Prepare

I hate feeling like a freeloader. I do mooch, but I also contribute so that the burden of guilt is lessened. Nevertheless I find myself I satisfied and wanting. Scheduled relevance is most definitely needed in my life right now.

I want to get to helping, contributing or doing something relevant, but it’s not quite time.

At the current moment, I’m suffering my first cold in a few years. I forgot just how terrible it is to be sick. Paralyzing, irritating and uncomfortable. I’m doing my part to fight it off with the medicines and vitamins. I will persevere.

My parents are being more effectively communicative. I heard them sort out a thing that might have led to a fight. They’re getting it. It’s much more fun to resolve conflict than enlarge it. I find.

Have a good night blog. I’m going to bed.

Career Starts… NOW! THE YAY!

I have my volunteer placement interview with NAMI Sacramento on Saturday, and I’m just so excited! I can’t wait to have a job again, and to have a place to go where I make a difference. I’m telling you, from my heart, that having a job is a great way to kick start functionality. If you can convince yourself that pride is important to you, than anything is possible. Wouldn’t you rather be proud than ashamed all the time? Seems like a no-brainer to me… but then again, my brain isn’t the best judge of anything.

So I have already submitted my name as a NAMI Walk volunteer here coming up at the beginning of next month! I have my hours, seemingly, locked in. It will be the doing of the work that I am most looking forward to. I have even offered my skills in getting things down from high places, or lifting heavy things and carrying them a short distance.

I will be happy once my hours are done and I am settling in to a role as a PSS or some such. I think I have a lot to offer with my experiences and my language. I have such an interesting way of spinning the world. Typically, I have something smart assed to say about whatever it is that you have brought to me today. It is my scientific speciality, the poking of you in the eye.

 

In a nice way though. My humor is always so well-meaning, and usually exploiting a straw man of some kind. My typical humorous paper-cut-out targets are Bears (seriously, fuck Bears), Newt Gingrich, Earthquakes and Russia. If one of them isn’t to blame for whatever is happening, it truly is the end of days, and also, I have no joke to offer you either.

 

Thanks for reading, see you later!

Communication Practice

It’s hard to maintain healthy communication skills when you live with people who refuse to practice them. My parents are frustratingly ingrained in their resentment and biases, which makes bridging their disconnects with good communication skills totally impossible. They refuse to shed the cognitive distortions that haunt nearly all of their interactions: My dad the mind reading projector and my mom the all-or-nothing emotional free radical. Together, they hardly communicate about anything that isn’t inherently positive or reflective. Conflicts just keep getting brushed under the rug in their partially dissimilated states; abandoned to frustration and time.

I do hope that as I expand professionally, I can build up more of a tolerance to being consistently rebuffed in my attempts to establish good communications between my parents (or clients) and  still help them improve their ragged partnership. In such a dynamic, the more clear and concise the better, but in my reality, speculation and projection run amok like easy candy out of a cheap vending machine. No one views my way as a superior way to communicate, or are otherwise unmotivated to change for the (what I believe to be the) better. This is frustrating for me, naturally. The people I love the most are the ones I am least able to help.

So, I have to endure a dysfunctional environment with no real hope of improvement for as long as I am living here. In truth, I had suspected that I would not be with them in the same house until the end of their lives, because eventually, I would need a healthier environment to thrive in as the person I intend to be. That man, Westin we will call him, is intending to be a ripple of good in the still, murky pond of life. I know I can impact people’s lives and show them a way towards finding a kind of happiness that makes sense for who they are.

In the meantime, I at least have my own room and place to retreat to in the event I do not want to be a part of the ongoing discourse. Things are moving forward in my path towards re-establishment into relevance… this is more of a personal relevance if anything. I need to achieve, to try for something of worth, and succeed so that the roots of my pride and personality are nourished. It’s a good recipe for avoiding deep depressive cycles, I have found.

 

Have a good day.

Exposed

Not a great start today. The fact that I live in a dining room is becoming increasingly frustrating. I have no schedule for myself. Everything I can do is contingent upon what someone else is doing or wants. I don’t have a door. I can’t establish an identity in a shared space. This arrangement has me at my breaking point.

I now retreat to my truck outside on the street to get the solitude I require since I have no way to filter noise in my current living space. No one seems to mind my discomfort since I’m not that important in the grand scheme of things. It’s true.

I guess this is a discomfort I need to become accustomed to since it will be present for at least the next two weeks and in some lesser form after that. I’m a vagrant. I’m not going to complain to the conductor that the steerage train cars are filthy. I feel that not a battle I can win or am interested in provoking.

So here I am exposing myself everyday and longing for some shred of privacy in the future. I have no dignity regardless, but I don’t care to be a victim of shame in further opening my life to public observation. Have you ever lived in a dining room or tent outside an RV? Beggars aren’t choosers if they’re smart. Humility is the finest virtue when seeking charity, I find, since it is the only state that doesn’t incur the penalty of guilt. We are all quite familiar with how I can beat myself about the face and neck with the fetid dead cat of self-imposed guilt.

I don’t ask for much. Sometimes I want to be not poked at. Other times the poking is welcome. This morning, I wanted to shut my door to the world but I couldn’t. I just had to leave the whole residence in order to have a moment alone with my thoughts. Without the obnoxious television blaring or the sounds of life stirring. I need quiet, warm, protected.

I find that explaining often goes by misunderstood more often than not. My words largely go unheeded. I am an expert of nothing; a mountebank that people passing by in the cobblestone streets pay no heed. Somewhere in the distance, a duck is quacking loudly but no one cares.

Today is one day closer to the end of this torment. Two more weeks. I can make it two more weeks before igniting the engines and readying myself for blastoff. I have the hard work done, and now the final pieces in which skills are implemented will be my next task to arrange. I just want to be up there. I don’t want to be in this circumstance anymore. Discomfort level high. Not much more room to go before the thermometer pops.

Things might be better if my attitude wasn’t such crap. I don’t have much going on. I’m not proud right now. I want to be committed, needed. I desire to be a part of an organization affecting change. Things are very muddy for me right now.

Well, this post has done little to change my mood, and that’s unfortunate. Reality doesn’t just poof when I want it to, unsurprisingly. Yet, I’m still pissed.

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.

The Prodigy

Milestone moment for me Blog! I have just received my 4 certificates of qualification from the Peer Support programs I enrolled in over the last few months, and I am pleased that my training is largely complete. I have volunteer hours I still need to log, but the hard work is done.

Yesterday I had an actual graduation ceremony at Recovery Innovations, International’s San Diego office. Only about half the class turned up for the event, but I was very glad my parents could be there. Every single classmate I gave a hug to spoke highly of me to my parents, which felt wonderful. As the ceremony drew to a close, I was the last person to speak before the gathering. I always find public speaking to be a bit “amplifying,” however, I think I handled myself with poise.

Someone I was not expecting to see was there, my old case worker Annette. Back in 2014 when I came out of the hospital, she was right there helping me get back on track. She got me into the WRAP classes and that really made such a big difference right away. As I got healthy and went back to work, we closed my case and I said my goodbyes. Here we are 4 years later and she’s representing NAMI San Diego watching my graduation from PET. “Before I met you I was but a learner… now I am the master.”

She gave a big speech about how proud she was of me and that really warmed my heart. She saw me at my lowest point, and now here I am reaching all new highs. It must have been refreshing for her to see that. I was moved by her words and my mom turned into a puddle. My instructor Gloria also stopped and made a special point to highlight my skills and accomplishments. I was showered in praise and compliments which was altogether overwhelming.

But well earned, Blog! I worked my ass off to get to where I am now. I didn’t ask for anything, I just did what I had to do to get myself back to a place in my life I could be proud of. My parents got a chance to see how hard I’m trying to change my life for the better, and that helps reassure me a lot. I want them to know I’m not just Eric the pot smoking chocolate eater, but Westin, the articulate and loving Peer Support Specialist.

I hope you all have a good Friday. I start my volunteer hours down at my old clinic next week to complete PET requirements. That should be a piece of cake. I wish for you all to have fun on your weekend and live in an action-packed non-boring sort of way. I vicariously thrive on your vices! Fulfill your desires and yes!

In It

I am pleased to report that my PET training is going very well, and I am learning a great deal from my classmates. They are all so bold and open with their feeling, which inspires me to do the same despite my reservations. It’s not just the skills, but how they are implemented that is making a difference for me.

 

Today we are sharing our personal stories which I am a little frightened of. It is a abrasive feeling to talk about myself flatteringly, and this is the hurdle I am striving to overcome with this career path. I can’t deny the facts that I have done great things, but I still have my hands on the reins to prevent the glorification wagon from going over the cliff. My humility is one of my best qualities, which reinforces a desire to not proclaim self worth with any sort of volume.

 

But the facts remain that I have done good and I am doing better than I have ever been before. Even if I throw doubt at that, it doesn’t stick. Logic prevails. However, there are far more mercurial subjects that lend themselves to a more destructive path of logical reasoning. It can be both useful, and poignantly detrimental. I have plunged to my lowest lows because of that negative logic spiral. I learned my train could be hijacked.

 

I wish I had these skills a long time ago. Maybe I wouldn’t have been such an abrasive partner or husband If I had better communication skills, or better listening skills. I can logic that back a bit by also recognizing that even if I had been a good communicator, doesn’t mean that would be a mutual thing. All my partners had no true ability to grapple with themselves honestly, so nothing of true worth ever came to be between them and I. I see so clearly now what a functional relationship is supposed to look like. Even though I’m content that I will never have that for myself, I feel empowered knowing my future interactions will be significantly more diverse than they had been in the past. There are fewer mental obstacles to my success than I can ever remember before.

 

Well Blog, I think today is going to be a good day. I promise to be open and genuine with my classmates, and tell them the story of my journey as only I can tell it.