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.

At the Intersection of Perspective & Perception: Things Aren't Always Clear

What we see in our own eyes... 

We have little or no reason to doubt. There is no thought of placing question on the validity or our view. Barring of course, some neuro-scientific issue with regard to hallucinations.
We have all seen something or at the very least, thought that we did, it may have been off in the distance. We did not question it, as it appeared to fit the rest of the scene or simply make sense in the moment. Yet as we moved in closer our sights adjusted and we came to realize that it wasn't what we had thought it was at all. 

Do you ever wonder if these things are more than bad eyesight? Perhaps a warped insight? Is your twisted brain feeding your mind's eye? Is it possible for the objects themselves to morph as we get closer or farther away to or from them?

If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it does it make a sound? Of course it does, if it makes a sound in front of me it will make a sound when I am not there. How ridiculous, or even arrogant a thought is it that a human needs to be around to witness an event in order to acknowledge that it ever happened? Yet that is our arrogant nature. We are so simple at times we don't consider any species but our own when we scratch our heads with such absurd wonder.

Perspective is our view, the actual angle or vantage point that we see things from. Perception is how our mind translates that view to us. Think about this concept and sight specific instances when you were seeing a far different picture than others or that the final outcome. Now how extreme was the case? For me, the differences between my perception and reality have been radically disconnected, dangerous at times, perhaps even deadly. I realized my mind was trying to kill me when I was about seven years old. I didn't know how to harness it, I didn't know how to protect myself from it. I've spent a lifetime learning, and today I've taught myself how to live with it. I've addressed the depths of my innermost wildly vivid, yet unorthodox imagination, I've pretty much come to embrace it. I am convinced that this is my mind, someday it may be what defines me, nonetheless, it will remain with me for the long haul.

Discovering that my perspective differs greatly from my perception, I have also found that I actually have a level of control within the situation. Not in changing it, but in changing how I see it. The more I know, the more likely I will make an informed decision in what I might do. So changing my stance or vantage point, is like adding perspectives. Looking at things more openly, widening my lens helps me to obtain a much more open perception. For me, a variety of angles are needed prior to coming up with a definitive solution to potential obstacles or issues which may present themselves along the way for me. In my experience, to effectively plan something can be very difficult. I am overwhelmed with the infinite combinations of variables. There is uncertainty and clarity needed, especially when there is someone else reliant upon my direction. I need to step back, climb higher, familiarize myself with the terrain, and remain agile in my mind and on my feet when these variables do arise to potentially push me off course. When any one of my five senses are incorporated with the perspectives that I allow, processing becomes easier. I feel more confident in my responses, reactions, and intuitively knowing my next steps. 

There were days when my decisions were made with reckless abandon. I placed no thought in long term effects or damage. Things were chaotic, but since I never faced anything, that was just fine with me. Throwing caution to the wind creates great anxiety to me today. I feel that learning how to recognize the difference between my perspective and perception, has helped me to explain why things are not always as they seem for me. I also believe that if I have something specific on my mind, whether it be consciously or subconsciously, the image created for my perception can often be a result of just that. I have a tendency to believe the lies that I tell myself. Therefor it is very important to check myself, my motivation, and my state of mind before believing what I think that I see. 

Should I someday decide to "let go" so that I may simply "accept" that life just "is what it is" and ignore my need to pursue other viewpoints, I wonder and worry about how dangerous things might actually become for me. I have this fear that if I submit I will die. I'm terrified of what the challenges my mind is presenting me. Perhaps one day I look out and believe that I see a long road ahead when in reality it's the edge of a high cliff that I am about to drive off of? 

An example of how my mind is playing tricks on me is illustrated here while I was walking to an important appointment at a local place that I'd never been to. I could see it up ahead, only about 1000 feet away. Although I could barely make out the dog sitting on the front porch, I was comforted in knowing they had a dog at this place. My vantage point was too far to see clearly enough to be able to recognize what breed the dog might be. As I got closer to it, I noticed it's behavior, it was not moving, the image still rather fuzzy. I suddenly felt somewhat puzzled and even a bit frightened. Immediately my thought process and inner dialogue goes to, "Why isn't this dog moving? Surely he can see me coming at this point, is he blind? But wait he would be able to hear me, unless he is deaf too. Wow, this old deaf blind dog sure sits pretty rigid at his age and deteriorated condition. Oh that's stupid, this dog is not deaf, blind, or old, he's studying my movements." 

I was increasingly frightened at this point because I was approaching a dog that wasn't barking or moving or wagging it's tail. "A dog that isn't moving must be ready to attack. This dog was getting ready to maul me". 

I wanted to whistle or call out to it, but was afraid that it would come running at me. As I continued to get closer, my other senses kicked in, I know what it's like to live with dogs, I did not smell dog shit, or notice anything in the area that reminded me of having dogs in the past. The lawn wasn't patchy or stained. I listened carefully, and thought to myself, "This dog is so still, it's not even growling". I stepped to the right about 8 or 10 feet and continued to watch the dog, his head did not turn I squinted and adjusted my glasses, but I was still too far to identify what this beast on the porch was up to. When it registered to my logical mind that which I had already identified... This dog did not follow me with it's head when I stepped off to the right. It was not even staring at me, I began to feel safer yet more confused, questioning whether I was even looking at a dog. Nothing was making sense anymore.

I brought myself forward, closer to the porch, the dog suddenly disappeared from my thoughts. Understanding my own mind, not unlike the Matrix... I realized that once my perception made no sense, my brain sent emergency calls to my other senses ordering a full investigation of the matter. Suddenly mind went blank. It was if my signals had gotten jammed and my mental website had crashed. Following a quick mental reboot, my brain had re-engaged as it was wired to. It was now impossible for my mind to be able to manufacture an image of a dog. I am close enough now, everything comes into focus at once, within an instant I could see clearly that it was not a dog at all I had been fixated on, but a potted plant. 

A sense of horror came over me, "What the hell is wrong with me? How could I believe that I see something so clearly yet so absolutely and radically far from reality?" Then the thought came to mind, "I love dogs, perhaps I was feeling apprehensive about going to this place upon arrival, and my mind's eye projected an image of a dog to lure me closer...? Regardless, of the why, I made it closer to the porch." I needed to rest and analyze the thousand foot journey. "Was it the angle I approached the situation from? Was it my eyesight? Could it just be the distance that I was originally viewing the plant from? Or had there actually been a dog on the front porch when I got there, that turned itself into a potted plant right before my eyes?" The truth is it doesn't matter at all. My brain and my mind joined forces and worked together when I needed it most. There is no reason for me not to trust my own mind, everything works properly, it's the thinking that is going to take me down!

Things in my mind no longer seem to make sense. Maybe we really ARE living in a virtual reality, maybe there is a Matrix, maybe I see only what my mind and my programming allow, and occasionally some free range thoughts creep in, perhaps they are fragments and remnants of that which was conducive to the survival of the previous inhabitants of this vessel? Could it be true? Am I exactly where I am supposed to be right here, right now, present in this very moment, right down to this very breath?

All it Takes is ONE Difference of Opinion

And I ponder....

How many people have to believe something for it to be considered, "public opinion"?

Is this based on TV News and propaganda, on people who believe without question, those who follow the herd...?

When the world was believed to be flat, WHO'S belief was that? Did "leaders" use that as a scare tactic to control the masses, and keep people under their power, or had we not evolved enough to wonder or dream or have the desire to look beyond the life that we were living, or the land mass that we were living on?

In a world of infinite choices, options, luxuries, colors, and flavors, and styles, and MORE... I can see that it all had to start with a non-conforming idea...
Yet we consider the visionary to be insane...

The mere definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result...

STILL throughout civilization we shun those who see things differently until we jump on and ride the coattails of their success.

Technology's Curse

My own nagging suspicions and fears of myself were confirmed when reflecting back upon a brief conversation with a dating prospect who voiced an opinion regarding email, online chat, and text messaging. He spoke of how technology seemed to promote social awkwardness. There have actually been studies to substantiate this, I do agree as I know that it is true. In a number of people, just not me. Knowing what I do about people (other than myself of course) it's not at all something I would want to argue. My ego only allows me to half listen to any general statement of opinion made, and if it doesn't immediately strike a chord within me, I won't remember it for long, unless of course, I am using it to criticize someone else. This is a clear example of my inability to see the apple on my own head. When it finally registered, however long afterward, I realize that not only am I one likely to fall subject to social awkwardness and anxiety. I realize that I am perhaps the ideal specimen for such a clinical presentation.

          I ask myself regularly and out loud, "What the hell am I doing?" While returning to the harsh reality of my insanity, again I chase this rapacious, unforgiving and rapidly spiraling, perpetual, ultra-manic, mind-fuck... time and time again. It seemed to intensify greatly, and would appear to have changed direction rather unexpectedly at some point in the last few months. (Perhaps "seasonal affective disorder", or simply the painful reminder of loneliness that springtime brings about when all of the animals are mating, and the birds are singing, and the people are wearing significantly less clothing).

          I am the same woman used to meet new guys and either make friends with them or bed them down within a matter of minutes. Sex is not a hard thing to achieve, regardless of body type, age, etc. It's about confidence, and I never lacked in that area. I still have several men who call or who I can call at any time, however when I think of what I really want, I become disgusted with men, well not all men. It's the "regulars" that bore me, I want someone new, and I search the internet, and I chat and I email and I text and before I know it, I am overcome with insecurity and fear, doubt, distrust, anxiety. I am in isolation, all alone, depressed, suicidal, self loathing, I am suddenly feeling physically and emotionally paralyzed, simply put, I am stuck in my own way. 

Those who know me can confirm that I was NEVER as outwardly insecure or confused about any part of life until recently. It's as if I have suffered a head injury, or burned my brain cells. I need to put down the cyber crack and get back to being the emotionally shallow, yet happy, intelligent, secure, confident, REAL person that I used to be. Another friend, one who I may actually be "in love" with and just not know, stated so eloquently, "Is it possible that you always were insecure and fearful, but you covered it up with drugs and alcohol and bad behavior for so long that you really can't (or don't want to) remember who you are? Maybe now your sober mind and body are not allowing you to continue with the exhausting facade you put on that nearly killed you." OUCH, that's a true friend, calling me on my shit, stomping out my dramatic woe is me damsel in distress act, and forcing me to look inward for the truth.

        I do have a valid need and a rather intense thirst for connection with people who stimulate my mind like this. I am intolerant of mediocrity, which stems from my own underachievement, and I have no pity for fools, as I have been acting like one for so long, myself. As my own silent criticism mirrors back to me, my vision becomes clearer into my own behavior and tendencies.

         I lie to myself and say that my preference is NOT a quest for the coveted holy grail called love, knowing that I have no idea how to be a part of a healthy relationship. My disease tells me I am not worthy at this time, so I should perish the concept and simply chase my more carnal desires, go for satisfying the insatiable, self seeking, instant gratification, through the more primitive, physical, immediate fix. Just like drugs, my mind romanticizes the lies that I tell myself, like the one that says, "I just want amazing, ongoing sex, I just wanna fuck. I wanna fuck one person who I know is cool, I want to trust that person enough to explore my darkest sexual boundaries and push me beyond them. Generally, I trust no one, not even family has earned my trust. This kinda trust doesn't have to be deep, I just need to know when I say stop, he'll stop, and when I say no, he won't force me. Other than that, this is where I am at. I don't want a label, I don't want a status, I want to explore with my hands, my tongue, my nose, all of my senses and my entire body, and just see what the hell happens." How is this not a relationship, how does this not turn into mixed feelings of confusion, lust, love, and more fear of rejection?

            This veracity is often as terrifying to a man as opening up my emotional floodgates and pouring out my shortcomings. Fuck all my whiny insecurities! Look at me, again, I am in isolation. I have been hiding behind this keyboard and screen writing incessantly about me, my feelings, my fears, my everything, while holding back from the more impulsive acts that fuel my very being. I am becoming terrified to leave my own home. I am scared to death of new people, relationships, love, and commitment. I enjoy sex and friendship, but it fucks with my mind, or it becomes a drug that I use to medicate my mood, combine that realization with the ability to be anyone I want to be online and paint any picture I choose, real or fake... DANGER, I'm likely to become the same junky I was, without a needle. I need to get back out there and be human again, I need to be seen, and feel real, and surround myself with life, all walks and aspects of life, once again, I need to be a part of the world again.

*****************

˙uıɐbɐ pןɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇɹɐd ɐ ǝq oʇ pǝǝu ı 'uıɐbɐ ǝɔuo 'ǝɟıן ɟo sʇɔǝdsɐ puɐ sʞןɐʍ ןןɐ 'ǝɟıן ɥʇıʍ ɟןǝsʎɯ punoɹɹns puɐ 'ןɐǝɹ ןǝǝɟ puɐ 'uǝǝs ǝq oʇ pǝǝu ı 'uıɐbɐ uɐɯnɥ ǝq puɐ ǝɹǝɥʇ ʇno ʞɔɐq ʇǝb oʇ pǝǝu ı ˙ǝןpǝǝu ɐ ʇnoɥʇıʍ 'sɐʍ ı ʎʞunظ ǝɯɐs ǝɥʇ ǝɯoɔǝq oʇ ʎןǝʞıן ɯ,ı 'ɹǝbuɐp ˙˙˙ǝʞɐɟ ɹo ןɐǝɹ 'ǝsooɥɔ ı ǝɹnʇɔıd ʎuɐ ʇuıɐd puɐ ǝuıןuo ǝq oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı ǝuoʎuɐ ǝq oʇ ʎʇıןıqɐ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ uoıʇɐzıןɐǝɹ ʇɐɥʇ ǝuıqɯoɔ 'pooɯ ʎɯ ǝʇɐɔıpǝɯ oʇ ǝsn ı ʇɐɥʇ bnɹp ɐ sǝɯoɔǝq ʇı ɹo 'puıɯ ʎɯ ɥʇıʍ sʞɔnɟ ʇı ʇnq 'dıɥspuǝıɹɟ puɐ xǝs ʎoظuǝ ı ˙ʇuǝɯʇıɯɯoɔ puɐ 'ǝʌoן 'sdıɥsuoıʇɐןǝɹ 'ǝןdoǝd ʍǝu ɟo ɥʇɐǝp oʇ pǝɹɐɔs ɯɐ ı ˙ǝɯoɥ uʍo ʎɯ ǝʌɐǝן oʇ pǝıɟıɹɹǝʇ buıɯoɔǝq ɯɐ ı ˙buıǝq ʎɹǝʌ ʎɯ ןǝnɟ ʇɐɥʇ sʇɔɐ ǝʌısןndɯı ǝɹoɯ ǝɥʇ ɯoɹɟ ʞɔɐq buıpןoɥ ǝןıɥʍ 'buıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ ʎɯ 'sɹɐǝɟ ʎɯ 'sbuıןǝǝɟ ʎɯ 'ǝɯ ʇnoqɐ ʎןʇuɐssǝɔuı buıʇıɹʍ uǝǝɹɔs puɐ pɹɐoqʎǝʞ sıɥʇ puıɥǝq buıpıɥ uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ ı ˙uoıʇɐןosı uı ɯɐ ı 'uıɐbɐ 'ǝɯ ʇɐ ʞooן ¡sǝıʇıɹnɔǝsuı ʎuıɥʍ ʎɯ ןןɐ ʞɔnɟ ˙sbuıɯoɔʇɹoɥs ʎɯ ʇno buıɹnod puɐ sǝʇɐbpooןɟ ןɐuoıʇoɯǝ ʎɯ dn buıuǝdo sɐ uɐɯ ɐ oʇ buıʎɟıɹɹǝʇ sɐ uǝʇɟo sı ʎʇıɔɐɹǝʌ sıɥʇ          
¿uoıʇɔǝظǝɹ ɟo ɹɐǝɟ ǝɹoɯ puɐ 'ǝʌoן 'ʇsnן 'uoısnɟuoɔ ɟo sbuıןǝǝɟ pǝxıɯ oʇuı uɹnʇ ʇou sıɥʇ sǝop ʍoɥ 'dıɥsuoıʇɐןǝɹ ɐ ʇou sıɥʇ sı ʍoɥ "˙suǝddɐɥ ןןǝɥ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ ǝǝs ʇsnظ puɐ 'ʎpoq ǝɹıʇuǝ ʎɯ puɐ sǝsuǝs ʎɯ ɟo ןןɐ 'ǝsou ʎɯ 'ǝnbuoʇ ʎɯ 'spuɐɥ ʎɯ ɥʇıʍ ǝɹoןdxǝ oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı 'snʇɐʇs ɐ ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop ı 'ןǝqɐן ɐ ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop ı ˙ʇɐ ɯɐ ı ǝɹǝɥʍ sı sıɥʇ 'ʇɐɥʇ uɐɥʇ ɹǝɥʇo ˙ǝɯ ǝɔɹoɟ ʇ,uoʍ ǝɥ 'ou ʎɐs ı uǝɥʍ puɐ 'doʇs ןן,ǝɥ 'doʇs ʎɐs ı uǝɥʍ ʍouʞ oʇ pǝǝu ʇsnظ ı 'dǝǝp ǝq oʇ ǝʌɐɥ ʇ,usǝop ʇsnɹʇ ɐpuıʞ sıɥʇ ˙ʇsnɹʇ ʎɯ pǝuɹɐǝ sɐɥ ʎןıɯɐɟ uǝʌǝ ʇou 'ǝuo ou ʇsnɹʇ ı 'ʎןןɐɹǝuǝb ˙ɯǝɥʇ puoʎǝq ǝɯ ɥsnd puɐ sǝıɹɐpunoq ןɐnxǝs ʇsǝʞɹɐp ʎɯ ǝɹoןdxǝ oʇ ɥbnouǝ uosɹǝd ʇɐɥʇ ʇsnɹʇ oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı 'ןooɔ sı ʍouʞ ı oɥʍ uosɹǝd ǝuo ʞɔnɟ ɐuuɐʍ ı ˙ʞɔnɟ ɐuuɐʍ ʇsnظ ı 'xǝs buıobuo 'buızɐɯɐ ʇuɐʍ ʇsnظ ı" 'sʎɐs ʇɐɥʇ ǝuo ǝɥʇ ǝʞıן 'ɟןǝsʎɯ ןןǝʇ ı ʇɐɥʇ sǝıן ǝɥʇ sǝzıɔıʇuɐɯoɹ puıɯ ʎɯ 'sbnɹp ǝʞıן ʇsnظ ˙xıɟ ǝʇɐıpǝɯɯı 'ןɐɔısʎɥd 'ǝʌıʇıɯıɹd ǝɹoɯ ǝɥʇ ɥbnoɹɥʇ 'uoıʇɐɔıɟıʇɐɹb ʇuɐʇsuı 'buıʞǝǝs ɟןǝs 'ǝןqɐıʇɐsuı ǝɥʇ buıʎɟsıʇɐs ɹoɟ ob 'sǝɹısǝp ןɐuɹɐɔ ǝɹoɯ ʎɯ ǝsɐɥɔ ʎןdɯıs puɐ ʇdǝɔuoɔ ǝɥʇ ɥsıɹǝd pןnoɥs ı os 'ǝɯıʇ sıɥʇ ʇɐ ʎɥʇɹoʍ ʇou ɯɐ ı ǝɯ sןןǝʇ ǝsɐǝsıp ʎɯ ˙dıɥsuoıʇɐןǝɹ ʎɥʇןɐǝɥ ɐ ɟo ʇɹɐd ɐ ǝq oʇ ʍoɥ ɐǝpı ou ǝʌɐɥ ı ʇɐɥʇ buıʍouʞ 'ǝʌoן pǝןןɐɔ ןıɐɹb ʎןoɥ pǝʇǝʌoɔ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ ʇsǝnb ɐ ʇou sı ǝɔuǝɹǝɟǝɹd ʎɯ ʇɐɥʇ ʎɐs puɐ ɟןǝsʎɯ oʇ ǝıן ı        
˙sǝıɔuǝpuǝʇ puɐ ɹoıʌɐɥǝq uʍo ʎɯ oʇuı ɹǝɹɐǝןɔ sǝɯoɔǝq uoısıʌ ʎɯ 'ǝɯ oʇ ʞɔɐq sɹoɹɹıɯ ɯsıɔıʇıɹɔ ʇuǝןıs uʍo ʎɯ sɐ ˙ɟןǝsʎɯ 'buoן os ɹoɟ ǝuo ǝʞıן buıʇɔɐ uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ ı sɐ 'sןooɟ ɹoɟ ʎʇıd ou ǝʌɐɥ ı puɐ 'ʇuǝɯǝʌǝıɥɔɐɹǝpun uʍo ʎɯ ɯoɹɟ sɯǝʇs ɥɔıɥʍ 'ʎʇıɹɔoıpǝɯ ɟo ʇuɐɹǝןoʇuı ɯɐ ı ˙sıɥʇ ǝʞıן puıɯ ʎɯ ǝʇɐןnɯıʇs oɥʍ ǝןdoǝd ɥʇıʍ uoıʇɔǝuuoɔ ɹoɟ ʇsɹıɥʇ ǝsuǝʇuı ɹǝɥʇɐɹ ɐ puɐ pǝǝu pıןɐʌ ɐ ǝʌɐɥ op ı      
˙ɥʇnɹʇ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ pɹɐʍuı ʞooן oʇ ǝɯ buıɔɹoɟ puɐ 'ʇɔɐ ssǝɹʇsıp uı ןǝsɯɐp ǝɯ sı ǝoʍ ɔıʇɐɯɐɹp ʎɯ ʇno buıdɯoʇs 'ʇıɥs ʎɯ uo ǝɯ buıןןɐɔ 'puǝıɹɟ ǝnɹʇ ɐ s,ʇɐɥʇ 'ɥɔno "˙noʎ pǝןןıʞ ʎןɹɐǝu ʇɐɥʇ uo ʇnd noʎ ǝpɐɔɐɟ buıʇsnɐɥxǝ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ǝnuıʇuoɔ oʇ noʎ buıʍoןןɐ ʇou ǝɹɐ ʎpoq puɐ puıɯ ɹǝqos ɹnoʎ ʍou ǝqʎɐɯ ¿ǝɹɐ noʎ oɥʍ ɹǝqɯǝɯǝɹ (oʇ ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop ɹo) ʇ,uɐɔ ʎןןɐǝɹ noʎ ʇɐɥʇ buoן os ɹoɟ ɹoıʌɐɥǝq pɐq puɐ ןoɥoɔןɐ puɐ sbnɹp ɥʇıʍ dn ʇı pǝɹǝʌoɔ noʎ ʇnq 'ןnɟɹɐǝɟ puɐ ǝɹnɔǝsuı ǝɹǝʍ sʎɐʍןɐ noʎ ʇɐɥʇ ǝןqıssod ʇı sı" 'ʎןʇuǝnboןǝ os pǝʇɐʇs 'ʍouʞ ʇou ʇsnظ puɐ ɥʇıʍ "ǝʌoן uı" ǝq ʎןןɐnʇɔɐ ʎɐɯ ı oɥʍ ǝuo 'puǝıɹɟ ɹǝɥʇouɐ ˙ǝq oʇ pǝsn ı ʇɐɥʇ uosɹǝd ןɐǝɹ 'ʇuǝpıɟuoɔ 'ǝɹnɔǝs 'ʇuǝbıןןǝʇuı 'ʎddɐɥ ʇǝʎ 'ʍoןןɐɥs ʎןןɐuoıʇoɯǝ ǝɥʇ buıǝq oʇ ʞɔɐq ʇǝb puɐ ʞɔɐɹɔ ɹǝqʎɔ ǝɥʇ uʍop ʇnd oʇ pǝǝu ı ˙sןןǝɔ uıɐɹq ʎɯ pǝuɹnq ɹo 'ʎɹnظuı pɐǝɥ ɐ pǝɹǝɟɟns ǝʌɐɥ ı ɟı sɐ s,ʇı ˙ʎןʇuǝɔǝɹ ןıʇun ǝɟıן ɟo ʇɹɐd ʎuɐ ʇnoqɐ pǝsnɟuoɔ ɹo ǝɹnɔǝsuı ʎןpɹɐʍʇno sɐ ɹǝʌǝu sɐʍ ı ʇɐɥʇ ɯɹıɟuoɔ uɐɔ ǝɯ ʍouʞ oɥʍ ǝsoɥʇ
 ˙ʎɐʍ uʍo ʎɯ uı ʞɔnʇs ɯɐ ı 'ʇnd ʎןdɯıs 'pǝzʎןɐɹɐd ʎןןɐuoıʇoɯǝ puɐ ʎןןɐɔısʎɥd buıןǝǝɟ ʎןuǝppns ɯɐ ı 'buıɥʇɐoן ɟןǝs 'ןɐpıɔıns 'pǝssǝɹdǝp 'ǝuoןɐ ןןɐ 'uoıʇɐןosı uı ɯɐ ı ˙ʎʇǝıxuɐ 'ʇsnɹʇsıp 'ʇqnop 'ɹɐǝɟ puɐ ʎʇıɹnɔǝsuı ɥʇıʍ ǝɯoɔɹǝʌo ɯɐ ı 'ʇı ʍouʞ ı ǝɹoɟǝq puɐ ʇxǝʇ ı puɐ ןıɐɯǝ ı puɐ ʇɐɥɔ ı puɐ 'ʇǝuɹǝʇuı ǝɥʇ ɥɔɹɐǝs ı puɐ 'ʍǝu ǝuoǝɯos ʇuɐʍ ı 'ǝɯ ǝɹoq ʇɐɥʇ "sɹɐןnbǝɹ" ǝɥʇ s,ʇı ˙uǝɯ ןןɐ ʇou ןןǝʍ 'uǝɯ ɥʇıʍ pǝʇsnbsıp ǝɯoɔǝq ı 'ʇuɐʍ ʎןןɐǝɹ ı ʇɐɥʍ ɟo ʞuıɥʇ ı uǝɥʍ ɹǝʌǝʍoɥ 'ǝɯıʇ ʎuɐ ʇɐ ןןɐɔ uɐɔ ı oɥʍ ɹo ןןɐɔ oɥʍ uǝɯ ןɐɹǝʌǝs ǝʌɐɥ ןןıʇs ı ˙ɐǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʇ uı pǝʞɔɐן ɹǝʌǝu ı puɐ 'ǝɔuǝpıɟuoɔ ʇnoqɐ s,ʇı ˙ɔʇǝ 'ǝbɐ 'ǝdʎʇ ʎpoq ɟo ssǝןpɹɐbǝɹ 'ǝʌǝıɥɔɐ oʇ buıɥʇ pɹɐɥ ɐ ʇou sı xǝs ˙sǝʇnuıɯ ɟo ɹǝʇʇɐɯ ɐ uıɥʇıʍ uʍop ɯǝɥʇ pǝq ɹo ɯǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ spuǝıɹɟ ǝʞɐɯ ɹǝɥʇıǝ puɐ sʎnb ʍǝu ʇǝǝɯ oʇ pǝsn uɐɯoʍ ǝɯɐs ǝɥʇ ɯɐ ı        

˙(buıɥʇoןɔ ssǝן ʎןʇuɐɔıɟıubıs buıɹɐǝʍ ǝɹɐ ǝןdoǝd ǝɥʇ puɐ 'buıbuıs ǝɹɐ spɹıq ǝɥʇ puɐ 'buıʇɐɯ ǝɹɐ sןɐɯıuɐ ǝɥʇ ɟo ןןɐ uǝɥʍ ʇnoqɐ sbuıɹq ǝɯıʇbuıɹds ʇɐɥʇ ssǝuıןǝuoן ɟo ɹǝpuıɯǝɹ ןnɟuıɐd ǝɥʇ ʎןdɯıs ɹo '"ɹǝpɹosıp ǝʌıʇɔǝɟɟɐ ןɐuosɐǝs" sdɐɥɹǝd) ˙sɥʇuoɯ ʍǝɟ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ uı ʇuıod ǝɯos ʇɐ ʎןpǝʇɔǝdxǝun ɹǝɥʇɐɹ uoıʇɔǝɹıp pǝbuɐɥɔ ǝʌɐɥ oʇ ɹɐǝddɐ pןnoʍ puɐ 'ʎןʇɐǝɹb ʎɟısuǝʇuı oʇ pǝɯǝǝs ʇı ˙uıɐbɐ ǝɯıʇ puɐ ǝɯıʇ ˙˙˙ʞɔnɟ-puıɯ 'ɔıuɐɯ-ɐɹʇןn 'ןɐnʇǝdɹǝd 'buıןɐɹıds ʎןpıdɐɹ puɐ buıʌıbɹoɟun 'snoıɔɐdɐɹ sıɥʇ ǝsɐɥɔ ı uıɐbɐ 'ʎʇıuɐsuı ʎɯ ɟo ʎʇıןɐǝɹ ɥsɹɐɥ ǝɥʇ oʇ buıuɹnʇǝɹ ǝןıɥʍ "¿buıop ı ɯɐ ןןǝɥ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ" 'pnoן ʇno puɐ ʎןɹɐןnbǝɹ ɟןǝsʎɯ ʞsɐ ı        

˙uoıʇɐʇuǝsǝɹd ןɐɔıuıןɔ ɐ ɥɔns ɹoɟ uǝɯıɔǝds ןɐǝpı ǝɥʇ sdɐɥɹǝd ɯɐ ı ʇɐɥʇ ǝzıןɐǝɹ ı ˙ʎʇǝıxuɐ puɐ ssǝupɹɐʍʞʍɐ ןɐıɔos oʇ ʇɔǝظqns ןןɐɟ oʇ ʎןǝʞıן ǝuo ı ɯɐ ʎןuo ʇou ʇɐɥʇ ǝzıןɐǝɹ ı 'pɹɐʍɹǝʇɟɐ buoן ɹǝʌǝʍoɥ 'pǝɹǝʇsıbǝɹ ʎןןɐuıɟ ʇı uǝɥʍ ˙pɐǝɥ uʍo ʎɯ uo ǝןddɐ ǝɥʇ ǝǝs oʇ ʎʇıןıqɐuı ʎɯ ɟo ǝןdɯɐxǝ ɹɐǝןɔ ɐ sı sıɥʇ ˙ǝsןǝ ǝuoǝɯos ǝzıɔıʇıɹɔ oʇ ʇı buısn ɯɐ ı 'ǝsɹnoɔ ɟo ssǝןun 'buoן ɹoɟ ʇı ɹǝqɯǝɯǝɹ ʇ,uoʍ ı 'ǝɯ uıɥʇıʍ pɹoɥɔ ɐ ǝʞıɹʇs ʎןǝʇɐıpǝɯɯı ʇ,usǝop ʇı ɟı puɐ 'ǝpɐɯ uoıuıdo ɟo ʇuǝɯǝʇɐʇs ןɐɹǝuǝb ʎuɐ oʇ uǝʇsıן ɟןɐɥ oʇ ǝɯ sʍoןןɐ ʎןuo obǝ ʎɯ ˙ǝnbɹɐ oʇ ʇuɐʍ pןnoʍ ı buıɥʇǝɯos ןןɐ ʇɐ ʇou s,ʇı (ǝsɹnoɔ ɟo ɟןǝsʎɯ uɐɥʇ ɹǝɥʇo) ǝןdoǝd ʇnoqɐ op ı ʇɐɥʍ buıʍouʞ ˙ǝɯ ʇou ʇsnظ 'ǝןdoǝd ɟo ɹǝqɯnu ɐ uı ˙ǝnɹʇ sı ʇı ʇɐɥʇ ʍouʞ ı sɐ ǝǝɹbɐ op ı 'sıɥʇ ǝʇɐıʇuɐʇsqns oʇ sǝıpnʇs uǝǝq ʎןןɐnʇɔɐ ǝʌɐɥ ǝɹǝɥʇ ˙ssǝupɹɐʍʞʍɐ ןɐıɔos ǝʇoɯoɹd oʇ pǝɯǝǝs ʎboןouɥɔǝʇ ʍoɥ ɟo ǝʞods ǝɥ ˙buıbɐssǝɯ ʇxǝʇ puɐ 'ʇɐɥɔ ǝuıןuo 'ןıɐɯǝ buıpɹɐbǝɹ uoıuıdo uɐ pǝɔıoʌ oɥʍ ʇɔǝdsoɹd buıʇɐp ɐ ɥʇıʍ uoıʇɐsɹǝʌuoɔ ɟǝıɹq ɐ uodn ʞɔɐq buıʇɔǝןɟǝɹ uǝɥʍ pǝɯɹıɟuoɔ ǝɹǝʍ ɟןǝsʎɯ ɟo sɹɐǝɟ puɐ suoıɔıdsns buıbbɐu uʍo ʎɯ

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.

Emotional Paralysis

Isolation: Trapped inside of my own mind, terrified of the light, of the dark, of the outdoors, of death, of people, of expectations, of rejection, of the air, of the water, of reality, of the sun, of the rain, of the truth. Like being imprisoned in a room, bound to a chair, embedded in concrete, looking for my purpose, looking for one good reason not to blow my fucking brains out. It doesn't matter though because my arms are too heavy to raise a gun and my fingers too frozen to pull any trigger.

Trusting no one, as they all have selfish motives. Not wanting to be hurt means no longer making an attempt to be friendly. The last one to do it hurt the most, and it was my own fault for giving another person power in my life. I would never fuck with another human being's feelings, emotions, or life the way people have done to me, I do not wish to be a victim or a martyr, I am so confused and so broken. I cannot comprehend cruelty I do not wish to do so, I struggle with society and the way it tells me I should be. I will never be that person, that woman, that wife, that daughter, that mother. I hurt. My soul is empty, I have no faith, I try to let go, I try to let it in, I cry out for help, for relief, for love. I come up empty.

Judge Me

I laugh when people talk behind my back about me. It really doesn't bother me, it's fear, and it's not mine. Writing and blogging is what I do to let off steam, to vent frustration, or to self-soothe. I am not hurting anyone, ever. However there are those who are no longer in my circle who STILL read this blog. To those people I give recognition here:

Judge me, I don't care. You have no power over me, you won't ever have any power, so run your fool mouth, make assumptions, read into my bluntness and let your paranoia feed your ego into believing that every post is about you. It's not, it's about ME, it's about MY life, MY feelings, MY thoughts, MY recovery. ME. If you don't understand it, you aren't supposed to. If you don't like it, don't read it. If it makes you angry, go punch your wall. If it makes you sad, go have a good cry. If it makes you horny, go fuck yourself. If you are uncomfortable with my blog, you might consider working with someone to overcome your fears, doubts, and insecurities of self.

This is my blog, it is for me. I don't associate my name to it, this way it is somewhat anonymous. I don't feel it's going to make me millions, or gain me notoriety, I do not find my ranting to be of any literary genius, I just write, it's what I do. People are afraid of me because I speak and write about things that are difficult for them to say out loud. I don't do this for anybody but me, and it keeps me from acting out in ways that would get me arrested or hurt, even killed.

I write in a public blog instead of a private journal because I believe it can help people. Sometimes, people feel the same way, people who don't know me, people in another place in the world. Sometimes I identify with people that I have nothing in common with, people whose lives would never cross with mine through any other forum. My blogs are not self help articles, I am not a shrink or a philosopher. I have no credentials that can help fix anyone, but if you have issues, I can tell you what works for me, and how I began my journey.

Who knows, I might catch the attention of someone who truly feels alone in this world, someone who is at the end of their rope, who may be screaming desperately for someone to understand them, and no one is answering. I was that person. I was misunderstood. I was all alone and frightened. I was about to take my own life. I desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, anywhere. Today I do fit in, not always, not every day, but today, I  am sure that I belong in this world and even though I am whacky, I am loved.