About Me

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All I can be is just me... Here I am for all to see, love me or leave me alone.

Lifecycle of a Psychopath:

I remember when it was fuzzy. My imagination was formidable, my thoughts were dark, but never graphic. 

Later, as my mind began to develop, I began to realize pictures were developing as well. Incomplete and scattered, there was definitely something there. Difficult to distinguish, as though a child had been given the camera; out of focus, subject matter seemed to be cut off, perhaps viewed from awkward angles. 

My mind seems to have collected them for several years and one day haphazardly dumped them out all around me like a pile of puzzle pieces onto a mosaic floor.

Anxiety ensued, my perpetual state of bewilderment would commence.
Day after day, I spent overwhelmed; knowing I have to DO this life thing AND solve this puzzle. Alienated knowing that if I spoke of the puzzle I was certain to be cast out.

Over time it became part of my routine, sometimes there were days and weeks where I'd find myself sucked into the puzzle, especially once I learned to bring the like pieces to the table and group them to fit together. Now there are hundreds of thousands of small pictures, and still some fragments which are not complete. The big picture is nowhere near identifiable, though in some cases I am able to make out what the snapshots were of... Darker, thoughts; not unlike crime scene photos.

These photos get placed into a file and I return to the floor and bring more pieces to the table. It feels right, like I need to get it together, to organize these thoughts.

A metamorphosis occurred, or maybe I've simply unlocked the next stage in deciphering the enigma that is me. Whether I choose to actively participate or walk away from it, the transformations continue.

Those images in my head which were filed away are coming together on their own, they are evolving... I can start to see moving pictures, like a flip book. With that, a plot is beginning to emerge; sounds and aromas are entering into the background. I can't figure out if my senses are fueling my imagination or my mind is fueling my senses. 

I fear what is to come when the movie is complete, wondering if it will ever be complete. Feeling driven that I must see it through to the bitter end. Perhaps what I fear is to become the panacea for all of my woes.

Entitled and Foolish Children

How Our Enemies Will Defeat Us:
Why is America the most obese society on earth? We are entitled and lazy, arrogant and demanding. We want more than we need, better than anyone else’s, and we want it faster! Which is true of man since the beginning of time; we’ve evolved… We’ve discovered ways to be more efficient, in turn we’ve become more lazy and complacent. Our government needed to be more efficient so that they would still make all the profits. There’s a price to be paid one way or another.

Our society teaches us to pay other people to do the jobs that we don’t want to do: Cleaning, Landscaping, Painting, Farming, and oh yeah, we don’t want to pay them much. People come in from other countries and live here together and pool their money so they can survive and it’s FAR better than where they came from. We call them animals and we bitch because they are taking our jobs. The truth is we ARE NOT willing to live like they live, we ARE NOT willing to work as hard as they do, and we ARE NOT willing to get paid what they get paid. Americans are spoiled and entitled. Jobs need to be done, what we can’t afford to do in-house, we simply outsource.

In America it’s all about smart this and HD that, Wii this and iThat. None of these gadgets are manufactured here; in fact almost nothing is manufactured here. So we are already giving millions of dollars to foreign countries that may or may not have our best interest at heart. We think because we have “trade agreements” they won’t attack us.

They are attacking us. We’re too fat, dumb, and happy to know it, but they are.
Who drives 10 miles to run 5 miles on a treadmill (designed in another country with parts from another country, assembled here) where we can listen to our foreign gadget play digital music and wear our brightly colored foreign-made name brand sneakers and grab a bucket of GMO take-out for the family on the way home?!?  We are so lazy we need a phone that can do everything but wipe our ass for us. But we complain about privacy and pretend to worry about “big brother”. We haven’t got up to change a channel in 35 years and we wonder why our ass has worn a wider divot in the couch cushion.
We are addicted to instant gratification, our muscles are atrophied from lack of use, our necks are sore from texting and we have carpal tunnel from repetitive button pushing. We whine about the aches and pains, but we aren’t willing to actually do anything about it if it requires rigorous movement, exercise or further absence of our almighty convenience. 
So we take a pill.

Another product not manufactured here. This pill is promised to take your pain away. Again, there is a price for everything. Oh, you’re suddenly feeling sad? Try this pill, it will alleviate the sadness, and this one is for the suicidal thoughts associated with taking the pill for sadness, and don’t worry if it gives you muscle pain we have another pain pill for that. Now your legs are restless and your mouth is dry? Take this, it may cause hallucinations, so don’t drink on it, you might have a psychotic episode, but if you do, we have the remedy for that as well. 

“Oh so you’re addicted to the pills? The pharmaceutical company assured us they use only the finest opium from Afghanistan… I can’t see how that could happen, well since you’re addicted now, we aren’t going to give you anymore”. 
Now you are physically withdrawing and the pain has taken over and you will do ANYTHING to get a pill. Word is they are $50 on the street; let’s find one or two… A couple days later you’re sick again, the pain is worse, let’s get 4 this time… now they are too expensive. The guy with the pills says, “hey, I can’t help you with those pills anymore, but give this a shot, you only need a tiny bit; I’ll let you try this bag for free”. Hello Heroin. The progression takes over like a rapidly multiplying parasitic infection.

Incidentally, middle school and high school kids aren’t just smoking pot anymore. It’s too hard to hide from parents who are well versed in 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and 90’s life. Heroin is cheaper and easier to get and to hide… It’s not just in the inner city, it’s everywhere… 14 year olds are giving birth to heroin addicted babies and those babies are being treated with phenobarbital. Once an addict, always an addict; there’s no cure, only treatment.

While one large portion of our Nation is distracted from reality by the most cutting edge gadget, system, game, or device and can’t fathom wasting the effort to walk across the street to a neighbor’s house for coffee; another portion of our Nation is systematically being taken out by a whole new ideal in chemical warfare… created and funded by terrorists, foreign and DOMESTIC. 

As an American you have these rights:
If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to feel, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to try, you don’t have to.

In other countries; if you don’t work, you don’t eat.

If any of these other countries decided to attack us today do you think we the people would stand a chance?

Or would you go about your day with confidence, thinking, ‘that’s what the military is there for”? The very military who can’t get adequate care through the VA, the very soldiers who haven’t slept a solid night since their first deployment. The same military men and women treated with the same pills for sadness, and psychiatric issues and pain; becoming addicted themselves?

Perhaps another day with our heads in the sand will make it all go away and the internet will bring more celebrity gossip and grumpy cat meme’s with improved speed and bandwidth for us all. 

A Healthy Day of Reflection

Today was a good day. Work was good, and I got a super nice queen sized mattress and box spring from a very successful real estate broker in town via freecycle. 

My friend Jim was kind enough to help me get it strapped to my roof and get it home in true southern redneck style... I think he doubted me for a minute, but it worked out and that's what matters. 

The lady also threw in a set of nice silk sheets and a set of 1100 thread count luxury sheets too with 4 brand new pillows. Along with a brand new sponge mop, a dust mop, and a Swiffer... She has a small wicker dresser and a box of dishes she offered up as well. I will go over after work and pick the rest up tomorrow.

My new place is nearly furnished, I'll find a couch, maybe even a chair, a dining table, another dresser and a microwave over the course of the next few weeks I am sure. By then the OT will hit the bank and I will breathe easier.

I guess I've realized a few things in these past 11 months. 

We all come with our own brand of crazy. Some brands just don't mix with others. I mean if your brand is Betty Crocker and mine is Duncan Hines, we can do alright, but if your brand is Borax, and mine is Clorox things could get toxic pretty quick. Come to think of it, if one of us is Frito Lay and the other is SC Johnson, we could be poisoning others without realizing it. Lots of unhealthy relationships infect the people we care about. We don't usually know until we've lost them completely.

Trojan and Lifestyles sounds safe enough, but a Devil Dog in your Depends could mess up your day. Lysol in your Lifestyles... Tabasco in your Tampax! Oh I see this is gonna be a LONG, sleepless night where my brain won't stop.

The moral of this unexpected blog post is:

It's OK that you're crazy, but beware of your brand!! Remember your first chemistry set, then remember your teens.

Just what the hell were you mixing in that motel bathtub with a canoe paddle?!?!

Think about that... 

Why Did You HATE ME So?

I’ve spent most of my life wondering why you never loved me.

I’ve wondered why you didn’t want my father to love me, and why you didn’t want me to love my father.

I watched you push me away like you pushed him away and I allowed you to turn my daughter on me the way you turned me against my father.

I always felt like you hated me. Since I was 7 years old, I was pretty sure you didn’t want me. You worked a million hours and never wanted to be home with me. I used to cry myself to sleep at night with visions of you in a car accident or a fire and you were never coming home.

My father only tried to do what was best for me; he had no help and no parenting skills of his own. History would repeat as it did for me, with my daughter.

Dozens of hospitalizations and surgeries and calls from hospital staff and both institutional and outpatient therapists, not once did you answer the phone or return a call. As well as 7 years of sobriety and never did you come to support me, see me or help me in any part of my recovery.

But I’ve been out of your life and her life for so long now; I’m interested in hearing all about your success. How much better is life without me? How has my daughter matured in the time that you’ve had alone with her? Tell me how she’s doing at WORK, tell me how self-sufficient she is, and tell me how proud you are of her.

I have contacted her but she hates me. That’s all you. You got what you wanted all along, your second chance… You didn’t change a fucking thing. The only reason she’s not on drugs or drunk is because you made food her addiction instead. If she knew cocaine would help her drop 150 pounds she'd be stealing your checkbook just like I did.

The events of the day that ended my contact with you were truly insane. We were supposed to have Sushi for LUNCH, but you purchased a dinner sized entrée and gave it to her  to eat ON TOP OF the dinner sized entrée she ordered herself. You are feeding her like you did to me. She’s heavier than I ever was. That’s not emotional eating, that’s a LEARNED behavior. You TAUGHT us how to use numb the pain.

You took guardianship of my daughter and signed for her to drop out of school. You never wanted what was best for my little girl. You wanted her away from me. Now what do you have? You have your homegrown adult child, wearing out the furniture, eating everything in sight, running up the bills and going nowhere.

Yes, mother, your words ring true, I was always screwed up. Denial on your part that your contribution played a role, the only chapter from my childhood that hasn’t been amended. My life improves without the thought of you in it. My pain is lessened when you aren’t here to slice me up and rub salt into the wounds. I hate you for living long enough to hurt me that one last time but I am not angry with you anymore. My acceptance came when the 7 year old girl who lives inside my broken heart was finally able to mourn her mother’s soul. Damn you for stealing my daughter’s.

She will always be MY daughter, you can manipulate her memories, you can poison her mind with your lies, but you can’t wash me out of her DNA… Mark my words, if I die before you, I swear to EVERYTHING you find sacred, I will see she is protected while you suffer a long, grueling and painful, merciless death.


Inside of my gut is a rage that burns white hot.

I can't stand people who run off at the mouth about their opinions and try to force them upon others.

Are you an Atheist? Good for you, that doesn't mean everyone needs to be.

Are you a Mormon? Great, now keep it to yourself, I don't want to go to church with you.

Do you hate the government? OK, I heard ya. Shut up already.

Are you in love? Good for you, now can you rejoin the rest of this miserable society and get some work done?

I hate redundancy, patterns, repetition, 'same ole same ole' sorts of bullshit. I don't want to hear the same shit day in and day out, I don't want to watch the same shows, I don't want to eat the same food, I don't even want to fuck the same guy.

I can go from feeling good and comfortable in a relationship to homicidal maniac with nothing in between but a good nights rest.

Destined to die alone, or live in toxicity with crazy fucks like myself, I know I can't stand the state of the world and I have no power to change it.

Job Hunting or Online Dating?

I am seeing a new trend in job postings that say:  “Job Hoppers need not apply” yet I've observed:

Employers can pay you however little they want for as much work as they want to task you with. 
Employers can change the rules of the game at any time.
Employers can cut your position or let you go at any time without notice. 
Independent contractor and commission only jobs are increasingly common but the hours required never pay off in the end. (Who wants to work 80 hours for 100 bucks?)

I am looking for just ONE person that isn't pulling from a trust fund or living with a wealthy spouse or whatnot... Speaking with respect to today's economy and the decade leading up to it... 
One person who can honestly tell me that they would up and leave a great job, making good money, being treated well, and feeling appreciated... just to try something different every couple years.
Is there even one person actively LOOKING for a job who doesn't feel that they NEED to be?!?!

Personality profiles: "no right or wrong answer", my ass. These are designed for sociopaths and "company men" employers aren't looking for your HONEST answers, but instead they want to know that you can "tell them what they want to hear" even when it's a blatant and OBVIOUS lie.

Finding long term, gainful employment is worse than online dating; employers either want to use you and discard you, or they want you to sign your life over to them so they can systematically rape and torture you for the rest of your life.

The War Between My Ears

Dear _______, 

Oh how you frustrate me so! 

You've never failed to be right here whenever I need to see you. I love you for that... But I hate you, I wish you weren't always here, I wish I didn't have to look at you everyday. I try to ignore you, I try to believe the lies I tell myself, I wish you would just go away. Go Away, Get out of my life, I'm so sick of you!

Wait, Come Back!
I'm desperately crying out to you in the night, I need you, where are you? I am imprisoned in my own mind, I have no one to set me free but you. I need the solution, I fail miserably without you! Where have you gone, why won't you tell me the answer? I know you are there, reveal yourself!!

Ouch!! Why do you have to sting me so hard? Why does your very existence hurt me so? Why is pain the only method you use to present yourself to me? Can't you be more kind and gentle with me?

What do you mean I am not kind and gentle to myself?

What do you mean I won't remember the lesson if I don't feel it?

I hate when you're right. Why do you always have to be right? When will I know what's best for me? When can I have a chance to prove I can do it myself? I don't need you! I'll show you. You'll see! 

How could you? I can't believe you abandoned me like that. I hate you. Step up and show yourself! You are such a... You are so... Grrrr. I can't even face you right now!

Can you figure out "who" I'm grappling with?

If I told you the "TRUTH" would you re-read my blog post?

The Thing About Thinking Thoughts

We’re all human. That’s why we do this thing we do. You know…
The thing about thinking thoughts.

We think, and we over-think. Through our thoughts, we stumble onto revelation which in itself pleases us so much that we need to think all the more. What makes it dangerous is that we believe we are alone, we believe we are unique, we believe we are about to embark upon some undiscovered formula, some ancient secret meaning of life. We isolate ourselves with our thoughts and believe we are to improve our lives through improved thinking. We believe the lies we think to ourselves.

At the end of the day, we are who we are, we've thought, we've acted, we've thought about acting out. There is no change except for the changes we consciously make through action. Thought plays a secondary role to action; however action absent of thought is impulsive. Impulsivity seeds ignorance. Ignorance comes from misdirected thoughts, not from lack of thought at all.

One may think that the thought you are thinking when you think that you understand the thought behind my words, (which are often thought of as an example of over-thinking yet lacking forethought) could indeed be a sign that you think you’re smart, but you’re not smart, your fucked.


I feel compelled to put out a disclaimer... There are some newbies to my world that may appreciate this, and some oldies who might want a refresher, so here goes.

I've been through my share of shit, and there will be more as sure as the sun rises and sets. The only people in my life who ever did me any good were the ones who had the balls to stand up to me and tell me when I was off the mark.

So if you're going through shit, and your behavior is causing you more harm than good, I'm gonna call you on it whether you want to hear it or not, whether you ask me or not. Here's why... Because I care? Yes, that's one reason... Bigger than that, it's because I expect the same from you in return when you see me acting a fool. If you can't stand up to me, you're afraid of me, and if you're afraid of me, you're not a true friend to me. I don't want someone to kiss my ass and tell me I'm right when I'm blatantly wrong... That's not a friend.

We can't see the apple on top of our own heads, it's nice when someone holds our hand and helps us out of harms way. It makes us want to help another person when we see it happening to them later on, perhaps our own children. It's inevitable, we ALL fuck up. We need each other to get through the hard shit sometimes, no matter how much pride we have, no matter how hell bent we are to do it ourselves.

So if I offer up some sort of perspective, know that it's not advice, it's not an attack, it's not criticism, it's an alternative viewpoint. That's all. Take it, leave it, chew on it, or fuck it. I wouldn't listen if I didn't care and if you expect me to listen, know I'm going to share my thoughts. Know that my thoughts aren't EVER going to kiss your ass or stroke your ego. Know that my thoughts arise from my own experience and the pain that I had to endure to get where I am today. Know that if you hold the title of my friend, I love you enough to be real with you.

Just Letting it OUT, in Safety

I've always been angry and it would seem it was a side effect of the toxicity injected into my childhood. There was no alcoholism, no drugs, no rape or molestation, just emotional and verbal abuse, adultery, physical violence, delusion, and deceit.

I was writing nasty things about myself on my skin as a small child, in pen and permanent marker on my belly and my thighs, places that were covered up and no one could see. 
I was cutting myself by age 7 and attempted suicide that same year. I would self inflict my first tattoo by 11, and find cocaine in the year between 11 and 12 which relieved much of the feelings of wanting to do harm to myself.
In fact cocaine gave me reason to live. The ecstasy I received from cocaine delivered me into a whole new world. My parents mattered nil. In fact the money that surrounded the cocaine lifestyle left me needing them very little at all.

By 14, I would be virtually on my own. Hustling, going to school, never sleeping, having sex with men in their 20's... I got a restaurant job when I turned 15 and I had legit income and drug money, I was pulling about 1200 dollars a week. My father was out fucking other women, my mother was working and gone about 15 hours a day. When my father discovered evidence of my lifestyle he would "ground" me, but having little control and no support from the other parent, I would defiantly go on with my life as if there were no rules.

I was always fighting or fucking when I wasn't working or in school. I loved the bad boys and I was sure that I would have my chance with all of them (and I did).
At 15 my childhood best friend's older sister would date the baddest boy of em all. I remember telling my friend I was going to have him. She was shocked when 3 years later I would run away with him. But we will get to that soon enough...

At 17, I graduated high school and my mother paid cash for college, my father was long gone at this point. I would be on the highway to hell with drugs, but arrogantly unaware of the signposts on my journey. My college professor and I had a sexual affair which would destroy his career and inflate my ego. The sordid and reckless tale of my "rock star years" would be told in the chapter affectionately coined, my "world tour".

Baddest Badboy would be nearly 21 when we reunited after 3 years. I think he knew I wanted him, but was cognizant of the fact that I was only 15 at the time. Truth is, at 18, he ruined it for other guys for many years to come, 15 would have been just too damn soon to get his hooks into me.

We had a lot of sex, reckless and unprotected, indoors, outdoors, in public, you name it. I was 18 and really just discovering the dimensions of my own sexuality. Although I had been sexually active for 6 years already, I had never had an orgasm and I didn't even know it. Sex felt good and I loved anything that felt good... but then Ohhhh wow, this is a whole different ballgame now, boy. This bad ass motherfucker knew ALL of the moves, hit ALL of the right spots, and was the oral sex MASTER, and THAT was rare in 1991 among the man boys that I'd been playing with.

We happened to be on a crime spree when we were running all over the damn country and Hawaii, so I couldn't get all soft and deal with the sappy part of being in love with him. I needed to show him I was as badass as he was and make this trip one for the history books.
It was, even 20 years later, he's married to a good woman, I sent him a message saying, "Where were you 20 years ago today?"
His response, "Making unforgettable memories and having the greatest time of my life with you".

We were addicts, caught up in the thrill and the rush and the level in which we were both willing to bring it. It wasn't long before I would wind up in prison, he would be engaged, and we would be no longer.  In retrospect, everything happened exactly the way it was supposed to. I needed a wake up call, he would get his a few years later. I came home to get with a guy I had been messing with, that was only interested in showing me affection when drunk. 

He knocked me up, we made it official, I had the baby, a little girl. This was my chance to put my past behind me. By my daughter's 5th birthday, I was done with her father, he never had a job or any interest in being a family, he worked for beer and didn't draw a sober breath for the duration of our relationship. 

I wasted no time getting down with a co-worker and local musician. He played bass in a classic rock cover band. He was "going through a divorce", so I was there to soothe. He also didn't work, but at least wanted to live with me. He would also want to control me and scream at me and beat me. I began to abuse anxiety and pain medication. There were numerous emergency room trips with broken ribs, a sprained wrist, a broken collar bone, and sprained neck, combined with 3 moves in 3 years due to landlord involvement of our domestic issues.
The last apartment had a back door where I would narrowly escape with my daughter under my arm and drive her to my (now retired) mother's house. In the grand scheme this would be a disastrous choice, however the lesser of two evils nonetheless. I did not have the emotional stability to get rid of this madman AND heal from my wounds while raising a kid alone.

I returned to a nightmare beating, and days later the relationship would end with me in a hospital being treated for a broken jaw and he locked up behind bars. Once again everything happened exactly the way it needed to, as he was still married, was never going through a divorce, instead was going to court for beating his wife.

Another signpost I was unable to recognize, that I was pulling this chaos into my life because didn't know how to cope with my own emotional trauma from childhood.

At my emotional rock bottom with no coping skills, no family support, ashamed and embarrassed, a friend came to bail me out of financial ruin by taking over my daughter's room and paying my rent and back utility bills. He was a platonic friend, and a life saver. 15 years my senior, he treated me like a kid sister. But he was an addict too, and not hard to manipulate into bringing home my first and only true love, cocaine.

Reunited with coke, after almost a decade, I had found inner comfort at last. Cocaine brought out the funny side of me, my sense of humor was sick and twisted, I couldn't produce a tear to cry if I had wanted to, I was never shy, I could always make a friend in any setting. Guys loved me, girls loved me, and I was hyper-sexual to begin with. My life felt continuously positive. My career was beginning to catapult, I was a young 30, and vibrant, I was eager to succeed.
Like everything I ever loved, cocaine would betray me. What used to bring me out into the spotlight was pulling me in and keeping me at home more. What I used to look forward to in the evening, I now needed to get out of bed. All that I wanted so badly, I couldn't care in the least about. Fear and paranoia began to overshadow my confidence and self assured appearance. Soon, I would find myself in the depths of my addiction's depravity, barricaded in a bathroom, crawling on the floor, hallucinating, and still wanting more.

In a moment of clarity, I got up can called for help, cocaine wasn't working anymore, the isolation was too loud for me to stand as the only thing for me to hear was the noise in my own head. My mind wanted me dead and for that moment at least, I wasn't wanting to die.
After 90 days of rigorous honesty (as much as one can muster having been clean for the first time in years with no ability to reflect or relate) I was suddenly 7 years old again. Writing horrible things on my body, cutting myself, confused, depressed, terrified, unable to trust or be trusted... homicidal, suicidal again. I would check myself into a hospital and find that I require the safety net of a structured environment. Yet more than a few days of structure and routine only serve to antagonize my psychosis. I've yet to learn how to allow redundancy to penetrate my life without breaking out into a rage.

I deliberately removed anything routine or planned out from my life. I take a different route to work every day, I listen to a different radio station or genre of music altogether. Even the repetitive sound of fire or burglar alarms, car alarms, police or emergency sirens can set me off. I HATE techno music or anything with the same beat pattern or melody that goes on for more than 4 bars at a time. Certain tones, like those which mimic my mother's condescending voice, go right through me. Patterns annoy me, visual and audio, yet I am a whiz at identifying patterns and making proactive analysis from them. Trends annoy me: douchey boys with faux-hawks and white framed sunglasses, sporting Ed Hardy clothing walking around looking like catalog cut outs from a Jersey Shore photo shoot made me want to kick babies. I've learned to let the things that annoy me go, as they aren't going to cease until they've run their course.

I will have to deal with my intolerance of things. I will have to deal with my emotional pain. I will have to face the truth about it all eventually, a day at a time. Things will happen the way they are supposed to, and there will be signposts that I miss, and there will be things that I defiantly cling to or discard altogether. When the pain is great enough, I will buckle down and do the next right thing. Or I won't and I will write more self loathing angry pieces like this one. Because 7 years after the devastating emotional realization that got me to stay clean, I am here AGAIN...
After having rebuilt a portion of my life with the help of DBT therapy, some 12 step programs, and a high degree of internal fortitude dropped into whatever situations which I would find myself lacking faith in. 

Today I AM finding friends, I'm having fun, things are good, and then there is guilt, so I'm pulling myself inward again, isolating, feeding my fear, overwhelmed by the noise of my own thoughts, drinking, dreaming of cocaine, knowing it's not something I can do in safety, knowing it's a big lie, wanting to cut myself, hurt myself, kill myself.
I can't live this way, I can't fathom or accept being "broken" like this forever, I don't want to take their pills or be adjudicated a mental defective, I don't want to live among some fucking clan of anonymous rejects. I work really hard toward creating a better life for myself. I just want to be free, I want to succeed, and I want to be loved, is that too fucking much to ask for?

The Thief Called Love

People are drawn to me, they call upon me, they often ask me for advice which I have no qualifications to give. 
I am very careful not to give advice, but to give factual accounts and reflections of my own behavior as it mirrors what they are exhibiting in their moment of need. Mostly to reassure that their conundrum is not some strange alien behavior, but a common thread between us all. "You are not alone, I feel this too sometimes, in fact, we ALL go through this in one way or another, it's OK, relax, you are perfectly normal". Typically when someone asks me for advice, they are merely seeking validation.

One thing we all struggle with is love. Love occurs naturally, yet we feel we can manipulate nature and people and manufacture or facilitate the cultivation of love.
We don't understand it, yet we desperately want it. When we have it we don't even recognize it, we certainly can't control it. It's like a spell has been cast upon us when love comes around. Under the spell we act erratically, irrationally, fanatically, neurotically. Some of us have deep emotional scars so we feel like we need to avoid it, disregard it, ignore it, or cast it aside. However we can't control it and when we try to we end up hurting the other party deeply.

I see all of this; I can articulate it, blog about it, recognize it in my own behavior patterns. I admit it, I work on it, I am the epitome of "seat of your pants" living. People surround me, and all of those who ask for my thoughts, my advice, my validation, my opinions... somehow they get stronger, their lives improve, they move on, their love comes true, they succeed, they get married, start families, and even stay together for decades or life. I continually struggle and at times, inevitably suffer, through the depraved, and even deranged, self destructive phenomenon that accompanies depression, loneliness and the lack of feeling loved. 

What makes me so unworthy? 
How can they have true love when I'm the one following the suggestions, doing all the work on myself, trying to be a better person? 

When will it be my turn to be blissfully ignorant, fat, dumb and happy in love?

When will someone hold me in his arms and tell me that everything is going to be OK, and mean it down to the root of his soul?

When will I believe it?

How will I trust it?

Love is a drug and like all drugs, it has taken from me.

Love flew in and scooped up my best friend and pulled her off into another direction now I barely hear from her.

Everything I feel, everyone I meet, I desperately wonder, "Is this love? Finally here to take me off to a happier world?" But no, it's not. It's just more pain, shame, toxicity, abuse.
Love comes to everyone who gets close to me, their relationships with their own families improve, and they get swept off their feet. While it rips a hole in my gut to feel and to show happiness for them, the absence of love burns like lava through that hole and leaves a deeper, darker scar on my soul. 

At what point is enough truly enough?

Give it a Name, Who's to Blame? I've Got No Shame!

Expectations based on warped ideas of "the norm"
Never account for the ashes from which I was born.

There's a cloud of destruction
, for miles behind
Masquing every indication of an unsound mind.

Your hope is that I bridge this ridiculous gap
In a union absent of foundation, liable to snap

A pawn, a novelty, a doll, an excuse
Used to continue this ugly cycle of abuse

You mixed to produce life and tossed it into your clutter
Decades passed, destiny delivered me up out from the gutter

Disqualified, discounted, discontent, and diseased
I was the one who was crazy, it set YOUR mind at ease.

My instinct is what cautioned me from following your lead
Your self centered motives came before my emotional needs

Finger pointing at each other was your one claim to fame
Passing the buck, playing dumb, always pushing off the blame

I learned to adapt, from manipulation, evolved a fine art
To get what I want was habitual, I had a talent for it, I was smart

But you didn't even know me, your own flesh and blood
Busy chasing your own demons, pushing me down in the mud

The hurt turned to hate, the sadness to rage, and the lonely became lost
"THE ICK", that black hole in my soul proved to be the highest cost

Fighting down through the sordid dimensions of hell
I tapped out, had enough, and the ref rang the bell

Healing began when I let go of the blame
Disallowed your shame,
and could utter your NAME (again) and not shed a tear.

Identity is something I never learned,
I must have missed that class, unconcerned

Defiance was just a defensive support,
Allowing the distance required to abort, from this family facade, this delusional game
I wanted out, to be free, and to change my tainted name.

I worked hard, and I cried,
confessed wherever I had lied
I admitted things I thought I'd take to the grave
Later to find it was what made me a slave

I worked with others, I gave back to the group
Each day brought me toward the center of the loop
"Stay on the edge and you may fall out"
Cautioned my sisters who knew what it was all about

I'm grateful today for the new life which I've built
free from bondage of remorse, of shame, and of guilt

I feel regular feelings, and live a good life
I'll never be perfect, there will always be strife
If I choose to engage, mindful is the way,
My tongue is still sharp, I live just for today.

There is a path before me, it's not always clear
What I let get in front of me begins with fear.

Others who share experience give me strength to cope
We all struggle with it too, and that brings ME hope
When we can't find it within us, faith appears to be gone
Yet it sorts itself out, and there is a new dawn

Buckle up, hang on tight, and just come along!

IN2L2BWUMHB... another portion of correspondence with my father.


Christmas was rough without my friends or family. I can imagine that you were met with some unexpected sadness being the first holiday season without Mimi (even just to speak with on the phone). It's been a LONG time since I had heard from Mimi, so my memories of holidays with her and Pepere were very pleasant for me.

This was my second Christmas without {my daughter) in my life. Not for lack of trying on my part. God damn my mother is good at what she does... I really feel like (my daughter) sold her soul to the devil for some material bullshit and unlimited cash flow.

But I need to live my life and let her follow whatever path lay ahead, just like you had to with me.

More and more I understand how frustrated and dis-empowered you were 30 years ago. Yet our relationship still lacks so much.

If it never resonated or meant anything before, please know, Dad that I do love you very much. I've processed and worked through my resentments and emotional issues from my childhood (most of them, anyway). I used to be sour about the fact that you left me behind and got a "do over" with some other woman and 3 other kids. Today I realize you needed to fulfill your own happiness and pursue a better life. Sometimes I wish that it had played out differently, you might have actually known your granddaughter. However I realize the Zen in phrases like, "It is what it is".

Basically, everything has unfolded exactly the way it needed to, in order to get us all to where we are today. You needed to demonstrate your ability to be the husband and father figure that you always known in your heart you could be.

A great friend gave me this: IN2L2BWUMHB

Translated: It's Never 2 Late 2 Be What U Might Have Been

Dad, this is our story!

I've got so damn many dreams and ideas and convictions. I want to do great things, and for the first time in my life I know that I will. YOU are the power of example that helps me to believe it today.

Please stay in touch with me. I will do a better job at that as well.