Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Love Songs of a Kamikaze

Earlier this week I reminded somebody the entire reason I'm making all of these changes is because I don't want to die alone.  Sure, the world is full of people who die alone.  Thousands of people a day die alone.  I don't want to be one of them.

Yet I have structured my entire life to keep women away.  Not at a distance.  Not at a certain length.  Away.  Totally and completely away.  

Oddly enough, all but a couple of my closest friends are women, but we can ignore that.  Nothing is going on with any of them.  No friends with benefits, no friends with an occasional hook up, or anything like that.  

In fact, my friends don't talk about sex at all with me.  I love that about them.  I love not hearing about their sex lives and I love that all but one never sends me naked pics of themselves.  

I'm not like other men.  I know this about myself.  I don't watch porn, and in the past few years, all things sexual have become abhorrent to me.  To say I get uncomfortable when a woman talks about her sex life is an understatement.  

This week I've been having a lot of nightmares.  On Monday morning, my alarm woke me out of a nightmare about a woman cutting off my Mr. Happy.  She was laughing and just as the alarm woke me, the blood was beginning to gush.  And it really hurt.

That nightmare probably says more about how I react to women than I'd spell out in plain words.

I don't hate women.  Quite the contrary.  I fear them.  I'm terrified by them.  I see them as either a friend or a vicious, carnivorous predator ready to rip organs out of my body and feast upon them.  When I see a beautiful woman, I see claws, fangs, and bloodlust.

No grey area, either.  One or the other.

It's part of the reason I seek out women who are unobtainable.  My dream girl is over 1000 miles away, totally out of my league if we were to meet face-to-face, and possibly married.  Knowing I'll never meet her is best.  Knowing she'll keep me her dark secret is even better.  Sure, it sucks she'll never tell her friends about the weird guy in the creepy van, but it's best this way.

But all of that doesn't matter.   It really doesn't.

Within 24 hours of being happy, I will self-destruct.  I will ruin everything and totally make a huge mess of things.  I've done it way too many times.

If the most intelligent, witty, kind, and beautiful woman came to me and told me she felt a connection with me, within 24 hours I would do something stupid to drive a wedge between us.  I would tell her something about myself out of context that would make her realize I was a mistake.  It would be the truth, but it would be a random thing out of context, and she would have to realize things were wrong.

I self destruct whenever things are going well.  I don't know why.

I've lost weight.  I've made progress.  I've been doing so well.  But too many people have complimented me and encouraged me.  I've been starting to feel like I'm not a waste of flesh and that there might be a better future than the one I imagined.

So, I've been eating carbs.  I've been eating chocolate, ice cream, and bread sticks.

I can blame all kinds of things.  Budget, food costs, etc.  But no, this is me self destructing again.

I can't stop it.  I have to destroy anything that brings me happiness or puts me on a path to a better life.  And I don't know why I do it.  I just don't.

One of the reasons I've stopped connecting with women was because I just can't bring myself to hurt another one with my self destructive instincts.  It's instinct at this point--I just do it without even thinking about it.  And it kills me to know how badly I've hurt women who cared about me.

I don't know why I do that.  I really don't.

I keep going back to that quote from Milton's Paradise Lost they used in the movie The Crow. 



Am I really that bad? 

I can't be, but somehow I have developed a self-perception that is and it has tainted everything around me. 

I keep going back to a memory from not too long ago.  I cared about her, she told me she cared about me.  And then the clock started to tick.  Within 24 hours it was done.  I'd fucked it all up. 

Again. 

I was furious with myself.  I still am.  And it still hurts.  Just 24 hours and I'm still angry at myself for fucking it all up.  I hurt a woman deeply just because she was stupid enough to care about a guy like me. 

I'm working on sorting this out.  Last week I had the realization that all of my perceptions of self, since as far back as I can remember, were based on the valuation given by broken people with issues.  People who were deeply hurt and from painful pasts who could only cope with alcohol and violence and rage. 

When I was three and a half years old, I watched my babysitter throw her drunken husband down a flight of stairs and proceed to beat him with a vacuum hose while he begged her to stop.  I was sitting at the base of the stairs.  I pulled my knees up to my chest and covered my eyes with my hands while I shook with fear. 

When I was about four and a half or five, somebody giving me a bath suddenly flew into a rage, grabbed me by the back of my head, and shoved my head under the water.  They held it there for a long time and I was certain I was going to die.  I ran out of air and let go, knowing that was how it was going to end.  Then, they suddenly pulled me up out of the water.  They were pale, shaking, and crying.  We went downstairs to have some orange juice and never spoke of it again. 

Food healed the hurt that night and made it all better.  Another pattern I need to work on. 

Somehow, I took moments like that, and instead of assigning blame to the people doing the deeds, I turned them around on myself.  I somehow twisted events like that into meaning that I was a bad person.  I have no idea how that bit of logic worked out but that's what I did. 

I thought, for my entire life, there was something fundamentally and centrally flawed about me as a human being when all along it wasn't about me.  Even decades ago, when I learned it wasn't about me, I kept the original self worth and self identity.  Despite knowing and understanding the world I grew up in, I maintained the flawed perspective that got me into this mess. 

The old lens through which I looked at myself is falling apart and good riddance.  I am working on developing a new one.  For so long, I always saw myself reflected in the eyes of others.  So when somebody liked me, I instantly thought they were somehow flawed themselves, and of poor judgement.  I knew who and what I was, why didn't they? 

I am now re-thinking and reinventing everything I knew about myself.  I am looking at how I came to believe in who and what I am, then trying to see where those perceptions were false.  I have no clue what to do after that. 

I have people who are helping me and guiding me along but this is scary shit sometimes.  But sometimes, it's like being able to re-take a driver's license photo.  I get to have a more honest appraisal of who I am. 

I have to fix this.  I just have to.  I'm self destructing in a thousand ways with a dozen choices every hour.  I don't want to die alone because I have the instincts of a Kamikaze pilot with a hundred kills painted on my side.  But more importantly, I can't hurt any more women.  I just can't.  I feel so horrible already and knowing I can't control this makes it worse. 

After a while, it becomes just another sick cosmic joke.  The guy with severe abandonment issues self destructs when he finds anything close to happiness.  You can only tell a woman you're sorry so many times before they start to think you're doing it all on purpose.  Or worse, they realize just how far gone you are mentally, and how they need to run.  You feel like a monster when that happens.  Inhuman.  It's hard to apply the new self valuation and perceptions of self when she's backing away like a woman in Hannibal Lecter's kitchen after she sees a couple of toes in the garbage disposal.   

A lot is changing.  I know that I am changing, too.  I am changing in the most positive way I know how and with the help and aid of friends who genuinely care about me.  I'm not sure who I am but I am starting to narrow it down a bit more every day.  I'm very curious about what I'll come up with.   

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Small Victories on a Good Day

It's almost midnight.  I'm exhausted, in a good mood, and I almost typed the word "happy." 

Almost.  I stopped myself and deleted the few letters I got out.  I mean, I don't want to get too crazy here. 

I left my apartment. 

I don't normally do that.  There's a little girl I'll leave it for but that's about it.  She's very special to me and I love being her creepy uncle. 

Today, for the first time in well over four years, I left my apartment for a destination that was more than an hour away and new to me.  I was so anxious the night before I didn't sleep until 6am. 

When the time came to leave, I was even more anxious.  Anxiety is like a big, dark monster riding on your shoulders, licking the back of your ear as it delightfully tells you all the awful shit that is waiting for you outside the door. 

You can hear it smile as it sings in whispers about all the things that will go wrong and how horrible it will be. 

You believe it because you remember.  It's hard to forget things and you know what's out there.  It's even harder to ignore and just go on with your day. 

But I left my apartment. 

It wasn't easy.  I had to work up to it and because of that I was running late.  I slept late, too, because I didn't sleep at all the night before.  Such is the penalty of anxiety. 

The road trip was supposed to take three hours. 

On the way there, I saw a cow giving birth not more than 20 feet from the road.  Nobody was there to help or do anything about it.  Such is Wisconsin, I guess. 

There were several times I almost stopped, turned around, and came back.  I was so uncomfortable with what I was doing it was almost too much.  But I brushed aside those thoughts as false and just kept on going. 

I made a few wrong turns on the way.  Instead of three hours, it took me more than four to get up there.  And I couldn't stay long because I have to work tomorrow morning.  Oh joy of joys. 

I even audibled mid-way through and changed the route.  Instead of bypassing Madison via county roads, I got tired of following tractors, and went through Madison anyways. 

But it was nice.  I made it safe and sound. 

Here's the weird part that gets me--the anxiety went away once I got about 1/3 of the way there.  Even when it was clear I'd made a wrong turn here and there, I wasn't nearly as anxious as I was when I first got into my car.  That doesn't make any sense to me but that's the truth of it. 

Today had some great moments.  Not only did I leave my apartment and go someplace new, I was able to tilt my steering wheel down two positions for the first time.  Since I've had that car, I've kept the wheel tilted up all the way.  Just four months ago, it was rubbing on my belly.  Today, I had several inches of space to work with, and I was able to tilt that wheel down. 

That was a good moment.  It meant progress for me.  Tangible progress.  Instead of feeling like I've lost weight, I had something to measure, and show. 

I feel like I've done something today.  A milestone of sorts.  I unlocked an achievement and levelled up. 

And it feels good.  I can honestly say that.  It feels good.    

Friday, November 24, 2017

Be Thankful and Get On With It!

I'm lucky. 

I know I often bitch and complain about paper cuts and other terminal injuries here but I know in my heart I'm lucky. 

I'm lucky I have friends who give a shit about me. 

I have friends who actually care if I live or die.  I have friends who say things like, "Ted, don't die on me" or "I would really be hurt if you died." 

I have friends who watch out for me when I don't watch out for myself.  There have been times this year when I simply did not care about the consequences of my actions and my friends did.  Not only that, they stepped in and actively brought my attention to such things, and tried to steer me away from bad choices. 

Not that I listen, mind you, but they tried.  A for effort, right? 

I'm not going to insult myself today.  I'm not going to make a bunch of self-deprecating jokes, either.  Instead, I will say that I was on my way out and I didn't care but they did.  My friends cared. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who invite me over to their house for Thanksgiving because they know if they don't, I'll sit around at home and binge-watch crap like Lucifer. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who know me well enough to know I need to hear positive affirmations because it's hard for me to do it myself.  My friends know I have a lot of negative programming to overcome and they are doing their best to re-write that programming to reflect a positive self-image.  I can't do that myself.  I need friends to help me. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who put up with my self-pity as I wallow in the pit I dug for myself. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who listen to me complain about being alone after self-sabotaging just about every single relationship I've ever had. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who help me get the ice cream out of my freezer so I don't sit around eating it while binge-watching crap like Lucifer.  I have no idea why I keep watching that show but I do.  It's really not very good.  Lucifer is a pansy, his romantic interest is clueless, and his mother is so conflicted I keep waiting for her to split into two people.  All the while, they talk about God as if he's some drunken father stumbling around with a bottle of cheap whiskey. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who know about healing, recovery, and holistic methods for curing ailments that are often self-inflicted.  I never used to know much about that sort of thing.  I never cared.  I knew where I was going on pulling up and out of that nose-dive just wasn't part of the plan.  But my friends knew better and now that I'm making the effort, they're supplying the tools. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who hug me and tell me I'm important to not only them but to the rest of the world and losing me would be bad for everybody. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who made sure I went to see a doctor when I was perfectly content to just let nature take it's course. 

I'm lucky enough to have friends who watch out for me when it comes to women because I tend to be an emotional moth with a streetlamp.  Oh, you aren't repulsed by me?  I'll just gravitate towards you until you tell me you're not interested in anything other than friendship and totally destroy me because I banked everything on you being my salvation. 

Until I self-sabotage and self-destruct right in front of you, of course. 

I'm lucky I have friends who are there to help me pick up the pieces and wrap them all up with duct tape so I can do it all again a few months later. 

I'm lucky I have friends who don't roll their eyes when I tell them about the new "She's the one" every couple of months. 

I'm lucky I have friends who are happy for me when I announce some small victory because I'm so used to having every victory taken from me that I disqualify them myself now.  Just lost a few pounds?  Those are the garbage pounds early on.  Don't mean anything.  Just put on a pair of pants I haven't been able to wear in over a year?  Garbage pounds, no big deal. 

Tonight, I walked down a flight of stairs with a load of laundry and back up.  I was able to do so without pain, or having to go slowly, because of fear of falling or bad knees.  The lost weight is the reason for that.  I could discount that achievement by saying a lot of things.  My friends won't allow that and cheer for me when I'm not capable of being happy for myself. 

I'm lucky to have friends who understand that even a minor victory is still a victory. 

I'm lucky to have friends who didn't turn their backs and forget about me even though I removed myself from as much of life as possible. 

So yes, I'm thankful.  I'm thankful for a lot of things but more importantly, I'm thankful for people.  I'm here because of the people in my life.  Things aren't nearly as important as people.  Things are just things.  Situations can be managed.  It's the people who make the real difference in our lives. 

I'm afraid of admitting this.  The last time I expressed gratitude like this it was with my wife.  We were talking about how great things were.  I was holding our daughter and she was laughing as I blew raspberries into her belly.  My wife and I were acknowledging how good things were for us.  Within a few short weeks, all Hell broke loose, and everything was shattered. 

I don't think I could survive another one of those.  But fear is the mind-killer and so I'm confronting Fate by acknowledging that I'm lucky to have the people in my life that I do.  I feel incredibly vulnerable right now but ungratefulness is the worst sin of all.  Not acknowledging what you've been given diminishes just how great that gift is so saying nothing is far worse. 

I'm lucky.  Please, Fate, don't take this away from me, too.  

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Are You There, Lucifer? It's Me, Ted.

I'm making huge changes in my life right now.  Worse, huge changes out of my control are happening around me.

It used to be, when those things happened, I retreated.  I couldn't deal with it so I retreated into the comfort of oblivion.  I unplugged as far as I could.  One time I almost ended up in the ER.

Not that I would have called for help or made an attempt to pass out in a public space so somebody could find me.  Had I really OD'd and died, I would have rotted in my apartment, and nobody would have known until one day all anybody could smell was rotten, dead fat guy.

The worms would have been crawling all over me as flies do tend to lay their eggs.

I just didn't care.

As long as I could run away, it was okay with me, because oblivion was always preferable.

But now that's not an option and I've made choices that have put me on a path that eliminates those ways to hide.  I'm told it'll make me happier later on down the road but right now it just sucks.

Case in point:  I had something happen recently to upset me.  I was extremely upset and hurt.  Usually, recovery from this would involve copious amounts of doughnuts, Mt. Dew, and other substances that alter my reality.  Enough to numb me so much you could perform surgery on me and I wouldn't care.

But NoooOOoo!  I had this brilliant idea to get healthy or whatever.

So, doughnuts are out of the question and the substances are as well.  Instead of running away, I'm dealing with the anxiety and depression and Satan knows what else.  I can't even count all the emotions anymore.

I feel like a kid who fell off his bike and his Mommy isn't around.  My knee is bleeding, my wrist is really swollen and I can't move it, and I'm on the front lawn just balling my eyes out but nobody hears me.

Okay, that was dramatic.  Even too dramatic for me.  Scratch that.

I feel like I took a wrong turn in Albuquerque and now I have to drive through the shittiest neighborhood ever to get back on the right road.

Last night, I pushed things a bit with my recovery.  I pushed until at around 2:30AM, I was twitching so hard, it felt like ants were in my muscles.  I'd taken a couple of Flexeril to deal with it and instead of helping, it had this strange effect where I felt the acid build in my muscles a few seconds before the twitch would not happen.  Instead, I'd feel pin and needles in that muscle.  Every 30-90 seconds this would repeat and had been happening for about two hours.  I couldn't sleep no matter what I did, nor could I get comfortable as my skin crawled.

I lasted until 2:30AM before I grudgingly conceded and acquiesced to my addiction.  It was a minor victory because I pushed for 18 hours or so.  It was brutal but I did it.

Here's the thing:  I keep reminding myself how this was my choice.  I made the decision to improve my health.  That meant eating better, exercising when I'm not too sick, and getting off various substances and habits.

It's been an incredible battle but I keep doing it.  I haven't stopped.  I want my life back.  I want my body back.  And more to the point--I want my mind back.

I've been incredibly angry these past few days.  I've been punching walls and getting off various social media so I don't shit-post all over the place.  Nobody cares that I'm missing but at least I know I'm not flooding those places with my bullshit.

I'm angry for a lot of reasons.  I'm angry at what has been taken from me.  I'm angry about what I've lost.  I'm angry at all of the time I've wasted just surviving and not living.  I'm angry that out of my 46 years on this miserable planet I can only point to a few months as being happy.  The rest have been spent struggling with depression, recovering from this or that, or in futile efforts to move beyond my station.

I'm angry at all the missed opportunities because I was too damaged to take advantage of them.  It was the damage I've been angry at.  The wreckage of the past.  I've been furious at this.

And I'm angry at myself.  I'm angry I didn't handle things in a healthy way.  I'm angry I escaped.  I'm angry I withdrew until I became a morbidly obese recluse while life passed me by.  All the while, lamenting how devastated I was my life was a miserable disappointment.

Now it's the 11th hour and I'm trying to pull out of this nosedive.  I'm furious at how much momentum I have going into the abyss.

The past week has been hard on me.  Work has cut my hours, I finally discovered who betrayed me, a person I had grown close to ghosted me, and all the while I have been working on recovery.  I have been doing exercises designed to take back my energy from those I have given so much.

But there's something else.  Satan has been on my mind a lot.  I know that sounds random but it isn't.

I've been listening to a lot of Satanic/Occult rock music.  I've found some good stuff, too.

Haunt-- Revenant  I really love these guys.  Their sound is much like Ghost but there's something else.  Either way, brilliant stuff.

Blood Ceremony -- Goodbye Gemini  How on Earth have I missed these guys?  I love their sound.  It's so 70's and dark, yet beautiful.  Just stunning.  And, of course, she's beautiful.

The Devil's Blood -- Voodoo Dust  Much of their work is visionary and once again I'm asking myself how I could possibly have missed this for so long?

The Devil's Blood -- The Madness of Serpents  I love her voice but this song should have ended at 4:00 instead of dragging on like it did.

I realize now why this has been on my mind.  Satanism is about personal responsibility.  It's about becoming stronger than your own environment and defeating your own personal demons.  Satanism is about taking charge of your own life on a level most people are unable to do and pushing through the bullshit in your mind that limits you from being more than what you are.

Satanism is intolerant of personal weakness.  Western religion, as well as most religions, teach that you should give up your own personal power and strength to a higher being.  Satanism teaches that you should be responsible for everything you can control, even if you need to use magic to control it, and the limitations are all on you. 

In recent months, I have felt incredibly weak from all that has transpired, and instead of looking to something outside myself for help, I have pulled within.  So much of what I thought I needed was inside me all along and I never knew it until now.  I've been seeking answers to questions and problems from external sources when really all I need to do was trust in myself. 

That also means I don't need to eat a dozen doughnuts while watching videos online.  I don't need to drink a 2-liter bottle of Mt. Dew in a day.  I don't need to alter my reality.  I can do this.  I can deal with what's being thrown at me because I'm strong enough. 

I just needed the Devil to remind me of this, that's all. 

Hail Satan!  

Thursday, November 9, 2017

When the Armor Fails

The heavy oak door to the Healer's chambers burst open despite the iron locks and massive weight.

He stood up from his desk near the warm fire. 

"What sorcery is this?"

Only then he saw the white hair of the old woman known as The Seer.  She was leading a group of people who carried a large man in a blanket.  He was unconscious.

"I need your help tonight, old friend."

The Healer looked into the blanket and examined the man in armor.  It was Our Hero.

"What happened?"

"We need to get this armor off him right this instant!"

The Healer ran his fingers along the underside of the thick breast plate.  It was deeply gouged and dented from countless battles.

"Why did you bring him here?  Why wake the whole castle with this in the dead of night?"

The Seer showed him the unfastened straps dangling off Our Hero's body.

"How are these armor plates staying on him?"

"Look closer, Wise One."

Once again he ran his fingers under the armor and gasped.  "I can't tell where He begins and the armor ends!  It's meshed with is flesh!  It's a part of him now!"

"And if we don't get it off his body soon, he will die."

"He's dead already, my old friend.  There's no way to get that armor off his body.  It is now one with him."

"No!  We can cut it off.  It'll take some time and patience, but we can do it.  You, a skilled Healer, can do it."

The Healer looked up at the faces of those who brought Our Hero into his lab in the basement of castle.  They each wore expressions betraying their thoughts.  Worry, sadness, anger, disgust, and contempt.

He struggled for so long, he just needed protection

I hope he doesn't die like this....not like this.

How could he have been so stupid!  

Pathetic!  Nobody needs armor like that!  

It's weakness.  He's not a hero, he's just a weak man!  


"I will need each of you to assist me."

"Well," said one of the group.  "I've got plans.  I mean, really, I need to get going.  Besides, you guys have this under control, so bye.  Tell him I'll send a pigeon courier some time this week, okay?  Thanks!"

After she left the room, the Healer and The Seer spoke to each other in hushed tones.

"He's not going to want to lose this armor," she said.  "He doesn't think he can live without it."

"How many years has he worn this on his body?"

"At least nine, that I know of," she said.  "It became a habit after having so many battles."

"His enemies will smell blood and come for him.  And we can't protect him."

"I know," she said.  "But if we don't do this, he will surely die."

The Healer rubbed an ointment under Our Hero's nose while The Seer chanted a spell.

"He will be asleep for a while longer but once I start to carve this off his skin, he will awake from the pain.  I hope none of you are shy about blood--there will be a lot of it tonight."

A few left, the most loyal stayed, and the grim work began.

The first cuts were shallow, to test the flesh, and to see how bad it was.

"What's that horrible stench?"  A member of the group held a rag up to their face.

"It's infected," said the Healer.  His face held in a grim mask.  "And you're right, my dear friend.  If we don't remove this soon, he will die."

"Let us pray we made it in time," she said.

The Healer looked at her for a moment, and raised an eyebrow.

"I did not see his Fate, my Healer friend.  I don't know if this is his last day with us or not."

"Then I shall work faster," he said.  Sharp scalps were on a tray next to him, lined up in a row.  He would grab one, slicing as delicately as possible the skin away from the armor that had protected Our Hero for so long.

Bit by bit, the Healer released the skin from the armor.  The cold, stone room filled with the stench of necrosed flesh and infection. As a scalpel's blade lost its edge, he would put it down carefully and grab another.

One finger on Our Hero's right hand twitched.

"He's waking up!"  One of The Seer's helpers put both hands on his arm.

"We've only got a few moments left," said the old crone.

"And I've got at least an hour's worth of work to do," said the Healer.

Suddenly a chair flew across the room and smashed against the opposite wall.

"What in the hell was that?"

"It's one of his demons," cried The Seer.  "It's found him!"

"I can't see anything," said one of the helpers.

"And you won't," said the Healer.  "They belong to him.  But be careful because they'll kill you just the same."

A table disintegrated into a pile of splinters.

"He's coming for him!"

And then Our Hero's eyes shot open.  One hand reached for his sword and there wasn't one strapped to his waist.

He sat up and looked around.  One of the loyal friends who stayed to help was pushed aside without seeing the creature that did it.

Our Hero grabbed two of the dull scalpels and a battle ensued.  He sliced and stabbed an monster only he could see but everyone in the room could feel.  After the better part of an hour, there was the sound of limp flesh hitting the flagstone floor.

The battle was done. He was exhausted, covered in sweat, and blood both his own and otherwise.  Frantically he felt for his armor. 

"What have you done?"

The Seer knelt down next to him, placing a hand on each side of his head, holding him firmly so his frantic eyes would focus on her. 

"Listen to me!  Listen to me!  You are dying!  Can you understand that?  This armor is killing you and it has to be removed.  You are dying!" 

"No!" 

"Yes!  You cannot heal with it.  You are dying from infection.  It has become toxic." 

"It's my armor!  I need it!" 

"No," said the old woman.  "You do not.  You only think you do.  And you cannot rely upon it anymore." 

"I'm going to die without it." 

"You'll die with it, too." 

The Healer and the loyal friends slowly surrounded Our Hero, lifted him up, and brought him back to the table. 

"No," he said.  "Don't take my armor."  It sounded more like a plea than anything else. 

"This is killing you," said the Crone.  "I know you might have needed it in the past, but it has to go." 

"You can do this," said The Healer.  "You're stronger than you think." 

***


A day later, Our Hero was in a bed, covered in sweat and shivering.  He tried to talk but couldn't without vomiting.  His skin was white and once every few seconds he twitched.  He was oblivious to the two people in his room with him. 

"He's not good," said The Healer.  "I can't give him anything to sleep because it'll make the infection worse."

"I know," said The Seer.  "If he survives this, he'll be fine." 

"Let's just hope when he leaves here he doesn't find more armor."   








Friday, November 3, 2017

Do You Adore Life?

In the past few days, I have been haunted by something I cannot find an answer to no matter how hard I try.

It started because of a song.  I love the fact that I can still find new music that makes me think.  I love how I'm constantly discovering new music.  I think once I walk away from new music altogether and dismiss it as being redundant and derivative, that will signal when it's time for me to finally die.

I first heard it in the end credits on the Hulu show Chance.  I dearly love that show.  It's in the second season right now and Ethan Suplee's character, D, is so very similar to how I used to be many years ago.  Damaged, angry, lethal, and ready to hurt somebody without remorse and enjoy doing it.

When I heard the song, it was just the final few seconds, and it was beautiful, so I went on Youtube because I'm OCD about shit like that.  I hear a song, I have to know all about it.  I have to.  It's not something I can walk away from, either.  I've tried.  Believe me, I've tried.

The song was by a London band called Savages titled "Adore" and it's one of those that grabs you.



It's not a statement of fact for the singer.  Listen to her and watch her as she sings.  She's not telling you how life is just something to live.

No.

What she is saying is despite all the bullshit she's had to go through, she has taken the attitude of "Fuck you, I'm living my life and having fun."

She is saying that nothing anybody does will get in the way of that.

Then, she challenges us.  She challenges us to get up and live.  Live our lives and enjoy them.  Not just go through the motions but actually get out there and adore the life you have.

This is what haunts me.  Because I have not lived my life in a very long time.  I have existed.  I have gone through the motions so that I can be left alone.  I have self-sabotaged to the point where I have guaranteed I will die alone.  I have isolated until I've been forgotten.  I have done everything possible to drive my life nose-first into the ground.

And now I'm bitching that this life has been shit and I haven't really lived it.

So now that I'm in what I feel like is the fourth quarter, I'm trying to pull up out of this nose-dive and trying to change things.  I'm trying to actually live this life and instead I'm finding myself to be angry at the past and full of regrets--which is something you cannot do if you are living your life.

I'm not living.  I'm surviving.  I'm keeping my heart beating.  That's about it.

In the 1987 cult classic Dudes, with a very young Jon Cryer and Flea, there's a scene where they meet up with an Elvis impersonator driving a massive white Cadillac.  He asks them what kind of work they do and one guy says, "Survival."

The Elvis impersonator says, "Survival is the slowest form of suicide."

I've never forgotten that and it's always bugged me that really all I do is survive.  I'm sick of just surviving.  I want more.

I want it bad enough to make changes in my life.  Hard changes.  I've woken up sick for the past three months because of withdrawals while I taper off stuff.  I've begun to lose weight.  I've even gotten out of my apartment more.

I cannot live like this.

But do I adore life?  Am I in love with life?

No.  I cannot say that I am or ever was.   Looking back, it was a lot of boredom and just dealing with shit.  I was always stuck in the mud and had no clue how to get out of it.

But I'm done lamenting the past.  I'm done. I did the best I could with what I had to work with at the time.

I want to adore life.  I want to have a life worth having.  And I want to change things so that one day, I can wake up and not feel loathing and dread that I'm on this planet for another dreary day.

I don't remember the last time I woke up and looked forward to something.

I've been accused of being an old soul by a number of people.  But does that mean the enjoyment has been taken out of life?  If I am an old soul, then what exactly do I need?  What am I missing?  What am I craving that would satiate this need?

I don't have a clue.

And that bothers me, too.  I have no idea what I want.  It's like the foundation of my self-definition was shattered and reduced to dust so now I have no idea who I am or what I want.  And without that I am not enjoying life.

I've said before I take the longview of things.  I've been here before and I remember bits and pieces of those past lives.  I can only wonder if that's tempering my view of this life to a point where I don't engage life as I could.

I'm jealous of people like Jeb Corliss because of the sensations he must feel.  I'm not interested in pushing things beyond a certain point.


The reality is, that no matter what you do in this life, it’s coming to an end. Once you accept there’s nothing that you can do about your own mortality, then you’re now free. You have no control, so stop pretending you do. And just get on with living your life. Stop living in fear. - Jeb Corliss



But that's not true, is it?  This isn't the only life.  I've touched the veil that separates our worlds.  I've embraced the darkness and breathed in that energy until my aura turned black and I vibrated with a power that terrified everybody.

And I miss that.  I miss touching that veil so much.  I miss who was on the other side every single day of my life.  For me, living life is playing in that darkness and exploring.  It's really the only time I ever felt alive.

What does it say about me that for me, living life, is being so close to death?

Once I get my higher brain functions back, I know the road I plan to go down.  I know what I'm going to do.  Once I get my higher brain functions back and I can once again feel the flow of energy and smell the winds, I have plans.  I am going back to that edge and I am touching that veil again.

And only then will I be able to say I feel alive.  

Monday, October 30, 2017

Feedback Loops and Devil's Night

I love Halloween dearly despite it being the time of year I take a serious beating by life as if there's a holiday dedicated to kicking my ass.  Octobers are rough for me.  They've always been rough ever since I was a little kid.  I have no idea why this pattern is like this. It's a feedback loop.  Again and again. 

When I was a kid, it was report cards with bad grades and severe head colds and my dad being drunk and angry at me for not being the football star he imagined himself to have been.  He was disappointed that despite me being bigger and stronger than he was my age, I wasn't a football hero.  I stopped playing football after my freshman year because of grades.  Besides, I really hated playing football. 

October was when bad things happened.  It's always been like that. 

Right now, I cannot work because my entire cable package isn't working and hasn't worked for days.  MediaCom won't be out until the day after Halloween.  I'm going to lose half a paycheck over it because I cannot work without cable. 

And my computer monitor isn't working right.  Once again, I need to get another one, because I'm the only guy I know who needs a new computer monitor once a year.  I'm using the one from work and I'm not sure what I'm going to do when work starts back up again. 

But there are some lucky things happening right now. 

I have a DVR full of recordings I haven't had time to watch.  I've caught up on Star Wars Rebels, Gotham, and a few other things.  Right now I'm watching Doctor Who.  I love the Doctor.  He's taught me a lot. 

This weekend, I went to a Halloween party.  Those of you who know me will know I have a terrible time leaving my apartment.  I'm reclusive and a borderline shut-in.  I leave my place maybe once a week.  So for me to actually leave and go see people isn't easy.  But a voice was telling me I needed to go.  There was something about this Halloween party that was important and I had to be there. 

It was a fun time, I met some new people, and was able to offer words of solace to a woman who was doubting herself.  Plus, I met a very gifted young girl who is incredibly powerful.  She's a medium and very sensitive.  She can see spirits and talk to them.  It's my belief I could teach her a few things about defense, energy, and perspective.  I'd hate for somebody to learn lessons the hard way like I did. 

The Doctor Who episode I'm watching right now is the first adventure Peter Capaldi takes his new companion, Bill, to Earth's first colony on another planet.  There are these buttons everybody wears that reflects your current mood.  And if you're not happy, you get killed.  Just like that. 

This blog has become my own person Black Box like on an aircraft so I can document just how far down I've spiraled and what I'm doing to get back up.  Or if I ever will.  The New Agers in the world will tell you that if you're feeling down, all you need to do is think happy thoughts and change your mind's perspective. 

As someone who has dealt with severe depression and all kinds of damage, and has been accused of being broken and damaged, I can tell you that isn't the case at all.  You can't just think happy thoughts and move on from there.  Thoughts aren't easy to change. 

As I've said before, you can't think your way into right acting but you can act your way into right thinking.  It's impossible at first.  It's like trying to walk up a wall or stand on your head.  But it's the little things you do while you try to scale that wall that add up and make the difference. 

My mood is better.  That moment of clarity I had two weeks ago was powerful and saved my ass from a dark road with a fast end.  I've been making the effort to do what is right and pull out of this tail-spin. 

But every once in a while I hear some New Ager/positive thinker and it just kills me.  Somebody once told me to "Just decide to be happy."  It felt like a knife in the gut because I had now idea how to do that.  I felt defective because I didn't know how.

I want to live my life.  I want to find all of the things that make this life worth living.  I want to experience the things I see everybody else having.  So much of this life has been just survival.  It upsets me to know what I've missed out on and to know what has been denied to me.  Worse, that which has been taken from me, and I can never get it back. 

My friends tell me it's not too late.  They tell me it might still happen.  I just have to believe it will be a reality and move accordingly.  I have no faith.  I have no hope.  But I'm doing what I'm doing because there is nothing left for me to do.  I have two options and as I've said, I've picked this one, for now.  And I'm ready to jump to the next option at the first definitive sign that this is wasted effort and worthless. 

But those who tell me to "just be happy" seem to me to not understand things.  How does one do that?  How does one just suddenly decide to be happy?  To me, it's a form a denial.  It's a lie you tell yourself.  It's about having no guilt, remorse, and being incapable of empathy. 

Sociopaths suddenly decide the past no longer matters. 

But that's not fair.  I've known some who weren't sociopaths but they still just suddenly decided one day to start life anew and leave all the shit behind them.  I don't get it and I never have. 

I've been the victim of it, though.  I've been the past that gets ignored.  I've been the mistake that got erased. 

But I've never been able to just "be happy" and live my life.  There are no switches inside my brain for that magical transformation.  And I'm not even sure I wish there were because it seems like a horrible thing to do to those you care about. 

I have always felt like doing that is somehow a denial of yourself and a denial of who you are.  The reinvention of yourself has to be from devastation and cannot be on the fly or mid-stride because otherwise it's an evasion of truth and just another form of self denial. 

To me, somebody who has just simply decided, "I'm going to be happy" is the same as someone lying to themselves.  I've been left behind by those people before and I can tell you it's incredibly painful to be an afterthought or worse, to be treated like a reminder of a past they want to escape. 

I will never do that to another person. 

So what am I going to do? 

Well, tomorrow is my birthday.  I've scheduled an appointment at the clinic to get some bloodwork done and get a follow-up check-up.  I have no idea what will come of it. 

After that, I'm not sure.  I really don't want to spend tomorrow alone but there's no other option.  Once again, it's how I've set my life up, and this is the cycle I'm in.  There aren't many options. 

I did this to my life.  Not directly, but my actions did this nevertheless.  I'm trying to fix it.  I'm going where I'm invited.  I'm visiting people when they ask me to stop over.  I'm trying to fix this. 

But it's going slowly. 

People all around me are moving.  They're evolving.  They're becoming the person they were meant to be.  And all the while I'm stuck in the trenches doing battle daily with personal demons and a head full of ghosts. 

I want the magic switch I can flip to stop memories.  I want to forget about those I've cared for deeply and rejected me.  I want to forget about how badly my name is a curse word to some.  I want to forget how many years it has been since I felt happy. 

Actually, I'll be honest here and say there is a switch.  It's just a substance you put in your body to make it all go away. And it was killing me so I have been walking away from it.  That, my friends, is a battle for the ages! 

I feel so badly on most nights!  There are nights where it is a monument to my own internal mechanisms just to wake up the next day to do it all over again. 

So how to do I just turn my back on all of that and sing "La-Di-Da, I don't give a fuck about anybody but myself and my own happiness!  La-Di-Da" while smiling broadly? 

Tomorrow is Halloween.  I'm really hoping something happens.  And maybe that's part of my problem.  In truth, I need to make things happen instead of waiting for it.  Fortune favors the bold and I'll be honest and say I'm not very bold.  I'm withdrawn and reclusive.  So how do I change that? 

Furthermore, is it something I can speed up or is it like bread dough rising and I just need to let it take its course? 

I'm just not feeling Halloween this year.  For some reason it's just not that magical to me and I don't know why.  Maybe because it's so fucking cold outside that we had snow today.  Or maybe because I haven't eaten any sugar in the past three months.  I'm craving it.  Badly.  Or maybe because I keep my apartment decorated with Halloween decorations all year long.  I don't know why but for some reason Halloween just doesn't have that spark for me this year. 

But I'm looking forward to getting on a scale tomorrow.  I want to see how much weight I've lost.  It's a small, insignificant victory.  Hollow, really.  But I want to know.  My pants fit me better so I'm curious.  I try not to tell myself it's too late.  I try not to think about those I've cared about who rejected me or of all those times I imploded and self-destructed and ruined everything.  A few pounds won't fix that.  There's no amount of weight I can lose that would fix anything.  And I can be clean and lucid all I want and that won't fix anything either. 

So where does that leave me? 

On Halloween I am going to treat myself to something sweet.  Diabetes, heart problems, and threat of stroke be damned.  I'm going to eat things and celebrate.  It's not a Happy Switch but it's the best I've got to work with.  I'll be alone, but that's okay.  I put a lot of effort into destroying my life whether I wanted to or not.  It just happened that way.  And while I miss certain people, I can't change the past, nor can I undo what I've done. 

I have no idea what's going to happen next.  I'm just going through the motions and if the universe decides to give me something, then so be it. All of my plans have always failed.  All that I have wanted was kept out of my reach and all I have loved or cared about have left me or were chased away by my own insanity.  So at this point, I'm not sure what I could possibly look forward to, but I'm going to hang around and find out.  No magic switch, just clawing my way through one more day, and that's the best I've got right now.