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.
About Me
- HumanOxymoron
- All I can be is just me... Here I am for all to see, love me or leave me alone.
Showing posts with label Anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anger. Show all posts
18 and Straight-Edge, STILL My Daughter
That is OK, I have no control over them, or how they wish to live their lives, and I made one poor choice in leaving my daughter with one of these people when I was actively abusing drugs and couldn't take care of her myself. Sort of a lesser of two evils decision, there really wasn't a better one in hindsight. So for the past 6 years while I've been soul searching and working through 12 step programs to make a serious effort to improve my thinking on a daily basis, my child has been living in the very toxicity which I could not bear. I did make room for my daughter to come and live with me, repeatedly extended the offer over the past 4 years and finally stopped asking. She knows that she wouldn't be allowed to live the way she does where she is. (Up all night on the computer or playing video games, sleeping all day, no job, poor hygiene, no structure, no therapy, no school). I can't control how a teenager behaves, but I can lay down the boundaries of what I am willing to tolerate in my own home.
Needless to say because my child has not lived with me for several years and is now 18, she's not really interested in the whole mother daughter relationship. I have talked with her about drugs, about alcohol, about sex, about peer pressure, about anger and rage, she views everything as a lecture, and responds with "I know, Mom". She won't talk about anything but girl gossip and teen-aged drama, I don't know what to give her on birthdays and holidays, because she is so over-indulged to begin with. She's over 300 pounds, her inevitable addiction has manifested itself in food, although she denies it. I don't know how to help her and suddenly it becomes clear that she doesn't WANT my help. I can't be the one who helps her, I get that, but I am the only one trying. In fact, I am the only person in my family working on improving my life, and that makes me the enemy.
My daughter, views me as an asshole for having not pulled my head out of my ass 12 years before so that I could have been the mother she imagines I would be. My mother thinks that insanity is a choice and blames my father's side of the family for the choices I made which "made [me] crazy". Both are living in the past. I made my amends, and continue to, I follow through by being available and reliable and keeping my promises, my temper improved, although there were many days when I had to cut my visit short, as my bullshit meter was in the red and I was about to blow a gasket.
Which brings us to yesterday. Thanksgiving Saturday with my mother and daughter, out to lunch and to a movie... We get to the restaurant and my anorexic mother says she doesn't want to eat, but orders a meal anyway so that my food addicted daughter can have two entrees. When I make a comment about it, my daughter decides she doesn't want anything at all. The tension begins, there is a disturbance in the force, and I am already the bad guy for having pointed out the obvious. Then we go to the movie, walking back to the car, it is COLD out, my daughter is dressed for early fall not 30 degree weather, starts complaining about the temperature. I point out that she's not dressed for the weather, she argues that her winter coat is no warmer... Naturally, I say, do you need a new winter coat? She says "No, I hate the cold weather" (she has never lived in or even visited ANY other climate). My response is, "OK then, get a job and move out to a warmer part of the world" She SNAPS before I know it she's gone, now my mother and I are sitting in the car while she has her tantrum somewhere outside in this cold which she cannot handle... 30 minutes go by and she finally gets in the car, I ask her why she took off, especially if she is "so cold" she flips out again, almost psychotically, screaming at the top of her lungs and making little to no sense.
The general barrage of fuck you's and I hate you's were followed up by, "You were never there" and "you don't even care" as it turns out, the trigger phrase that had set her in motion was the "get a job" part. "I've been trying so hard to get a job, Mom, you don't even know." A better parent may have allowed this to end right then, however my parents did me a dis-service by not calling me on my lies and bullshit. Earlier in the week and again in the day, I had asked my daughter if she had tried on ANY of the $200.00 worth of clothes that I had bought her 5 weeks prior, "not yet" was the response. Considering those clothes were "help find and secure a job" clothes... Considering every one of her "posts" on social media sites was something about video games or horror movies, and had been time stamped all throughout the hours of the night when most people sleep, and my mother had been complaining to me that she sleeps all damn day long when most people job hunt, I called her out. I threw the bullshit flag, without a notion of my how my actions would be received, and it was ugly.
Although emotionally hung over, I do not regret what I did. I placed the accountability back on my 18 year old, because my mother never did (on either of us). Of course blame has been passed through the family several times, not the same, and not something that I have time for. My daughter has adapted her skills to be in shape for the blame game and this has become very convenient for her. I made it very clear that I wouldn't allow her to lie to herself in my presence. We all make our choices, and we are not victims of the consequences when we make one that doesn't turn out the way we WANT it to. Since life is such a learning experience, I am grateful today for the consequences of my choices, some are a jagged pill to swallow, but all are a direct result of the way I choose to make decisions.
My mother and daughter may never change, what changed yesterday was my participation in their game. I do not have to go to every fight I am invited to. I've changed and I will continue to change, I am a work in progress and I do not do everything right. However, I crawl beneath no one, and owe no more apologies to this family. My amends are continued as I live and continue to grow and continue to learn from the errors of my ways, like any adult is meant to do. I hate the thought that my daughter is inevitably going to have to suffer through some of the most difficult times of her life, almost needlessly until she finds that she's lying to herself and that blame doesn't matter. Other people's behavior doesn't matter, as it is uncontrollable, that all she can control are her own actions and reactions to her choices and consequences. However what she finds along the way is part of her journey, not mine, and I refuse to be abused any longer.
Sheep... and Easy
I will save you, come on over here. Just listen to me, and do as I say. Don't listen to them, don't trust them, they are evil, trust me. I am good, I am going to help you, I will save you. They only want to hurt you, run to me, hurry, I will keep you safe, they are trying to destroy you, I will fight for you, I will put an end to your pain, I understand you, I will take care of you, I will love you, we are family now, look at me, I would never hurt you, I am going to make it alright, don't ask why, just do what I am telling you, and you will be happy, you will be healthy, you will be better off, this is the better life, the better choice, the better way, they best way.
Sound familiar? Of course it does, it's been going on since the beginning of time. These are words which are just as likely to come from a cult leader to a new prospect, as a Catholic steering a child away from Protestants, or a Christian speaking ill of Muslims, Democrats vs, Republicans, Whites vs. Blacks, Ford vs, Chevy, Pepsi vs Coke, Colleges battling for high school aged athletic phenoms, or any other combination of opposing or competitive forces. What used to be viewed as a healthy or natural rivalry seems to have been replaced with blatant lies, rhetoric, and pure hate.
As a good salesperson, I know how important it is that you identify with whatever pain point I create for you. I develop the perfect plan of attack, one that will turn you in the precise direction that I need you to be facing. I befriend you by making you and your best interests the main topic of conversation. I hone in on very specific truths that I discovered about you, that you don't know I already know about you, I slowly mesh these facts into the strike that rattles all the right nerves grab your attention, and blow your mind.
For instance, let's just say for one example, that I discover that you are secretly afraid of black people. In my first approach, I make some small talk, and at the perfect moment, say something like, "Man, do you ever feel like these people just want to take over our world?" You agree, and I will go on to point out despicable cultural differences between you and the absolute worst example of a person of ANY race that I can use. This is not hard for anyone to do, these are statements which you would never bother to research or question. I might even tell you, "It's true, I swear, look it up!" This works because your fear of black people is fed by your imagination of the unknown my words just touch upon the little things that you have been subliminally taught with regard to hate. So your mind is already on overdrive and your feelings are being validated by me, your new pal. Even though everything I am telling you is complete and utter bullshit. I am sure that you are too lazy to look it up, and you definitely aren't going to run up to a black person and ask, as you're terrified that they will put a spell on you or some shit. 
So before you know it, I have you believing that all of the famous black rappers are Satanic Cult members and they speak to one another publicly, like terrorists, in secret Satanic language through television interviews and music videos. It doesn't matter how ludicrous the statement, if it goes AGAINST the person or people you feel threatened by, you feel as though you have an ally now. I tell you things like, "I was JUST LIKE YOU, and I learned about this, and now I can help you, too", That's the hook, you feel validated, you finally have a connection with someone who understood. I can say "Don't allow yourself to become a dumb sheep, following all the other sheep straight to the slaughter house". You feel empowered, U basically re-word the things you have already verified for me, I say things like "Did you ever feel scared or uncomfortable around these people when you were alone?" Of course you say yes, and now I have exposed your tender little underbelly. "It was because deep down inside you knew that they wanted to kill you. Don't you watch the news? These people are savages, all they do is kill and steal". You are now validated completely, and I go on to re-identify myself, "I was just like you, I felt the exact same way, and that's why we understand each other so much, we are alike". Don't don't listen to anyone else, their mixed messages will just confuse you, you are beginning to awaken to a reality that you have always felt was there, but it is a lot to absorb, it goes against everything you have ever been taught, this is the time for you to stay close, until you become strong enough to fight".
I've had the upper hand all along, I targeted you because you were depressed and lazy, abusive and angry, frustrated and vulnerable. It's not your fault, those are just the easiest ones to turn. It was because I struck the right nerve, you found trust in me. You soon begin to do everything I suggest. Simply because in your mind, it goes against the people who you fear most. You turn your attention completely away from the rest of the world, you hang on my every word, you are oblivious of the fact that you are being brainwashed. 
You believe you are standing up for what you are passionate about, but you are not, you are defending a pile of lies that you've been sold on. Can't you see what's happened? By trusting me that it was in your best interest to wake up and NOT be a sheep, a cult member, or a slave anymore, you've become MY sheep, MY cult member, MY slave! I am the pimp, and you are my bitch!I am NOT OK
I am not strong, so don't lean on me.
I am not smart, you don't want to hear what I think.
I am not sane, stay away! Why are you drawn to me?
Keeping up appearances is about the worst habit I could have picked up along the way. I have perfected the art of creating and presenting a false persona, one far different from what I am or how I feel under my skin. My insides do NOT match my outsides. Like an actor on a stage, I portray a likable and friendly, fun-loving, smart, strong, and well rounded individual. Internally I am antisocial, sad, angry, I spend a great deal of time in the clutches of an agonizing depression. It is like a bad neighborhood that you wouldn't want to be in alone. My gut tells me that these feelings have roots in living this lie which may not be unlike living a double life. A life and a lie which I don't believe I can continue to carry on. 
That is why I started this blog, and it is virtually unknown to people who think they really KNOW me. I want my fresh start on an empty canvas, a clean slate so to speak. I want to be me, without walls, with no aggressive defenses, and no bullshit. I want to make true friends based on who I am inside and that I am working to help myself heal from there, rather than continuously trying to put on a show. Such honesty would be sure to render me powerless over the cruel and calculated predator known as the human animal.
Knowing this, one may presume, is instrumental in getting a handle on it... If only I knew how to view things for what they are as they are happening. I sometimes feel that I am at an extreme just before I hit a wall and dramatically, I turn radically into the opposite extreme. So when dealing with people and the way I cling to the good and bypass the bad... In that exact moment of discovery, after extracting all possible inner goodness real or imaginary, the only alternative that my mind can see happens in the immediate and turns to complete suspicion and skepticism. Sniff out the conspiracy and go to any lengths to prove that there is one in play. 
I go through phases where I will pass this negative judgment upon any and all who I encounter. Therefor the slightest thing set's my neurosis of intolerance in motion. (As a post-conscious observation... especially relevant in the event of my own misunderstanding). If it defies logic, or neglects to make practical sense in my thought process, my tendency is to adamantly reject it, aborting all other protocols, casting it out as alien, and publicly voicing my displeasure. My sharp wit morphs to a razor tongue which aids in the personal dissection of character. I'm on auto-pilot, spinning beyond my own control, while systematically, my cyclonic behavior constructs the soapbox that I stand upon while I emotionally execute my newly manufactured enemy.
Sometimes I think I can completely accept all of this. In actuality, it is but a momentary thought that allows me to believe any of this it is within the limits of my own comprehension. I am told to let it be as it is, but I cannot. At my core I'm a fixer, a problem solver, a puzzle finisher, and I won't stop until I've connected the dots. At this moment, I am in fear I may be losing my grip, I am shredded inside, the pain, it burns deep today, and I fear that I may be falling apart completely.If I love you will you love me back?
I have spent my life trying to make the people in it happy. When I was 6 years old, I came home from school to find my father sobbing on his bed, I asked him what was the matter... He told me that he wanted to blow his fucking brains out. A co-dependent, caretaker was born. A year later I would find the rejection and disappointment that comes with seeking the approval of others, just too much to bear, and I made my first attempt at suicide. My MOTHER's response: "We don't talk about these things... Don't you dare bring shame to my family... What will people think? I won't be able to show my face in church if you don't start acting right... What's wrong with you? People are going to think you're a crazy person".
Sometime around 9 years old I discovered the art of cutting. Come to think of it, this may ave started with picking Mosquito bites, I remember those being problematic when I was young. I cut my thighs, my arms, my stomach, my hands, even my face I carved words into my arms and the words "fat bitch" into my belly, backwards so that when I looked in the mirror I could read it. In the beginning, it was simply because physical pain felt better than emotional pain. Toward the end, I was doing it because I hated myself and I "deserved" the pain. Around 11 or 12 I had sex, with a boy my age, it didn't do anything for me, it would be years before that was done properly and became an unhealthy addiction of it's own. Home made and underground tattoos took the place of cutting temporarily, while Cocaine on the other hand, provided me with EXACTLY the relief I was seeking. One small line and within an instant I saw pure anarchy, and felt my body release the pressure of fear, doubt, shame, insecurity, and rage as fast as an untied balloon being let go. I loved it, I sensed mayhem, I sensed evil, I sensed depravity, and I was overcome by the need to chase it all. Side effects of my regular use of stimulants were: increased focus, weight loss, decreased appetite, loss of moral or spiritual values, increased interest in crime, mood swings, increased irritability, emotional instability, propensity for violence, increased rage, decreased artistic creativity, developed a mastery in the skill of manipulation and the art of lying. Now my parents would not trust me, they would not speak to me, they would not want me to be a part of their lives at all. I felt rejected by my own family, misunderstood, and cast out. 
All of my choices were unhealthy, and stemmed from the original Daddy issues... I needed to prove myself to men, I needed approval, I needed validation. I did EVERYTHING I could to feel appreciated, loved, complimented. I believed all I had to do was love. If I loved my Dad, he wouldn't blow his brains out. I've been in ALL of my former relationships thinking, "if I just love him right he won't drink so much" or "if I can prove how much I love him, he won't be so angry" or "if I love him the way he needs to be loved, he won't hit me" or "if I love him enough, he'll never cheat on me"... Yet my track record will show, I've been cheated on, beaten on, screamed at, and I've carried the drunk into the house at night. So for the sake of my own mental and or emotional health, I needed to change my behavior around men.
I'm not a victim of anyone else's behavior. My own poor choices have been the catalyst behind the pain, chaos, and drama in my life. I've been a willing participant in my sordid past with relationships. hat is the pattern I need to break for myself. It appears that I am attracted to the wounded ones... never the actual needy ones, but the scared and defensive, and often dangerous ones. Even today, while working on real recovery, I am able to see that I STILL make these foolish choices. I am now realizing that my own father will never give me an ounce of what I thought I needed from him. I recently stopped chasing him for approval, I stopped seeking validation. I turned and faced him, at almost 40 yrs old, and I demanded his respect. He froze, he laughed, he agreed and I was given validation, I felt empowered and emancipated at the same time.
Perhaps few people identify with this as described. Far fewer, I bet can capture the elation of emotional growth.
Mommy and Daddy Issues... Ya Think?
Inside my mind is a bad neighborhood... I really shouldn't be here alone!"
When I am all alone with myself, the quiet is too much to bear. I am physically paralyzed by emotional pain...To own my part seems foolish, as I did not ask for this life and the fucked up childhood which I did not have a choice in living. Apologizes don't remove scars. Living amends work well for me and those I hurt who are interested in actually being connected to my life somehow. My mother hasn't ever been interested in me, what I wanted to be, or what I strive to do. She rejects me, refuses to see me, and when I show up, never misses an opportunity to point out just what kind of piece of shit I am, or how my status in scumbag-ville has so appropriately manifested in my child, who is nearly an adult, and a very positive specimen at that.
After 17 years of chaos, filled with calculated emotional and physical abuse, my ex-military one time psychologist father, removed himself from my life, and has made very seldom a cameo appearance since. The only contact I have had with him in the past 22 years, I have initiated. Only one conversation has ended with a positive feeling, it was the most recent, and the odds of it happening again are so slim, it may very well have been our last one ever.
Repeatedly, I have tried to be a part of my family. Like touching a hot stove, burned my hand, and beat myself up about it. Time went by, I thought I was to blame and that it was going to be different, because of the work I have done on myself, I gave it another shot, and OUCH! That fucking stove STILL burns, go figure. Most recently, I have made a conscious decision to make no effort toward first contact with either of them, and of course there has been no attempt from either side to have any contact with me. I say that I do not hold any ill will or resentment... This is true as long as I am busy, working, going to the gym, attending meetings, out with friends, listening to loud music, spending time with my daughter, but the pain is there behind all of these band aids that I use to masque it.
The cut is too big for band aids now. It's torn up and the surface isn't sturdy enough for stitches. My hurt feelings and sadness used to only worsen during times when society calls for togetherness of "family", and holiday cheer. The word FAMILY is a hot button, which sends me off the deep end at times. It's safe to say that the pain is now constant and debilitating. I believe it is cutting off my circulation, I cannot breathe, it's stunting my growth. I can't act out in my old childish ways, as I would be incarcerated or hospitalized indefinitely. Medication is not an option for me, as I don't believe chemicals are an appropriate treatment of the root issue, but the outer symptoms... let's start with one chemical then add another, then add one more, then something for the side effects of the first, now the second and so on... defying all logic.
SO I write...
To both of you:
My poor choices were made after yours, yet mine have always been the ones criticized. What did we do about our precious child trying to slit her own throat at age 7? I know what we did, we suppressed it, after all what would the neighbors think? I have come to accept that once things happen in life, they cannot UN-happen. In my quest for validation, love, affection, nurturing, and emotional stability; I've sought temporary relief in sex, older men, older women, crime, drugs, and when I still wasn't satisfied, dominance, power, and violence. My relationships have been no healthier than the one that brought me into this world, and I recognize today that nothing else in my life can improve until I have successfully released this pain from my heart.
To my mother:
Keeping up appearances was your facade manufactured to keep people from getting close enough to see the sickness inside of you. In a sense I was raised in a lie and forced to lie. Feelings, affection, comfort, were dismissed, discounted, and disallowed. Love and respect were purchased. Trust was a foreign commodity, traded for leverage on the most believable fable. You are cold and calculated, and as you have aged, it has become more clear. When I was a child there was one parent that saw through you, as a teen, a second parent and a third, as an adult I notice that your friends have disappeared, you have just one left, and she will inevitably see through your veil of deceit. You had them all snowed for so long, as if you were some sort of "Mother Theresa", high regarded in your clique of church folk who had no reason to suspect that any kind of evil would lurk in their sacred house of worship.
You are 71 years old, headed in the direction of dying alone, and I don't feel bad, not one iota. Fuck you, for continuing to treat me like I am lower than buried dog shit. I've fantasized about hanging myself at (Your Church)'s altar with a giant sign that reads simply, "(Your Name)'s Daughter", if only the video that plays in my head playing all the fucked up things you say and do could project out to ensure that you wouldn't be seen as a martyr. When I needed a mother, you needed to perform for your audience. The older I got the less fun it was, the promises of fame and fortune were as empty as my soul was becoming. I knew nothing of life, of being a woman, of sex, of my body. I sought your approval through all means possible. The more desperate I became, the less you had to do with me. You have been ashamed of my existence since I was able to form a thought that was different from yours.
To this day you are uncomfortable when I begin to speak in your presence. If you admitted that you've ever had ANY single human struggle whatsoever, I would recoil from such an emotionally angry, and aggressive posture and I would embrace you in MY arms, as you are my mom and I am biologically wired to love you. Even though you have consistently used my need for your love as a way to crush my exposed, unguarded, heart. When I had cancer, you wouldn't even drive me to my surgery, I was in prison, you wouldn't take my calls, rehab, still nothing. Again, fuck you, you sick fucking depraved sociopath. If I outlive you, I will drop trow and shit on your headstone!
To my father:
My role in your family remains undefined, says the grown up forgotten child.
When I needed a Daddy, you needed to chase pussy. You finally divorced from my mother after dragging me around from situation to situation cheating on her for 18 years. Promising me a happy life and a loving family. You never bothered to look at the lifetime of destruction you left in your wake. Your abusive and explosive temper left it's devastation in the form of physical and emotional scars, your cruel and horrific words cut far deeper than that. I was selfish and self centered at 6? Really? You bastard, you knowingly placed blame on me and robbed me of my childhood by insisting that I grow up and accept the fact that I was never going to amount to anything. I sat at your bedside while you threatened to blow your brains out, I cried myself to sleep at night afraid that you actually would. You turned me against my mother who was equally crazy, insured me that you were going to take me somewhere that life would be better for both of us. At 7, you fucking abandoned me with family I never knew and haven't seen since. Then at 17 you fucking bailed on me completely. You left me behind. I was very sick, having surgery in the hospital when you packed all of your shit and the day I got out, you left. You fucking COWARD. 9 months without a call, no forwarding address, not a birthday or a Christmas card. 20 years later, and you've contacted me ONE TIME. Let's not forget about the 17 years of abuse, the holes in my bedroom walls and the scars on my face. Don't worry, the school nurse knows I just fell, but Daddy, why are you mad at me? You never came to see me in jail, rehab, or any hospital, you never took my calls begging for your help. You have never visited, you have never invited me to spend time with you. You and your ex wife both act like once the magic number 18 is achieved, your child is no longer existent. Fuck you.
Not only did you make a million promises you did not keep, you left me DAD, you walked out the door and found yourself a pre-fab-family, then you forgot all about me and made them your 2nd chance! Those kids grew up loving the fact that they have 2 fathers, and now an extra grandfather to their kids. Do you ever wonder how your biological daughter feels about not having a father at all, or your biological grand daughter wondering why she has a grandfather, but he never talks to her or sees her or sends her cards on her birthday? FUCK YOU. I often wonder how my life would have been had you died from taking my penicillin instead of your percocet on the plane that day... what a convenient oversight it was for you to be having an allergic reaction in the hospital while I was running the streets of Oakland at 15. I've always had a knack for finding ways to have my kinda fun.
I made my amends and you claimed that you too had made some changes and found your own program and way of life, funny how nothing has changed for you and I, but what a great man you are today. When holidays come, use your fucking head... I don't want your fucking photographs of your family and your happy life. I don't want to hear about the wonderful family vacations you've taken with my grandmother, aunts, uncles, or cousins. I don't want to know about how much better a Dadda you are to someone else's kids, or "grand kids"... You have ONE grand daughter, you piece of shit, you didn't even bother to acknowledge her when planning for your mother's 80th birthday celebration. YOU sure as fuck don't want to hear how I struggle every day of my life with the strength to not put a bullet in my own fucking head. Yeah Daddy, just like you did when I was a little girl, I sit in the dark on the edge of my bed contemplating suicide. Thanks for the inheritance, shove it up your fucking ass. I should blow my brains out all over your dining room during your beautiful loving family's Christmas dinner!
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