My emotional regulation has been “askew” as it were, but also quite volatile. I imagine my emotional planet during the Late Heavy Bombardment, with a surface slowly succumbing to a primordial molten state… I’d rather not reach that point, which is a lifeless one to say the least.

Being alive is being in the real, the now, and present in the moment of existence in which we find ourselves. When I’m experiencing symptoms, reality is often filtered through a kaleidoscope of nonsensical responses, urges, reactions, thoughts and core feelings in clear defiance of logic or common sense based coherence. There is some part of me that is going, “hey, wait a second… that sounds pretty fucked up.” That’s the logic guy, he hasn’t been corrupted yet because he is strong. That part of me is the last bastion before the deep, black chasm of forgetting.

I don’t feel under siege just yet, but the armies of darkness are out there, inching closer.

Enough of that. The truth is, there will always be a part of me that will strain, because it goes on unacknowledged. I’d say that only 1 person in my whole life even has a good understanding of my personality and not run away screaming. Others have tried, and they were repelled, tortured, and damaged in their attempts to disarm or simply survive my radioactive properties. Sadly, being Bipolar and never truly having any handle on it created the inevitable trail of bodies in my wake as I shambled recklessly along the path of life. The guilt hangs on me like a heavy sack of feed that the animals of depression plunder as I toil forward. I have managed to become strong enough to not be constantly crushed by that load, and still make something positive of my life.

I work so hard being proud of who I am, but no one sees me. I have come to a place in my life where I am okay with not being “seen.” I know what it feels like, for the brief glimmers and shining moments in my adolescence I captured lightning in my hands. I know what I felt, the power and majesty of love, and no one can take it from me. If I go on in my reality without ever having that again, I am okay with that. I will not die in ignorance of happiness.

Looking up. I know who I am. Things are hard now, but I’m doing good holding my pants on without my belt. My recent plateau of stability is eroding…

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.


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.


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.


Distinctly Two

There has been some polarity to my life lately, of which I still grapple and contend with. I have always been a person of two names, but never truly two selves. Now, I wonder if that is changing.

E world invaded W world and now everything has been cast in tumult. E was never supposed to be the worker; the consummate professional. Each had time to be as they were previously defined. Now a lot of what made W special has become a part of E, and the personas are merged. At times, I find myself comparing results using the filters of E & W to better understand the potential of outcomes.

Alas, something is happening. I’ve drifted far away from recreation, lust and have a limited scope of interests. My everyday is W trying to scratch out meaning through accomplishment and E is just pacing around the apartment nervously until W comes home from work.

It seems the two of them can agree on escaping together by whatever means available. That’s one thing they harmonize on, at least.

I feel, ripped. Part of me is stuck in this past world where things are already done and only dust remains. Another is accelerating vehemently towards substantive accomplishments, fueled by feedback. The proofs light the boilers and forward is where they’re going.

I don’t know where center is anymore. Some of the flavors are going. The breeze is less comforting and more making me itch. What remains to be done? E and W both have answers, albeit vastly different in nature.


My future is the concern now. Absolutes are not useful in describing the terms. The sum of regret which packmules along behind is never more than a short length of rope away. Ahead.

I don’t know how to let go; to stop caring. To cast out the dead and walk past their graves. This was a world of webbing, sticky messes that continue to be remembered. I regret it. All of it. For what it did to me, for what I became while I was with them. Unyielding, it remains. Even the good was not worth what cane after. I have tried to frame it, but fail consistently do declaw the context. Ruins.

I still have the same story, where one foot goes in front of the other. Why seems clear.

My being alone is likely. Past interfacing with others in this way has reached an all time low of usefulness. Never abandoned, but largely forgotten. Safety concerns regard the station as abandoned.


Score: +1

I did not start well and never had the energy to get going. I struggled with the things I could do, but largely loafed and yawned.

I feel tired, which is somewhat expected after working two events back to back. I am crunchy on the outside, but I do not have a Tootsie Roll center. Plans were set ablaze early as my state was poor to start the day. Improvement has a shot to be possible now that I’m going to bed.

It has been harder to get going in the morning. I do not feel spry, I feel like a bundle of dried twigs.

I’m not fully tuned out of the past yet. I still glance back, even though I know it serves little purpose. I again reaffirm my argument that because of history, nothing growing will be cultivated there. The land is patched and nutrient starved. No amount of water will result in lush new plant life. I must painfully admit this and proceed into a future without.

Such deep hatred. It’s because I have been a terrible person in my past. There is good cause. At least, ignoring any progress, a reality can be spun to cater to any need. Mine self deprecates accurately and with the intent of plowing through towards progress.

I have powered down the sensor array and diverted main power to life-support systems. Hopefully we will survive on those reserves until the rescue ships arrive.

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.


Good morning.

I have been struggling today. I’m sure all this talk of the past has likely given away the reason for my constant deliberation. It has brought words, thoughts and potent feelings back into the forefront. I don’t interpret this as a crisis, but as an opportunity to test my skills.

There is a process to moving through events, one that pays appropriate attention to their components while also softening the harshness of old wounds. Nothing in terms of circumstance will be changed by my own thoughts alone and I have long ago abandoned hope for deliberation or any sort of resolution. So, today I have been thinking, and churning. I have done the healthy physical walking thing, which has helped normalize. I did not stagnate in isolation, I had my words, and now, I’m working.

I’m NAMI Helpline guy today, and two full days at the office Tuesday – Wednesday. On Wednesday night I’m going to an LGBTQ + Mental Health meeting in the community. I did learn, after Pride, that NAMI doesn’t offer a specific program or service targeted at this population. I thought that was odd, considering the potential for Mental Illness to thrive there seems high. I’m hoping to learn a lot from the presentation and schmooze with everybody after it’s over. I did great after the NAMI status meeting helping out and being friendly with all the new people I met. I did feel very happy about myself that night, and as this week begins, I am already being similarly reinforced.

Today my only Helpline call was so gracious, and thanked me for hearing her (her son was in crisis) as she struggled through a difficult time. She wanted to know how long I would be on today, and when next I would be on the Helpline. I have had similar feedback in previous weeks, even to the point of one of them asking if I would take his brother on as a client (I did not).

I’m not a bad person. I may have been someone who has done painful, regrettable things in the past, but I am not that same personality silhouette at all at this moment. I am not living a model of continued harm to those I profess to love, and casting my personal responsibility on to others or abandoning it altogether. I have done that; it is just as gross and lacking in merit as it sounds. I have stopped being someone I did not want to be, and forged myself in to a man who is proud and has a purpose in this life. I intend to affect reality, improve the standard of living, uplift the mistreated and minorities so that all have a seat at the table of society. I feel my heart, and I’m guided by a morality and purpose that points a direction I am unequivocally proud of.

I live the life I know I need to. I am not a morose penitent resigned to guilt, achieving nothing. I am a light. I will be seen, and I am already filling the world around me with illumination. I can say that, because it’s just fucking true. A huge pile of evidence points to a man who is confident, effusive and eager to challenge the prejudicial norms of society.

I’d love to stay and chat, but I have research to do for my grant and sections to write for the submission. Hope you are up to something just as productive!

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.


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.






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.


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.


Good morning Blog!

Today could be a very impactful day as I spend the bulk of it at Sacramento’s Pride Parade and Festival. In these types of settings, where the basis for success is interaction, I excel. I’m outgoing, friendly and sincere. It is easy for most people to see, because it’s true.

This could be a significant day, depending on who I meet. I have a chance to do some advocacy and hopefully, recruit some mentally heathy individuals to join the cause.

I’m a little reflective lately, as you know. I still keep wishing my exes cared about me, when they certainly do not. As time goes by, I am becoming a lot less attached to that need, and I realize it originates from the fundamental fact of loneliness. A challenge I am overcoming, however, with each new day plodding towards a future they will not be a part of.

Though, it helps that Pride is today. What a great word. It speaks of the raising up of awareness, presence and projects confidence. These are attributes I can get behind, for sure.

Have a great Sunday Blog. I’ll catch you st bed time.

The Knowing

There is this essential, invaluable defense against unjustified ridicule or other insane rantings from beyond the deflector shield, being unbiased knowledge of the truth of oneself. Truth is not subjective, but “interpreting” it is subject to almost nonsensical variance in meaning based on either preference, prejudice or agenda. If honesty is the policy of communication, looking out across the spectrum of delusional, insane responses to truth is both sobering and hilarious. The thesis being: prideful confidence allows for unquestioned defense from invasion of negativity from an external source.

I don’t let people’s lies and slander affect me in any significant way anymore (fuck did this take a long time to figure out). I have nothing to hide; I’ve endured the gauntlet of pain and the crucible of reconstruction. If there has been any poignant realization during all of this it is that I know, more clearly now than ever before, who I am. Coping with reality through delusion seems to be a rather popular means to and end in our “modern” society.

Without being too specific, recent events have inspired me to reiterate my stance on the truth and/or facts in general. I’m not afraid to be wrong, or of any of the actions of my past, because I am reconciled to the actual fate I have wrought, rather than the reality that makes me look good without having to do any of the legwork to make that possible. I tried to live like that, just believing what I wanted to be true, thinking people were someone they weren’t or could not ever hope to become. I eventually crashed, hard… and more than once too. No advancement of the self can be achieved if the construct of interpretation is inaccurate to what is actually going on (well, at least not for me). The only way to make a conception into reality is to do the work involved, but this is sadly impossible to do when the work is in another person’s head. All that remains is to look within.

My Blog archives are overloaded with evidence of my journey, even down to the most incremental daily steps. I have mood charts, spreadsheets and literally years of work put in to finding out who I am, who I want to be, and how I can honestly, proudly, get myself there. Months and years of introspection, analysis, argumentation, emotion, resolution and progress is what it took to advance my life away from believing in delusions and accepting the brutality and callousness of actual life on Earth. I don’t achieve any satisfaction justifying my inability to advance through the world by blaming others for my problems. Is that reassignment of responsibility easy? Fuck yes it is, like a fucking Snickers. However, it doesn’t move anything forward. It is often times the case that the people making the least progress are often the ones blaming as many others as they can for all that’s gone wrong. Our President being a fantastic example of this with a little whipped-cream white supremacy on top.

The point of this exercise is to establish a baseline interpretive guide to the ongoing success of new interactions. My attitude is twinged with what could easily be interpreted as arrogance, because there is some of that going on. When looking at two concepts of existence in such vastly irreconcilable contrast of value, I do take an opportunity to judge or label the one not worth its weight in flaming shit. It’s my choice who I choose to indulge, and deluded people are not going to take any more of my time. If anything, an individual’s desire to be “woke” from slumber is all that remains as mutual conversational territory.

From high above, it is easy enough to look down and gain perspective. It takes a lot of practice to do that. One should not see what one wants to see, but see what is actually there instead. It reveals the true darkness of the self, but also, a remarkable, beautiful confidence that radiates from within once all is accepted. This effusion continues to glow brighter as the fire is stoked with successes, adaptation, perseverance and trust.

This is the line that fosters my quasi-arrogance and sense of superiority, because (without any doubt), my way of doing things is better than what a significant sum of Americans have decided to embrace as a living mentality. Frankly, now that I understand myself, there are few things from the outside that attract much more attention that to be scoffed or outright laughed at. Think about how fucking miserable life would be if all the bad shit happening was being absorbed at intended potency? What a miserable fucking life. Instead, as the conductor of my own Locomotive, I have simply turned the screams of the roaring engine into a cacophony of giggles, and the outrage into hyperbolic bursts of cackling, wild laughter (I often extend all my fingers and hold my hands, palm up, in the air in front of my head as I laugh).

What an empowering thing to write. I am glad I am who I am now, and for all that my mistakes have taught me.


I heard the boom.




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


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.


Green canopies over,

Soft inviting eyes,

House of dreams,

Sparkling nights.


Disturbed underneath,

Cancerous rot–

Melting surfaces,

Forged, bludgeoned, ruined.


Boundless joy–

Rising to days,

Adventures teeming–



Festering in disinterest,

Foiled by distance,

Dry pots,

Plagued roots,

No plant will grow.


Benign but present,

A foundation–

Cracked and listing,

Imperiled by slope,

Decline’s passenger–

Walking free,

Escaping the abyss.


Voices remind,

Burdens of reality–

Crushed to a deserved fate.


Within, an ember–

Glowing a feint promise,

A heat unextinguished,

Flared or dormant–

The fire remains.


Score: 0

Hi there. I know I haven’t been consistent as I hoped in the documentation department. To be frank, I’ve suffered of late with the symptoms of depression, subsequently, feeling less inclined to open up and make with the words. I have also been on a streak of having to jump up and down to get noticed or listened to about how I’m feeling, and even at that, there has been marked failure. No one really seems interested in me in what is left of my circle, or anything I’m doing for that matter. My enthusiasm for forward progress has been entirely self-generated.

I feel stagnant the last few days. I also have taken note of that and executed some structural action to improve. I have dedicated a slot to creativity on Wednesdays, in which I will attempt to forward the progress of my novel. I have a temporary goal of achieving the lofty benchmark of 30,000 steps in a single day at the end of the week. I have been close before, but never above 27,000. This weekend I have volunteered to represent NAMI Sacramento at the Pride Parade and festival downtown on Sunday. Its a good opportunity to meet people and spread the gospel of mental health awareness.

I’m isolating. My interests are becoming vastly external, and devoted to the cause of doing “good” for society. My moral compass points towards justice, and my actions speak to that truth. What I thought would be a very inspiring and radiant time of my life has actually created a sort of unprecedented solitude and near-universal interpretive disinterest. Never has my “popularity” been less, and my overall relevance has been diminished to just what I believe it is. I still have a great deal of pride in myself… maybe this is folly since it seems the resounding opinion is to the contrary.

Honestly then head-voice, ask yourself: “how does one step forward of all is lost?” Basically, you don’t. I’ve been to that place. It is misery, upon torment and pain. The spiral keeps going down forever. The only way is out. The direction is up. is it hard? Yes, surely, and with the obstacles there will be many… but an end to the ongoing cycle of torment with no hope of deviation. I, head-voice of doubt, hold on to that. It is my everything. I don’t want to be a useless pile of symptomatic protoplasm. I have a mind, a perspective, and something to offer this world still. I have stared into the darkness and let myself fall. I have been to that place and come back. There is a reason for that.

I won’t give up because I’m more stubborn than all these people around me who could care less what I’m up to, or any new people I meet who try to resist my meteoric trajectory. I’m my own motivator, my own counselor. I don’t need anyone else in this life but myself, and neither should anyone out there who has half a brain. I have been burned enough times to not touch the “others oven.” I will not be deterred, and I will push forward. If there is ever to be stability and completeness in my life, it begins with a dedication to the self that is unwavering. I have begun to realize the value of constructing a massive fortress over time. Trials add bricks, which build walls higher, and thicker. Soon, there is no need for others, when all that is needed lies within a fortification that will not be penetrated or besieged.

Is it lonely? Yes head-voice, it is lonely… you and I both know that. We have been through this point many times, and I did listen to you when we tried to recreate some spark from the past. Now, however, head-voice, I am not listening to you anymore. I am hurt enough to stop trying, and that will be the end of your complaining. You and I can plainly see the facts. Moaning is not going to help convince me that siding with you is a good idea… we’re moving on and ending this post, and if you don’t stop all that fuss I’m sending you right back to your room and closing the door.
























Score: +2

Got extra steps and sun time in today since I had been feeling down. I called a psychiatrist and got another job interview, so I’d say that was productive. I did some good things for myself.

In other news, a spider is in my room somewhere, hidden, waiting. I had my chance to kill it, as it was a particularly unfriendly looking arachnid. However, it deployed some form of countermeasure and escaped destruction. I’m thinking Bears are behind this.

I feel pretty detached from my sexuality. After separating my focus from topics without solutions, I’ve done a lot better managing my emotions. My sex drive basically shut off, with no object of desire at all within the scope of reality, no future, no investment to make. The flame has been snuffed.

I continue to find my place in this new city of mine. Trees are friend, it has been known for some time. I’ve lost my fishing impulse. It just, doesn’t feel fun. Clearly, this is depression affecting me slightly. I can push through with simple survival in mind, and very likely be okay. I do hope to hear back from the psychiatrist next week and get something scheduled.

Though I am clearly struggling, I am coping. I express, process and move forward. My hope is to achieve stability and prosperity again, while still being able to protect those I love.

The cat, on the other hand, vexes. Since Moo bought healthier rabbit meat kibbles, they have been soundly rejected in comparison to the previous variety of fleshy rabbit freeze-dried meat hunks. As you are about to see, the fantastic enthusiasm leading up to the moment food arrives could not have been more disappointing.


(Much harder given the climate, but I need to do this to help myself right now)































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.


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,


Ahead but still behind,

Water tips in–


Vanish beneath,

Gulped, unnoticed.


Score: +3

Very good Monday for me in terms of forward progress. I did a full day’s worth of job searches, applications and resume work. On top of that, I was asked to be the NAMI Sacramento Program Coordinator for Peer to Peer Support Group Meetings here in town starting July 1st. This would be my first coordinator position, though still on volunteer status. Despite the lack of pay, this position is a HUGE resume line as well as the experience involved.

Big blessing of good news heaped on me today. Despite that, I am still feeling some sadness in my heart over loves lost. I really think I will never fully let go of them, despite how they hate me. All I have in my heart is care for others, there’s no room for anger. I do long to love, but I also realize I may never again.

Life took a promising step forward today. This encourages my future enthusiasm for future steps down the path of my destiny. Blog, you are seeing me grow, struggle and change into the man I want to be. I am becoming a me I will be proud of (more than I already am).

QUIET!!! Thank you.

Hey there. I’m having an introspective evening listening to my head-council. My thoughts go between the feeling of loneliness and the solidarity of my forward resolve for my future. I can be of these two minds, while not being shredded in the process (barely). It is contentious: “wait, no THIS is what you need.” “What are you a fucking idiot? Clearly you need THIS not THAT.” Ugh. If you had to put up with this debate going on and on you’d write about it too.

I don’t even know why we’re having this argument on the chamber floor in the first place. The facts have proven out (especially of late), and one choice of path is fundamentally untenable. Just like the people associated with that choice. The whole thing is marked for collapse.

I’m scared of being alone. I don’t really like it as much as I like being loved and understood. Being embraced by a workplace is pretty key to my forward progress, but not as fulfilling. Something about love that makes it special is that it’s the key to several doors that would otherwise be closed.

Yet, with my baggage, the chance of finding a tolerant participant is very close to zero. There’s a large stack of shit to be fully repulsed by, often times too grotesque and fathomless to be overcome by other, positive attributes. The lot, in and of itself.

The dichotomy continues as no one up there has a fucking clue about the right path but they keep on yammering like they do. Maybe tomorrow they’ll be quiet. They need time to just yell, then maybe around 1-3 AM they’ll start formatting some legislation for the rest of the chamber to vote on. I await that result when I’m back in front of the council tomorrow. Goodnight Blog.

Things I Did

Score: +2.5

Great day of exercise today, as I was motivated to post a decent score during the weekend step challenge (that I started). Among the three walks/fishing trips I took today, this one was the big one:

Walks, especially maintained throughout the day, really do help keep up my vital energy and help me feel good. This is great looking at the map. I hammered that out in 43 minutes.

Along the way, Moo and I went fishing, and I saw some wildlife.

There is so much life here, crawling around and making life noises. Ducks, Herons, Squirrels and Turkeys. I am feeling at home here, and recognizing the rarity of the place I find myself. Many positive aspects despite the afore mentioned negatives.

This place has a nourishing quality to it, even if it is a locale where I feel hunted at times. Predators are here, but I am prepared. No one will defile this place while I have a chance to prevent it. I’ve never lived in a place like this, and I doubt I will again when I move out.

I’ve been ruminating on my feelings about my exes. Ultimately, I think I just need to stop with them altogether. None of them, to this point, have done anything with prolonged positivity or true benefit. It’s not mutual, it never has been, and I’m done. My energy will now go someplace where it will be reciprocated, and stored for a future individual worthy of investment.

Tonight I feel pretty solid despite so many unknowns still in play. Resolutions should not be final, but absorbed, and moved past towards the next resolvable goal.

Things in the mood and confidence department will continue to improve as time goes forward. DUCKIES!!!


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.


I’m not feeling particularly stable this morning. My optimism and hope are temporarily obscured by an overwhelming doubt about my worth and future. As logically unfounded as such emotional insurrections can be, they still occupy the capital at this hour.

I am going back to NAMI today for some more work, and you’d think that would have me excited. Sadly, all I can think about is the cosmic limbo I am in wondering what is about to happen to me and my projected future. I’m not able to focus on anything, only peering fruitlessly into the miasma of possibilities and outcomes.

So, in response, I decided to come out here and think about all this for a bit. It is okay to feel down right now, because, that’s what I’m really feeling. Historically, rejection of emotions is a non-starter in coping with them. I’ve found that letting them “be” is best, because it’s certainly not going to be fatal to have a feeling, but it may be very uncomfortable. Like right now, for example. I’m here in this moment with a great burden of self-doubt on my back, and I intend to leave it there until it is ready to climb off. Which it will, in a little while.

Talking to my exes has clearly been a regret, as all sorts of things have come up along a still hopeless avenue of investment. I’m unlikely to Lazarus my way to something wonderful, so, I’m moving on. It is going to take time to re-establish my confidence after being treated like scooped diarrhea. I’m really far more relevant than either of those women will ever be able to realize, given their scope of understanding.

I have no intention of opening the relationship door again, but will not fully close it to chance. I’d be a fool to think I could just say something and have it last forever. We are insane if we believe we can even plan a few months ahead, let alone forever. With how this world changes, I don’t know how you can be bound to eternity unless you have your head soundly buried in the sand. I do not, and I’m tired of dealing with denialists and people who aren’t personally responsible. I’ve drawn a line in the past but I have not held to it. It’s easy to just say “no more,” but then when that ache comes, and her words seem so familiar… I, undoubtedly will struggle with that into the future, but less and less as more of my old relations are evicted from the circle.

Okay, rant over. I’m vowed to better protect myself and mind the ever-changing fortune of these new unfolding days. May you all be guided towards stability, as I seek to for myself. I know I will feel better soon, these things fade with time.

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!




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.


Paths for fingers,

Delicate raindrops,

Sparking light–

Electric warmly,

Whispered, present.


Branched to new leaves,


Bridgeless gap–

Words windedly gone,

Rattling down dark.



Purposeful void,

Rowed cages,




Bell of dawn,

A soulless east,

Roil the dust,

Ashed facelessly–


For parched lips.


It’s not even 5 and I can’t keep my eyes open. I’m writing now to help give my brain something to do so that it isn’t incessantly demanding sleep. This Blog has always been a coping tool, so then, here we go.

I’m suspending the Latuda. My body is rejecting it and I throw up almost every time I take it. No more. The other meds will be fine until I can get on private healthcare and go see a doctor. Meds that are being rejected this way aren’t working anyway. They are expunged as toxic as quickly as possible.

Overall, I feel okay. I am anticipatory of Monday’s excitement, and where that road goes. I feel highly confident that I am going on the most expansive and involved journey of my life thus far, and I’m encouraged by my ongoing healthy choices in my life. Both social and physical.

Just after I started this blog back up again, in 2012, I was going through a terrible transition. The month after I re-opened for business I had 111 posts in November. That was back when my processes were nonexistent and I had almost no way of truly comprehending my lot, which amounted to dozens of insane rants and angry posts to exes. Now, this highly eventful month, I am already closing in on 90, just past the half way point. Clearly I’ve been thinking some thoughts, however, very few of them have been explicitly destructive. I’d say an overwhelming sum have been pushing me in the exact opposite direction.

In all my experiences, good or bad (mostly bad), I’ve tried to glean a lesson from whatever scenario has presented itself to me. The situation back in San Diego when Kendra gave me HSV2, I was actually inspired right down to my core to adopt a healthy lifestyle and embrace being a solo project for the rest of my life. She was really physically active, so I got a FitBit and proceeded to greatly improve my physical health. I lost 30 lbs and had a sense of total inner pride which lasted most of the year. Albeit, I had Herpes, and will for the rest of my life, but SO MUCH good came of that calamity that in my mind, it was hardly a disaster at all. Without it, I don’t think I would be the man I am now.

I’m feeling a very similar vibe today after my decision to stop talking to *********. She has lit a fire under me, and with the beautiful physical transformation she underwent, I got even more excited about getting healthy myself. She resolved to take on an immense burden in the name of love also made me think about my own life. She wanted something, so she went out and got it. I can do the same in my own relevant context. I motivated, launched myself into the job market, and it only took 26 hours for someone to sink the meat-hooks into me and drag me over for processing (hmm, this metaphorical reference is kinda gross, sorry. This is real honesty though. I could have changed it or redacted. I didn’t because I don’t misconstrue to save face… I have no more face left to save).

Even in separation, there can be reflection and action. I didn’t let ****’s negativity in, and took her positive contributions to my story forward. I will always have a place in my heart for her, even if I never see her again. She nudged me in a better direction than I was going, and I can honestly thank her for that, even if it was not intended. That’s the beauty about my reality: I get to affect certain aspects of it, and do, to promote better mental health.

Hope you all have a good night.


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.

All The Moths

What a fine morning it is blog! I’m reveling in my alacrity in producing a fantastic, near-lock job lead within my first 26 hours of being “available” to be hired. I also got a hit from NAMI Yolo who are also looking for a PSS, but possibly not paid. It was only a couple days ago I emailed them asking if they had volunteer opportunities, but clearly things have accelerated.

I have some peace in my environment, albeit undoubtedly temporary. They seem to have simply swept the broken glass under the rug and moved on, since the work to actually resolve the conflict is either beyond comprehension  or laboriously undesirable for them. I have re-iterated my case late last afternoon, and I do not believe I was really, again, taken seriously. My parents will see me withdraw from dysfunctional people who don’t resolve their issues. I don’t admire people who stagnate, explode and whine about having exploded. They are fully capable of resolving this if they can get past their bad communication habits. No mind reading, use non-accusatory “I” statements, reflect don’t project. Fundamentals simply forgotten, or abandoned as irrelevant for whatever reason.

Here I am putting on my Debbie Downer pants! Sorry blog, this post is not about them, it’s about the shiny thing that I have become! That’s right blog, I am adding a new adjective to the list of embellishing superlatives after my email signature: shiny! See below:

Westin Eric Bailey
Peer Support Specialist
ITE 15 Years Lived experience
Outstanding, Unique, Thoughtful, Moral, Honest, Dedicated, Intelligent, Shiny


Okay, I don’t sign my emails like that… but the exercise of positive self-acknowledgment is well worth the ridiculousness of it. Why are mentally ill people always so quick to shred themselves? It’s fucking EASY. Doubt, fear, hate, it’s like sugar on the tongue. It comes quick and strong, but lasts as long as a fire with no wood to burn. Instead of wasting my energy investing in negativity, I am filling my basket with happy. This brings me to my point about “shiny.”

I use that adjective because it brings to mind imagery (for me) of a light shining in the dark, in a place where many wander; lost or not knowing where to go. I have a light to shine in a place like that, and I know there will be people in this world who will benefit from my having been around to shine it. Like little moths who are drawn in to the safe glow of warm, I am a beacon that those around me will seek for meaning, honesty and trust. My heart is wide fucking open, and the risk that entails is great, but the energy it sends out in all directions is unmistakable, and undeniable. I have that radioactive confidence, because I have taken charge of my illness, and now, my life. The path I have chosen is empowering in a way I had not known would be possible.

The process I have gone through lately, as I look back, could not have been more transparent. Over the last 5 or so weeks I have grabbed the wheel and started driving my own car for the first time in many months since my relapse. Now, I stand at a point of desiring to break away to seek my own independence, while still bonded to those I love in a sort of caring yet indentured servitude for the rest of my ridiculous days. I coped with momentary trauma without escalating the crisis or injuring anyone emotionally, I endured my own individual up-and-down days and all the while retaining an active discourse here on this blog as a part of my coping skill-set.

I’m running off towards the future blog, metaphorically speaking… would you like to tag along? Oh, and one last more nugget of happy: as I continue my restricted died + exercise routine, I am now 8.8 lbs lost since the start of the month. Yeah boss. Every time I get on that scale and I see a smaller number, I get THAT MUCH MORE fired up to go out there and bust my ass to get healthy. It’s a big shot in the arm of reassurance that all the work was not in vain, but rather, just the beginning of a much healthier way of living.

Ta ta for now, and good morning!

“No Despair”

I am now listening to music and feeling remarkably better, singing “Ventura Highway” here in the fading moments of the weekend. You know, music just lit my fire again!

I’m going to redirect my life in a totally healthy direction, and I’m already started! Now, let’s sing for a little and celebrate this calamity that has forced such a beautiful change! The restoration of my long lost independence is about to be realized, and the groundwork for success is being laid. I know that shit had to get kinda choppy for me to hurry the fuck up, but I have, and I am continuing to pursue a deep and full future.

If I could update my Score. it would be a +1.5 right now. BOOM BITCHES.

I’m going to sing myself exhausted and smile at all the great memories I looked back on today in the last few hours. Man, I have lived with some beautiful women in my life, and each one of them still makes me smile. Yeah, I know I’m a fucked up asshole. Whatever. Since then, I’ve made a fair bit of progress out of the slop of unforgivability. Forgive me ladies, I did you no justice. I was a fool who had yet to become. I’m sorry.

Tonight blog, despite great toxicity, I am channeling a constructive enthusiasm which lends me to forge a better future for myself. If dissatisfied with life, figure out what is within the scope of influence, and change! Inact change blog, if you are stagnant, if you are dysfunctional and always disagreeing, just talk!

Singing seems to be a worthy activity for conjuring some zest for life. What a jubilant expression, to sing, to have your voice go out into the world regardless of how shrill and glass-shattering it is. Man, I am fortunate to be where I am, and I will never stop trying to improve the lives of those I love, and also, promoting my own personal health above all else. This is one of those moments where I am choosing the life path that ONLY coincides with better mental health. Logically it is not sound, since I am not paying any rent where I am. To take on 1,400 a month is pretty yikes.  However, blog, the point here is money is meaningless in comparison to sound mental health. I would pay through the flaming anus for stability.

It doesn’t matter what it costs blog, money is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is if we are living for happiness, honesty and love. I fucking despise money, but it’s cosmic relevance is not lost on me, however. To play the “Real Life” game you need money. There is no avoiding it if you want to establish any sort of identity in society. You need money coming in. You need to be USEFUL in some way, in a way that somebody else would throw money at you to keep you doing the useful thing you are doing. This is my life/dream/destiny = to be eternally useful in a morally relevant context and to make just enough money to keep people from bothering me for more money. I wish for nothing but shelter, food and someone who loves me the way I love them (and won’t let me perish).

I’ve had a rapid sort of calamity driven epiphany today, but I’m glad it happened. It was very useful in igniting a ferocious Bunsen Burner under my repulsive/bio-hazardous ass, in order to get me aptly motivated to erect my independent existence. I hadn’t planned on this, but I am adapting admirably given the semi-hostile circumstances. Also, I’m sure as time passes, I’m going to be more energized to forge my new identity in a city that knows nothing about me. I have a chance to start all over, and make that big fucking splash somewhere I’ve always known myself capable of.

Today needed a turn in the positive. Did you really think an erupting volcano was where the evening’s diatribe was going to stop? You should know by now that optimism is the engine that drives me forward, and the hope of a full and beautiful future compels each step towards the future I hope I earn. I don’t know what’s happening or what’s going to happen, but the one meager thing I can plan for is that I will do whatever I have to to achieve stability for my family and love those who come close to me. I will be loyal, and honest always. Once you are family, you never aren’t family. I will protect and serve those I love with the full-throated enthusiasm of the very first rooster to call out the arrival of dawn.

Know this, blog, I will be the man I have always known I am, and his arrival upon the landscape of independent society is nigh. Prepare for a slightly more introspective and insightful future. For my future love, for my career, and for all the people who I will help in my time serving the needs of the disadvantaged. The meaning and significance of this destiny is irrefutable, and is mine, for the rest of my life.


My Ever-Changing Heart

Oh blog, the years have taught me some useful survival skills when it comes to matters of the heart. For me, my heart has changed an number of times, and occasionally, not when it was at all convenient to do so. I followed my heart to love at certain points (or my cock, the jury is still out), only to find a change of circumstance a short time later led to a dramatic shift in desire. I have felt my direction change while I was mired in a marriage that was hurting me mentally, but was stubborn, so I stayed. After the suicide attempt, I started to learn to not shove those feeling away, but to listen to them.

The heart is tricky, because sometimes it leads us to such happiness, only then to have life or a change in disposition snatch it away. Life really is chasing a little chicken through the yard. Sometimes we catch the chicken, if not for a few fleeting moments, but its small and squirrely so it gets away. I guess in this metaphor finding real lasting happiness is cooking and eating the chicken, so yeah. My metaphors have been a tad dark lately.

Honestly, there may not be that moment where one is to say: I am now truly, content. Life changes every single second, and nothing that is constant can stay relevant. In order to succeed, the heart must lead WITH change not against it, and the conversation on stability should be deep, revealing, honest and full of the hope for a blending rather than a division. We all strive to find joy in our lives, and the inconsistent desires of the heart don’t make that easier.

In my mind, whenever my little fire gets going, I start to wonder what I am walking towards. Is there happiness down this road somewhere? Is there a future here that coincides with growth and progress? In the past, I have loved people who needed help to move forward in life, but this is not partnership. Partners are equal, and they share the burden of reality and do what they must to help each other. If one has to drag the other around, there is no sustainability there. I lost my love and had to walk away from that life, because it became apparent that I was going nowhere, and certainly not up while dragging someone behind me.

My moral lesson here is to be adaptable. Things change, feelings shift, and sometimes people can endure those changes without growing infinitely frustrated with each other. Sometimes we do grow apart and move away from each other. I’ve known this personally, and it is a tough thing to realize if you are still in love with the person who is moving away, as I was. I didn’t know how to cope with that then, but it does make a lot more sense to me now. I don’t think I would hurt the same way now that I have such an understanding of the volatility of love. Trial, failure, recovery. All these stages have led me to be a true appreciator rather than someone who pines. I have an open forum to love, and for people to freely change their way right out of my life without my empire crumbling. Why burden yourself with the pressure of eternity? How many times have I said I was going to do something “forever” and the longest that sort of “forever” lasted a few years and then it was not “forever” anymore. We are foolish to think things just can go on and on unchanging, when every clue around us tells a different story.

We must adapt our love to survive, and be the benevolent overlord of our hearts. May they know the freedom to love, and feel, and be, but not the heartache of having that feeling not go on forever, unchanging, safe, strong, impregnable, but inevitably, imobile. Forever doesn’t bend people. I had to get divorced twice and fall right on my face a few times to come to that realization. Granted, I was not the most stable individual during that time, but still, I think the logic is sound. We want to have lives that are planned, have road signs, and that we never feel lost in the forest. The thing is people, you don’t learn anything new by following the signs and never deviating from the path. Explore the bushes, find the secret, hidden road. There is so much more to life being allowed to be unexpected than trying to defend reality from the constant changes of living.

This has been a tough lesson for me. I’m eager to give away love and dedication to those I treasure, but I also am aware that people come and go as they will. I love those who I can reach, and call out to those too far away to come closer for a time. Love is a door one can walk through and then leave from. This is the final evolution of the heart, one with the omniscient confidence to spread joy to those who take shade under my limbs, if not only for a time. I know In my heart that I have learned, and value the hard lessons I did benefit from. So blog, the moral here is to be open. Talking, sharing, discussing… all are going to lead to a communication that is hopefully honest and can facilitate a peaceful reconnection.



Dear blog, tonight I am in the midst of a pretty serious down spiral. **** sent me Eminem’s Love The Way You Lie, which sharply parallels our prior relationship. It has rendered me to ruin, and broken my optimism entirely. I cried then and I sob know, feeling death inside me again. A part that used to love her, a memory of when it did, how it all came apart and is gone forever. The shattered night our relationship died. I’m flooded with visceral trauma like it is all happening right here. I’m reliving one of the greatest mistakes of my life. Over and over.

Deep in a well of pain, I regret to abandonment. She’s better off without me. I’m only going to interfere. I’m useless. I’m trouble. I’m going to create even more regret one way or another.

The passage of time will refresh the imbalance, but clearly there is emotional volatility going on. I need to be mindful of that. A lot of powerful memories lie buried in the past, and they are just as real to me now as when they happened. ******* had some intent to affect me with the music, which is not very nice. She has motivation to show me what I missed out on I suppose, as if I can’t see plainly enough.

Where does this road go? Should I walk down it?

What is this feeling?


Age: 34
Weight: 218

Activities: Fishing, Writing, Politics, Family, Beer, Weed, Walking/Hiking, Movies/TV, D&D. Fiction, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Literature, English, Geology, Meteorology, Astronomy, Zoology, Debate/Discourse

Personality Attributes: Sense of Humor, Intellect, Scientific areas of Study, Logic, Compassion, Empathy, Unbreakable Bonds, Love, Trust, Passion, Dedication, Adoration, Polarity, Pain, Joy, Happiness, Lust, Desire, Closeness, Friendship, Enlightenment

Flaws: Diseased, Scarred, Imbalanced, Obese, Damaged, Confused, Frustrating, Inconstant, Unreliable, Irrelevant

Adjectives: Unique, Hyperbolic, Embellished, Observant, Sensitive, Auric, Old, Detached, Irrelevant, Archaic, Poignant, Introspective, Improving, Prideful, Honest, Moral, Obedient, Calculating, Thoughtful, Logical, Internal, Complex, Random, Arbitrary, Nonsensical, Surprising, Shocking, Rude, Deranged, Contrary, Objective, Respectful, Chivalrous, Smelly, Strange

I wish I was balanced, and I had a chance to explore all the avenues of my life without having willingly or unwillingly given up on them. I defined my early life by confusion, frustration, misguidedness and disorientation. Real life shocked me into functionality, but the mold didn’t work for me and I collapsed. I went through that cycle three or four times before arriving at the point I am at now. Things are stable, but also still very easily perturbed. The problem lies in my personal toxicity. Everyone who gets close to me is eventually poisoned and grows to hate me for one reason or another. The people who can’t get rid of me have swallowed the pain I’ve caused them and moved on.


My state of mind is contrasting between a revisited sense of abandonment as well as a rising hope for the future. I don’t know why I try to go back to the past. I guess my hope is that there would be something good there, like a redemption of sorts. It’s a narrative I keep convincing myself is real. I still delude like any other broken-hearted person.

The volunteer machine moves slowly.

I come out here and give these words to the ether. I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m being surrounded by rising water, or some such strangulation of my fire.

There’s no point in digging. The whole process frustrates. I have a deep unresolved thing that gets no better by looking back.


Today’s volunteer opportunity didn’t work out, but I’m still in line for work Friday – Saturday. NAMI Walk is going to be good, especially if there is a lot of turnout. I wish it were easier for people to be excited about mental health awareness.

In the “other” category, I find myself feeling a little down today. Those negative words I hear in my head are a lot louder than usual. I have low self-esteem but an excellent ability to fake being awesome for a time. Adoration is a really vital fuel, and the things that can be done with that energy are numerous. I do, in a lot of ways, admire myself and create my own forward propulsion. I’d be going nowhere in life if I didn’t have SOME pride and confidence.

I feel alone. I tried reconnecting with people who had meaning in my life, but I am unable to glean anything of worth, it seems. Idle chat is nice. Having someone checking in on you every so often is also a beneficial thing. What I’m looking for is something to invest in that has potential to be a flower pot with happy little plants in it. I’ve been throwing dirt and water onto dead plants for so long I really had no idea what the fuck I was doing. I was a poor communicator and an inconstant partner. I don’t want to give myself to things inevitably bound to become rotten. All the past is full of stinking decay. It infects everything with remembered despair and the agony of dead love.

Swallowing true solitude is a terrible, choking, gasping process in which the vital fire of lust and physical passion are stabbed in the stomach and left to die slow in the mud. It is a new type of death I must experience within myself, just as the love I had for the women of my life… I see the empty, cavernous and hollow spaces that were once so rich, beautiful and full and it tears me apart with sorrow to this day. I’ve died inside myself time and time again, as many different projected hopes, desires and lust-fueled fantasies all dissipated like piss in the shower.

There is likely something better out there without as much in the red column. Almost certain.

I don’t want to sulk. I want to improve. I’m still full of all this negative shit, but that’s no reason not to forge ahead alone. What the fuck else am I going to do? There are no other options that have stability and the hope for happiness bound to them. I could just give up and stop caring, but the guilt of irresponsibility would be a obstacle to overcome. I could go on dating sites and invest all sorts of energy into finding someone to relate to, and force the hand of fate to deal myself romance sooner rather than waiting for something of true value to materialize. What if nothing ever materializes? I go into that knowing full well that is a possible outcome. However, should being unloved make it impossible for me to give my heart and soul to helping people who struggle with mental illness? I don’t need to be loved to love, or, care, as they are just escalations on the same thread of word. I wish to impart real love to people, because it feels AMAZING to be loved.


I have been loved before. I will never forget how that felt, and the type of happiness I felt during those days. At several points in my life, there have been such beauty, closeness, and the outlines of what seemed to be unbreakable trust. I will never forget. It is so hard for me not to look back and hope something is still there. One last spark; some little buried, smoldering ember that cries out for a breath of air. There is nothing left. I feel the ash sliding through my fingers. I smell the acidic stink of death.


There won’t be days like those again, will there?


I’m sad. I have so much love and joy inside me. I’m all the way in the back of the closet under a box where no one is likely to find me. I struggle to this very moment with how I plan to peacefully reconcile that fact.

Strap In, Buck-O

Last night was great! I helped sell raffle tickets at our booth outside the Punch Line Comedy Club, as part of the NAMI fundraiser. They had some great comedy acts, but I could not stay until the end. You know you’re an old person when you’re scared to drive after 9:00 pm because “it’s dark,” “it’s past my bedtime” and “mischievous kids come out to hooligate.”

The real exciting shit is that I got a FULL WEEK of work now, with activities from M – F. My 10 hours are totally going to be done this week, and that final PSS certification will have been met. Speaking of classes, there is another one I’d like to take that NAMI Sacramento offers called Peer-to-Peer. They don’t have one scheduled yet, but they will and from what I hear, this sounds a lot like WRAP (which I could use a refresher in, for sure).

But did you hear that blog?

Monday: Going to NAMI Sac to man the warmline and help out around the office

Tuesday – Wednesday: Going to Sacramento River City College and meeting with reps and participating in an awareness fair

Thursday – Friday: NAMIWalks 2018 setup and event

Oh yeah, that looks like productivity, for sure. Feels like it too. I am very proud of myself blog for helping out and getting involved in my community, just like I said I would. Sometimes I can stress about things not happening as intended or as expected, but this moment of realization of fulfilled potential is worth the anxiety tax it took from me to get here.

I hope your week starts off as well as mine has! Oh, and Emelia contacted me though I fear there may be nothing there. I still feel very fondly towards her, but it doesn’t appear the same is true in her mind. I just hope for some form of friendship. I don’t have many people in my life who tried to get to know me well, but she was one of them. Even though she became infuriated with me, which is not totally surprising, I still wish she was in my life rather than out of it. She was wonderful for a time many years ago and I hope we can resurrect some of that connection again now. My hopes are dim, but I will always try for the brighter future if there is still light coming through the crack in the door.

Contemplative Afternoon Notations

A flood gate of sorts has opened this afternoon, leading me to contemplate my whole approach to companionship. I have, up until this point, held a train of thought that bound me to solitude. I guess this was the case because I feel myself a penitent. I have carelessly relationshipped, and now, I have only rubble in my wake. Not all of that is my fault, but I was certainly no help in saving anything. You who have been here know I have always embraced my failures in my relationships while partners simply avoid the duty. Jax straight up said I was the problem and Amanda won’t really talk about why I broke up with her. I like being able to discuss things reasonably, but none of the people I have dated have come even close to being able to do so consistently. I have settled, time and time again, or been simply misled, but I have always tried to set a proper course and effusively give my love to those I choose to let into the inner circle.

Something was always missing though. It always started out with the spark of interest, but it quickly faded and the two went their own independent directions. What I truly need is someone who has enough in common with me to share a great deal of passion, while being independent enough to have time alone with separate activities unique to differing personalities.

Right now I just stopped this whole thought. Who the fuck am I to be setting the standard for any sort of companionship? I have squandered every chance I’ve gotten, and yet that entitles me to set the terms of the next possible engagement at significantly higher levels than before? It’s this sort of presumptuous bullshit that gets me into trouble. I haven’t even met anyone yet, and I’ve already got a fucking prenuptial written up. I truly piss myself off sometimes.

What is needed is an approach that focuses on the true supplicant, me. I have so much work to do to earn a place of meaning in the world, and tonight is indeed a good place to start. However, I should have no terms, no preconditions. All the planning and formulating I have done to this point has all been for nothing. None of it ever amounted to success or anything at all. Time to start counting on the spark of instinct, impulse and chemistry. There needs to be a poof, a bam bam… something to ignite the engine of interest. We have to wonder why. We need the desire to unpack the mystery of another, and to do so, one needs to be worth unpacking. The activity requires a great deal of time, and consistency. The whole thing right now seems so surrealistically out of this dimension that it is not even possible to contemplate the thought of grasping it.




I doubt anyone I am going to meet anytime soon has any desire to unpack me. I’m going to go out there and be proud as fuck like I always am, but inside I know that the core that is good and wonderful in me is buried under a fetid, rotten rind that may be too repulsive to endure for so little a reward. What, are you going to voluntarily subject yourself to a lifelong sexually transmitted disease? Are you going to affiliate yourself with someone who can become psychotic during elevated emotional moments? Are you really going to watch the meds wreak havoc on his acne-scarred, mutilated body?

The two things I have left to give are my time and my attention. I will give that attention to those who need it the most, who yearn for someone to care about them, much the way I pine for someone to do the same for me. I know how good it felt to have someone so passionately interested in me that it lit up my world as though the sun had doubled in size. Even if I don’t love anyone else that way again, I can still care about my clients. One-on-one, I can be effective as a caregiver and I will continue to pursue that path towards meaning. I have served myself my whole life. My passions, lusts, at whoever’s expense. I’ve ruined worlds, and walked away from brightly burning bridges. I know now that I have a fate tied to pride, and a soul that aches to be redeemed.

I may be at this journey by myself for the rest of my life, and I need to be prepared for that to be the highest probability outcome. I don’t honestly think that despite my curious brilliance, I have too many detrimental flaws to ever keep anyone gravitationally bound who flew into my solar orbit. I do think the human being that I am is a pretty cool human being, but what I think doesn’t count for much and is also biased. Getting someone else to believe how fucking rad I am is the heart of the challenge I face.

Well blog, digging up those old pictures has really brought a lot of stuff flooding back, and caused me to be introspective about the prospect of ever loving a woman again. I have so much love inside me, just stored up like 10,000 barrels of wildfire, waiting for a flame to ignite their explosive potential. I want to incinerate you in the blinding, unstoppable inferno of my love. Too much?

Memories Found

I found these pictures today of Em and I back when we dated. On the occasion that my life in Sacramento imploded about 6 years ago, we ventured south and I lost all contact with her. My sentimentality and generousness for forgiveness lends me to want to build bridges rather than seek to burn them down (if they happened to still exist).

I would like to find her again, and see how the road has been treating her. I certainly have meteored-out at least once between then and now. Seeing her face reminds me of how passionately I loved her, and I can still feel the ache in the place that is now empty because she has gone. There will never be anyone else like her, and no one that could replace what she brought to my life, for a time. I learned many things because of Em, and seeing her bright face only reminds me further of the memories we made together. Those years were some of the happiest times in all my life; when I lived in that granny flat in Fair Oaks with Em. We had two wild chickens whose names I still remember: Jack (black) and Houdini (brown) that hung around the house. That summer when we first moved in and the hot water wasn’t working… We took baths in the tub out on the lawn and had sex under the stars at night. Passionate moments both good and bad were all a part of my span with her. Many beautiful memories though, a lot like this picture of the two of us. I will never forget those moments and all of the things I have gained having lived through them.


What an odd thing to find at random in a notebook, just a few weeks into my return to Northern California. To Em: wherever you are, peace be with you.

Emelia Gribkoff Westin Bailey

Back when we were together


My volunteer career with NAMI Sacramento has begun, and I am already participating in the expansion of my organization’s goals. I represented a living success story when I manned our NAMI Sacramento booth at the Disability Fair on the campus of Sacramento City College last Thursday. It felt great to be working, or more accurately, sponsoring awareness and proactively engaging the community. As time goes on, my hours will steadily increase, and I believe I have made it clear to my Executive Director that I have a lot to offer. The future looks bright.

There is this part of me that keeps going back to the past to poke around in the ashes for an ember of some form. I don’t know why I indulge this activity, as my last encounter with this resulted in me being cursed and berated. Chances are, the same fate ultimately awaits me in the past. The past is a place I have utterly ruined, and I should not expect anything to grow there ever again. Looking forward, this seems to be a good incentive for isolation and an avoidance of the path that led to all that mess. The whole sector is now an irradiated wasteland with an unfriendly fence around it.

I don’t know what new things I will discover in this career direction, but the work is bound to be more rewarding, more meaningful. It is having a purpose and making a difference that are of concern to me. I don’t want to be forgotten or useless. We have a cat: there’s already someone in this house who’s primary occupation is being useless. No room for two of us, it would seem. So here I am living my life, being proactive and helping a nonprofit spread the word about erasing the stigma of mental illness.

Something She Lost

An Abstract Prose Narrative

Back in the days full of sun, dreams merged like clouds blowing in the wind. Dancing light and fingers touching the tall grass the days were by. Holding breath in the kiss of tangerine love.

Opening up a bounteous bloom of cosmic preponderance and entrenched in unique beauty. Hinges, wings and cryptic messages sparked a deep fascination. Could such a world blend with my own? Maybe a merging of these twisted dimensions may yield a beautiful offspring? The investigation within the cave of the eye began. Tumbling down the hole seemed a drunken escapade so delightful, wanted, yearned for. Always.

So to do sunsets yield to night, a time and a time went by. Stale air and old closets were hiding. Shriveled up socks and neglected piles of things.

Threads cobwebbery enmeshed and ensnared. Thorns dug in deep. Hatred like raging lava buried the what had been in incendiary death.

What then at this brink? Her last words were of a lost piece of the personal past. Her bloom, in a book, in text where her secrets had been hidden. The unfurling of her thought, ripped to pieces by division, scattering her from her anchor. The fissure had grown vast and deep. Her words echoed into the chasm, unreconciled.

Long since the sun shown so, my hands found her dreams once more. Symbols, language and such an imagination. It was all here again, unearthed by the expansion of time. Scrawled in her adorable ink, all that she was missed was remembered. Kiss, laugh and dream.

Now, to feel her dust on my fingers, such a sigh. This one sad little ember of it is all that remains. Kicked me into the ditch and left me to blame, while peasant heart still aches. All little sounds and sniffs forgotten.

Such is the death of things, and the rocket propelled moments when fireworks are right there and everything is back. Over and done, but never forgotten. The book returns to oblivion from whence it had come.

Monday Bumday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far Away

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

By Jax. Never more.

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

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

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

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

Reconciling Goods and Bads

I have been feeling back in the groove creatively, and that is most welcome. In truth, I am at a place of development with my fiction than I ever thought I could be. I have the text outlined, the chapters mostly drawn up, and the first 5 are written. The style I am going to use is really unique: both prose fiction and epistolary style for the narrative structure, which will present some really poignant insights into different locales around the Kingdom.

As this has been going for a while, so too had my hope of rekindling a friendship with Jax. When she and I set out to write Ruptured Worlds, I thought we were on the verge of something that would bind us together. Turns out, a few days later I tried to kill myself, and Jax cheated on me while I was in the psychiatric hospital. Guess I was wrong that first time, and again just now when Jax let me know I was the worst thing ever and that I should go away.

Now I know this road will be mine to walk alone, without the orgasmic genius of combining two realities into one twisted story. That thought is so awesome… what a fantastic thing to do with someone you love. This was my thought. However, now I must lean on my own skills and the story I have crafted, and hope that carries me to a successful place. I don’t plan on making money off the books; they should be free for anyone to enjoy.

When my cases are settled, and the money is in the bank, I will be pursuing my career as a Peer Support Specialist and also writing my masterpiece. One day, I will be done, and looking back on this chance with my ex with laughter. She missed out on a rad-ass gravy train, I can promise you that. I am a hedonist, and I do enjoy the getting of fucked up. I also enjoy my life, which has largely been without her. I have hurt feelings, yes, after having been so soundly rejected. I’m not the person she thinks I am, and her reaction was like: “are you really talking to me?”


Anyway, I’m trying to process, and stepping forward. I am proud of who I am now and encouraged further by who I am becoming. Maybe I will meet a peer someday,who I can love and respect. Probably not.


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

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

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

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

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


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

Seems pretty final.

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

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

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

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

Last Try

So I decided to ask to see if Jax would talk to me before I go far away. It’s been years. Basically, the thought of leaving and probably not ever seeing her again has weighed on me. In fact, I have become increasingly conflicted the more I explore this thought-chain. I still have love in my heart for her, maybe the strongest I ever had in all my life. So much so that the echoes of it are still strong. I am leaving, and I need to say goodbye, from my heart. We have probably changed a lot since we last talked, but I still remember all the things I love about her. I hope she has some of those for me, and maybe that is enough between us to walk out on to the bridge this last time.

The likely alternative is that she is gone, and will not respond, and I will not see her again. Something inside me has still not let her go. She is still a part of me, and a little thread still connects us. I wish I had done things differently, yes, that is true. However, all I have left is the time still to go in front of me. I want the Jax place in my heart to have a resolution, and not feel like a partially ajar door as we zoom down the freeway.

Well, I hope I get to say goodbye. As I said earlier, I never loved anyone as much as I loved her. She lit a fire in me that still burns today. I wish I could thank her, but I probably won’t get the chance.



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

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

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

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

Down a Peg

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

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


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


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


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


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


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


Hello Blog. I am pleased to address you now as a Certified Peer Support Specialist! I graduated Peer Employment Training with a 97.5%!

I have taken the first steps on my path towards a new career helping people at ground-level. I want to be someone who people remember positively, not negatively. I have so much damage in my wake, and a great desire to pay the kindnesses done to me forward. I have begun to walk towards a better life and the steps I have made so far have enriched me.

Yesterday I completed 8 hours of Mental Health First Aid, after 75 hours of Peer Employment Training. Two certificates though! YES! I will have a forth in a couple weeks when i finish NAMI’s Peer and Family Support Specialist training. As you can see, I am serious about making my life into something I can be proud of. I feel more empowered and proactive than I have in months to be sure. I have, again, faced a relapse down and achieved stability after. I will not let those moments end me, but instead, show me a new beginning.

I have completed the bulk of my training down here and now I have come to find out we will be moving even sooner than late summer. Now the move is a short two months away, and we are already putting the machine of home-search into action. We are now looking for a place we are likely to spend years living in.

I saw a beautiful girl at training yesterday. I wish I could have told her what I thought, to boost her confidence, but the whole thing is an unwanted can of worms. Everything about the thoughts that formed after was terrible. A series of disappointments, misunderstandings and regret. It all happened within a couple of seconds. That’s all the consideration there is anymore because I’m becoming securely Asexual. Life can still have people in it, mind you. Love takes all sorts of interesting shapes. Isolation is not the answer to anything really. I just have a new proximity boundary which I need to respect for my ongoing health. Stability is paramount.

I hope you are all having a good weekend. I am enjoying a well-earned day off from the learns. I have many of dem.


Here I am doing a check-in experiencing some emotional turbulence. I am thinking about my past relationships longingly, aching in the way that love feels once it has gone from a place. I still remember the feeling of being in love with incredible longing. It is a place I most enjoyed when I was there, but realize the intrinsic cost involved. Experience love = lose stability. I have a feeling this is still true, despite my evolved state. I could probably make a relationship work if things continued in this way, but will I? Probably not. Even in an ideal circumstance, it adds a new and unattractive variable to a life that is becoming well managed on its own. I do believe we all have a different way of being wired into our perceptions of reality. Mine have been wired differently than yours, and where you might need a relationship to feel complete, I realize that will never be my fate. I have tried to walk that path and nearly destroyed myself over and over again. I think back on love and still miss it, yes. Does that necessitate changing my life direction? Is it so overwhelming that I must bend to its will in order to survive?

I am back on PsychCentral too and posting on the forums. There are potentially dozens of people out there who could use help. I need to polish my profile, get out there and comment. I can be a resource for many more people than are locally available. More impact. More change. More listening. All of these aspects of MH care I am embracing and pursuing. The future looks bright. I know I have been on about this, but MH should excite you too, when you think about the positive future good care leads to.

Pillow Talk

Hello blog. I haven’t written to you in a while, and I’m sorry about that. I’ve been in a rut lately and many small things have added up to a lot of weight. Though, overall, I’m doing alright. I’m not acutely suffering, but some of the symptoms of depression are there. The fatigue, slow motivation, disturbing anxieties and skepticism seem to pervade, and especially in the morning. I was an hour late getting in today, for example. 

I feel much better though, now that I’m in bed. I’m happy here. Everything is soft with the fuzzies and warm. It makes me feel safe from all of the anxieties and stresses of my day. It is the one place I can go and feel at peace and protected in a very fundamental sense. Logically? No explanation whatsoever. I don’t even bother to understand it. It just makes me feel good and it’s not a controlled substance so you should be happy 

Will has been a great friend in this tough time. He’s always willing to talk to me about stuff, and has loads of insight from someone who knows me well. I have been meaning to ask, but he must look back on who I was in high school and wonder where that guy went. That me was direct, merciless, insane, goofy and bizarre. The only one of those things I still am is direct. I used to be so vital and energetic, but as time went on, it broke me. I collapsed. After that first depression and meds, I became someone different. I do not know how to compare these two states. Both are good and bad for different reasons. I favor stability and old me was in no way stable. 

I think I lost Carly. It would be sad but expected. She got scared by my herpes and that pretty much quashed the flame she may have had burning for me. She seemed to be really interesting, with a full life. However, she detached from me a long time ago for many reasons. It’s not the way I wanted things to go, but this disintegration was inevitable, it seems. 

I just want to have a normal day, you know, where I wake up refreshed? A day where I can focus clearly, have meaningful social interactions and feel solidly good. I have had days like that before. I’m trying everything to promote that possibility with my actions tonight. I’ll let you know how it goes. 

Goodnight blog. I promise to stop by more often. I haven’t forgotten you, I’m just struggling. 

Complications and Resolutions

In light of my good friend Will’s decision to pursue a physical relationship with his friend Erin, I have been giving some thought to the same perplexing possibility in my own life. The ingredients are all there for both of us, but I’m quite intent upon making a totally different meal than the one Will did.

Mainly, I don’t trust myself in that situation, and I don’t believe I could repress my feelings the way he has to. Sex creates bonds of closeness and that is something I want to avoid. Will is stronger, and he believes he can walk this road and not get hurt. I know in my heart that I could not do the same, as appealing as it sounds.

It’s not that I don’t like sex and closeness (I really do),  but when I look back over my life, I see failed relationships where I acted with my heart and got involved in things that would come unraveled eventually because I was too blind to see it wasn’t a good fit. At this point, I should know better than to go thinking with my dick or appeasing my feelings of loneliness with  companionship. I have seen where that way of acting gets me.

So I am both envious and fearful for my best friend. I hope he knows when to put the breaks on if that’s what needs to happen. It’s not a good match for him as far as a relationship goes, in my opinion. He deserves much better. As do I. I’m willing to hold off my urges and desires because I know that the end result is far more painful than the few good times that get sprinkled in along the way. Cost-benefit analysis.

Plus, it helps that I’m not looking for that satisfaction, and he is. I say if you have control over your life and don’t mind bringing in outside factors, then more power to you. If anything, it has made me realize how much I don’t want what he has, even if the idea sounds pretty fucking sweet. I know I’m not ready for that type of thing; not now, and not in a long time. My own dynamic with Carly  I believe may have lost the physical component but there’s no way to be sure at this time, while also irrelevant if that suspicion is true. If it has, then so be it… my life is headed in the direction of my choosing with or without it.

I guess this whole situation made me feel conflicted, then resolved. I do this with myself every so often; eventually coming back to a resolution about my attitude and behavior. I really do like this life I have where I only have myself to worry about keeping happy, or dealing with. I have a loving family and a strong sense of self… I really do have all the tools I need to launch a successful independent life laid out before me. I’m not going to let my dick get in the way of that, regardless of how nice it all feels to indulge. The temptation is strong, but I’m not ready, which is the final word on the matter.

This weekend has been a fucking blast. Fun parties every single day, family from out of town, beer on tap, Mexican food… do I really need to go on? Oh, did I mention my sister is going to have a baby??? I’m going to be an uncle! Hobie, that little man will be named, and he already has his first two onesies that I bought for him. I made a card for my sister too about how happy I am she’s bringing a new member of the family in to our lives. So many grand kids running around already it’s intoxicating and wonderful. Such a nourishing environment full of people who love me.

That’s the kind of thing I want to cultivate. I’ve always looked t make my own ideal family unit with some new woman from the outside, but now I realize I had one all along right under my nose. I need to spend more time nurturing the love that is already there and stop looking for it in other places.

Have a good rest of your weekend, as I no doubt will.



Tenderly through damp hair,

Along the soft curve of her neck–

Lost in deep pools of blue.

Somewhere in that moment–

When in union,

Entwined in the act,

Eyes that drive into the soul–

Laid bare and exposed,

Dripping and moving,

Two worlds become one.

The wells of her beauty,

Captivated in her many places,

Those precious seconds,

Given gladly in adoration.


The Process

I have had a very in depth conversation with Carly which has stretched over hours, and we have come to the conclusion that we are friends who have a lot of physical chemistry. This puts an end, like I had mentioned in a deleted rant, to my boyfriend pressure. I didn’t have to terminate just clarify what our roles could be. So now we are friends who are attracted to each other and are rapidly growing more bonded to each other as well. I feel a place growing inside me that is only hers, and the unique way she makes me feel. I was not thinking clearly this morning and I was upset and ranting about it. I’m sorry for anyone that caught it before I took it down. Sometimes, I just need to stop and think for a few minutes before taking action. This is part of the lesson I have to learn from this situation. I have been emotionally pulled a bit, but clarity has arrived to ease the pressure of progression from my shoulders. I’m just going to let go, and allow things to happen as they will, not as I want. The rest of the lesson is just that, patience. If it is a good thing, it will continue to be so. There’s nothing I can do here but to be myself and live my life the way I had always intended to. With a natural progression, not by some regimented schedule. I have always sought control to appease my anxiety, but now I know that control hasn’t made the anxiety any better, and now my life is ridiculous because I’m trying to manage all these different things that are still ultimately out of my control.

It’s a cycle I need to be aware of, and start taking preventative steps to ensure it won’t gain the high ground on me again. I need to get back to that core principle of mindfulness, that momentary calm of simple breathing that cuts the chatter and brings it all to center. All I really need to do is remember to take a few deep breaths when handed a situation and instead of blurt something out, give pause to consideration. This deliberative moment can completely change the reaction that was about to happen had one not put the mental breaks on everything. It has saved me in the past, when properly implemented. However, I would say I have about an 75% fail rate in direct implementation of this practice. It’s up to me to embody the change I seek, and I need to alter the way I have been doing things lately. I think my physical health is improving, but there is still some mental work to be done here as well. Clearly.

Introspection is a powerful tool. It helps me see things inside myself because I am honest at all intervals. It works if one is willing to lay it all out there and process the whole fucking thing. Humility is a key virtue in this, because you don’t feel shame for your missteps, you just accept them and try harder next time. I believe we all have a lot to learn just by digging deep behind our own eyes. Introspection helps me find ways to improve as a person, and has been instrumental in my rise to stability.

I do caution you that being TOO introspective is also not useful. Keep digging and bad stuff will come up, and if you are a person with depression this can easily make things worse. A songwriter had a poignant quote:

“it ain’t good to stare inside yourself too long, for every true thing there’s one more lie…” -Bob Welch

If you know the song that quote is from I’m impressed with you sir or madam.

Anyway, look at all the great shit introspection can do!


Well my emotions are finally catching up to me blog. I’m stricken by the though of Kendra alone and abandoned in the world. I really liked many things about her, and I mourn the loss of those things. Her assertive attitude and social ambition. I liked her dedication to the things she loved, and her positive outlook. Now I’m here in tears remembering all the reasons I got with her, and how all of that was undone by a greater sum of ugliness.

I had hope, and that hope is dead. It’s hard to have something like that die inside you. The echo and ache of it remains long after the event has passed. I have moved my life forward several steps, but my pain is still there. We had sex blog, and that’s a big deal for me to be close to someone like that and then have to cut them loose. I get attached with sex, and she was really not that way. I had only been with 7 women, and she had been with close to 40 different guys. Mentality difference.

My feelings went unacknowledged and ultimately rejected. I know I made the right choice but I still hurt because I did care for her, and I did want to be with her and be a part of her adventurous life. I must now let these things go. I must release her from my heart because there is no going back.

So George Michael – Older really pushed me over the edge. Fastlove, Spin The Wheel and others delivered gut blow after gut blow until I was in tears. The ache of loss is never any easier no matter how many times it has happened.

Well I’m feeling a bit better. I still stand by my logic, but my emotions play their own game by their own rules. I have to allow time for them to be realized fully, not ignored or partitioned.

What Happens Next?

I’m not confident in the future at this moment because many things remain obfuscated by variables beyond my control. I guess that’s usually the case, but I feel more uncertain about things since I am in a transition. I was feeling confident and stable with Kendra, but that was undermined over the course of three days and eventually destroyed. I was under the impression things were going to be okay at first, but the hints and clues started to pile up as the clock continued to tick forward. I figured it out eventually, but this one stung because there were a lot of good things about her that I will miss.

An important point of comparison: when Carly told me on the night of the 13th that she couldn’t be with me and wasn’t ready for a next step, I cried my fucking eyes out the next morning as I got ready for work. I was devastated. I just called things off with Kendra and have felt sad for approximately 2 minutes, and shed not a single tear. Why? Because I actually was able to emotionally bond with Carly and Kendra stayed remote and distant; an environment in which feelings don’t develop well.

However, Carly is a much better fit for me and I have always known that. My only issue was that Carly wasn’t ready on the 13th and Kendra pounced 1 day later. I mourned, but I was rapidly distracted. My feelings were still uncorked for Carly as there was no point in which I was resolved and not feeling anything for her. I still had her on my mind, that night we had together and all the words we had shared. I was left wondering what the hell could have happened, if we had been given the chance.

Now we are back forging ahead as to adults who are dating from across county lines. I know there are several really important things she has that Kendra was lacking that are fundamental to out compatibility. Carly has sympathy for my mental illness, and is very open and thoughtful about it. Carly and I share the same passion for music, and of the same types as well. Carly and I have talked 200% more than Kendra and I did, and I know more about her than I did with Kendra by far because Carly is the superior communicator of the two. These are just the first few major issues I was drawn to initially compare.

Point being, the hope for a healthy relationship is significantly higher than it was with Kendra. I am very fortunate that things worked out this way and that I was not fucked out of a chance to date someone really special.

I’m cautiously optimistic, but fearful of the unknowns that lie ahead nonetheless.

Moving Forward

My life is all about recovering from calamity, self inflicted or not. How I have come to be as strong and aware as I am was by surviving countless failures, and taking something away from the mess to further myself down the road. This situation is no different, and my plan of action has gone into effect perfectly.

I have managed to retain a great deal of positive momentum in reference to my physical health, and I am excited about beginning this journey. I have a goal in mind and I intend to reach it.

I am re-engaging Carly and this will be a slow steady crawl back to what we had before Kendra came along. We were at a high level of emotional relation and sympathy until it ended, and that fire really never went out. I just had to stash it away and pretend it wasn’t still burning. Even with Kendra, I still fantasized about Carly, and all the explicit things we wrote to each other. I couldn’t just erase her from my mind, and now thankfully, I don’t have to.

I just hope she hasn’t lost interest in me due to me being inconsistent and temporarily unavailable. I don’t think that’s the case but I have anxiety that I too will be replaced, the same way I had to replace her when she was gone. It would be poetic justice, and well deserved.

I’m still optimistic that the future is bright and full of potential. I’m healthy, active and ready to take on the next challenge. I know I’m going to do okay, albeit not without hardship, but I will persevere.


I am sitting here tonight just going over all the bullshit that went down today. I believe I made the right call and I could have made it sooner, quite frankly. I didn’t think this was going to work out and I was right. Nevertheless, I’m in my apartment on a Saturday night alone with my thoughts. Maybe tonight IS a good night to process, because I’m going through some pretty dramatic changes.

I was feeling a lot of care and attraction to Kendra, but the more I saw of her emotional self the more worried I became. Frankly, she’s a fucking tough chick, and maybe even more macho than I am. She rides a Harley for fuck’s sake. I was willing to learn so much about her, but she never showed any interest at all in learning about me. My hobbies and passions were never discussed or explored. The whole arrangement was wrong, and there’s a chance I might have Herpes. Not as though that’s a catastrophic thing, I already take a bunch of pills every day, what’s one more? Sometimes you get lucky, other times you get fucked. I’m going in on Wednesday for a test either way.

On the swinging pendulum we ride. I have promptly (before someone came along to snatch her up) contacted Carly. Frankly I had almost zero emotional response to Kendra because of the way she chose to stand her ground and let me walk. Contacting Carly seemed like the logical thing to do, considering her I promised I would not forget about her. My feelings for her haven’t gone anywhere, I just had to bury them on the 13th when we split and Kendra came along. But now Kendra is out of the picture, so my feelings have a chance to unfold slowly. I want to walk down the road with someone, as long as they are willing to help me process and care for me. I’m looking for that blog. I won’t stop until I find it, or my clock runs out.

Making small steps still, but continuing to head in a positive direction. Speaking of optimistic things, there is something of benefit I will take from all of this Kendra stuff: the importance of a mastery of my physical body. I will be continuing on with the same vigor I had when she originally inspired it. I think it’s time to take control and get down to the me I want to be. I want to be strong again, and feel that life back in my body. I remember how good it felt to just be pumped, sweaty and on fire. I want to get back to that.

Well there are clearly plenty of things on my mind right now, and this will likely not be the last blog post.


Kendra came over for dinner and we had a great time. I cooked steaks, we laughed and played with Snapchat and had sex. Together we shared stories and learned more about each other through compelling conversation. I was sad that our evening had to come to an end but this is a weeknight after all. 

I’m tired now, but feeling really optimistic that we can continue to head in the direction of coming closer together. It was a very passionate goodbye this evening, one that still  resonates with me. 

Many days lie ahead, and only a few behind. This could be the start of something wonderful. 


Things are progressing nicely towards our first physical meeting. I, unfortunately, am sick at the moment with a stomach bug, and have cancelled said meeting which was planned for today. The truth of why is the best part. First, the only way I can give her the bug would be to kiss her or to have her put her lips on something that had previously had my lips on it. As this was how I got it. However, she wanted to cancel the meeting because she wanted there to be”no restrictions” at our first meeting. Dang! First meeting? I was all ready to do a hand holding meeting for coffee first before even considering a next move. Nope, she wants zero restrictions. I’m pretty okay with that.

So now the plan is to drive up to Universal Studios and go to Harry Potter zone together. IF… it materializes, that would be a truly fun day. Expensive, but also very exciting and I’d get to spend it with a shockingly beautiful woman. My heart would barely be able to contain itself with her on my arm. She’s very interesting blog, and she has this idea of me that is truly flattering and makes me feel proud in a way. I know that’s who I am, but to see it renewed in her eyes and through her words is remarkable. It’s genuine adoration and interest.

She LIKES me blog, and I like her. She is someone who is similar me in some ways but vastly different in others. Those ways we contrast make us the unique people we are, and in those differences are countless memories and experiences from vastly different branches of development. We have these things to share with each other, not for the sake of contrast, but for education. I want to know what her life was like, so I can better understand the person she became because of it.  Kendra fascinates me deeply, and I am just starting to understand who she is. I have real emotions of fondness and lust growing towards her, with deep and powerful roots.

I don’t know what the future will hold but I am going to be fully enraged in exploring this new development in my life. I’m melting her into a puddle blog, I really am.

Just Like That

I know you’re getting tired of hearing this, but I have started talking to someone new. Sigh. I know. What, are you doing now?

I didn’t start it really. More than two weeks ago she emailed me back after I asked her where she rode her motorcycle. I had told her of my trips to the desert, but after that, things stopped. I heard nothing until she was “interested” in me on Match today. At first I was like, “no, she made a mistake and accidentally clicked on me” because she had already ignored me once. On a whim I fired off a message asking why she had been “interested” me if she had ignored me before. And that was the catalyst, beginning a back and forth that transcended the chat service provided by Match to text and continued on into the day. We have been slowly conversing ever since, and things are unfolding in a dramatically different fashion than they did a few weeks ago.

The pace is less intense, which has calmed my approach. She is also a very different person than Carly was. Carly was more warm and effusive, Kendra is reserved and cautious and with good reason. I have been very clear in the past that things that do not concern me don’t equate into my evaluation of whether or not to be with someone. Things that matter consist of personality traits, motivation, attitude and curiosity. As my favorite examples. Things that do not matter such as weight, hair color, disabilities and or diseases.

I’m done fucking around at this point. If I don’t find “the one” then I’m going to stop looking and live my life alone. I think that might be best for my mental health. I said I’d give Match 6 months, and it broke my heart once already and may be doing it to me a gain for all I know. Kendra seems really neat, clever, and spunky. She’s direct and piercing as well as honest. She’s 26… 7 years difference between us. That’s how far apart my first wife Jen and I were when we got together, I was 23 and she was 30. I don’t know what that means. Maybe it means nothing since we are two totally different people in a new unique situation. Maybe it’s a good thing and will help us because of my love veteran status and my aged wisdom. She seems really down to earth and logical though.

To be honest blog, it’s good to be talking to someone again, someone who is interested in me. But I’m still reeling having been crying my eyes out this morning. I’m still feeling hurt, but at the same time, this new interest with Kendra is taking attention away from dwelling on my sad feelings. These new feelings feel much better. What would I rather spend my attention on, something new and exciting, or something cold and dead? I’m in charge of what my mind concentrates itself on, and I choose finding my love.

Check out this totally ironic post that just showed up in my recommendations. So relevant.


Score: 3.5

Well it has been an interesting last few days. Amanda and I went from serious fight to swooning with lust in the span of 24 hours, I have recognized that I am cycling again, and my mom is falling off the deep end into depression. 

On the relationship front, Amanda’s homeless friend Kasey is nearing the end of permissible stay while living off Amanda and turning her apartment into a biohazard. We were fighting about said degenerate when I got a little psychotic with rage. All the while Amanda has had her friend there, she made it seem like friend was buying food, and taking care of the apartment. In actuality, Kasey took $500 from Amanda (putting her short on rent) and was going out nightly leaving her autistic son with Amanda to babysit. Now Kasey needs to go. So I got a little upset when I discovered the situation Amanda had put herself in. She says she was doing it for Kasey’s son, but still, there’s a time and a place for charity. When you have no income and every dollar is precious you can’t be just giving it to some loser you are acquainted with. So I got pissed. And we had a fight about it. 

The evening after detonation, we worked things out and resolved that Amanda would spend the night the following day. We had an even more involved conversation together when she came over in which I really felt connected with her. She told me I was the smartest guy she had ever been with, and I told her she was the most creative woman I had ever been with. Then the lust started. We had sex like it can be during that initial curious passion that derives from the onset of intimacy. We did it over and over as though we were suddenly new lovers discovering each other for the first time. It carried on into the next morning, while I was all dressed at 4 am ready for work. Unexpected much? 

Things became turbulent again when Amanda’s doctor did not clear her to return to work. She’s still depressed, but now her life is on the verge of being destroyed if she can’t make some money, rapidly. She was telling me how she’s probably just going to be homeless, and I was again alarmed. I encouraged her to redouble her efforts ahead of the next meeting with her psychiatrist so that she can get clearance to return to her old job. I encouraged her to fight to repair her independent life as letting your life get smashed into pieces is a lot more work to rebuild than it would have been to fix it before it disintegrated. 

I just got back from a meeting with my psychologist, which went very well. I told her that over the last 6 weeks I have been experiencing slightly elevated states which last 10 days or do, followed by periods where depression symptoms emerge, also lasting about the same length of time. My scores over this span tell the same story. So we decided to try a different pattern of dosing the Lithium while adding another 300mg, bringing me to a standard 1500mg. I’m to start taking it in the mornings as well. So that was good, and as a direct result of my observations. 

I need to go fix my parent’s relationship as my mom is spiraling out of control with meds that don’t work and bad mental health practices. She needs a reminder about what’s important as she tends to digress when she’s having symptoms. Life doesn’t always work out how we hope it would, but resenting your husband for suffering a crippling disease because now you can’t go to Italy for your 40th wedding anniversary? What’s more important, a vacation you can’t have, or your lifelong partner who needs you now more than ever? She is in a dream world that she thinks will make her happy. I need to bring her back down to the reality that we are all bound to, whether we accept it or not. 

It’s been a tough week, but I’m on an upswing, so it’s not too bad. Boy would I be fucked if last weeks down had carried over. 

Have a good night. 

Winds of Change

Things are at another point of transition here in my current reality. Amanda has been advised to make some time to find herself and that will take her away from me for an indeterminate interval. I am both happy and sorrowful about this. Largely, I want her to go on this journey by herself and not feel my “presence” around her. What I mean by that is the conscious awareness that another person is there, a person linked by intimacy and friendship. That in an of itself is a burden on the mind, which has to spend extra energy dealing with this “other.” Amanda needs time to not have that presence there, and to concentrate solely on self-development. 

In some minor way I am sad that I will be without my friend and lover for a while. I know truly that it is for the best, but I wouldn’t be human if some part of me didn’t wish she could just stay with me. Maybe we could figure it out together? Meh. Unlikely. She really does need to be alone right now. 

Today is going fine. Busy time for me these days. Hopefully by mid next week I can stop and catch my breath. I just want things to finally fall back into a healthy pattern, for both of us. 

Many Events

Score: +2.5

Things have largely stabilized here on the home front. Amanda has nearly finished her ECT treatments and will soon be on her way to normalcy. She has also acquired a therapist who is helping her go through her traumas. Hopefully this is a healing process that she can be enthusiastically involved in. One note, her therapist did recommend that Amanda end her relationship with me in order to go on a proper quest to find herself. Arguably, she never really got the time after her divorce, so it makes sense that she should have it. I think she can still do that without breaking up with me. She can disappear to her mom’s or her sister’s house for a few weeks, enough time to clear from the inherent relationship pressure and just be herself. I fully support her quest to become a more self-aware and defined Amanda. 

In my world, work has intensified, which brings in a lot of stress. Right now is a critical stage, and I’m doing my best to get it right. Not always succeeding is the hard part for me. But I have been upholding my end of the bargain: I have adhered to my regulation of cannabis without deviation, I have been exercising every day, and I have been meditating at night to cut through my nightly anxieties. So far, this has been working well for me. I feel more balanced, less detached in general. I am focusing better and my enthusiasm has started to come back. All in all, my stock is climbing. 

Amanda and I are in this together. Whatever obstacle that needs to be overcome, we will push to do so. She will find her answers on her terms, and I need to be patient with that process. I’m here to support her. 

I worry unnecessarily sometimes. Isn’t that the beauty of anxiety though? More practice for my meditation. 

Have a good night.  


I was just reflecting on how fortunate I am to have such a resilient and consistent partner. In the past, my world has been turned upside down because of my partner. Outrageous fights, hiding in the bathroom while being yelled at, curling into a ball in fear and dodging projectiles are all things I have not had to do in a while. She’s strong, beautiful, mysterious and always has a way of bringing a smile to my face. To this day, I have yet to raise my voice in anger to her, nor has she yelled at me. From what I gather, this is a rare thing. 

I am thankful for her. She has helped usher in a new era of stability and confidence the likes of which I have never seen or imagined. I have struggled so hard, and for so long, that stability was more like a distant wish. She has brought to me something I never thought I’d know. A full life. 

My love for you Amanda is tied up in the secret that is your inner-self and the struggle you embark on every day. I love how you fight, and push to find answers that help bring your world into focus. I look at you with admiration and respect, for I have felt the burden you carry and it is great. I would not survive under its weight. But you can, and that, I applaud. 

I want to be with you the rest of the way. I’m going to be by your side and have your back always, as this is what partners do for each other. We are in this together, and I won’t give up. 

I love you. 


I’ve been reflecting lately, and I’m simply amazed by the journey I have been on. Words I would use to describe my current situation might be: stable, happy, engaged and thankful. 2 years ago they would have been: doubtful, volatile, frustrated and lost. My last relationship was much like the ones before it; based on sex and passion and not so great with the understanding. This is a lot my fault, because I listened to my dick before my mind. I had to make some form of progress from that point, as yet another failure would be utterly devastating. I knew back then that two things needed to happen… I needed to become a better person and from there, find a better partner. 

The task was to become my own best friend. For all my life I hated who I was, and turned away from self respect. I bloated my body with fattening food after my first divorce and have been fighting obesity ever since. It’s easy to hate something you find abhorrent, right?

 So I needed to radically adjust my perspective on myself. This in no way just magically happened, but rather, I went to therapy and talked about strategies for how to handle my mind, my reactions to things, and my cognitive processes. Then I took those theories and implemented them; this blog bring one of those things. One step in the right direction one day, then another small move the next. Soon, a history of minor successes forms, demonstrating a stable and positive pattern. Subsequently, the longer the pattern goes, the more stable and fulfilling the process becomes. 

I chose Amanda because I saw a person who was very different from anyone I had ever dated. If Jax was a sparking fire, Amanda is a cold stone covered in moss. She is real, practical, caring and struggling. She needs someone like me, just like I need her to crate the bedrock of our stability. 16 months in, we haven’t had one real fight. No yelling of any kind. No name calling it throwing of objects. Instead, there’s practical discussion and problem solving. It just goes to show that education has little to do with the fundamentals of communication. Jen was a graduate student, and I’ve never had a harder time talking to anyone in my life. 

I know how hard it was to make the progress I have. The willingness to learn and improve is not universal, as evidenced by the stymying lack of change affected by my most recent ex. She’s still in this place where everyone does things to her and she is just a victim. People who never took responsibility for their actions before are not inclined to break free of the self indulging and/or delusional reality in which they reside. I had hoped for better for her, and I have been disappointed yet again. 

If it was easy, everyone would do it. The fact that it’s hard is what makes it great. 
I think I’m paraphrasing a Tom Hanks quote from A League Of Their Own. 



Score: +1.5

Big decline today. I have been having thoughts about my exes, flashes from the past that come back at me in stark contrast to reality. It’s not an accurate representation of the past, because it neglects the context and carries on only the peaks of happiness. I’m distinctly aware that my life now is far less turbulent as my life has been for most of it, so the exhilaration of the “ride” is gone. Don’t get me wrong, I would MUCH rather have the stability I have now compared to said ride. I lived from peak emotion to trough, over and over again. It has been that way for more than half of my life. Until just recently, I was unable to do anything but ride the ride and hope it all worked out. I tried various medication cocktails, and different doctors, and it all failed. I tried to kill myself just a couple years ago. So, to have those two years of stability is, frankly, amazing. I feel better and more confident than I ever have before, and I’m proud of what I do and who I am as a person. I have accomplished a lot in that short time. But it’s not the ride. These memories are reminders of what life felt like when things were out of control. I have done good things, and bad things, but it’s the good things that hurt the most from these past relationships. They remind me of the acute presence of love, the way I first understood it, as passionate and present and totally unique depending on who she was. I still remember it all very well, so it’s easy for my mind to recall something quite relevant. It saddens me, because I blame myself for things that happened, things I was responsible for and failed to do. It reminds me of how it all fell apart, and what went wrong and why. Like reliving a box score from the game over and over again, hoping somehow the numbers will change, and your team would win. But it’s already written and done. The past is over, and the part of me that used to feel that love, or lust, or whatever hybrid of those two things is dead, and empty. It’s a hollow place that these emotions bounce around inside echoing on and on into the deepest depths of the emptiness, until they fade and are gone. It’s a place that will never be full again, and I know this to be the truth, and that the emptiness is a burden I must carry as penance for the things I have done to myself to place these tragedies in my history. I will never be rid of the reminders of my past, so I must find an alternative method of coping with them. I cannot establish a trend of being crippled by recollections of things that happened that mean NOTHING to the present. Here and now, none of that has anything to do with what I’m doing. It’s not possible to forget those things, and I guess, I should not want to, because I am still responsible for everything I remember. I must own what I have been through in order to move ahead as a whole person. I know I can get through this, but the way I was feeling today was not good, and I needed to start my weekend a little early, considering I only get 1 day off. So I needed to get all that out there. It has been crushing me down the last few days as I grapple with how not to bludgeon myself over these things.

The Pillar

I have found, that when the main reason for having a relationship is sex, that things tend to fall apart after the passion is gone. I have had to learn this lesson three times in order to “get it.” But finally I did. 

A negative pattern has persisted through my adolescence. I got into my relationship with Jennifer for sex. And we had a lot of it. But she hated who I was, and told me as much. Once the fire went out, we saw how different we were, and what we had been blinded to. Emelia was much the same. We had the passion for each other, but we were different people. She had very little control of herself deep down inside. We grew apart until a culminating event split us in two. You’d think I would have learned after having been assaulted. I did it a third time with Jax. I barely knew anything about her, and I was inviting her into my bed. 

I think I got things right with Amanda. We built this relationship on honesty, trust and friendship. I always want to be the guy who has her back. I care about her deeply, and I see who she is. This is someone I love, not for lust, but for stability. I finally feel at home when I get off work. I belong in this life. I have been missing out for most of my days, but now I have it. 

There was never a burning bright fire. I was never solely focused on my physical desires. I learned first, then fell in love after I knew more. The sex with Amanda is great, but it’s not everything. It isn’t the pillar that holds up our relationship. Having things keep us up that are not lust or passion has been the better choice. I have been with Amanda for just under 11 months. We haven’t fought or been angry with each other at any point along the journey here. This is all such uncharted territory. I’m used to problems rising up by this time. 

It’s difficult to let go of how insanely good that passion felt. Joy unlike any other. Highest of high points. Carelessly, recklessly in lust. But it’s poison. For all the good times it delivers, it punishes tenfold. Heartbreak of a deep and powerful nature. I am nearly two years removed from my last, but the pain still haunts me. 

We should endevor to learn to avoid destruction. I’ve suffered through great pain in my past, and vowed not to repeat it for the future. I spent the better part of 15 years figuring this out. But maybe you already know not to do what I have done. I didn’t listen to my mind when I needed to. I listened to something else. 

Cause To Rejoice

Score: +4

A fantastic day today blog. Amanda and I got after it early, and by 9:30 we had hammered out the chores. Good thing too, because one of my fantasy football drafts took place at 10. After my draft, we hit a couple of thrift stores and I scored some absolutely essential apparel (undershirts for work, and “kickin’ it” shorts). We bought 6 – 9 garments per person at each place, and spent just $70. You can’t buy one pair of jeans for that at Macy’s. Thrifting fucking rocks. So it was a good afternoon. We got some pizza and had a late lunch, but right after that, we were back on another mission. This time, we recovered a PC that had been sitting unused at Amanda’s parents house. She gave it to them a while ago, and they never did anything with it, or even turned it on. We collected it, and of all things, gave it to Amanda’s ex husband to turn into a Minecraft server so we can play with Tristan when he is at his dad’s house. Amanda thinks her friend Will would like to get back into it as well, and now I am starting to play. I have the basics down, but there’s plenty of room to improve my skills. I think this is a good activity that we are all participating in. Approve. We fiddled around the clean apartment and I gave Amanda an awesome foot rub, followed by an orgasm. That made her happy, and me too. All in all, this was a great day, capped off about as nicely as one could hope for. I am full of food, happy and satisfied. Today deserved a four. It was solid. Tomorrow we drive up to the Oceanview Mine to collect precious stones: Tourmaline, Kunzite, Aquamarine and Quartz. We are hoping for the best, but you never know. Goodnight. 


Score: +3.5

Today was the final, grueling day of the heat wave. Temperatures should drop by 5 – 10 degrees tomorrow, so hoo-fucking-ray! It’s 8:00 pm and still 91 inside my apartment… my patience for this weather has officially run out. 

Tristan had a good time with us but by the end of the 10 days he was getting irritable. He gets bored easily and then acts out, and he doesn’t listen when we ask him not to do things he shouldn’t be doing. We still have some time to invest in getting his brain oriented correctly. But he’s a good kid, enthusiastic. 

I’m sunburned and tired. Amanda and I had sex for the first time in over two months tonight. I guess her depression is indeed lifting; it wasn’t a consideration while entrenched in sorrow. Little steps forward. Goodnight. 

The Show And Aftermath

Score: +2.5

Yesterday was Amanda’s first art show. It was called RAW Artists: Sensory and was held at the House of Blues in downtown San Diego. We were required to be there four hours before the show began (at 2 pm), and we weren’t done until after 10 pm. All in all, it was a huge opportunity for Amanda to get some attention. Several talent scouts took her business card and several others deeply considered purchasing canvasses. But we made $200 on prints and that’s pretty good. A lot of family and friends turned out for the show and offered their support. It was a great, if not taxing experience. 

Today we paid the price. I called in, after realizing I was only going to get 3 hours of sleep before my shift. I could not imagine being able to function under those circumstances. My mentally ill brain would be in disarray from fatigue and who knows what that could have led to. So I took the safe option. Amanda and I spent the day together, did some errands, and cat napped in the living room. 

This is my last month in Spring Valley. Im both excited and also somewhat concerned about the things yet to be done. I guess this is my anxiety. Change, even for the better, is still stressful. 

Amanda and I have been doing great. She’s striving and pushing through the pain. I truly admire her for her continued bravery and strength. She has also been increasingly affectionate with me lately, which I also really enjoy. Our relationship feels like it is clicking into a harmonious state. She’s been responsive to my needs and attentive to my requests. We have excellent communication abilities. I love her very much, and I’d do just about anything for that girl. 

My weekend is just getting started. Toodles. 

No One Like You – Scorpions 

Girl, it’s been a long time that we’ve been apart,

Much too long for a man that needs love,

I’ve missed you since I’ve been away, 

Oh babe, wasn’t easy to leave you alone, 

It gets harder each time that I go,

If I had a choice, I would stay,

There’s no one like you,

I can’t wait for the nights with you, 

I imagine the things we do,

I just want to be loved by you,

No one like you,

I can’t wait for the nights with you, 

I imagine the things we do,

I just want to be loved, by you. 

Girl, there are really no words strong enough,

To describe all my longing for love,

I don’t want my feelings restrained,

Oh babe, now I need you like never before,

Just imagine you’d come through this door, 

And take all my sorrows away,

There’s no one like you,

I can’t wait for the nights with you,

I imagine the things we do,

I just want to be loved by you,

No one like you,

I can’t wait for the nights with you,

I imagine the things we do,

I just want to be loved by you. 


02/20/15 – Score: +2
02/21/15 – Score: +3.5
02/22/15 – Score: +3

The last three days have been crazy. Friday I was busy all day on the phones. I made more outgoing calls than I took out of the queue by a 2:1 ratio. My brain was a mashed cantaloupe by the end of the day.

Friday night I went and picked up Amanda and we drove over to my parent’s RV and I formally introduced her to them. It went great. We all sat around and joked and passed the pipe. I picked up some food that I was to keep safe in my fridge and Amanda and I came back to my apartment to spend the night. We talked, played Katamari Damacy and held hands on my futon. I’m adjusting to having someone new who I can touch and feel… all theses areas in me have been laying dormant for a while until now. And I feel a shift has occurred: I don’t pine for sex the same way I used to with other partners. I think it’s because Amanda is willing to be open and emotional with me, and I feel connected to her in a way that supersedes the intimacy of physicality. Don’t get me wrong though blog, the sex is wonderful, but it’s not the primary way I’m bonding to her.

Saturday was the day of my dad’s 60th birthday party, and many things needed to be done. My truck was a huge part of the plan. I packed it full to the brim in La Mesa with goods and supplies, then drove everything into mission valley off Qualcomm way where the venue for the party was located. The place was a property managed by Oakwood, and the only reason we got to hold our big party there was because Tina (my mom’s brother’s wife) hooked it up for is for free. It was a giant room, with a pool table, three bar areas for sitting, a living room with couches and three TVs, a big kitchen and a theatre. Yes, a theatre, with maybe 20 recliners in four tiered rows and a digital projector mounted to the ceiling. Nice. Anyway, I carried all the supplies, food, drinks and decorations down there and unloaded it all into the room. But I could not stay there and help set it up, because I had two loads of laundry to do and that was likely to take the better part of 3 hours to complete. If I didn’t do it then, I was not going to have clean clothes for the week. So Amanda and I hung out at my place and had a nice afternoon together. Then we hopped right back in the truck and went to the party two hours early to help. Once things got going it was all in autopilot. The party went great. I did tech support and got a slide show going on the theatre room projector. Then people started showing up.

Now, I was aware that the dress code was “cocktail party” but had thought about this earlier in the day. Was I really going to dress up and then work my ass off all evening with the cleaning in my slick digs? I thought of myself struggling to keep my sleeves rolled up while I got water and food all over my button up shirt and slacks. It was a bad idea to clean up after a 30 person party in my best outfit. So I did not dress up, I wore my working clothes. I do somewhat regret doing this. But I also knew what had to be done. No one else was going to wash the dishes but me. No one else was going to pack up dinner and move shit back into my truck. I didn’t mind not being dressed up because I was working, and being an effective worker is more important than looking temporarily sharp.

Amanda came to the rescue and helped me in my effort to clean and pack nearly everything before the party died down. People started leaving, and Amanda and I must have made 15 trips from the room to the truck carrying things. My dad helped towards the end because he could see us busting ass to clean up and I think he wanted to feel useful. But it was HIS party. He should have just relaxed.

After the truck was (again) stuffed to the brim with things, we headed back to my apartment and unloaded the perishable food and coolers back into my kitchen. We faded out rapidly into blissful sleep.

Sunday was the day that I was supposed to go paintballing, but as morning arrived, I realized that my plan was doomed. I still had my whole truck jammed with stuff from the party, and no where to put it. I couldn’t unload it into my apartment. Doing so would then obligate me to pack it back up again when I was done with paintball, THEN drive it somewhere to be unpacked. I took Amanda home first and was headed out to rural Lakeside where the course was located, but I stopped less than half way: I aborted paintball, as I realized the commitment I made to help my family with my dad’s party sill required my attention.

I spun a lie to my coworkers about why I could not go, and I don’t care to disclose the truth to them about the reality of my priorities. My life, and its intricate workings, are not knowledge I want them to have. So to them, my alternator died, and I went to have it fixed for $380. Done. I was already in El Cajon, so I went by storage and pulled the last of the polished rocks out of the tumbler. I bagged those up, went home and loaded both coolers back into my truck and any additional boxes that needed moving. I took everything to my parents RV, and there we sifted through it to remove anything that was going to stay with my parents. My sister and I drove separately to the storage unit (again), where I unpacked the last of the things from the party, and loaded a big rug and an inflatable bed into the jeep for my sister to take with her to my cousin’s house. It was only at this point did I stop working for the party. I went home again, but quickly went back down the street and bought all the groceries I would need for the week ahead. I made lunch and did some of the final chores at my apartment. At around 3:45 I took off for Amanda’s house to help her do her housework that she was behind on (having spent almost no time at home because she was with me). I got there to find her unconventional friend Kasey there with her developmentally delayed son doing their laundry at Amanda’s expense and using her hot water to clean Kasey’s son Gavyn. He’s 3, and can’t speak any words yet, and he is sill wearing a diaper because he is not potty trained. He cries and freaks out a lot, and rolls around on the ground squealing and flapping his arms when things don’t go his way. His mom is a meth addict who’s primary occupations are prostitution and stripping. I don’t know what kind of mom she is. I mean, from what I can see she does care and love her son, but I don’t know enough to pass judgement. I just see things from the outside and begin to wonder. But anyway, while Kasey was there I helped Amanda clean every single dish in her sink, then hauled all the trash down to the dumpsters, then folded all her clean clothes and Tristan’s clothes and put them away. By the time 6:15 rolled around Kasey was gone and Amanda and I ordered a sushi feast and brought it back to her apartment. A wonderful way to spend an evening… in her company.

Blog, this has been quite a weekend as you can see. I have been busy the whole way through. I know ur was wrong of me to lie about not being able to go to paintball, but I value my privacy tremendously at work, and don’t ever want to let anyone in on how the priorities of my life are arranged. I don’t want them to be in on it. So I tell lies to protect myself.

I’ve had an eventful weekend. I hope yours was good as well. I feel strongly about Amanda, and I am so impressed how she handled a difficult situation. She rose to the occasion, and I am so thankful for her help. She made things go a lot easier, and worked until she was injured. I’m glad she’s on my team. That’s for sure.

Let Me Explain

Score: +2.5

I will admit to having had a slower than usual day today. Mentally, I mean. I woke up way too late this morning and have been a bit sluggish; plodding through the marsh like a Diplodocus. But it has been a good shift; I have been productive and have also solved problems right and left. I even had a chance to train someone from the repair department on how we do things in customer support. That was fun, to have someone to teach, because I’m a superb instructor.

Overall things have been great. My mental health is at an all-time high of stability and functionality. I am working hard to make sure my brain operates normally. My relationship with Amanda is progressing naturally and has already offered me a great deal of happiness. Blog, my life is fairly simple: I work, a rest, I smoke a bowl once every 3-5 days or so for kicks. I don’t need much to keep me entertained and I’m much easier to please than your average mook. I don’t yearn for a complex and advanced life; I have enough to worry about trying to balance my own meager set of affairs. Why overload myself with stimuli when very little is plenty to keep me happy?

You know what really drives me on? The promise of living a stable and honorable life. I don’t want fame, or power, and I generally don’t care about money. My upside down life has been an inwardly spiraling journey with the intent of balance but the reality of destruction.

I have always thought that a relationship was the thing I needed to be happy, but that has proven to be folly. I NEEDED a relationship to feel complete, and that’s right where it all went wrong. I NEEDED sex because it was something that felt good and was the only intimacy I understood. I have destroyed every relationship I’ve been in because I was not a whole person; I had gaping chasms that I was expecting love to fill.

I look back on that and regret, but it was a lesson I had to learn the hard way (through failure). I reflect, because at this moment, I am doing something totally new and departing from my relationship patterns of the past. I decided to fix myself first, before going looking for love again. I spent months rehashing pain, going to groups, getting my medications dialed in, and talking through my issues with an astute therapist. It took many consecutive days of that single-minded activity to accomplish a change. And the result is unprecedented security of self. I feel more aware and proud of who I am, and who I have become than EVER before.

I am falling in love again blog. It is a slower process than previously attempted, and I’m savoring the journey to being in love. I know that I am going in that direction, but the haste to arrive at commitment is gone, replaced by a cool patience and thoughtful comprehension. I really want to know who she is before I give her my heart. But I think I will give it to her, because that is what I want to do. I’m still very scared that I will be hurt again, but the root of that feeling is the trauma of abandonment. To be given up on several times by people you had completely pledged to is brutally painful. And I did this to myself by not being a complete “me” before deciding to be in a relationship. I have thought it out, and I know myself better now than I have in years. Years blog.

So this is a good time in my life. Things are changing; my caring for Amanda runs strong and deep. Apprehensive? A little. But I think it’s reasonable considering my history. But I do want her. I want her to be my only one, the keeper of my secrets, the guardian of my heart. I think I will get there with her, in time. All good things…


Score: +4.5

It has been a memorable Monday indeed blog. I took a day off work, and got to know my girlfriend Amanda better. I feel like, if I am ever going to find a long term partner, I must be able to both understand and trust her fully. I have failed in past attempts because I did not take the time to comprehend who they were as people before falling in love. I gave them all my trust, and my heart, but I did so on a whim. I have learned an important lesson from those experiences, and I am doing things differently this time… as hard as that can be at times.

Blog, I must be perfectly honest with you: she makes me feel incredible. I know now that I am falling in love with her, slowly and steadily, as I uncover more of who she is. I’m not in love yet, but if things continue going this way, I will be.

After Jax, I felt condemned, and that I would not desire to go looking for love again because the consequences of having my heart broken were still so near (and painful). I was also punishing myself, because I felt like I did not deserve to love anyone again after the mistakes I had made in previous relationships. In early March, it will have been a year since Jax and I were through. The divorce did not go final until November, and so the reality of my time as a legal bachelor is a mere 75 days. But this does not take into account all the time from March 10th onward, where I was physically alone, but more importantly, rebuilding. That stretch from then until meeting Amanda was 320 days long, which is still 45 days shy of a year.

Blog, I know that I’m still establishing my life right now, and that there are things about myself that I do not fully comprehend, but what I can tell you is that being alone is not sad. Loneliness is inherently exclusive, and strands the social mind on an island with one palm tree on it. There is a choice, because companionship is risky, but can be very rewarding if the proper steps are taken to ensure a successful outcome. Information is the currency in which trust is traded. And from that transaction does respect accrue. But these things do not happen in a flash (I am learning), they build up, brick by brick, until something formidable has been constructed. A bastion that is hard to obliterate because it was so meticulously assembled. Part of my regret comes from giving away all my trust to someone who would eventually knock my tower down and set fire to the rubble. The thing I had tried to build was not valuable then, but I know that is changing now.

Today Amanda looked at me with those beautiful eyes and told me the secrets that were her feelings. She held my arm and nuzzled me, kissed me, held my hand, and connected with me in all ways that two people exploring each other can. I feel more bonded to her than ever before. We do lead busy, independent lives, but in these sacred pauses to the routine, we accelerate the process by which we come to better understand each other. Today was a day filled with hope and promise. There is still plenty of work to be done, but it is gladly and enthusiastically undertaken. She has been ridiculed and treated dishonorably in the past, and I don’t see how anyone who gets to know her could have done that. There’s a new sheriff in town (needless to say).

It has been an exceptional day, taking my spirits to new unanticipated heights. I realize if only really technically been on the market for a short time (relatively), but I have examined myself thoroughly in that time and have drawn up many diagrams and made several key changes. Now that I am discovering love again, I feel more ready to go through it than I ever have before. I’ve never given my feelings the level of scrutiny and analysis that I am now. Never. I have trusted quickly and acted impulsively. These patterns are not repeating themselves with Amanda.

We have known each other for 33 days, and this journey is just starting. I am intent on walking a path towards commitment. When we get there is another matter entirely. The slower, steadier, and smoother, the better.

Goodnight blog. The scent of her hangs on me like a delicate robe, and so she guides me to rest.


Today I will be headed in to work with a smile on my face. I am often left in a pleasing disposition whenever I get a chance to hang around Amanda (which I did for a few hours last night). Her smile and her laugh are like little doses of happy to my otherwise butter-less toast life. I have had a good day off (yesterday) and am ready to go get after it today, in much the same way I have been, by creating new work to do and keeping myself busy while I am on the clock. It’s better for my mental health (and the passage of time) that I keep a bunch of tasks open and in progress; I feel more purposeful, useful and proud when I receive feedback. It’s just good all around policy.

This week I have two important appointments: my therapy session with Margaret on Wednesday morning, and my Psychiatry appointment with Dr. Judge on Friday. I will be relaying good news: my progress towards a healthy and stable life has been solid and steady. I am adding new things to my meager existence as I see it appropriate to do so, or as my health permits. I sometimes wonder if I’m doing ok, like somehow I doubt the good feelings inside me; that they are somehow not real. But I have lots of nagging voices that tell me nasty things, as these are a huge part of how my illness manifests itself in my mind. I have no complaints about my medications: since adding the lithium I have been in a good way, and that was back on November 10th. I have been able to handle my many responsibilities at work and home, while also investing some emotions in Amanda and her son. To me, this all points to a good place, where I will reside in a state of tranquility and have an ally with me to help protect me against rapidly occurring changes in mood. I intend to be healthy, and I reciprocate observations: we are both mentally ill, and the more eyes and ears we have on the scene the better.


So blog, I’m about ready to head in to work. I hope you all have a good Tuesday. I will (undoubtedly) be busy.


I had an opportunity presented to me at work over the last few days, of which I have already made mention. Today I finished the conversion spreadsheet. Not only that, I also documented each time where the agent who took the original exchange completely butchered the information collection process. These orders would have all been kicked back because they lacked every single piece of critical data they should have gleaned from the customers when taking the call. So of course Dominique had the most egregious errors, which doesn’t surprise me. He’s a fucking idiot. The others had one error or two, still not good, but less negligent. I handed that’s observations and the completed spreadsheet over to my bosses today, and was immediately thanked and acknowledged. I know they will be able to use that work I did, and now have a much clearer understanding of the status of our back orders.

I also took the initiative today and started working tickets in our web-based help request system, specifically, the ones that no one wanted to deal with and had been largely ignored for days or weeks. I hammered out four of them and am in process on another three. Which is a lot, considering that only two or three guys actually do them, and maybe one a day. Not seven. And my boss Don recognized me already for that, but I wasn’t about to stop applying myself after eating my cookie. Praise or no praise, I’m going to make sure I spend my spare moments during the peak hours on a task, only to be interrupted by an incoming call (which takes priority). I’m pushing myself to not only do what is asked of me, but to do something more than the expected. I’m a mentally ill guy, and for me, this is a matter of pride. Will I live up to my handicap, or will I work THAT much harder to show them all that this disability can’t keep me down? The rest of those guys have normal brains, and I intend to do what they can do, plus 4 times more. I’m better than them, handicapped or not. That’s how I show myself that even a severely ill person can still live a life that I can feel proud of.

And I’m humble. I would never flaunt any of my achievements at work, nor call attention to myself. I lead by example only, and I gain no satisfaction from boasting. I have dignity, and I respect the qualities of humility and politeness. If you really walk the walk, you don’t need to go telling everyone what you did. They can see plain enough what I’m about. So today I feel especially good about my work ethic and sense of self. I have earned a figurative gold star beside my name, and that is quality satisfaction that money can’t buy.

I have been missing Amanda. I’m feeling many positive things for her, and I am making the best of our fractured and infrequent ability to communicate. I am still talking to her quite a bit, but my heart aches for her. I can’t wait until I get to hold her again. This is a test of my self control, and so far, it has been difficult to contain these fledgling emotions I have inside me. New relationships have an energy that is impossible to replicate; they burn with the white-hot fire of 1000 suns. I’m looking down the road, to all the time I plan to spend with her and Tristan. The present moment being arduous, my sense of hope overrides everything with the intention of spending many more days with her than these few without her. It’s hard to direct my mind away from the warm glow of these new feelings, but I know this is only the beginning of a great new adventure. All good things come to those who wait.

Tonight I must retire rapidly. My wake up call will sound much earlier than during the week, as my shift starts two hours sooner. So farewell. More words to come.


I have been handed some new responsibilities at work. They are asking me to review and convert (if necessary) nearly 30 exchanges that have parts on back order. We can’t send those orders the way they are, so it became my responsibility to call all the stores that placed the exchanges and get them to agree to box up the broken equipment they have onsite and let our UPS driver come by and pick them up for repair. This seems like a simple enough idea, but the legwork involved in uncovering the information in one order, and then making an entirely separate order for the repair is a mess. And I’m finding that the other agents I work with place orders that are just shamefully wrong, lacking key pieces of information, and may not have shipped anyway because of the sad state they were in. I can’t believe these clowns still have jobs, and they don’t do them very well at all.

Anyway. I’m doing a lot of unpacking and converting, and calling stores to have them box up their equipment for retrieval. And I’m well over 50% done with the list (having had only one day to work on it), after figuring out that many of them had actually been filled and shipped, but we’re still on the list as back ordered. So those were, at least, simpler. But it was a whole new thing I was being asked to do; a total departure from my regular responsibilities. I was asked by Mike, Joel and Don (my three immediate bosses) to handle this. And so I am. And following each process through to the end. No mistakes.

My brain was furiously scrambling to gather as much focus and concentration as I could muster to keep track of all the open issues I was juggling. I got help from all over, and had lots of questions to ask my supervisors. Naturally. And they were happy with my work.

I was preoccupied with that for most of the morning and early afternoon. Then at 3 I hopped back in the queues and started taking live calls. I only ended up with 26 total, and some of those were the calls I made to the stores to get them to box up their broken equipment. Still counts though. My level of exhaustion is high, and I can’t wait to fall asleep.

It has been hard to be without Amanda physically. We text every day dozens of times, coping with the things that are going on in our respective worlds, so it’s not like we are out of touch. But I want her, and my body craves her badly, and the sudden yearning I experience at my desk keeps me from standing or moving at all until it passes. She had a really tough day today, and I wanted to be there for her. But that would have caused more harm than good. Her son hasn’t met me yet, and to just suddenly be there with her would leave him totally confused. I’m going to get a chance to make my introduction on Sunday, in a structured encounter where he can be there with his mom and feel safe. I look forward to meeting him, and taking the first steps toward becoming his friend.

My parents are in Sacramento helping my sister move out. I do believe she will be coming to San Diego with them, and will be back in town sometime this Saturday. I work 7:30 to 4:00 so I might be able to go see them in La Mesa once they settle in. It’s going to be quite a busy weekend too. Somewhere between breakfast and 3:00 I have to do all my laundry and clean my house. I have been in working mode for this week, and need some time to catch up on the essentials.

I know that was a lot of blathering. But I’m so full of thoughts from today, and this is where I go to let all that stuff out. Be free thoughts, be free.


Tonight was a good night. I spent my few recreational hours with Amanda, and I am growing quite fond of her. We got through the underground passage and found the dark woods waypoint after running into some technical difficulties early on. But I managed to remedy the problem and get us playing for an hour or so. But I had to call it quits just now because my alarm will be going off at 6:30 am and I start work an hour after that. Tomorrow, after my shift, I will be headed out to get the tumblers going on the 500 grit, just two weeks away from their final stage. My mom will be back in town just in time to see them finish. Then I’m going out for coffee with Amanda. I’m really excited to see her. We’ve had fun over the last week or so. We exchanged over 200 messages on Match and have been texting each other every day just to see how things are going. Not only is she fun to be around but I’m really attracted to her. She’s cute, and is quite small (5’0″) which is so awesome. I love to be the big guy with the tiny girl. I can cover her up like a big man blanket. Wow. That sounded weird.

Anyway, it’s going to be a fun weekend. After that coffee date, we are going to go see The Battle Of The Five Armies on Sunday. I don’t know what to do about my growing feelings. Should I make the first move and ask her to be my girlfriend? Should I wait? We’ve been talking for 8 days, but I feel like I know her. Granted, there is still a lot of time to discover each other, and I’m not in a hurry to get anywhere. I feel my heart beating in my chest when I think about her, and the ways I’d like to kiss her. I’m pretty passionate, and sometimes that gets me in over my head. Things feel good right now, and I don’t want that feeling to stop. And neither does she, from what I can tell. I don’t know what to do still. I’m defaulting to taking my time and letting things play out naturally.

Have a safe and fun night. I’ll jet you know how it goes.


Windblown thickets
The surreal golden hue
Radiant eyes piercing
Tattered garments
Crisp slicing cry
Lining up like splines
Kicking the rampant
In a daze of autumn
Stumbling over fascination
Tossing and curling delicates
Batting eyelashes
Cool blue reason
Air of promise
Redeeming in reality
Blood pumping
Sweat pouring
Caught up in knots
Splintered to strain
Destined for touch
The kiss of fire
Warm hands folding
Walking over bridges
As the sun sets

Back Then

I’ve been reminiscing. I was officially divorced in late November, but that was not the thing that would push her out of my mind. Instead, I find myself pondering the strange outcome of our life together. We were so happy at times, so sad at others. I found that my depression really took hold of me through the winter of 2013 and our relationship being destroyed was collateral damage to my down-spiraling. I had gained a ton of weight, and was smoking cigarettes every day. My life was hanging by a thread. But for all of the sweet caring and love Jax had for me, I think she was shocked and horrified by how deep my rabbit hole goes. When she saw me break down into suicidal anger, and threaten those cops with weapons, she lost all semblance of respect for me. It was too painful a thing to behold, the one she loved willing to throw his life away. I know that after that night, she wasn’t coming back. She had seen the demon and wanted out. And frankly, I don’t blame her. My life was being primarily destroyed by me, and in my haste to obliterate myself, I had forgotten all about her. I was not interested in her trauma, the story was about MY trauma, and MY suffering. I made no space for her to breathe, and I choked her out of our relationship.

I wish things hadn’t gone that way, because she had a lot of value as a person, she was caring, creative, understanding and funny. She enjoyed coffee just as much as I do, and we had a blast collecting rocks together. I miss her sometimes, at least, those things about her. There were plenty of places where we were impassably disconnected, but neither of us realized that those differences could have been bridged with understanding, if only given the time to build it. I gave up on Jax first, sending myself into destruction. But she also saw me at my weakest, most vulnerable point and chose to sleep with someone else, which kinda sucked. When I was in the hospital, I cried myself to sleep at night on those plastic pillows. I sobbed because I was sad about what I had done, but more importantly, scared that I had lost the one person I loved. Which I did, I just hadn’t been told that yet. She came back after that night that she asked me to “let her go,” but it was clear her mind was in another place. She was already gone.


I did this to myself. And ever since that dismal point, I have striven to make something better out of my life. I admit that along the way, I lashed out at her in anger, in comments and emails. But eventually I wrote her a formal, heartfelt apology, where I laid out the shortcomings of my actions and asked her for forgiveness. I became aware of the large margin or responsibility I was accountable for, and took action on doing the right thing with it. I learned something from the fall, and I have moved on from that broken place to the best of my abilities. Do I still resent Jax? No, not at all. I actually completely understand why she did what she did. It’s not what I would have done, but I get where she was coming from. I have been looking at that night as a tragedy, when in reality it was an opportunity. A chance to prove my worth to the person who matters most… me. And that I have done.


So today as I work, I really don’t spend much time thinking about sadness as it pertains to that night. I think about a friend who I lost, and a life that I was leading that had all but dried up and was heading no where fast. It needed to be changed, but could I have been the one to change it? Not likely. It was already too far gone, and the board needed to be wiped clean and the reset button pushed. It was the only way, and our relationship may not have survived that, even if I had not melted down. I still regret the way I treated her, because I was so blinded by my own suffering that I never gave her the attention she deserved. I never really listened to her pain, only questioned why it was important. I was in no way mentally capable of handling anyone’s problems but my own. And even at that job, I was failing.


As I go along through my life, I can only look back and thank Jax for the time she spent with me. Having her in my life was a source of joy that had no rival. She has since moved on and found someone new to love, and a new place to call home, and I wish her nothing but the best in her journey. I have my own adventure to go on, and I’m very glad I am. Jax, wherever you are: thank you for being with me. I had fun, and I’m sure you did too. You will always have a space in my heart to call your own, and no one will remove you from it. That part of me will always be yours, whether you want it or not. Have a good life, as I will try to as well.


34 calls today, most coming in the morning, was idle for stretches of 35 – 50 minutes at a time in the evening. The majority of my work today came in the form of contract exchanges: When the equipment used at drive thru restaurants breaks down (mainly headsets and order taking belt packs) they have an agreement with us that enables them to swap bad equipment for working (refurbished) equipment. Fry kitchens are not a good place to use technology, because everything in there is abused, bent, dropped, stepped on, and coated in a film of grease. So replacements are frequently needed, and that’s where I come in. I identify what type of gear they use, then record a serial number off it, and place that information into Oracle. The software platform we use has 32 distinct steps to get from my handwritten notes to an order that will be filled and shipped same day. That’s 32 things I’ve had to memorize how to do in the exact same sequence for countless error-free orders. If you make a mistake, somehow, someway, it’s going to come back at you. An angry customer will call in and complain that their order never arrived, or it was the wrong equipment, or incorrect quantity. It’s imperative even to do it right every time, a point totally lost on my peers. The error report came out again last Monday, and for the second week in a row I was not on it. As it should be.

In the morning I was occupied, but things drop off dramatically after 3:30 or so. The bulk of the agents go home, and the few that remain are usually more than enough to handle the diminished volume. I do a lot of reading online, needless to say. But I’m not upset or anything. I like my job, even if it is boring from time to time.

My mood was pretty low this morning, but has since picked up. I was thinking a lot about the fun I used to have with Jax. Dwelling on these things doesn’t usually get me very far. I don’t know why I do this. It may be that I am trying to move on but everything I remember about her acts like an abrasive to my still healing wound. It’s been nearly a year, and I’m still not quite out of it yet. That life I had back then; I thought that was it, the final and perfect permutation of my destiny. But what did I do but squander it? I foolishly kept into things without thinking, and then I let depression and relationship troubles erode away at the foundations. It was doomed to collapse, as all things will when neglected and left to their own devices. I have no one to blame but myself.

Life is funny in how it can basically destroy you, and then give you a chance to come back. I didn’t create opportunity, I just made use of it when it was offered. I did the best I could, and that really seems to have paid off.

I am feeling like my sexual motor is starting to rev up again. I’m frequently entertaining myself often with just my imagination. I have lots of sexy things I can think about. But what good does any of this do me? I’m not going to have a casual sex relationship. Not going to happen. I’ve been down that road before and it only leads to despair. But what to do? Really, there is nothing that can be done. It’s just a shame that I feel the urge and there won’t be an opportunity to un-urge for a long time. And when I do it will be quite anticlimactic, as my skills, stamina and tolerance threshold have all gone to shit since. It’s one of the many predicaments this solo life has presented me with. But one that can’t be thought out or reconciled. I just have to hope that the motor shits itself off again before it drives me insane.

I work tomorrow morning at 7:00 am until 3:30 pm and I don’t have anything planned. Sunday the rocks will come out of the tumblers and we will get our first look at 3 of 4 loads. They have already proven to have spectacular color and clarity. Moo and I were talking about going to Pala and trying out luck at one of the tourmaline mines, or perhaps the area around it. We would likely need permission from the Native American tribe that owns the land, so that might be a long shot to actually execute. But we could pay and go in and sift through the till of an existing mining operation. Maybe the included, imperfect tourmaline is of no value to them, but could be gold to us. So a rockhounding adventure potentially on the horizon. It will be good to see the stones. We’ve waited a month, and now it is time.

My parents moved their RV out of La Mesa and back to east El Cajon where they were back when I lived with them. Or rather, just outside them. I keep thinking back on those seven months during the spring and summer that I lived entirely outdoors. It was good timing that it happened before winter got here. Truly. I could never have lived out there the way I was with no insulation through the cold nights. I would have been suffering. But I found a place to live in late September and was moved in by October. Problem solved.

I tried on a pair of jeans I had worn back when I was still with Jax, and I found that without aid, I could not keep them on my body. I’m surely back near a 36 to 34 inch waist again, because those 38s I tried on were unwearable without a belt. They were like jumbo parachute pants made of denim. They were baggy around the thighs as well, which I remember was a problem last time I wore them because it was uncomfortable to store things in my pockets because they were so tight. Things have changed. Part of my Lone Bull Project goal has been met. Not the whole thing, but a good chunk. At my worst I must have weighed 285 or so, and now… I really have no idea. It’s less, that much I’m clear on. But how much? Beats me.

Have a good night blog. Happy Friday for you (but not for me since I work).

The Discourse Of Resentment

There wasn’t much to say, he thought. The day had been long and exhausting, to the point that he felt the tendrils of fatigue creeping into his mind. When he opened the door she was waiting for him.
“Hi honey,” she began softly. “How was your day?” Her tone indicated this was a stock question with no implication of interest.
“Tiring.” He said flatly, yet with honesty. His eyes moved up and down her body. She held herself taught like a nylon rope and had her hands folded across her chest. He turned his back to her and saw the sink full of unwashed dishes. There were papers and things strewn about the countertops. He sighed. She had been in the house all day, and things still looked disheveled.
“Why didn’t the dishes get done?” He wished then that he could pull the words right back out of the air and erase them from existence.
“I will do them.” She said, returning to her distractions. They were two people shouting at each other from distant islands. He rolled up his sleeves and started cleaning. She stopped.
“I said, I would do them.”
“When?” He said tersely.
She scoffed. The tension in the air was thickening.
“You know it really bothers me to leave dishes in the sink all day. I just wanted to come home and not have there be more work to do.” He said between scrubs.
“Well I’m sorry.” She said, resuming her activity. She hadn’t bothered to look up. He felt his heart sinking, as he contemplated the very low amount of respect she had for him. His desires were no secret, yet they were utterly ignored. He hadn’t put an anvil on the floor and asked her to move it. He just wanted a clean house.
“You know,” she began with a new excitement in her voice. “I’m going out tomorrow night. We are going to go have a few drinks and dance at the club.” An activity that she knew he would want no part of. Nor had he been invited to.
“We don’t really have the money to be spending it on alcohol.” He said coldly. Now he was being preposterous. They had enough money for a night out. It was the idea he hated, and he let that poison his words into nonsense.
“Maybe you don’t,” she sneered. “But I do.” Now the line between them was brought into focus. They had entirely opposite priorities.
“Who’s going with you?” As though he really wanted to know.
“Some friends from work.” She kept their names out of her mouth. It was better that he didn’t know that one of them was the guy she had become infatuated with.

Once the dishes were done, he got out of his work clothes and got into his jammies. He came back into the living room where she was still absorbed in distractions. “I’m going to bed.” He said. It had been ages since they had gone to bed at the same time.
“Ok goodnight.” She said not bothering to look at him. There would be no bonding over a shared bedtime. No reassuring noises made from a sleepy woman. No gentile touch to guide his mind into slumber. She could care less what he did, or when he went to bed. She had already moved on. In her heart, the fire of their love was nearly out. She had no desire to sleep with him, because she wasn’t interested in him anymore. Something new had come along and his guilty sighs over having to do the dishes were silently infuriating her. He always had to have it his way. He was just so pig headed. She couldn’t wait to go get drunk with her friends and forget all about how much she resented him.
“Goodnight.” He said. After a brutal day, he found no solace in his home. The place was devoid of closeness. He had, tucked somewhere in his subconscious, the fear that she was through with him. Maybe he just wasn’t willing to admit it yet. Either way, he went to bed quietly, and alone.

Thinking About Stuff

I’m at the end of another day blog, and I’m not quite as exhausted as I was yesterday. I’ve been thinking though about how very important putting my mental illness first has been. I live my life by a set of disciplines, keeping to my daily dosages of medications, never missing one, going to every scheduled psychiatry or psychology appointment given me, and keeping a good tab on what is going on in my mind. This blog has been a huge part of my ongoing success, as it gives me a place to express my thoughts and sometimes rant about this or that, as opposed to keeping my inner-dialogue a secret and burying it in my brain somewhere. I’m able to cope with sadness, struggle through negative moments, or even sessions of complete collapse, when it seems as though there is no hope at all. Since that final weekend in the awning room, I have been on a steady, stable path, with nothing left to perturb me from my consistency. I feel things, sure, sometimes terrible things, things that choke and clot in my throat and force out the tears, but is this doom? Is this even abnormal? I bet I have a better handle on myself than most people do. I doubt many deliberate as deeply as I do about the (seemingly) random whims of my emotional state. I think it’s a neglected art, one that goes totally unappreciated in modern culture, where men (especially) are the heads of their households, stern, unwavering, callous even. It’s the “don’t cry, rub some dirt on it and get back out there” mentality. I find it pervades the icons and cultural stigma surrounding my gender, and it’s largely deserved… I tend to think my much different perspective is in the minority. I don’t talk to anyone but you about these issues. Consolation is not common in my gender. It’s best that I continue to appear a bastion of strength rather than a flounder of feelings.


I’ve come to appreciate the struggle of life, which is not an easy thing to say. I have only myself to look after, for a good long while. Will I ever get back in the game? Maybe, but I’m so very far from even wanting that in a concrete way. The prospect of casual sex is unappealing as well, but still achievable if some need were to drive it. I just don’t see why it’s necessary, at the current juncture. I don’t live and die by sex like I used to. I used to think it was a HUGE part of any successful relationship, and when it dies, so to does the closeness, and so does the relationship on a total level. Sex is supposed to be an expression of vulnerability and closeness, and trust. But it’s not for causal tinkering, I have learned through trial and error. But that’s why we do things. It gets the guesswork out of hypothesis and puts a real experiment to the test. Logical much? Yes, it’s true, but don’t I really have to be? Considering the sorts of messes I have got myself into in the past, I’d rather over-think it than under. Life is all about experiments. We don’t just fucking NAIL IT with a guess, and have it work out for the long-term. Nothing planned in haste is worth doing, as these sorts of things present huge complications when factors not thought of at the onset are then revealed, and the ensuing badness implied.


So tonight I’m appreciating my “stick to it” attitude, my long term goals, and my current state of mind. I’m in a healthy, prosperous place, and I’m looking at dragging home more than double my rent on the month as of the 20th. I’m safe and secure, and prospering in a healthy state of mind. I am forming good habits, staying true to my mental health as the priority, and enjoying every minute of my life. I’m doing fantastic blog, thanks for asking! I’m at the point I thought I could never get back to, from the point of total destruction. 7 months ago, I had no job, no home, no wife, no hope. Slowly, in incremental steps, I started to climb back. I got a divorce, leaving the problems Jax brought into my world behind. I got healthy, started losing weight (nearly 40 pounds to date), started on new medications and took them every day, twice a day. I got myself a career job, with locked-in success as long as I continued to apply myself. I landed the perfect apartment, in a safe, stable place. And to top it all off, I got a raise, making my goal of self-sustainability a reality. I did all this with the help of my family, and their unending support. I also did this for myself, because I can’t be happy living a substandard life. I am driven, ambitious and constantly improving. I will continue to strive for my safe, independent life for as long as I possibly can. Blog, things have clicked into place, and the stress of not knowing has been lifted from me. I can’t tell you enough how good it feels to have done all this. It’s the greatest comeback victory in my whole life. I did it blog. And now, we’re here.


Have a great night you guys. It’s another day tomorrow.


I have some sad Jax related thoughts in my head. Memories triggered by my driving to the corner gas station by where we used to live. It doesn’t have much baring on anything, but I remember how good it felt to be in love, how passionate and pure it can be. To be honest, it doesn’t have much else going for it. But I am currently not loved by anyone, nor done grieving from the last encounter with it. The idea of wanting it back isn’t very real or strong, but there is an emptiness in me where I once was in love. But that’s the trick: it ropes you into commitment with a ton of up-front emotions, then fades over time. The newness of love becomes (hopefully) the strength of dedication. But that comes not as a welcome transition but rather more like starvation; the body yearning for a fire that has long since gone out. I find that we forget the full path of choosing partners because we become lost in the feelings that hit first; the instant-gratification of being in love. I have also come to observe what happens after that fire starts to grow into an ember. It requires nurturing and patience to get it back to where it is still warm. I have not the time or inclination to do right by love, and to treat it with the respect it deserves. Maybe I will again someday, but I do respect the severity of my next encounter with love, in that I can’t afford to screw around with it like I have in the past. Everything now depends on my stability, and for that reason alone will I steer clear of love. For now.

I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That – Elton John

I’ve always said that one’s enough to love
Now I hear you’re bragging one is not enough
Well, someone told me you’re not satisfied
You got plans to make me one of four or five

I guess this kind of thing’s just in your blood
But you won’t catch me carving up my love
I ain’t no puzzle piece that needs to fit
If it takes more than me, let’s call it quits

‘Cause I don’t wanna go on with you like that
Don’t wanna be a feather in your cap
I just don’t wanna tell you honey I ain’t mad
But I don’t wanna go on with you like that

It gets so hard sometimes to understand
This vicious circle’s getting out of hand
Don’t need an extra eye to see
That the fire spreads a faster in a breeze

And I don’t wanna go on with you like that
Don’t wanna be a feather in your cap
I just don’t wanna tell you honey I ain’t mad
But I don’t wanna go on with you like that

No I don’t wanna go on with you like that
One more set of boots on your welcome mat
You’ll just have to quit them if you want me back
‘Cause I don’t wanna go on with you like that

Oh, if you wanna spread it around, sister that’s just fine
But I don’t want no second hand feeding me lines
If you wanna hold someone in the middle of the night
Call out the guards, turn out the light

And I don’t wanna go on with you like that
Don’t wanna be a feather in your cap
I just don’t wanna tell you honey I ain’t mad
But I don’t wanna go on with you like that

No I don’t wanna go on with you like that
One more set of boots on your welcome mat
You’ll just have to quit them if you want me back
No, I don’t wanna go on with you like that

For Megan: Introduction In Music

I’ve decided to put together this playlist to encapsulate my current state of mind as a music playlist. I do this so that anyone bumping in to this might gather a better understanding about where I am in my head, and in my heart. So it’s full of ups and downs, naturally, and very tweaky. If that makes any sense.


  1. Gaucho – Steely Dan
  2. Question – The Moody Blues
  3. The Sign Of Fire – The FIxx
  4. Cherry Bomb – John Mellencamp
  5. Come Undone – Duran Duran
  6. Since You’re Gone – The Cars
  7. Stop Loving You – Toto
  8. Helplessly Hoping – Crosby, Stills & Nash
  9. Time – The Alan Parsons Project
  10. The Heart Of The Matter – Don Henley
  11. The Boxer – Simon & Garfunkel
  12. Won’t Get Fooled Again – The Who
  13. If I Fell – The Beatles
  14. Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song) – Billy Joel
  15. Harmony – Elton John
  16. You’re The Inspiration – Chicago
  17. Wild Sex (In The Working Class) – Oingo Boingo
  18. You Make My Dreams – Hall & Oates

Wing It

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

Now, if only I could get over her.


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

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

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


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

Not For Lack Of Effort

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

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

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

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

Trying Something Totally New

I have not been looking for people to meet despite my suffering for companionship. I really think there was something good there with my friend Jacqueline, but I just couldn’t handle the physical part. It was too much for my fragile state. I don’t think I’m much farther along in that department, then to now. I’m not prepared to commit to a physical, intimate, demanding arrangement. Especially not since I don’t even know how much energy I have to maintain my life and responsibilities… I shouldn’t be too hasty taking on more of a burden. I’m, nevertheless, going to still try and meet new people. I’ve started a new OkCupid account and I’m going to try and be real with people, and see where it gets me. I think I can make SOME form of new connection, that might help to stem the flow of aching sadness I feel being so isolated and regrettably unwanted. I don’t think it’s universally true that these sorts of connections must end in companionship. Albeit, I am, in a sense, not looking to “mess around” anymore, and would consider something that had all the right pieces. But the chance of finding that are micro-cosmically low. My satisfaction rides on high standards. I’ve tried compromising my beliefs, and pandering to lesser ways, and I’ve ruined my life over it. I’m not going to do that again. If the pieces line up, then I’m going for it, because the possibility would need to result in the last relationship I get involved in. THE VERY LAST. I’m not fucking kidding, I can’t go through the level of pain I went through like last time. I’m going to be healing from that for months yet. Because the hurt is still so real, so fresh, so deep. I want to move beyond that sadness, which I feel is amplified by my isolation.


So I’m giving it a try, because I can’t go on alone forever. I have to be proactive about dealing with this pain, which is starting to get the better of me. I’m falling prey to spasms of nearly unstoppable suffering and a want to shed my tears and weep. At work. On the clock.


See why I can’t have this? I’m doing great out here on my own. I’m a matter of weeks from signing papers and locking up a place of my own. I just went and saw it today, and boy can I ever imagine myself up in there. It’s a perfect size for me, and just enough home to feel at home in. If that makes any sense. It doesn’t feel like a hotel room, it feels like my house.


I’m spinning the wheel. Isn’t that what us mentally ill people do? We’re never just happy being with one thing, settling down to a programmed, monotonous way of life. I live in a mercurial state, and I have to be understood for who I am in order to achieve any sort of friendship ion this life. I don’t want to be alone forever. I hope you out there can understand my thinking here. I’m not openly disclosing my mental illness, because I don’t identify myself as a patient of my disorder anymore. My disability is treatable, and when managed responsibly, is unnoticeable. I want to meet someone who doesn’t get repelled by a foul stigma, but rather, identifies who I am first, and accepts my flaws for what they are as part of the process of understanding. And I hers, as we are not perfect beings, but fractured and full of diverse aspects. We are lucky if we ever truly find harmony in life… a thing I desperately seek. Maybe you’re out there somewhere?

It’s Been…

Perhaps my standards are too high, because I’ve experienced that if I lower mine, I lose everything in the end. It’s because I’m feeling trapped and contained, because we only have a set few things we can talk about and share, and we are unwilling to change. It seems estrangement is the inevitable consequence of discovery, because once I have learned how vastly different we are, the more I see how I’ll never be close to you. The more separate our islands will become. I seem to think that I’ll do just fine relocating you to my island, but you’d never have that. You want to be your own island.

I get why I compromise, thinking that the short term happiness it all brings will pervade. It never does, because I’m a lot more than anyone wants to abide. I have become a relationship pariah. This is not very accurate. Though I have repeatedly set myself up for disaster, like with Jax. I don’t know what to think about myself, only that now I’m so cautions about making the same mistake that I’ve cut myself off from the prospect entirely. I feel sad that I’m going to make myself really lonely, but I guess with the way I’ve been succeeding, I’ll take the trade.

It pains me some to do this, because I have a lot of affection to pour over you. I had given a different kind of effort each time, making my definition of love a diverse thing. Because I have loved for lust, and loved for settling down, and loved for partnership against mental illness, and I’ve failed in all my times at making this last. I have some idea that I’m a part of why these things fail, but really, It was always more than they signed on for, and it became apparent that I was deep with darkness. I’m sad because this is the mind and body I’m stuck with, and I’m doing the best I can with it. At the risk of shattering more lives, or propelling them in to new directions, I’ll abstain from the game for a while. I won’t do all this in a big fat rush to fill in the gaping hole in myself that COULD be temporarily filled with love. I could rush into things, and end up repeating the same mistakes I’d made in the past. I’d hurt, all over again, and feel love die inside me again, slowly over months and weeks and days. I can’t do that again. It hurts now, still, so badly to go through what I have been through. I am utterly alone in my understanding of that.

I wish only to reestablish myself in the tree of life, to restore a semblance of social presence. I have a long way to go, but I’m impressing the people around me as I go, which I suppose is reinforcement in my positive demeanor.

The world can be a deadly cruel place, and I’m sad that it is that way. But life is not fair, and bad things do happen all the time. I’ve swallowed my regret and I’m proceeding onward. I need to learn some valuable lessons about how and why I fall in love, and when it is a good time to do that. I may face this journey alone for a long time. I guess I’m ready to do that. I’m both proud of myself, and sad too.

No One Like You – Scorpions

Girl, it’s been a long time that we’ve been apart
Much to long for a man who needs love
I miss you since I’ve been away
Babe, wasn’t easy to leave you alone
It’s getting harder each time that I go
If I had the choice I would stay

There’s no one like you
I can’t wait for the nights with you
I imagine the things well do
I just want to be loved by you
No one like you
I can’t wait for the nights with you
I imagine the things well do
I just want to be loved by you

Girl, there are really no words strong enough
To describe all my longing for love
I don’t want my feelings restrained
Oh babe, I just need you like never before
Just imagine you’d come through this door
You’d take all my sorrow away

There’s no one like you
I can’t wait for the nights with you
I imagine the things well do
I just want to be loved by you
No one like you
I can’t wait for the nights with you
I imagine the things well do
I just want to be loved by you

Remembering Those Times

When things were so blissful because I was in love. When my heart floated somewhere outside my body, and every day, I felt blessed. I was given a rare privilege, to embark on a life journey with another, and to vow oneself to that final objective. I found out that our ideas about togetherness were different, and our love was expendable. Somewhere back in the mercurial onset of our relationship, I was so very deep in love with you, so very proud and ready for the world. I was not dealing with my own personal stuff, but my life was so good, so happy, that none of it seemed to matter. I know now that it does work in at you, no matter how hard one tries to repress it.

I learned the hard way about myself, and how I need to be cared for. I wasn’t getting the right stuff, in the end, because the whole thing just got so convoluted and distant that it stopped making sense to me why we were still together. I remember thinking about it, but honestly, I knew she made me happy inside, every day, to have her in my life. Even as limited as things became, I still yearned for her affection. Like the way it was when she first came to my town. When we whisked her away from that rotten life she had been stuck in and brought her to a safe place where she could grow. I thought this was the plan, anyway. I wanted to build something with her, and I never took care of my own shit and lost my chance to do that.

I find myself more melancholy after I’ve consumed a great deal of alcohol the day before. I get so sad sometimes, remembering how good it felt to be hugged, loved, squeezed. How deep I was in her, how vital and fun we could be together. The way we were always laughing about something, no matter what it was. Or doing some unexpected, spontaneous, kooked-out thing. It was her originality that I admired, and it’s the driving force behind her creativity, which I know is profitable and still believe every dollar we spent on jewelry supplies was well spent. Never doubt committing resources to the creativity of others.

I guess this is the sad part of being too nostalgic. I get lost in soupy memories of good feelings, where I was stretching to the top of my comprehension of happiness. I remember those good things just as much as the bad, because I know what it’s like to be ecstatic, and I know what it’s like to suffer. This gives me a keen awareness of multiple emotional states. I know that though I may be happy right now, I’d be happier if I were in love with her again. I would be happier if I was doted on, smothered with affection, kissed, held… I don’t deserve any of that, but I certainly know what it was like to have it. I miss it so much sometimes.

A Lot Of Words I Wrote

Back in October of 2012 I stared this blog, and the experiment of grappling with reality through it’s lens has gone forward ever since. Shortly after I began the independent experiment, I ruined it by falling in love with Birdy. And I spent the time well, I mean, who doesn’t like being in love with someone? Really?

I have a new opportunity to conduct this experiment as it should have been done, by myself, for myself, and with no expectation whatsoever. I can confess to being hopeful about my romantic prospects, but that hope is a much-farther-down-the-road kind of thing. I’m not thinking that I don’t have a chance, but I do want to be safe if I ever was to be in love again. Safe for my own self, and distinct from the other, so that my identity is not jeopardized by the relationship. I look back at where I was when I fell in love… very angry inside still, unsettled, and not willing to eject myself from suffering. I was still not on board with myself, and I leaned on love like a crutch to make up for how little I cared for myself. I don’t feel like that, now, I’m likely to repeat such a well documented mistake. I write about this very thing often, and continue to remind myself of real things that happened.

Today is my last day of down time freedom land. I will be off to work bright and early tomorrow, having some miles to go before the rush hour traffic pinches me. I can afford to be stuck for a short time, but not too long. I, clearly, want to make a good impression. I’m optimistic about that too! I have the optimism, and I has it good.

Be well friends, and I will try to keep my check-ins regular, but I can’t make promises. Just keep your fingers crossed on my behalf. I guess.


I remember you. I always thought fondly of you. I wish I knew how to get a hold of you, maybe we’d have some cool shit to talk about. I’ll bet I’m right.

Sometimes people come and go. But I never forget anyone. If I had something special with you once, maybe there is more to it than that. Maybe I’ll call out with longing for something far from me.

I’m thinking maybe you’re out there somewhere. Living your life. It’s amazing the random shit that happens as a direct result of being alive.

Some Paper, And Forgiveness

I have said many times how I intend to change myself and my actions for the betterment of my life and future. I have been frank, and disclosed my darkest errors. I do this so I can learn, and grow. The feeling isn’t one of mutual respect though, and no matter how I try, I’m never going to get the satisfaction of understanding, the solemn love of compassion… things I desperately seek but have no healthy way of receiving. I can do the best I can, within my capabilities, to express, document and scrutinize my responses, emotions and thoughts. But it’s not a two-way street, and the gratification I’m looking for comes from a place of functionality, not disconnection. Jax and I are now permanently disconnected, so I’m not sure what my thinking is in writing her that letter… a letter that contained my most heartfelt regrets and apologies. It’s private, otherwise I’d have posted it here. In short, I’m not able to be at rest knowing I left so many things unsaid, or undone in our life together. I couldn’t just let that go, knowing that she has this idea about me in her head that I am a piece of shit or not worth being with or whatever. I can’t just be ok leaving it at that. I want her to know, that I’m changing, even if she is not. I’m advancing my life, every day, just like I said I was going to back in the beginning.

I’ve come a long way with the anger, which I was buried in at the time that Jax told me she had an affair while I was still in the hospital. But who’s to say what is good and what is bad? I can understand this crisis from my standpoint alone, and deal with the emotional responses that I am made aware of. I can’t go doing impossible things, so, why expect that of myself? Seems kinda pointless.

I am moving on the best way I know how, and after surviving a few months of anguish, I’m emerging from the haze and am ready to address the next circumstance. I can’t change the past, duh. But I can change how I feel about it, and how I interpret the situation for myself. I can choose to take something wholly beneficial from this calamity and use it to propel myself forward. Goals are out there to be reached, met, surpassed. I am confident I can do these things, if I grind away at them and take my time in reaching milestones. My expressions have become starkly more useful and less emotional as time has passed, and this should be an encouraging sign to anyone that even the most vile of heartbreak can be overcome with the dull ache of time. Not the same excruciating pain, but a reminder of where it used to hurt and why.

Jax, best of luck on your adventure to wherever it is that you are going. I have disconnected my concern, and am satisfied with where I have left things between us. It’s never going to be right again, because trauma has seen to disbanding even the smallest of insurrections. That’s what you wanted though, so I can’t say much else. I’ve move my own way, and am not headed a vastly different direction than you. And we will not be meeting again on this journey, I know. Because my path requires a level of energy and commitment that you do not want any part of. You do really believe and love your sister, even if her advice can get you into more trouble that it was originally worth. Be well on your travels, as I will be on mine.

The Cut Of Truth

I wish I could have done things differently, sure. But it is truly hopeless thinking to wish for a past that can’t be changed. I’ve fucked up pretty bad in my life, and more than once, but history is done, and I am still here. I have to take the next step forward, and be present with my new decisions and actions. I am now trying to do the best I can to be a good person in the world, and I can’t do any of that without a clear understanding of how I need to change. Because what I WAS doing is no good, and leads to eventual disaster. And I know that now; that somewhere under all that turbulence was the thing I needed to adjust. The real source of my despair is me.

I have a chance to make a whole new go of life, and I don’t intend to squander it. In this stage of my outward development, I am taking in the good and filtering the bad through the process of rationalizing. I still have big, hardly containable feelings burble up in me, and sometimes there is no stopping the sadness. But this is a response to a recent injury, not a lasting motif. I filed the divorce. That hurts still, because I wasn’t ready to let my marriage go. I still wanted it, badly, and the hole that it left in me filled rapidly with anger and disdain. I don’t hate anyone. I may act like I do, but I bet you would too if you were dealing with this level of trauma.

I have a more evolved system of coping and understanding my feelings. This process involves a new-found sense of worth, and a belief that my feelings are valid no matter what obscure corner of the conscious mind they come from. All things will eventually demand to be heard, understood and appropriately digested. I don’t know anything about my future. I shouldn’t need t worry about inane fears and baseless, damaging thoughts. I can still experience destructive feelings, but not be controlled or owned by them. I find that much to my satisfaction.

In short, no one can change what I’ve done, or what has been done to me. But we can write a purposeful and hopeful future for ourselves, with concentration and appropriate action. A well balanced and measured existence comes from a place of compassion, not discipline. No one goes anywhere by motivating with punishment. That’s one thing I can say that I know now, that I didn’t before. It’s a mercurial world, and we’re just doing our best to survive in it.

New Stuff

I got the job! First off. It’s a technical support job working for Mood Media. I’ll be training on how to use their proprietary devices, then guiding customers through their issues with them.

As you may be aware, the last time I had a job, my maintenance of the blog will decrease, but not disappear altogether. I’m still working out how to continue my therapy, but I’m aware I will lose both my groups. I need to make a conscious decision to be proactive about checking in with myself and being a good steward of my body. I will be shopping and surviving on my own again, which I am really excited about. I’m looking forward to getting back on a regular diet, eating healthy things and staying true to my exercise time. It’s a good way to get the endorphins flowing first thing in the morning. I have a lot of good thoughts coming out of this life change. Which I knew would happen eventually, but was not expecting it to be so soon.

I am ready though. I’m looking forward to all of this change. Bring it on. I’m ready to prove it to myself.

I have been in a hard place emotionally. I’ve been reliving a lot of Jax memories… and I’m just not sure what good it’s doing me. I get to feeling so sad and despairing, often times my words from that place are greatly exacerbated by emotions and time. But they are still my feelings and still my words so I am them. Regardless of how I might think I feel. I’m still just as powerless to stop the sadness as I am able to make a rabbit disappear from inside a top hat. I just don’t understand it all sometimes. I’m only half of what happened, and I’m sure there will not be a tomorrow for any of these feelings inside me. They pine for a dead future, not killed by MY choice, but dead nevertheless.

I am happy to say I will be making enough money independently to get my own studio apartment and be able to hold myself up again, after some months in the hole. I will have a life again! Hooray! And with the work I continue to do to help myself get better, healthy in my brain. Every day here on out, it has to be my top priority.

I know Jax is gone and that I won’t get her back. Even if I want that, I can’t do anything about it. I’m powerless to change others, to hope they can see what I can see. It makes no difference, and that fact alone is enough to bind me to old sorrow in a way that is difficult to escape. But hey, I’ve got my life back that I lost, and I’m ecstatic about getting myself back out there again. Who knows? I may meet someone new who truly understands my state and circumstances. Wouldn’t that be refreshing? I can’t help but admire my parents for having a relationship that swerved around horrible danger and still took some severe damage in it’s progression, but never faltered and never cracked. They realized that love was bigger than any momentary obstacle in life, and that their love would go on regardless. No problem is too big that love can’t handle it.

I find myself hoping more people out there will think this way, so that if I ever do fall in love again, I do so for the last time.