Dirty Laundry Blog: 7/14/2015 PANIC AND DOOM

What happens to people when nothing is valued or earned? When everything becomes materialistic and disposable? How do we convey the satisfaction of working toward something to entitled children who only demand more?

What about when we aren't perfect, when we're tired, when we've worked our fingers to the bone for 30 plus years and don't have a damn thing to show for it? We've lost it all once, twice, or so many times we can't remember... but we're still drawing a breath so we ought to be grateful?

What do we do when we can go no further? When every fiber of our being screams for us to stop? When we can't endure another rant, whimper, vent, whine, bitch, moan, grown, tantrum, crisis or teardrop? When we realize nobody is interested in listening to our shit? When we wake up to the reality that it's everyone for themselves, and we've given everything we had so freely?

What do we have when we learn that love is a lie? When our self esteem is mutilated by the toxic bastards who gave us life? When we treat our partners like hostages? When we trade secrets on how to take without giving? When we pride ourselves on coming out on top and it means leaving another human being face down in our wake?

What does it mean when we cry for no reason? When we find pleasure in unpleasant thoughts? When we just can't do the every day tasks that we're supposed to do? When routine becomes such a fucking grueling chore that we would rather jump off a building and call it a day?

What do we do as people whose employers keep demanding more and we've got nothing left to give? When our souls are bought and sold and traded on the open market for their profit? When physical labor and skilled trades were once the bedrock of our civilization, now looked down upon like peasantry from the eyes of a prince?

What do we do when we've been to hell and back during life? When we've made amends and apologies? When we've learned to forgive and to live better and to lead others by positive example? When we can barely hold onto what little hope we have left? When our own simple ideology has no place in the prison-like world we've been sentenced to? When our recipe for happiness is ruined by the vile mephitis of decay? When we force ourselves to deny what we know in our hearts is true?

The grim fact that a foul stench is all that remains of a culture's morality.

What the fuck do we do?

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.

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?

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?

I spend a lot of time thinking about:

Things that might not need to be thought about. However, when I try to control my thinking, my thinking gets out of control... Which leads to chaos and results in a tsunami of random unthinkable thoughts...

Despicable and inhuman

The human race is a cunning civilization, while presenting as kind and gentle, not all are as we seem. Of course we know that obvious good and evil exists. However there are some members of this race that are despicable and inhuman, even cancerous to our very society. Upon first glance, and even during a longer, in depth examination, they appear no different from the rest of us. If you try to speak with them, nothing seems unusual or raises any concern. In fact, regardless of the conversation, you will get whatever it is you need to hear from them. Behind the facade, what you don't see out in the open, is that these monsters are everywhere. They are simply not uncommon, never questioned, never seeming the least bit out of place, as though they've been camouflaged into the backdrop of life. Yet secretly, and silently, they are running rampant through all of our lifestyles, habitats, and environments. Feeding their insatiable appetites as a parasite would on any trace of healthy existence. Appearing so much like the rest of us, we never suspect the source of such devastation could be living among us, contributing to our communities, teaching our children, serving our family dinner, even sleeping beside us. Yet they are, and without our knowledge, they are exposing and exploiting every weakness possible. They are gaining immense strength over us all and all that we have and we take for granted. The fierce determination of these insidious creatures to deplete us of all resources is as if there were profit to be made from the pain, suffering, or even death, of their own kind.

Part of a letter to my father

I informed my father of my recent stay at a local psychiatric hospital. I'd been depressed, isolating, and cutting... two of my friends had intervened and I was hospitalized. He wrote back and admitted to some very similar feelings and thoughts that he has struggled with all his life, this was his 63rd birthday, and the first time that we had achieved such a meaningful and personal level of conversation, part of my response was this:

As for psycho-pharmacology... I won't take meds. 

After the last medical horror show I went through, I can't justify putting man-made chemicals into my bloodstream any more. I was doing very well maintaining a healthy medium with increased stability between highs and lows for a significant period of time when placing Omega 3's, B-Complex vitamins, going organic at times, and avoiding fast food, processed foods, and preservatives. I've researched it and worked with holistic nutritionists in the past and found that it CAN work for ME.

More silently I will add, I am very much anti-government, anti-big-pharma, and anti-religion, let the record reflect that I am also anti-Alex Jones and his crazy cohorts... I simply won't be a slave to anyone's agendas real or fantasized. I have high anxiety around fanatical groups, sometimes anxiety is our minds way of saying, "Get the hell away from this"... I've come to believe only about half of what I see and none of what I hear until I've proven it to myself... and you know it's true about me, I'll burn my hand on the same hot stove 365 ways until I either admit defeat or find the my own way in (never the easier, softer way).

Regarding your admission of your own tormented mind, that comforts me quite a bit. We all know my mother would never admit to "feeling" anything that would prevent her from keeping up appearances. What you've shared with me helps, primarily I can't really feel so all alone in this... and like you, it's often that I do. Even when I meet another person who feels like I do, or is wired like me, it's hard to set appropriate boundaries or establish roles in my life or theirs.   Did you know??? >> Some studies have shown that when adults whose IQ's differ by more than 10 points are in a close working environment, relationship, or cohabitation: One or both may exhibit anxiety or discomfort, one or both may feel disconnected or out of place, at times they may even become hostile toward one another. I can absolutely identify with this, (especially when the thought is that I am surrounded by idiots) however this information doesn't always lead me to healthy behavior, as it is typical of me to believe that I'm the superior brain... At that point (if I'm not mindful), I will find myself falling down a rabbit hole of less than ideal behaviors and/or attitudes such as: manipulation, extortion, egomania, delusions of grandeur, or just allow me to come off as a pretentious douche that nobody wants to be around. Uncle Rick made mention of Mimi teaching him not to take himself too seriously. I think that this is the message that I needed to hear, I don't know about you, but I sure can be INTENSE at times ('specially when I think I'm wicked smaht).

I've determined that simple words like "SHOULD" cause me more harm than good when reflecting back on my own choices or actions. "I should know better, I should have done this or I shouldn't have done that". Facts are facts, done is done, time moves forward and nothing can be UNdone. So what I can take away from it and apply to make even the smallest change in my life TODAY is what separates me from the clinically or criminally INSANE. The word is also problematic when dealing with others. "She should know better, she should have done this, she should do that"... Who the hell am I to comment on what anyone else should or shouldn't do, I can barely manage my own life, there is no rule book, what makes me think I've got all the answers to making life "right"...? I need to focus on keeping my own side of the street clean and forget finding fault in everyone else. I've got a lifetime of shortcomings to work on. Amazingly enough, this has allowed me to find forgiveness and to let go of resentment toward others AND sometimes even myself. However my feelings of failure and worthlessness, can be overwhelming and paralyzing, this is the stuff that feeds my isolation and self soothing, it's as if my mind is holding me captive on the inside and torturing me on the outside.

That's the shit that they diagnose as, "BPD" Borderline Personality Disorder (which is treatable without medication) and that's truly in my opinion the issue at the core of my Bipolar and other "psychiatric disorders".

So as you can see, I'm kind of bright, even though I deliberately used and abused street drugs as a way to burn out my brain so that I could be just like everyone else. I write... A LOT... it's my healthiest outlet (except when I don't sleep for days because the words flow from my brain to my fingertips like they are right now).

You know the field or psychology, Dad. Removing your personal connection to me from your mind entirely, you can't actually say that there is something "seriously wrong" with the things I've shared above, or the way that I'm able to articulate or present myself, can you?

Which is precisely the reason I've been brushed aside and overlooked.

However...

When all of the above exists, I've isolated from the outside world so long I can't open my door or answer my phone, I'm wavering in and out of consciousness while causing myself physical harm, dismissing or disengaging myself from some or all of my personal responsibilities for extended periods of time, or even going to extraordinary lengths to secretly cause harm to an unsuspecting victim while making them believe that I am their only trusted friend twisting their perception and turning them against their faith, families, or employers... The diagnosis becomes far different and more serious, doesn't it?

How hard is it to diagnose a person who has "never been caught" or never acted on outrageous impulses as Passive Aggressive, or with Antisocial Personality Disorder?

I've developed this obsession with finding patterns. For the purpose of prevention, my entire manner of being has changed from reactive to proactive and I believe that it is a result of my need to be well and to feel safe.

I desperately needed to come forward and seek help because [upon admitting the truth about events from my past to myself, coming to understand some of the "why's" around my preferences and tendencies throughout all of my diverse social circles, reflecting honestly on my behavior] I began to identify patterns, I began recognizing what I may be capable of, I began to FEAR what might happen if I took my emotional health for granted... Like an out of shape heart patient deciding to train for a 5k race, I suddenly became invested in my own emotional fitness.

So while the past 16 weeks of my life seem to have manifested as this "Perfect Storm" of events... All hope is not lost. I'm where I belong, and I will remind myself at the times that I feel I am smarter than the professionals, it's only because I've lived with the shit they read about in text books and I've managed to locate the other side, and now I need to rely on their outside knowledge and experience as I would an extended hand to help to pull me through.

Something tells me this is the beginning of a new leg in my journey. One that I'm becoming ready to face.

Ummm, I Didn't get the Memo... What happened Here? Who Changed the Rules?

Conforming to what I see everyday as society's acceptable way of life is the most depraved act that I can comprehend for myself at this moment. I am more likely to take my own life, as the I cannot seem to comprehend the way we've come to dismiss human decency, being considerate of others, doing the right thing, committing acts of kindness, having humility, and a living by a some sort of moral code. 

I was taught very young to treat people the way I would like them to treat me. In summer camp, in preschool, this was referred to as "the Golden Rule", I took it literally, and I've always tried to keep it at the front of my thought process when dealing with people. I am not a true threat to others, as being homicidal would mean that I wish to hurt another human being, and I am not generally seeking relief from my own pain through the suffering of another person. When another person wrongs me, I most often blame myself. Of course, there are times when the harm they caused was in fact, cold and calculated, when it was blatant and malicious. In these cases I am usually out for blood, I can visualize myself doing horrific things to them. I suppose there could be a "perfect storm" scenario where every element was just so, I could snap and commit murder, however what usually winds up happening is that the reality in knowing that carrying out the act would affect innocent people connected to my victim, saddens me deeply and the rage turns inward... and again, it's me that deserves to hurt. I deserve to suffer, I am not worthy of anything better, and because of this I can't go on.

Suicide is ALWAYS in my mind. However, the way I see it, is final. This means "lights out", one last time around with the same old repetitive bullshit, and game over. 
I was shocked by a mental health "professional" who stated that I could not be truly suicidal. This absurd statement was backed by my lack of a very specific fantasy surrounding the details of my death (method) AND the logistics of my funeral, who would be there, what they might say or think, or how sorry they would be. I don't care about how I do it, when the time comes and I know I am ready, if I'm driving I will drive into a tree, if I'm walking I might hurl myself over an overpass, or off a cliff, or off a roof, or into a train, I could slice my own throat, or get a gun, or OD on drugs, I really am not concerned with the HOW, so much as the getting to the fastest, most efficient means to an END.
There are no details after the lights go out. I have to wonder why anyone who was TRULY wanting to end their own life would bother to fantasize about what happens after they are dead. Are they doing it to spite or hurt someone else? Are they trying to prove a point? That seems more insane in my mind than the person who just simply wants to get off the fucking ride, and get away from this rigged carnival game once and for all.

My childhood isn't the issue, it was the same old sordid tale of deception we all bring to the table, nothing better or worse than any other person who comes to a therapist at 40 years old. There was no memorable, traumatic, or catastrophic event to mark my discovery of the truth when I was 7. Yet this was the very moment where the first pin was inserted, all faith was lost, the fuse had been lit and set of the rapid spiral of anger, self injurious behavior, depression, rage, impending doom, night terrors, bed wetting, self loathing,  cutting, attempting suicide, overeating, sneaking out, running away, dishonesty, profanity, promiscuity, drugs, alcohol, crime, violence, disrespect for authority, and overall distrust in man. Nothing more than your run of the mill, textbook example of Borderline Personality Disorder.

My adult life is a whirlwind of emotional peaks and valleys,  my childhood and reckless teen years brought to light a court ordered diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. It was not until my 30's that I would find this diagnosis to be so undeniably accurate, yet I defy doctors who insist upon medicating me with modern methods. There is no way in hell that I will allow even the smallest dose of chemical pharmacology into my life ever again. 

When on those medications I had no desire, no creativity, no imagination, no ambition, no drive, no motivation, no will to succeed or to improve on anything, no self worth, no sense of individuality. I could not draw, and I used to draw very well. I almost never had any desire to write, and when i did, there was no feeling in what I wrote. Since I was able to hold a crayon or pencil, drawing and writing have gone hand in hand as the most important things in the world to me.
I was also physically unhealthy with numerous side effects from medications. The worse would affect my renal and cardiovascular health. Other drugs would impact my joints and my muscles. To top off the effects of these medicines that were supposed to "help level out my moods" would be a devastating unhappiness, not a depression per se, instead I described it as more of a feeling of involuntary isolation. Being trapped or suffocated inside of a bubble of synthetic material, like my brain chemistry and nervous system had been taken hostage and had been suspended in mid-air, in the warehouse of some aftermarket manufacturer's lab, a stagnant, purgatorial state of chemical neutrality. 
All of this was supposed to "help me cope" with life, yet I had no feeling, I could not feel my feelings at all, I wasn't able to  become aroused, or enlightened. Perhaps to my benefit, I was never angry... Nor could I feel excitement, I was internally irritated but couldn't feel enough externally to do anything to alleviate it, I was unable to cry or to even produce tears. This was not LIVING, it was less than even merely EXISTING in anyway that I would deem acceptable for myself.
My goal was to LIVE among the rest of society accepting things as they are, embracing what I have, who I am, how I am wired, without having to absorb such an extreme impact when those very specific times when my stressors, or triggers, or behaviors, seemed to flip that switch inside of me. I needed alternative ways to LEARN so that I could ADJUST my behaviors and reactions, I did NOT need brain altering chemicals.

I seem to do well for shorter periods of time when I am single, much longer periods when I am in a relationship and have another human being to be considerate of. I don't know if I am lying to myself when I say it's not about a driven desire or need to take care of or manage another person's needs. Could I be the poster child or the epitome of codependency? Or is it possible that I'm merely sadistic and  prove more productive when in a position of power over others, and in turn need to have a hostage?!
From a deeper level that feels more raw and honest to me, I feel that this trend centers mostly around my need to have a defined role in life and in the life of someone else. My desire to fulfill that role the way that I've envisioned it's, "supposed to be" with all of the kindness and honesty and respect I've never been given but always wanted in return. *The Golden Rule*
However, as things don't run smoothly as I see them in the movie playing in the back of my mind, when I cannot force them to work MY WAY... I've taken inventory while reviewing my past and I will agree definitively that I do tend to exhibit those nasty passive aggressive traits of a sociopath.

It seems that because I draw from a variety of past experience in efforts to make informed and intelligent decisions, that I don't believe anything I am told by anyone. It has become part of my nature to investigate everything and everyone sometimes to degrees far beyond necessary. If I do not find data contrary to their claims, but I'm still not comfortable allowing them "in", I will remain "on the fence" and be "guarded" throughout the early weeks or months of a new relationship. I really stay this way for a long time, I don't ever "feel" assured, I certainly don't know when or how or who to put trust my trust in. So I have begun to lie to myself and to those who love me. I paint a picture of romance and chivalry, kindness, courtesy, and eventually I believe these lies, not entirely, but enough to carry on the facade of a "healthy relationship". It's not easy to distinguish the red flags of instinct from the flashbacks of "last time" when faced with the idea of letting my guard down.

Although I knew deep inside that I had been embellishing my association with a less than mediocre acquaintance, I used to use a myriad of impulsive behaviors to my benefit when self soothing the hurt.  I'm sure that I did indeed set myself up for a great deal of the pain, as I can see that I have again lied to myself in my own voice. I will pretend to believe these lies that I tell myself until they just don't work anymore. I've placed no value on family, I've forever felt doomed as the byproduct of 2 crazy parents and am overwrought with the most inconceivable guilt for the contribution that I've tossed onto the heap myself, my own child. What's MY fault and what's theirs and what's static and can never be improved upon? What's hereditary and what's behavioral? What CAN I make a difference in and what is out of my control? What's instinctive or primal and what's learned or taught?

I am very factual, literal, and logical, I learn things best when introduced methodologically and scientifically. Information comes to me through a perpetual flow of observational data collected by my receivers: eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and skin, combined with mental note-taking or eidetic snap shots. Based on what I know to be true, I am able to form a baseline. Further results from other areas are subject to reflective analysis and added to the baseline, and my list of facts. My evaluation of data gathered through other trial & error processes allows me to deduct and give reason to believe what I have found. 
Science shows us that these methods are appropriate. Yet I find myself surrounded by the nonchalant who see no issue with wasting time, burning out resources, and fail to recognize the value of this seemingly endless supply of uncollected data. I find most people are of this lackadaisical mindset, and with that, the most recent approach to learning about ways to better our lives and the best practices we use seems to be, "Just throw it all against the wall and see what sticks". 

As stated before, my mind works in a very literal sense. I mean exactly what I say, and I use a very clear and articulate method of delivering the message I desire to get across. Yet I am nearly always misunderstood. I am mind-blown by what seems to be an increase in stupidity all around me. Maybe it's not even stupidity, or certainly not from a an IQ perspective, perhaps it is deliberate, or worse even, an actual epidemic to settle for less. 
The lack of work ethic and follow through in our own lives, in our careers, lazy parenting, accepting behavior that traditionally would be considered otherwise unacceptable. These seem to be the new "standard". I'm criticized for my need to exceed these standards, and raise the bar. I am encouraged to sit back and not do so much. This is a lifestyle to which I am unable to conform. I can't gauge what is right and wrong anymore, I do what I feel is right, yet I am robbed by the person who chooses not to and I have not a leg to stand on when fighting to get back what was taken from me. I lose the fight because the thief was versed in exploiting whatever loopholes there were in the law as it has been written. I don't wish to know all of the loopholes, or even all of the laws. Where I come from we didn't have to, we were driven by a sort of moral code, written or unwritten, it was all based on my early programming with the this all important, "Golden Rule". 
Since it's the only baseline for everything I've ever known. Feeling as if my brain is clogged with convoluted bullshit, distrust in others, and smoke from the last flicker of hope for humanity blowing out on me. I just want it all to stop, I want for it to end forever. I do not wish to continue in a world so cold and dishonest and shallow and selfish anymore. Purposeful ignorance (we don't talk about the big elephant in the room) is all too common beginning at home and now it is evident in the workplace. People are either emotionally defeated or so lazy that they don't seem to care about delivering their best anymore, it is no longer a requirement. There is no real need to follow directions, rules, orders, or protocol in everyday life: 
>Customer Service is deplorable at almost every level in for every consumer. The goal is not to help the customer anymore, it's how fast you can get rid of them. So if the customer is still having a problem, tell them you are going to transfer them to a manager and just hang up on them, let the clock start for someone else when they call back in. 
>It's nearly impossible to get a simple cup of coffee made to order without a noticeable error. Even with computerized coffee machines and measuring systems at businesses that serve nothing but coffee!
>Doctors have no time for patients and lack a bedside manner altogether. They are paid to write prescriptions and push you out the door as fast as they can.
>Construction lacks craftsmanship. Craftsmanship costs too much time and cuts profits.
>Religion lacks sanctuary. Scandal in the name of the very God they're devoted to. Nothing is sacred.
>Everything is disposable. It's cheaper to buy new than fix what we've got. Even though "new" means lower quality.
>Personal Integrity has taken a back seat to social status. May the best liar win.
>Expressing feelings is no longer a sign of weakness, but a lack of boundaries. 
>Political correctness is to align society and label those who spoke up, only to be cast out, labeled, and medicated. 
>Children are empowered negotiate their demands with parents. This should prove interesting in the future! 

I feel like I woke up one day in a parallel universe.  Where everyone lives life accepting mediocrity under the, "Fuck It" philosophy, also known as "good enough", "average is still passing", "an ugly win is still a win". 

Have we been hypnotized as a society? Baited and switched with gadgetry and awed by technology? Distracted like children with video games and lollipops? Did "they" dumb us down? Who are "they" anyway? The government? China? Aliens?

How come I didn't get entranced like the others? Do I even have a purpose in life? Should I be doing something more advanced or complex? Have I wasted so much time on the things that didn't matter, that I am now stuck in this gloomy grey area? Is this the matrix? Was I supposed to take the red pill or drink some fucking Kool-Aid? Is any of this shit really happening? Is this some experiment or lesson in quantum theory or virtual reality? Am I really thinking freely or is this someone else's idea and I am merely their puppet or a character in a larger computer life simulation game?  Is my need to understand ultimately what's killing me? Is my drive to correct my mistakes feeding my frustration? I thought this was the right thing to do! Should I already know all of this stuff? Is it too late for me to grasp it? When will the lambs stop screaming? 

Historically Hindered: The Roles Will Eventually Roll, Full Circle

Let me be the first to admit that I was a spoiled, selfish, materialistic, child.

Was I born that way? NO. 

Did society help mold me? YES. 

Did my parents help enable that to happen? YES.

Did they do the best they could with what they had given the circumstances? YES.

Kids growing up a decade before me, and a decade after me appear to be at different ends of this spectrum. It's as if no parent knows how to relate to their own child today, because each generation is technologically advanced 10x over the last. For example: My parents didn't have color TV or Cable, so they couldn't relate to my addiction to shows. I didn't have internet or life-like video games, so I can't relate to my child's addiction to electronics. 

The word, "addiction" may appear to be used loosely in this case. However, in my recovery I have learned about how unmanageable my life became because of my addiction, and the loss of values that came with defending my right to have my vice. If a child isn't doing his homework or chores, if he is not eating, sleeping, bathing, or going to school, but rather playing online or gaming until all hours of the night... If he is lying about the amount of time he is engaged... If he is becoming combative when confronted, or physically aggressive when his "toys" are taken away... If his life is completely unmanageable due to the use and abuse of technology... Your child may be addicted. 

When I was a kid my parents had one TV in the whole house, we didn't even have cable until I was 14. However, even then I wasn't allowed to sit and watch TV, my parents had control. Kids today have smart phones, MP-3 players, e-readers, tablets, handheld video games, and portable DVD players. When I was a kid, no TV for a week was not a punishment, it was a way to get more into something else for a week, I was still allowed to listen to music on my stereo (the walk-man came later). Today, no gadgets for a week is next to impossible. The parents' frustration is mounting, yet excuses are ridiculous, "He needs it for school... I can't take his phone away, how will he reach me... I don't want him to feel like he doesn't have the things all the other kids have". Would we be saying the same thing if all the kids had crack pipes or syringes and the drugs to put in them? Of course not. But since I am the once active drug addict who became an adult with no life skills, and feeling like I was a decade behind my classmates... I believe I am qualified to recognize the ways my addiction will manifest in whatever behavior it can based on what is at my disposal. 

Does that mean all video game addicted kids will become crackheads? No, BUT if you anger one enough by taking away his toys, he may act out and if the wrong people are outside when he does, anything is possible. 

So why not home school our kids and keep them close to us at all times? That is how some choose to handle things, however are they gaining any life skills that way?

As a parent, I feel a moral obligation to teach my child good work ethic, hygiene, basic survival, basic financial, and basic interpersonal skills. This way at 18 if they wind up out in the real world, they can last a little while before realizing that they aren't so tough. That was my theory anyway, however there are always outside influences which can counteract your parental teachings, and this was my experience. 

I was busy doing drugs and destroying my credibility when my peers were building a foundation of life skills. I was barely able to support myself, when I became pregnant and forced to support another. I did give up drugs and alcohol the minute I suspected that this was the case. I did a really great job as a mother for the first seven or so years. Everyone who knew me would agree. In the beginning, I lived with my mother, who would continuously under mind me, she would wake the baby from a sound sleep to play with her when she got home from work at night. We would fight, and we did, constantly. So I conditioned myself to leave as soon as my mother arrived every night. The only place I could go was the bar... and even then I wouldn't drink hardly ever. I would have a soda and a late dinner and my "friends" would show up. I did this every night and weekends I was rarely home at all, because the toxicity between my mother and I was too high to subject a baby to.

Before I knew it, my mother was retired, I was working 2nd shift, and control of my child was lost. This became more clear when I moved out and enrolled my kid in school, the behavior issues began, the hygiene issues began, the eating and TV control issues began. The kid had way more stamina than I had patience. The school, the police, therapists, everyone was involved, because I had asked for help. The battle became harder to win when I took my weekends and used them as a way to escape. My mother took my kid and I got high. The length of the weekend got longer and longer, soon my mother would be making a 40 minute commute daily to my child's school and I didn't even live in the town anymore.

Roughly 3 years later, I made a conscious effort to rebuild my life, beginning with my addiction. I was homeless, jobless, penniless. I was not allowed in my mother's home, my father was not speaking to me, my true friends had washed their hands of me, and my new friends, well most of them were dead or in prison by now. I begged forgiveness of my child, and my mother, I went into the hospital for a while, sober living, therapy, 3 meetings a day. Finally the words of forgiveness were spoken. I thought I was making progress, however, these were only words, the words that I wanted to hear, no less. There was no meaning behind the words, no truth, no love, no merit, and no ACTION. The relationship with my mother became increasingly volatile, my 12 year old has discovered the internet, video games, and junk food. I tried to invoke my motherly duties and try to  steer the ship back on course, however my good intentions were met with resentment and resistance. These feelings simmered in a pressure cooker for another 6 years. While I was working on me, building a foundation of the skills I missed out on in my youth, my child was stewing with bitter anger toward me and there was no healing taking place at all. A high school drop out, spending all time time on the internet and playing video games with friends and never even bothered to get a driver's license, personal hygiene had become deplorable. My enabling mother continued to bankroll the whole operation.

When my child turned 18 the muscle flexing began, there was no way to avoid the verbal onslaught which I would receive. It's been months now and our relationship is at an all time low, however I have done far too much work on myself and my life to allow anyone to use or abuse me at any time. This includes my own child. She resents the way I try to help her assimilate her lack of enthusiasm toward growing up to the same underlying illness which feeds my addiction. The person is different, the symptom is different, however the disease is the same. The anger, the rage, the finger pointing and the blame, all comes from fear and uncertainty, right now it is all aimed at me.

There comes a time when we all realize the best outcome of a losing battle happens when the person with the greatest arsenal simply walks away. I feel emancipated and physically, I feel healthier, almost as if I have overcome a great illness. I feel no guilt, no shame, and I harbor no ill will. I live with a lighter heart, my family doesn't define me, and their lack of love will not condemn me. I am free today.

The Human Oxymoron

I am an egomaniac with an inferiority complex. I appear tough, strong, in control, calm, cool, and collected, but inside I'm crippled with fear, doubt, and insecurity on a reckless and wild roller coaster of dysfunction and pure mayhem. I find pleasure in pain. I treat the loneliness of my own depression with still more isolation. I keep people at arms length yet become saddened that no one ever gets close to me. I appear to be independent, yet I'm co-dependent to an extreme, only secure when taking care of someone else. I want to be recognized, but do not want to be watched. When I am right, all should take notice, when I am wrong, all should take cover. I hate my parents, yet desperately seek their approval. I'm disgusted by the opposite sex, and still desperately yearn for that fairy tale of happily ever after companionship. I build walls but have no boundaries. Trust no one, but tell everyone everything about me. I've been labeled as bipolar, bisexual, ambidextrous, passive aggressive, anti social, and yet I'm a social butterfly. I enjoy serenity and am attracted to chaos. I'm a loner, but I'm popular. I'm overworked and underpaid, an addict, a gambler, a stunt driver, a negotiator, an artist, and a muse. I am a best friend and a worst enemy. Let me talk you in or out of anything. I can steal your wallet and help you look for it. I'm born to help and full of hurt, therefore any behavior, substance, or lifestyle that produces enough pleasure to take ME out of me for even a split second... I will become instantly addicted to, constantly chasing any and all feelings of relief to the end of the line, as though I'm on a quest to discover the meaning of life.

Every single part of my life is an extreme in one way or another. I want everything in an instant, or I want nothing at all, I seek absolute perfection or see grounds for immediate dismissal. I am considered overqualified, yet I fall short and will almost ALWAYS underachieve. I am the epitome of spoiled, a textbook example of the purest childish entitlement, this stubborn "all or nothing" attitude. My thermostat is completely off or on the highest temperature, the volume of music has to be turned to the max. I take the hottest showers, and drink the coldest coffee, I barely nap during the day, and stay up all night. I want nothing more than to get to the point, so I find myself reading books and directions backwards. I know better than anyone, I even under-mind my GPS. I make lists but never use them. My best intentions ALWAYS yield the worst results. I detest and repudiate from the rules, instinctively break laws, undoubtedly resist management, defy government, debunk religion, shun politics, and nix the teachings of the like. I abide by my own principles based on logic and my personal experience and knowledge of all of the above. I  live to challenge the so-called experts. I will argue semantics just to make you second guess yourself. I adamantly reject any notion to conform, I subscribe to virtually nothing, I've adopted no trends, I cannot follow blindly like a sheep. I don't smoke nor believe in modern American medicine, I refuse to conform or to be enslaved by the inconvenient conveniences of modern society or anyone else's selfish, self righteous agendas.