Monday Bumday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Down a Peg

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

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


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


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


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


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


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

Burning Out

Remember how I said that Sunday was my last family activity? I forgot to mention my parents are moving as well, and as of this afternoon that task too will be completed. Meanwhile, I’m barely hanging on. My energy is in the tank, my attitude sucks and my motivation has shriveled up and died. It has been a grueling week plus a few days. 

However, by the time late afternoon gets here, I really will be left alone to have my weekend. I can relax and regain some inertia. This run has taxed me, and there have been consequences. Mainly, I drive much more aggressively than I have in the past. I need to stop doing that because it is dangerous and not beneficial. I also blew up at this lady who asked me if I could plug her dual diagnosis site. At first I told her yes, back earlier in the week, but as you can see, I haven’t had the strength to post until now. She poked me yesterday asking if I had done my favor for her, and I told her I’d post it when I was good and ready, if at all. If I’m the one helping you out, don’t prod me to get me to do it faster. That’s infuriating. So, I’m not going to post her content as a reminder to myself and others: treat me with respect, and you will be treated with the same… treat me like an idiot and count me out. 

It’s an hour before my alarm goes off. I just had a series of perturbing dreams that I clearly remember, for once (a byproduct of hugely reduced cannabis intake). I dreamed about Amanda, and that I was kicking the shit out of her ex husband. But he was like, unstoppable. He insisted on annoying me and no matter how hard I hit him or choked him or smashed his face with bricks, he just kept coming. He tore my Fitbit off my arm, he stole my phone, he was standing over me while I was in bed, it gets weirder from there. Amanda and I tried to have sex but he was right there and I couldn’t get hard. It was totally strange. Then there was an alien invasion and people were being harvested and taken up to the mothership. We were all fugitives running from safe house to rendezvous point. For some reason or another, Amanda and I had to split up. I cried because I knew we were both going to be caught before we reached the next safe place, and I was never going to see her again. It was a strange dream with a bummer ending. 

Today I’m finishing up the move for my parents. We are hauling food to the new apartment. After today, moving time will be over. I can’t tell you how badly I need the time off. I also really want to see Carly but she’s been busy for the last two months. A product of circumstance, mind you. I still believe Carly is repulsed and also not interested in talking about my herpes, which will relegate our relationship to a platonic state. I guess I don’t mind that, since I was the one who did this to myself. I can’t expect anyone to want to have sex with me anymore. 

Well blog, one more day. 


Well I had a bit of a “lost my shit” moment this afternoon, as one after the other disappointing thing happened at work. I basically work with people who put forth the bare minimum effort in their occupations and nothing negative I point out ever fucking changes. I’m so tired of hoping the supervisors will do something and watching them ignore the things that make our workplace a fucking joke. And it’s a joke. I’m surprised we aren’t laughed at more often.

I got on the road and was insane. I cut people off, I was yelling through my window and I nearly rear-ended someone in my fury. Basically, frustration boiled over and I began to hate everyone and everything. Like right now, for example.

Part of me thinks this is still part of the marijuana withdrawal because that tends to make me grouchy. It’s been a week, so it’s kinda late in the game for that to be the case… but I never flip out like this. I’m usually calm and logical, not exploding with anger. My emotions have become significantly more volatile since stopping the weed.

Trouble is, there’s nothing I can do about it without surrendering my standards. I set my goal for the first Friday of next month as to when I would start smoking under new guidelines… but here I am only a week out and I’m suffering. This is just something I’m going to have to push through. I guess.

I’m pissed at everything right now. The world is so fucking stupid it blows my mind. There’s nothing I can do to change any of the bullshit things that happen every day in my life. I just stand up, get socked in the face, and get back up again ready for another. Isn’t life fucking great?

I’m supposed to play D & D tonight but I’m furious. I don’t feel like playing a game I feel like killing someone with my bare hands. I want to choke the life out of some of these worthless fucks at my workplace, then crush their faces in to the floor with my foot. Fuck every single one of those motherfuckers.

God damnit this is fucking stupid. Why do I even bother trying? No one cares. No one gives a shit. I’m all alone out here with everyone in the world with their backs turned to me. Pretending I’m not here. Who gives a fuck what I say?



I made it to the end of the day and I am glad for it. This weekend has been the most conflicted and most emotionally taxing one I’ve had in distant memory. It was a constant battle to resist my urges and stay true to my goal. Now at the conclusion, I am well-fed and at peace, ready to pass some time before going to bed. 

Do you ever get that feeling like all you want to do is get in bed and hide? I’ve had that feeling since 7 am. I knew that there was an appropriate time to acknowledge that, but it wasn’t until just now. Yet another thing I had to hold myself back from. 

Tomorrow I go back to work, and the schedule aught to help me stay focused. It’s the long stretches of unstructured time that I struggle with. Tonight, all I have left to do is relax and enter a peaceful sleep. My fit bit tells me I’m getting a whole lot more R.E.M. sleep than when I was smoking, hence the dream I had earlier. That’s really the one potential snag in this equation: nightmares. I could be ruined tomorrow if I have a terrible nightmare. My very first dream in months last night was a nightmare. Not a great sign. Nightmares alter my neurochemistry which has an immediate impact on my life. Not something most of you have to worry about. 

I got a chance to chat with friends today. Played some games. Did chores, and kept myself distracted. I’m proud of myself for not caving in. I never even opened the drawer. 

I hope the rest of your Sunday goes well. 

Dreaming Again

If there is as aspect to regular marijuana use That I have become somewhat dependent on, it is dream suppression. Why would that be a good thing you ask? Most people enjoy dreaming for the most part, but I am consistently tortured by it. 

Tonight I had dreams, and was eaten by a dragon, which may not seem like a big deal until you appreciate just how vivid and horrific that experience really was. Fictional? Yes. Terrifying? Also yes. This is but a brief glimpse into what my dreams are usually like. 

So I know I’m still doing the right thing in quitting, but I don’t much like all these side effects. Most of you have no problems dreaming and marking them as irrelevant, but my dreams can ruin my next day, spin me into depression or anxiety and generally haunt me throughout. I do not like dreaming, it is a liability. 

So as I forge ahead with my self-imposed sobriety, I now must accept that I will dream, and chances are, it won’t be much fun. 


Score: +2.5

It’s been a tough couple of days. With the heat being as unrelenting as it has been, I’ve not been getting good rest and feeling generally irritable. I had a bad nightmare two nights ago, and that can make my neurochemistry imbalanced the following day. Yesterday I only worked a half day. I just reached a breaking point and just lost all energy and focus. Today it was much the same, but I got 3/4 of the way and bailed out. I have been having a very hard time focusing on my job. My mind wanders and I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing. I often find myself typing things out that I’m thinking rather than what I should be doing. This has been getting worse lately, peaking today, where nearly everything was off. I was double checking, which made the already tedious process even slower. I’m not sure what my problem is. 

I know I deal with ADD symptoms, but I’ve always been able to push through it. This week though… I’m hopeful that tomorrow will be better. 

I’m also feeling increasingly depressed. I don’t know what trigger is. This heat is like poison to me. Maybe that long weekend just contrasted so harshly with the brutality of the work week in a very stark way. I wish I was still having fun like I did, but that’s not realistic. Life is mostly work, occasionally enjoyable. There are people out there who genuinely love their jobs, but I do not. My job is hard, and as ceaseless as the mail. I never truly enjoyed it, even when I first started. I’m good at it, and I understand it well enough, but I don’t take much pleasure from it. This will be my lot, because I don’t get to just choose whatever I want to do. I dropped out of college, and I have no skill that is something that I would like to do professionally. I could see myself as a PC game designer, or managing a computer repair shop… maybe. But these are dreams, and just as unattainable as my other incorporeal fancies. I don’t spend much time on things that will never “be.”

I’m sure this will pass. I just need to hunker down and get through this rough spot. It’s not as hot today as it was yesterday. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.