. I lived it. I saw where it eventually leads. I did not want that.

Life is like .0000000001 seconds long in terms of everything going on around us. Living with that knowledge doesn’t inspire any reckless or self-indulgent behavior, but instead does two things: first, it adds a level of delicate preciousness to life in its fragile, brief and fleeting existence, and second, it inspires (in me) a desire to make the most of the short time that I am given. My personal solution has been to live for others, and follow a career that satisfies the heart, and ensures stability for the future. There is a higher state of being, and it is called acceptance.

So, Blog, with that in mind, you can see why my path forward is looking so well lit as well as prosperous for the soul. I scrutinize myself from time to time with a god-like perspective, trying to liberate my thoughts from my head, it would seem. However confusing, this is working, and could be implemented as I have stated many times over.

 

Necessary Avoidance

I am endeavoring not to persist in polar judgement of things, and I do believe this is true in most recent cases. However…

I have learned that one of those areas that is still firmly polarized is my past loves. I can’t have them in my life at all, regardless of capacity. I have learned that there is no benefit in looking back, and the dead still do not rise up and walk amongst us last time I checked. The past is buried and gone, while the trigger on many memories can still be invoked and is active. This is the worrying aspect of my necessary avoidance.

The remembering is pain unrequited; a loss of unrealized potential. The devastation of a incinerated investment of love and trust, fouled by my own mistakes of circumstance. They are a disemboweled remnant of something beautiful that will never be anything more than the pile of organs and blood left splattered on the floor, regardless of my desire. I have tried too many times to resuscitate, staring the obvious impossibility down the barrel, and surprised when I’m shot in the face. I tire of this dynamic.

My own feelings are still not under control, at all. Even on a daily basis, it is a battle to go and do. The inciting agony of interference or invited contact from the past is too much to accept while straining to maintain balance. I can’t have anyone else now, and I won’t invite new people to participate in any relational capacity again. I am unfit physically and mentally for the task, and that is not debatable.

I don’t want to see, feel or think about it anymore. There is nothing there. There will not be anything in the future. I have no interest in this at all, and will avoid inviting any risk in the upcoming waning remainder.

It hurts, but “goodbye” is all that there is. I tried, but I was wrong to try. I was in poor judgement to think that the old soul would retain enough nutrients to allow something to grow. It is the past: unchanging and fading into oblivion. The future is all I have left, and I refuse to spend it pining for others.

I’ve wasted too much time as it is. The arrow points away from these contemplations, and so, I follow. Evidence says, move on… so, I try.

Felt

Dear Blog,

It is the pre-morning of a promising day, and I carry with me a suitcase full of arrived negativity. While I won’t discount hate just on it being itself, but I do expect an adequate discussion if there is something to revisit. I’m not shrinking from potential responsibility, but the mutuality of real dialogue seems unlikely.

So truthfully, a campaign of hate is not going to move any conversations forward.

In spite of that, I’m working at the NAMI office today to finish up some data entry from the Walk. With each incremental step, I’m enmeshing myself further in an organization driving real change in my community.

I have a lot of things I regret, and adversely, am very proud of. It’s not a polar world where all is good or all is evil. It’s a lot easier to slap on that label and disregard than it is to engage, challenge and reconcile. I realize rage of certain magnitudes has no cure, but needs to be recognized as unproductive given the multitude of other communication choices.

My life is going forward regardless. Is yours?

Walk Of Attonement

There is something fundamentally rewarding about survival through adaptation I have found. It’s a sense of worth, because many obstacles and trials were not enough to destroy the foundation and raze all that was built prior. Ruin should not be the mechanism of redemption because we do not reside in a world of unquestioned absolutes and flaming rubble. Instead, progress is quantitative; a multitude of accomplishments (theoretically) having been laid down instead, sloping upward towards a measured goal among many. This is not always easy to see, but truly can’t be destroyed without full and unquestioning self-participatory assistance.

There should be a caveat, because it’s not as simple as one small but purposeful paragraph (needless to say) to enact life-altering change. Pain is the key to recognition. Sounds unpleasant, largely, because it is (and should be). This may not be true of everyone, but hurt, regret, sorrow and suffering are an essential part of our human understanding of reality. Though we typically don’t live life at the extremes of emotional polarity, they exist as reference for when things start to stray from center. The drift of the perceived norm is the real piece to highlight, because there comes the setup for a moment when a threshold for tolerance is reached and crossed. At some interval which is different for everyone, a realization of position of the emotional pendulum is recognized. It is in this quandary of action that things become critical.

All humans are fundamentally different in countless ways, one of them being the cognitive tolerance for despair. Commonly thought of as an undesirable state, the supplicant of sorrow has a point in which the intensity and relentlessness of the state is unbearable, and in such stark contrast to the opposite end of the spectrum of feeling that dramatic action seems more tangible and needed. At this pivotal juncture, a choice can be made to continue in the current condition, or change somehow.

Again, not just as simple as a choice you make in your head and then boom, done. This revelation often comes at cost, and not always a productive result. For many (myself included) the first avenue consist largely of escape by one means or another (drugs, games, delusions, cognitive distortions), then suicide when there is no where else to go. In my own circumstance, I found that mental and physical isolation led to the trouble, a fundamental lack of constructive dialogue, as well as issues with being misunderstood and under-engaged. Plus, there are almost certainly lots of other contributors which vary per individual circumstance.

Given that death isn’t a solution to anything, and having failed at it personally, the lesson learned helps to dictate what information can be learned to push the load further uphill. Now, this moment of having been defeated in the attempt of self destruction or mutilation should serve as a marked transition point in which a new direction needs to be calculated. Or, should be. But why?

This is the most difficult part of the argument, because it relies on a person’s ability to compare alternating states of awareness in a crisis. I have never been very good at this, but the last time I hit rock bottom, it clicked. I could either stay this way, miserable, coasting just above the desire to exit existence entirely, or, to remember that feeling proud, or even positive, would be like fresh water to parched desert lips. The metaphor helps the imagination, which was a doorway, for me, towards realization and then action.

I, ultimately, wanted to feel good. I’d rather have many more days of trying for and achieving happiness than to check out of the world. The thread that kept me stitched together was hope. In and of itself, hope is too ambiguous to be useful. However, when tied to the looming mystery of the future, the window of possibility opens.

We don’t know, with any true certainty, what tomorrow will bring (unless you happen to be Madam Cleo). The fascination and promise is just as balanced between negative and positive as one would expect for normalcy in most cases. I personally hang on to that thread because I know that if I tug on it, I can take advance in a new direction. It is a hope that I am not eternally defined by the shortcomings and atrocities of my past, but rather, incentivized by fortune to make something better of the legacy thus far wrought. The ammunition to fend off advancing doubt is pride, and the individual actions that increase the evidence for having that radiant, internal confidence.

That may not appeal to someone grounded in surrender, but even the most well-established doubter can see the potential benefit of comparative reality assessments. See a future not yet realized, and head down the road towards it, I would say. It seems like a pretty fundamental adjustment to make if success is sought. I don’t pretend to be any more of an expert than my lived experience allows as I write this. I have seen, and will see, the very struggle I detail here if not within myself regularly, but in the world around me. I hope you can also see that this evidentiary argument has a real grounding in logic and constructive incrementalism. One step forward, two back, two forward, one back… and so on.

Join us. We are going into the future with the pendulum back where it belongs.

The Truth

Well Blog, the truth is I’m probably not perfect. Far from it in fact. I don’t attest to be flawless, more like acutely flawed but pushing forward regardless with good intent.

I am willing to have a dialogue with anyone about anything. I’m not set in some version of reality that has to be mine. On the contrary, I have much still to learn, and remain humble in my core (despite occasional excitability).

I feel fully responsible. I have been. I have regret that pushes me forward so I can do good in the world. I want to make myself into something better than who I have been.

The only thing left is to march onward, despite pain and trauma. I hold nothing worth carrying a great distance. It is what it is, and frankly, I’m only doing a pretty good job taking steps forward.

Humble to fate, I await whatever fortune deals me. Projecting no outcome, I endeavor to do positive things for those less fortunate.

Shame can be a source for change, and I am an example of that.

 

___

 

Don’t get me wrong about the gravity of my past. It is huge, strong and a constant reminder of why I live the life I have now. I’m no model of perfection, as I view such a thing unattainable. The only structure to progress is to learn, adapt, and try again. I have taken my life a direction I am proud of, and that is something undeniably real.

I know the past is full of pain, and I’m very real about that. It is not a shame I deny, but once I have gained a great deal from. If not for my past, I could not have become who I am, which makes me thankful for that pain and the lessons it taught me. The choice to move beyond is just that, a choice, and it is one I make over and over again as the days advance. There is no arguing that the decision to fight is difficult every morning when I get up, but I do, and I still try, because I want to be proud of myself. I am not now a quitter, and I do not want to be remembered as one. If I am to be remembered beyond the time that I die, I would like people to remember how I helped my community, and shown a light onto minorities suffering with mental illness.

I need to earn the right to be here in the world, every day, and to never forget who I was.

Shaboopie!

Score: +3

Hi again Bloggyfriend.

I have been erratic mood-wise lately, but not inactive. I did very good to keep taking my medications and exercising, which helps maintain an energy baseline. This is preventative, in case short-term lulls become something more pronounced.

Today helped buoy me farther ahead in my goals for mental health community awareness, as well as providing meaningful assistance to NAMI. I met with a member of the board of directors and we started covering ways I could provide research for a grant we want to apply for as well as the document sections for the application. The one we are looking at is for 100,000 dollars and divided into 10 sub-groups county wide. In my capacity, I’ll be researching program statistics and compiling text for the grant submittal. I have rarely been more impactful in all my life, but I am still the supplicant learning and absorbing knowledge from all the amazing individuals I have met so far.

This also gets me thinking about my self-worth as I head down the road. I feel significant, but not appealing in any fundamental way. There are still holes in my armor that I work to mend, and the fiery crucible of time should assist in that process. In spite of that, I have that fundamental absence that I still struggle to comprehend. Maybe this outer-person will achieve a great deal in the world, but he would be unknown, unresolved and unwanted in a very personal way. There seems to be no escaping that, and I don’t much like the prospect of deviation.

Now, that last sentence may have been contradictory to a huge heaving pile of desire, but the truth of the comparison is relevant. The self I wear to survive in the world is different than the self I am when I am in my jams. I work my ass off, and play my ass off too. I have met some people who like to work hard, and others that all they want to do is play hard, but never both. The ideal would be to find a similarly motivated go-getter with a pension for cutting loose.

Such a person (along with all the other unreasonable measures of acceptance) does not exist. I accept that my moon girl will never be there the way I thought she might be. I don’t know why I had such silly dreams, but the shattered remains have all been swept away, and we don’t buy vases and pottery anymore.

No one likes to hear about how frustratingly lonely it is. It’s consistently not interesting to you. However, this is my Blog and my putrid vocabulary waste dump site for all time and I’ll barf on top of big piles of stale vomit for as long as it suits me. I moan and writhe in the mud of my own suffering as is mandated by the gods.

Sometimes shining the light on a thing is just what it needed to be recognized. I shine that light a lot, so I don’t build up big basements full of pickled shit log thoughts. Nothing about that’s storage of things is good, especially when the basement is full.

I’m a grant researcher and writer. That’s pretty cool. I’m a paid employee of NAMI Sacramento, which is also very neat. I have dome real plus shit in the yes column. No disregarding that.

Will there be?

No. It’s too late.

Zzzzzzzzzttt

Zuuurm

Zzzttt

-{===|]

Lost Day

Score: +2

Hi there.

Never really got going today. I did my steps but I’m not feeling the enthusiasm. 20k two days in a row does take a toll.

This is temporary. I guess I’m feeling a little sad and lonely, which is not at all abnormal. I did just formally end all contact or intention in that department. No appreciation was coming from that place anyway.

Today never felt right. Even as I ready myself for bed, I still don’t feel good. I’m sneezing a fucking ton which I don’t like.

Tomorrow brings new opportunities. Maybe even a chance to take a profound step towards change.

Reset. Reboot.

Well, I’m still feeling bad. Where can I put all these thoughts? Why am I the only one who forgives? It just blows my mind that resentment could be so appealing a salve. I clearly know nothing about women. Ever.

Here I am complaining. Uselessly. Resolving nothing. Vomiting my empty soul into the ether of disinterest. No one who should care, does. All that was is gone, never to be had again.

Amendment

In reference to last post:

After some consideration, it seemed uncalled for that I disconnect from the afore mentioned ex without at least clarifying specifically that I would be doing so. I sent a message indicating no hard feelings, but an end to an impossibly frustrating dynamic. I am moving away from the past and towards the future. Period. There is such promise, hope and potential in the days ahead. I am resolved not to spend any more time regressing, rehashing and ultimately, retraumatizing.

I don’t care how the message is received. I have extended the necessary information to not be overtly rude, while still desiring an end to any more communications. I deleted the app and will not check it again. I am resolved, but not intentionally callous or derogatory.

The faded relics of the past do not have the potency or relevance to shape the future of progress or eventual companionship. All lessons absorbed, the future is no longer imperiled by the luggage of the dead.

Smells

Score: +3

Today was not as labor-intensive as yesterday, but very invigorating. Also, tiring. Hence, the smells.

I am making progress becoming involved and relevant with NAMI. I keep promoting myself usefully and being consistently present / helpful. That seems like it has upward potential.

I also successfully resisted temptation to communicate with an ex. I just have come to realize the past has nothing left in it for me. No future path comes from there, and nothing of benefit remains. I am done, disconnected, and moving forward despite the ongoing temptation to look back. 100% purged.

That was a hard choice considering the ache of solitude, but regurgitating toxic relationships is simply never good, and no longer worth retching over.

Progress is pointed towards the future, and active involvement in life requires awareness of the goals to be achieved. No future goal is met by dwelling in lost memories unchanging.

I am pleased with my trajectory thus far. I see a lot of good to come, but I won’t get there if I don’t work my ass off.

Highly Useful

Score: +3.5

That score might have been higher but my physical exhaustion is peaking. I had a solid 4 hours of packing and labeling today, and more tomorrow. I’m quite familiar with moving and I know the steps that need to be taken. The labor is the only obstacle.

Lots of connections are being made with relevant individuals, forwarding my career. I am more established and essential than ever before, and solidifying my status as a relevant individual in my local mental health community

Blog, right now, as I feel quite stated and exhausted, I have a sense of meaning that is hard to explain. I have an integral part to play in my community, city, county that I have yet to fully comprehend. I take steps forward, every day, to try and make a difference. This world is not right, and from whatever aspect of it that I can, I will try to change it.

I have been on and on about this. If anything, it’s evidence that I’m serious. I really do want to affect change, and I’m learning the things I’ll need to do to accomplish that. A lot of what I have left to give will be outwardly projected towards provoking action.

Tomorrow is another day of earning my worth. I demonstrate my dedication by continuing to be there, be present and helpful for an organization I believe in. One that has previously helped me immensely. I know we can bring something better to this county, and I’m determined to try.

I do, however, feel more alone than ever before. No one understands me. No one cares to know why. No one desires to know. The lack of personal interest may only be a temporary thing, subject to change. That concept is key, since I am a motivating force to help deviate from am unsuccessful norm to a productive alternative.

I wish.

There is nothing left for that. Those dreams are gone.

Time might be running out. Just do as much as can be done, and know in your heart, you did what was right. Die with honor.

30,000

Score: +2.5

A draining day, energy wise. I had originally designed to megawalk tomorrow, but I just got fired up today. I felt the motivation to do, so I did.

I’ve done very well for myself lately. I’m active on the full-time job market and now a temporary employee of NAMI Sacramento. This is progress, true, even if not at the accelerated pace I had hoped. Still, this is a great sign ultimately.

What’s especially rewarding about integrating into this nonprofit has been a recognition of my passion to affect change and make a positive difference in my community. I have come to realize my insistence, persistence and perseverance will make me an instrument of positive action wherever I go. My future, in this current trajectory, looks very good.

I have done some introspective processing about my exes of late. As you know, I have had a difficult time detaching myself fully from concern. However, after residing with complete disconnection for several days, I have found the feeling quite reassuring. I know I can stand on my own, and finally have a confidence in my internal strength. I think I am fully releasing my preoccupation and moving forward. Even despite good intentioned probing, it has become abundantly clear not even a crumb of positive worth remains. There is nothing they have to offer that will improve my life. On my own, I’ve done fantastically for myself, and with them, I suffered until I collapsed. That should be a good piece of evidence in my advancement.

It really came together today. I pushed myself to this new, remarkable high point in my pursuit of better physical and mental health. I have grown, learned and become something much more than I was. I feel truly proud of that. 30,000 is symbolic, because I keep pushing the edge forward. Break that ceiling and advance beyond it. Something that astonishes me is seeing people holding the power to change their lives, but having no clue how to implement. It’s something I want to help people see, so they can capture control of their own destiny.

So I have said farewell to my past in a variety of ways, introspectively, analytically, in prose and verse. I’ve dealt with my past, tried to make something positive of it, and left the trash on the refuse heap where I picked it up from. I no longer waste my time on people who don’t deserve it.

I have something of indisputable value to offer, and I will offer it and I know it is already being recognized. Sometime soon, I will be affecting change in my community, and altering the landscape of mental illness awareness to those around me. It feels truly good to be part of something growing.

You know what I don’t have? Hate, resentment, stored anger and a vengeful Desire for retribution. Last time I checked, it really sucks to carry around that crap. Even a tiny bit on me has a rapid impact on my demeanor. It’s a poison that sullies observation and interpretation as long as it is present. I learned the hard way by being a perpetual asshole. After a time, that sort of life didn’t really reward me in a meaningful way. Therefore, I cast it away. What a feeling it was to let go of all that luggage.

Life only lasts a little while. I have no intent to spend my time hating others, regardless of how valid the reasons. It’s a waste of time, and doesn’t move anything forward.

Okay blog, rant over for now. I’m so yes.

Trail Shoe

Goodbye’s Hello

1.

Magnetic sunrise,

Purples shining in reds,

Twisted sinews in roasted heat,

Delicate wet petals,

Fragrant mystery,

Deluded in flavor,

Fueled in hate.

Blasted bits scatter.

2.

Green canopies over,

Soft inviting eyes,

House of dreams,

Sparkling nights.

Fire-bright.

Disturbed underneath,

Cancerous rot–

Melting surfaces,

Forged, bludgeoned, ruined.

3.

Boundless joy–

Rising to days,

Adventures teeming–

Jubilant.

Decaying.

Festering in disinterest,

Foiled by distance,

Dry pots,

Plagued roots,

No plant will grow.

4.

Benign but present,

A foundation–

Cracked and listing,

Imperiled by slope,

Decline’s passenger–

Walking free,

Escaping the abyss.

5.

Voices remind,

Burdens of reality–

Crushed to a deserved fate.

Still,

Within, an ember–

Glowing a feint promise,

A heat unextinguished,

Flared or dormant–

The fire remains.

Sad Bed

Hours in isolation reveal a place of deep ache, encompassing a gorge of emptiness within. I feel the threads of connection, thin, decayed, neglected, forgotten, but still tugging from time to time.

I wish someone was here with me. I miss having her here to be affectionate with, gliding fingers and soft kisses. That word, someone, represents such a powerful longing that I often have to stuff it away. I can’t deal with the hurt in its completeness.

I’m hopeless. I just need to come out here and express my unrequited longing. I don’t think anyone will love me again. Too much baggage. Not worth the trouble. Unable to see who I am.

I have times like this where I feel sad about being alone; especially in instances when old love emotions are brought up and the memory/reality of how it is dead comes back. The pain returns. I forgive. I transition. I stand alone. My hand is cold.

Tonight I just wish someone was making sniffy noises next to me. I miss her. Goodnight.

Emotional Prose

Then, inching towards a sullen state, a dark and vast abyss opens, consuming the road ahead, plunging all into an empty, fathomless chasm. Saddened yet aware, the scream of descent echoes off the distant walls, reminding. Into the frigid air of breathless dark, penetrating chill advances on once supple flesh. A twirling, tumbling decay like so many insects ensnared in webs to be feasted upon later, the tumult goes on. Unrecognized, unappreciated and inherently deluded, the spiral plummets to new, frigid depths of denial. With only the bottom of suffering to relate, the empty hiss disposes, loathes, resents only. A predator of wrongdoing in the deepest recesses of regret disembowels, eviscerates and consumes. Leaving only a smattering of resin, the digested supplicant is no more. Faded hopes nothing more than a bloody smear on the forgotten cave wall where no one can see.

A Lone

Hi there. Positive day, lots of happy, but still sad right now. Inside, there is an ache for her. I mean the incorporeal, ideal “her” that isn’t and won’t be as well as those I have loved. My mindset of hope is actually a poison that sustains longing and causes a rot of desperation within. I have always been a lone man, different from his peers, relegated to the fringes of acceptance. I must embrace, and accept.

Solitude must somehow become a source of strength, and a determination that defines rather than diminishes. I don’t know what that transformation would be like it’s so theoretically inconceivable for me at this juncture. It’s frustrating, because it describes something I have been unable to do to this point. I can’t even make a new friend, let alone find adequate companionship.

The faltering struggle of inner-strength versus an unending, advancing tide seems inevitable. Whether drowned or washed away, the emptiness consumes all. Then it vacates, leaving a landscape stripped bare of its vitality and features in the soggy aftermath.

Behind this doubt, somewhere, is a beacon. Of late, though I know it stands like a bastion of my ongoing hope, it is obscured in a sickening miasma of discontent. There are more days surrendered to pain than ever before. More than 18 months of physical solitude seems to be a threshold that once passed, inflicts a sorrow I can’t escape.

The only remaining choice is to become it, and secure myself tightly to the boulder as it plummets to the deepest part of the ocean. Accept or perish. Perish or perish. Either way, I’m still alone.

Untethered

Severed mooring–

Cast free on a drift,

Slacked touch ache,

Fading warmth fingered,

Slip the dust of her.

Currents steal futures–

Plied courseless,

Echo’s reply mocking.

Consuming cold stones,

Sinking, crushing,

Yellow to night,

Black horizon,

Dissolving–

Ahead but still behind,

Water tips in–

Gushing,

Vanish beneath,

Gulped, unnoticed.

Purposeful

Good morning. Today is a pretty relevant day. “Soldier” has got to be the most dangerous, archaic occupation on Earth, but without them, we would definitely not be here. Many millions of men and women died doing what they were ordered to do, and they held their ground despite knowing it would be the last thing they did. They never failed in serving whatever agenda they were required to. Whether the mission was moral or corrupt, they died doing what they were asked, and that is the truth of it. Whether you agree with war or not (I expect not), everyone can relate to soldiers. We are all just people, and soldiers deserve better than what they get. They give the most, and when they come home, they are treated like unwanted luggage. Recognize. Today is just one day, but do give a second to think about your reality being built on the decomposing corpses of millions of men and women you will never know.

I’m on the helpline today. I have also applied to be a counselor at a school in Roseville. As more jobs become available, I’ll be dropping my name in whatever hat I can. Maybe not the elephant shit scooper. Under qualified. Need a BA to even get in the cage.

I’m headed in a good direction right now. I’m going to go get my steps later, and continue this healthy activity program at full speed! Woo!

Really, I’m moderating. I’m just excited to be feeling good at the start of the week… a promising indicator, methinks.

Scccrrreeeeeee

-{===|]

NOOOOOOO!!!!!

Drowned

Sparkling–

Just beyond fingers,

Reach,

Up to a sky gone down,

Wide-eyed with the impending–

Choking moments,

Being the hopeless last.

Suffering in gulping–

Swallowing breaths,

Engorged in death,

Drifting further–

Diminishing reaches,

Savior unknown.

Impacting rest,

Squeezed of chance–

Settle,

To be slowly devoured,

As nothing remains.

Sleep ‘n’ Bud

I woke up this morning acutely depressed, and spiraling in with a chaining frustration that was dragging me down before I even had a chance to get started. I made myself a cup of coffee and took a couple hits. This seemed to take the sharpness out of the sadness I was feeling almost immediately. Since then, I’ve afforded myself a few moments of introspection. I know now that I must start being more vigilant against my depression as I am relying simply on the Buproprion to keep me afloat in the happy juice department.

It is on me to regulate this, healthily. Allowing time to mourn rejection is expected, but sliding down the slope is not. I need to monitor and address as symptoms arise. I need to be careful not to over invest or expect the unreasonable. Shattered hopes can cause a decent farther into the pit than is logically necessary. There’s no ticking time bomb on my life, despite the desired alacrity. There is still plenty of opportunity to be had out there, especially with persistence.

I’m feeling alright now, and I’ve already started putting in some of the work applying for jobs this morning. Still chiseling away at my David, but far from complete. Zoom out that telephoto and just relax. Take positive steps forward, every day, and eventually, I’m going to get where I’m going. Patience is one of those lessons I still have to learn this go-round the consciousness stick. I’m not sure at all what I’m referring to there… It just kinda came out that way and I didn’t redact.

IMPLOSION IMMINENT

I’m withdrawing into a hole. My hopes are crushed flat like so many unwanted flapjacks in the IHOP dumpster of my life. I must be a real piece of flaming stink-shit if it is just so fucking easy to cast me aside. Lovers, friends, businesses, the list of agents of my ongoing despair gets longer as new and old parties alike find ways to disassociate from me.

Spiraling. I don’t want to feel like I did nothing, but the very little I did won’t solve a fucking thing. I wake up tomorrow the same pitiful man I have been, unskilled, undesirable and just adding more mass to the scrap heap of useless people.

I know, maybe if I disintegrate into a lowly degenerate and start suckling at the teat of society’s indigent services I’ll be finally heading in a more appropriate direction. People like me pretend to be great, but really we’re just trying to hide the obvious fact that were fucking stupid. Not just that, but also not something worth investing any energy in whatsoever. We are black holes of society, taking in matter and returning nothing of substance. Our only growth is an increasing need for more handouts, more pity, more pedantic preachers telling us “oh well here’s what you should be doing…”

How maddening this all is. If only the surplus population of those who hate me could see me struggling now. They’d point and say “haha I knew you were a fucking loser, that’s why I cut you loose. Hahaha look at you now. How pathetic. What a fucking worm you are.”

Goodnight. Hopefully tomorrow is better.

Details (Long Ass Post)

I felt a bit disjointed earlier when I posted my score. I also didn’t explain the downgrade was physical energy and not mental health. I wasn’t ready to be introspective. I was all beered up and unwinding from a long day of detail oriented work. So now I’m going to dive right in:

I really wish NAMI Sacramento would hire me. I thought if all this cool shit I could bring to the table. New programs, multicultural outreach (locally relevant), language and cultural education. I will have a chance to make a difference like that someday, I believe. I, despite my impatience, must learn to grow a reputation as a contributor first and present consistency to advance beyond. That has always been the way of trust, even as the chihuahua of my enthusiasm nips at the heels.

I’ve been foolish lately. ***** got a lot of past memories pheasants flushed out of the thicket for my consciousness to see. I was hurt by how I was disregarded, again, and that pushed me further into longing. Then I pestered Amanda and, unsurprisingly, found her empty of interest. Frustrating myself intentionally trying to cross bridges that were burned up long ago is not the best use of my time, I think. It tells me a lot about how deeply I love. Even though nothing remains, I still would run to love them again if they wanted me to. None of them do, however.

Inside me, there are these missing areas. Several of them. It’s a part of me that grew and became vibrant, thick, vital… like an organ designated to secreting love juice (um, ew?). Then, they died. I feel them now, dead inside me. Like a houseplant that no matter how you prune it creatively or sprinkle magic dust on it, the carcass of a once living thing is all that remains for all your guests to see. The hurt is constant, because energy still goes into it, but it never becomes any less dead. I wish so badly to bring it to life again by going back to the person who made it grow, but even then “where there is death, there will always be death.” -The Last Arcanan

I’ve held on for 15 years Blog. I’ve never forgotten, never given up hope that one of these empty places in me would come to life again. I can’t bear the shame of so much love lying in ruinous rot within me. Because of me. Because they stopped loving me. It is a pain I don’t think I will ever be free of, because I am responsible for putting it there.

My journey is a series of lessons. This loneliness is something I must understand and address. My future is far from decided, which opens the door to hope. I know my weaknesses, and I am not going to fall back to my past trying to find something of worth amidst the ashes. If there is ever going to be love in my life again, it will need to be brand new.

I definitely don’t deserve a fucking thing at this point, despite misfortune. Meaning can only be derived from worth of merit. The one who sees me now as the man I am… she will love me in a way that may last. A type of love based on an upward curiosity seems to be a variety of motivation that carries a potentially positive trajectory. Rather than lust, compromise, desperation or lies… interest has a deep well of questions that demand answers. Curiosity is an engine that drives understanding forward. Discovery is a spark that lights up an empty room with a moment of clarity, and yearns for more. These things are far from impossible, I have just never known anyone to have them for me. I, however, believe that when someone really sees who I am, this may yet happen.

As I go forward, I don’t intend anything other than to pursue my career and find meaning in helping others. I won’t close doors that might be closed anyway (Pessimistic Peter), and I will maintain a keen eye for possibility.

I do believe things are moving in the intended direction quite as planned. Since ** lit a fire under me, I’ve really taken charge of my independent future. Now, more than ever, I have the next several steps ahead planned out. I rarely look forward very far, but in this instance, I think having a bit of a glance in the intended direction is helpful in pacing my energy. I might still have a ways to wait before I can begin earning an income. Whatever obstacles there are, I am determined to overcome.

I have a few stories to tell tomorrow, some of which are fucking hilarious. This post has been going on for long enough. Tonight, I rest easy and peacefully. I know what I must do, and I go proudly off to do it.

My name is Westin Eric, and I’m a Peer Support Specialist. I’m an honest man who will dedicate himself to hearing you when you need to be heard. I will effusively demonstrate my vibrant emotions, boisterous dialogue, flamboyant facial expressions and demonstrative arm movements in all aspects of communication. Most importantly though, I will understand and help, not judge or advise, while we deal with the crisis at hand. I will help show how to take those first few steps forward and I will rally behind anyone who strives against mental illness, so that one day, they may know a full life.

Blah blah preachy preachy. This guy is fake news. He probably was the leader of the spy ring in my campaign! Curses!

Zzzzzzeeeeerrrrrrrrrr

Zzzt

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Productivity Achieved?

Score: +2.5

Hi there Blog.

Today was a very busy day. I left a message thanking my interviewers, and worked nearly 6 hours at NAMI Sacramento doing data entry. I got a cup! FREE THING! well, not really free but you understand.

I’ve had my bouts with lonely boy. I pine for attention from people who have never given it in the first place. I expect the extraordinary, and am disappointed when the normal happens. This interpretive issue is basically on me to figure out. No blame going anywhere but on me.

I am desperately lonely after a good two years of having no one be interested in me. I’m also hopeful that a change in profession will unfurl a whole new brand of individual who has a tolerance for such an absurd person as I am, but even that is foggy at best.

I’ve been rejected enough by the woefully unworthy to keep taking gut shots over my desperation. I don’t know why I keep looking back, it is painfully hard to resist. Love was there once, but I’m learning how love can never be there again.

Tonight I relax and plan for more business tomorrow, and eventual acceptance into the workplace. in spite of my doubts and fears, I hold out hope that advancement is nearly upon me. I beg for a change in this dynamic, one that offers me meaning in the face of frustration. Maybe even an environment where I am nourished rather than squished.

I don’t know what to expect, but I keep pushing forward.

Beneath

Beneath the charred and crusted flakes of skin, a fetid consumption invades. Devouring vital, surging flesh, rendering choking bile and gushing pain, oozing from copious, savage tears. Scouring within boiled burning the frenzied fever rushes writhe in twitch and scream. Twisted in agonizing knots over pools of bloody ruin, spilling, splattering. Mired in the filth of excess, the stink clings and saturates. Hanging and beading like delicate droplets, the piss vile liquid smell of wasted life dwindles as the meat of essence is their feast. Disillusioned, shattered, mired, erased. The thick, gloppy resin of putrid decay sinks into every pore, closing out the light, stopping the clock forever. Gushing foul vomit and the effusive fluid of death, the punctured, eviscerated body is left for the maggots. The carrion of progress is chum for the feast of lies.

Crawling Forward

Score: +2

The score is down for physical reasons as sleep has been the big enemy of late. However, tomorrow is the much anticipated big interview day. This is the sort of situation I shine in. Give me a chance to impress, and I will.

It’s so easy to live in denial, until it’s not. What ends up happening is a boom. A lot like my parents not addressing the real issues in their lives. Dirt gets put over the hole and we move on. Trouble is, the hole is still there. Go ahead and step on it and see. I just marvel at people who don’t really live here in the real world and choose to entertain a delusion about the actual shape of the world. I see this as a symptom of fear, as I have know it personally. This was my main way of living, for a time. Until I tried to kill myself.

I’m off Latuda. Got some side effects going on, but better than what I was going through when I took it. Tonight I will try to again normalize my sleep, or at least push the wake up time later.

I’m trying to clear my head of anxiety and stress. This is, potentially, one of those relevant life moments that leads to fundamental change. Is this the next launching point? It certainly feels like it could be. I have a deep sympathy for people who can’t or won’t move themselves forward, because I have been there too. I, however, have no pity for people deluded into believing everything is fine while the mound under the rug continues to grow. Especially when the deception is just so obvious from the outside. There is a problem with confronting these people with the truth. It’s less like information and more like a bomb that explodes, causes immense irritation, then gets swept under the rug with the rest of life’s unwanted truths.

I’m ranting a bit I know. It hits home for me since I USED TO DO THAT VERY THING. Yeah, I can talk because I was just as guilty, but I move on from that. I saw my life go down the shit shaft and I knew I wouldn’t do that again. Seeing it in others who refuse to see it in themselves only reminds me of a past I want no part of.

Fuck. Blog, tonight better be a good night. I’m all used up from indirectly chastising people I’m frustrated with (but also never want to talk to again anyway). My parents are at least trying to step forward, so, I’m not down on them with the whole slop bucket. I admire that they don’t like the way things are. That’s more than I can say for the rest of you over there in Delusionville.

This is me feeling grumpy, side-effected and all fucked up from bad sleep. I’m taking out my negativity on you Blog. Then again, this is not the first, or the last time that will happen. This place is my bed pan. If you honestly expect decent writing here, ha, try an actual professional writer in your WordPress reader. I see these inspirational MH blogs and I really don’t give a frosty fuck. I’m not here to entertain you or be entertained by you, as evidenced by my unpopularity. I am here to treat my symptoms and deal with my reality. YOU come here to find out what a fucking psycho I am and every 3 months, leave an innocuous comment. Meanwhile, the vomit stream continues.

Go to bed. Deep sleep. Wake up. Change world. Repeat.

Unrevealed

Stokes the mystery,

Swallowed up in concealment,

Draped, flung and covered–

The faceless tower rises.

Acts of eyes–

Who’s curious tingle–

Renders fact from rumor,

Knowing, filling,

Behind, securely–

Unseen, yet, present.

Silhouette through sunlight,

A piece revealed,

The gate ajar–

A yearning,

The thirst calls.

 

Basics

I’ve been nattering on about the benefits of healthy communication for a while now, but in light of today’s verbal SNAFU, I feel it necessary to reiterate the fundamentals as I know them.

There are a few key components to good communication.

1. Effective Verbalization: this implies the ability to articulate advanced emotions, states or trauma with a variety of descriptions. Competence in this area means needs and expressions are heard and processed appropriately. Inability to communicate this way can lead to misinterpretations or feeling ignored.

2. Abstention Of Subjectivity: communication is most cohesive when the field is level, and bias, prejudice, stigma and judgement are absent. Opinions being relevant, taking that a step further to recommendation or advice when unprompted is where it becomes subjective. Conversations between peers function best when parties are respected equals in a balanced exchange. No one has high ground over the other, as fairness pervades.

3. Genuine Concern: listening attentively is part of this, but also, a premise for positive, acknowledging feedback. Concern allows thoughtful, loving reflection and a deep sympathy that harmonizes in those it resides. Listening, showing eagerness to know, asking questions and expressing fascination all help the person talking feel cared for and respected in the conversation.

4. Consistency and Trust: one thing a communicator and listener must be is consistent. Always go to the communication card in a disconnect. You will fuck up and say the wrong thing sometimes. It’s totally okay, as long as you explain, listen and discuss. Expressing feelings to an attentive partner is a great way to be heard and for the stated emotion to be embraced. It takes strength to stand and hear someone say you have hurt them, but as long as one returns to communication to explain circumstance, absorb, and listen, the door to reconnection is still open.

My intention here is to be abundantly clear about what it takes to have a healthy friendship and an ongoing dialogue between two mature adults. This is also fundamental for partners, so that the couple’s bond stays healthy and does not stagnate. I have seen what bad communication does to relationships. It guts them slowly and they die in agony.

Today I really had a wakeup call. *** still has an opportunity to address the feelings I am having in response to her judgement. I need her to recognize that today’s exchange was unhealthy, and hurt me. ******** and I should easily be able to talk about this and understand, that is, if she responds to me. Nothing like being insulted and ignored for saying it was painful to hear. Sounds like the beginning of the end, if true.

Though, there is still hope of reconciliation. I always side with hope. I like her like my long lost soul sister, and I wish we could talk together. A boy can dream.

Be an effective team you partners. Love should not be covered in dust because it’s not tended to by actively Swiffering it and talking about how to care for it. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made in my past. Please. I wouldn’t wish that pain on an enemy.

Goodnight blog.

Miserable

Last night was, on paper, a good night’s rest. In reality, though, it was horrid. I was in near constant physical discomfort and dealing with violent core temperature changes. First sweating buckets, then shivering wildly. My muscles are tight and crampy. Overall, not a good feeling to wake up with. I feel zero percent rested.

I did still go fishing though. I got my heart rate up and sweated a ton. My nausea has kept me from eating much food so my energy tank is on fumes. I’m going to be improving my diet a little now, but fully once I move out. My mom has no interest in eating or being healthy and while she is making the food decisions, I’m largely reducing portions or abstaining altogether. As per our recent history, they are less and less concerned with me, my desires, thoughts, feelings, preferences, etc. I just need to get out of here soon. This dynamic does not promote good mental health. I need a space where I feel safe and in control. Living with them will never allow that to be possible.

I’m expecting an invitation to an in-person interview for either today or tomorrow. This will be a fucking slam dunk once they see and hear me. It’s all about the charisma, and charming/impressing are things I do well.

All this change is for a valid reason. I want a future, in my mind I see it, all the elements of it. I want to take that from dream to reality, and my progress so far has been with the intention of doing just that. I see happiness for me there. Confidence. Pride. Also, the stable point by which my doors might possibly again be open to partnership.

I’m on symptom management today, and I’ll let you know when I get the appointment news.