I had just finished moving the last of my "important" stuff to the new place. There was a little more to get, odds and ends mostly, but I was pretty well done with it. Out of nowhere, something hit me - hard! While standing in the bathroom someone in my head turned out the lights and I fell. I was able to regain consciousness and move myself back to the bedroom, where I curled up on the floor and went to sleep. I had fell victim to another stroke.
This time was different, however, as it knocked the wind completely out of me, taking all my ability to move, or respond, or talk. It took a couple of days to recover enough to the point where I could stand again. When I did, things just didn't feel right. My face was numb and it seemed a lot of my basic motor skills had been damaged making it hard to stand. I muddled through it, got up and dressed and prepared myself to return to the old house to finish up the move.
Then, I got hit again. This time I dropped unconscious to the bedroom floor completely oblivious to everything around me. I was dying.
I don't remember the EMT's or the ambulance or even the first hospital. I came around just as I was being transported to the second hospital, but not enough to be of any help to anyone.
After 9 days in the hospital and an endless series of tests, they let me come home with only the knowledge that indeed a stroke had occurred but without any knowledge as to how or why. There is nothing wrong with my heart. They could not find a blockage anywhere. For all intents I was in perfect health and yet had suffered 2 strokes nearly back to back.
So now I wait. Wait for more doctors, more tests, more things I cannot afford. So far, I have 8 different surgeries scheduled to repair things not associated with those strokes. The bottom line is they don't know what or why this happened.
I wait here at my new home hoping I can get a break and return to myself once more. I am unable to work or do anything else too exciting for fear of falling again. Now, I am just a person hiding away hoping a hero shows up to save my life. The rest of the stuff I wanted to move is no longer important as I can't do anything with it anyway. I am just here, that's it.
I'm getting closer. Almost finished. Just a few more boxes and my BBQ.
The place I am moving to is nice enough. Cosmetically, it's much nicer than the house I'm moving from. There are hardwood floors and new paint. Insulated windows and a sliding glass door that works right. A dishwasher and disposal. Somebody that does the yard work and maintenance, a garage and a sizable yard with a patio (you know, for the BBQ). It's smaller then the old place by more than 3/4 of an acre and the garage is really only suitable for parking one car (parking cars in a garage! Work shop blasphemy!).
And of course, there's people everywhere. Living in town sure does have it's disadvantages. What neighbors can you trust? Which ones are the assholes? All questions still to be answered. Still, It is a very nice neighborhood. Lots of families and well kept yards. Not too many "spare" cars parked in front and the kids in the neighborhood seem well behaved and (mostly) normal. It's a good environment. Nice and 'safe'.
On Thanksgiving I was moving my stuff when I found myself in a state of almost despair. The new place has everything you could want in the way of modern conveniences or a nice place to live, sure, but I found myself already missing those things I would no longer have. Those things that made my old place my home.
There is no favorite chair in the shop, next to the wood stove for me to spend my early winter mornings huddled next to. No deer sleeping in the back yard for me to spook. No more can I be the tinkerer with the vast collection of cool stuff to tinker with. I can no longer be the local garage for friends to stop by to work on their car. I will no longer be attacked by the ferocious house cat laying hidden in the tall grass either. No more apples. No more pears, grapes or cherries for that matter either. No more freedom to build it, mold it, paint it or otherwise make better the various structures or landscaping features. No more dreaming of such things either. No more searching for Ralph's treasure. No reason to get up in the morning. And certainly, no more family to occasionally come by and brighten my day.
All the memories, all the dreams, now have to be stuffed way down inside in an attempt to try to hide them from the people that never really cared about how all of this would affect me in the first place. Those people that acted out of spite, that left me crippled and defenseless, can now see the end result of their actions and still claim no responsibility. A friend tried to give me the crap speech about opening new doors leading to a new adventure blah blah blah. I never asked for or wanted any new doors to be forced open for me to fall through. I don't want this! I was happy here but they just couldn't't leave me alone. Now, I'm sure, those same people are quietly grinning inside at my plight. This is, after all, what they wanted. To them I can only say, "watch your back". I'm not dead yet, and I'm not done either.
Bitter? Hell yes! And why wouldn't't I be? It only took 40 years for me to find a place I could call home. It's also something I'll not have again. Home is where the heart is, right? Well I know where my heart is. I doubt the same could be said for the others.
I'm done writing for a while. Well, at least here.
Nearly 5 years of turmoil, confusion and absolute hell have passed and what has been learned? One thing - "Nothing you do matters".
You can be a stand up person, strive like hell to be a better person, try your best to fix all of your problems, open up, and for what? In the end, I still lose everything I thought was important in my life. "Don't be the aggressor", "be at peace" - all of it, bullshit. It's 2 A.M. and I'm walking around my soon to be gone house, looking, even still, up the block at the house that holds the only spark of hope I have left. Wishing, praying for a sign. ANYTHING! Anything that will make this insanity stop. Anything to show I matter beyond the emergency room. But there is nothing but the orange glow of left over Halloween lights and the curious eyes of a cat I once new.
I am finally nothing.
Tomorrow I begin moving from my home....my home. And once again the tears start. It seems like they never stop anymore. How could one person be so pivotal in my life? I would die for her, yet my existence to her is trivial. All those years, anything that was good, soon to be erased for good. "You win G". Is this what you wanted? There were certainly less destructive ways to accomplish your task.
And what of justice or karma? Certainly they have taken some swipes, but she seems to have weathered the god of karma pretty good. Justice? Hah! God? You fool!
Who judges those who have wronged.
This is a dangerous time for me. Rational thought is leaving and evil is returning - and I freaking want it to. Being good gets you nothing, trying gets you less. Who cries for me? Nobody. So maybe it's time to cause some tears myself. Vengeance, yes that's it, vengeance and retribution is what I what now.
Where peace and forgiveness once lived in me is being choked to death. A right and wrong is appearing I though I had long vanquished from my mind, but as life continues to take all and anything that was good from me, it is also stripping away those achievements I was once proud to show.
I am so torn it's becoming dangerous. It's only a matter of time before I completely snap and I can feel it. I mean, why try? I didn't get to keep the treasure, my Demon still lives and I didn't get the girl! So why did I even bother?
And still, at 2 AM, I'm walking the street in front of my lost house still hoping for a miracle. Somebody shoot me before I do.
So that's it for a while. None of this matters anyway. I'll leave you with this:
NEVER, EVER, EVER let your guard down. Attack first, leave no survivors and if they have a problem with it, let them deal with it - alone!
My 'Jerry Springer' Moment
I finally told the kids I was moving, and while I found the replies varied I was disappointed overall by the reactions.
Replies from kids (in oldest age order):
I'm not sure what I expected. I mean, how can I make them understand now something I have not been able to the whole time? The disappointing part is the acceptance of it by them. They seem to think of this as the common task of changing households and little more. Just changing the scenery, or up scaling neighborhoods. Even #3's response suggested that I was wrong for to remain here this long in the first place.
I'M LEAVING MY "HOME"!
And not because I wanted to, or because I'm bettering my life. Oh no, I'm leaving because after years of being attacked by the Ex and the neighbor, after years of watching my wasted life drive back and forth in front of the house, after years of bearing witness to how easily I could be forgotten and how great her life is without me, years of torture, pain, sadness, loneliness, restrictions, and on and on and on, I simply cannot withstand anymore. So much so that I am throwing my life to the winds of uncertainty, crossing my fingers and hoping things work out.
But this is not my fault!
I didn't't do this! She moved in here! She invaded my space! She enlisted the help of our scumbag neighbors! She did these things!
I tried to calm and magnanimous. Tried to be the bigger person, the calm and not the storm. After all, I had other problems I was working on. I wasn't't always well balanced and sometimes I'd slip out of frustration, sure, but I never attacked! NEVER!
I don't know why this is all coming back right now but I need it to stop. Any chance I had at fixing my mental madness went away when she decided to be my neighbor. Years later I am still tearing myself appart over this. I have lost everything and I have no fight left in me at all. I am left feeling manipulated and misunderstood, punished for eternity by this problem that plagues me. There is no forgiveness or acceptance for me. Only war.
Still, I am leaving. But not before losing just one more thing, my home. Salvation is expensive I guess. Maybe this only matters to me, but it feels so wrong I cannot convey it through words. It's just ugly.
I was cleaning out my truck today of all my personal items to sell it. Taking a break, I sat in the driver's seat and tilted my head back. There, tucked in between the headliner molding was something I had all but forgotten about. A picture.
When I first got this truck for my business, one of the first things I did was place this picture in the cab. It has traveled many a mile with me, been an inspiration, provided a smile when I needed one, and reminded me why I was working so hard.
The picture is of my family at a restaurant, somewhere in Mohave Valley, having what appears to be a great time. We are all in it, sans my oldest son (but I carry a very special picture of him with me too). The girls are present with their husbands and a few grand kids (very young) are represented as well. Taken in December 2004 - so long ago.
But something changed while I was studying the picture. It seemed fake somehow. No longer was this my family or a representation of how things used to be, but more of an illusion or an idea that never came to pass. The difference between that photo and the family I know today shift my belief to the possibility that it never really existed and I was fool enough to believe it did.
I placed the picture in storage and went back to my work. Left once again with more questions then answers I sit in my old truck and cry the rest of the afternoon.
When will enough be enough? When will this stop? Soon I hope.
I told my kids I was moving and that I would be traveling for a little while after I got the new place set up. I just didn't't tell them I wouldn't't be coming back.
I don't think they would care anyway.
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EP seems to attract a group of people that are all afflicted with one disorder - we are all broken.
The reasons for becoming 'broken' is a vast and seemingly unending list. Most all of the reasons are valid. Some more than others.
For me, it's simple, I am mentally ill. I have an extreme case of Bipolar Disease with tenancies of being paranoid and schizophrenic. I often fail to see things in their 'correct light', if you will. What's not simple are the contributing factors that happen outside of my mental illness that affect my ability to be able to reasonably accept or correct what should be, as it is for most people, the events that happen to me.
At times I am literally blind to the consequences of my condition. This has resulted in a divorce, the loss of my business, my home, my family, my health, and soon, my life. Sucks to me, right? This being October and the official month for Mental Health Awareness, it seems appropriate to comment on the state of mental illness as seen from my perspective.
I take no meds for my condition. I have learned to adapt and adjust to my changes a great deal over the last few years and have been relatively successful at it, not having a major meltdown in about 2 years (many small ones, sure. But no huge - stick your ass in the hospital- ones). I'm kind of proud of that. Sure, I still have my days, but it's largely controllable (although sometimes I fail at keeping my mouth shut).
This was not of my choice, however. After the Ex left me, she also took the insurance, ending treatments, doctors and meds. And state or county help? Are you kidding? If you make an income - any income- you make too much to receive help. Nope, you are on your own. In June of last year, I failed to end my life as I intended and ended up in the hospital. While I waited to be released I was forced to talk to a simpleton from the County Mental Health Department. I was asked if I would try to do it again (what would your answer be? "Uh, yes. As soon as I get home.") Asshole. After answering "No" she threw a bunch of papers at me and left. Boy, that was some great help. The court did remove my ability to buy a firearm for 6 months. I guess that's help, but considering my first suicide attempt had nothing to do with guns, it made little sense. I mean, guns are messy.
Now, I have sought out help before. Right before the attempt actually. I new what was driving me to that point (my Ex-wife) and while many people (well, everybody actually) agreed that what she was doing was just not right, nobody I asked for help would actually help. My Doctor, Police, County Mental Health, The D.A. - nobody.
So for October Mental Health Awareness Month - or whatever you want to call it - let me just say a few things I think you should be "aware of."
Happy October you crazy S.O.B.s
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Well, it's my fault. At least I can admit that. Yep, mine and mine alone. But it still doesn't place me any closer to unraveling the mysteries of live, love an relationships. In fact, it only reveals more questions.
I was hoping I'd be missed. Not like terribly missed, but just a little bit missed. With my youngest daughter and her son visiting, I also assumed that they would need/like some time to themselves and I didn't want to muck up the works.
So I went quiet. I didn't want to intrude and I believed that our situation was a little more than confusing so it was best to leave things alone for a bit. But days went by, then questions began, then it was a week, then one email, then a line of text, then silence. Then my daughter moved down. Then more questions. Then no answers. Then an attempted explanation, a plea, if you will. Then silence once again.
Or something like that.
The bottom line is I silenced my way out of something and nobody cared or noticed. In my absence no one looked, or asked.
I don't really know what I was thinking in the first place. How could things ever really get better - they were steadily getting worse. But once again I tried, and once again I will pay for it.
I hate these feelings. Being alone and forgotten when everyone is so close is heart wrenching. I mean, I was sick for three weeks (yet one more reason) again but this time I made a point to kind of tell people because I think I'm supposed to (I don't know really, that one is kind of difficult) and not one person inquired about it. More put out that I couldn't do something for them, or that I was an inconvenience.
Once again I fell empty, lost and trapped. Old feelings creeping in but are being handled for now. I have got to find a way out of here and quick. Must I be so dependent on someone that I would sacrifice everything for that one, last shot? Or is it that love just will not leave me? Even though impossible by her own words, I still want to believe in it.
Maybe I just need too much. I don't know, it's too confusing and too heavy. Every time I say I'm going to do like she did, live selfish, taking only, give no more. Abandon the feelings of all who have forgotten me and run far and fast. Yet here I am.
Or maybe I'm expecting just a little bit too much from those I've wounded.
Don't know anymore,
My hands are slashed. Cut open all the way to the bone they bleed out what remains of my life, letting go the soul and the person I once was. There is not much left. I stare wide eyed as the flow steadily decreases, becoming weaker with every lost drop. My eyes unfocused. I once stood on the edge and screamed at my Demon to face me, to walk the edge with me and dance to deaths macabre tune, and like the fool that he is, he did.
We battled as titans, as gods of our inner sanctum, for eternities and minutes alike, the prize nothing less than all that is me. Years had passed and we both had become as we are, two exhausted immortals locked in mortal combat. We played out our war as if it where a movie for all the universe to see and judge. It was glorious. Suddenly, a shift in the wind and a noise distracting provided me the opportunity so few will ever realize. He became distracted. He wavered slightly, dropping his shield no more than half an inch before returning to the fight. It was enough, just enough, to turn the tied.
As if possessed by the god Thor himself I dropped my shield, took my saber in grasp with both hands strong and pulled a swing around my body with such force that the world itself slowed down at the strength of its motion. A perfect hit. The beast stumbled about as a drunkard, loosing his balance and dropping his shield into the abyss. "Do not be still" whispered through the deep caverns of my mind. A realization, an opportunity mine, I raced toward my tormentor to not miss this chance. Dropping my sword, dismissing my shield, arms stretched forward, palms spread wide I braced myself for the impending impact. Screaming in peril as he fell to his death could be heard by all who have ears. A thud from the bottom confirmed my success and with silence reflection began. Lost in my thinking and walking too close to the edge I allowed my distraction too much attention. I fell.
At the last second, where life begins slipping I reached out blindly and found something I could grasp. Without question or warrant I took what was given and tightened my grip to hold on to my life. That's when the blood starting running, down arms, through my shirt, into the abyss. Then there was pain like non other I had felt ever before, confusing and unyielding, a message to me that I lived. Looking through shadows, the cause of my pain reflected in stray rays of light left no mistake of my predicament. I had found by mistake, or luck if you choose, my sword once again held by hands. This does not escape me, the irony unfolding, my sword, my protector now my angel of death. A reminder forever that two are not one and one cannot be, to kill one certainly kills the other. Now I hang dying after the fight I had won but the victory now has become salted. There is no hero in this tragedy, no daring, no escape. Nothing noble, I have sealed my fate.
Christ, what have I done......
Raining outside. Warnings of winters coming evident on the local mountains. A cold, wet cat rests upon my lap seeking attention and, perhaps, a treat or two. He is oblivious of me except for the warmth my lap provides, annoyed by my constant typing, he soon takes his leave. And I am sick once more.
Thoughts of this constant pain I am in soon vanish as the news from a friend so far away whispers to me over the phone, "he is dead". I cordially finish the conversation, hang up the phone and cry.
Another friend of life has died. One who I have not seen in years, but have talk to via the new technology that exists today. Just last month, not four weeks ago, we had good conversation just like we use to, talking face to face, some years ago. Last week I noticed he was gone. His media pages had stopped being updated with his current news about his family, hobbies, and other such important things. Today his wife had called me to tell me he was gone. Loosing the fight against a disease he told no one about, he died in the night two days ago.
Now I am sitting, contemplating the fairness of life. He was a good and kind man, giving all to his wife and child, charitable and wise in his youth. He did not deserve this fate.
I have no answers or insight for what I feel today. A sadness profound and complicated is the only thing that fills my heart right now. "What's next?" is the only thought that's clear. Did the powers that be need to take him too?
Looking out the window, I can only say that the weather is appropriate for a day like today. Cold, dark and empty.
Trying to sum up my relationship with my Ex is kind of like reading a book with no pages. No content, no substance, no meaning and no words.
I'll never understand her, or my 'family'. With her, it's the omitted that causes the greatest of pain for me. Finding out important information through a chance conversations or other media postings. Not being included in those things that any parent might be normally included. My family seems either oblivious to, or actively supports the same position as. It's easier to just not tell me. Then I don't have to be included in their lives, don't have to be considered.
I have spent four years trying to put back together a life damaged by illness. I have been open and calm, waiting for the days I would not have to endure the isolation any longer. I have focussed on the positive and made huge progress in who I've become. And for what? To be ignored again because I want to be part of their lives? To continue to be kept at arms length when I am disagreeable.
I'm tired of this. Tired of their selfishness. Tired of it all.
None of this will matter, soon enough. Less than a year left, I'm told. Finally, and end comes. Finally rest, peace and to be around this conflict no longer. Finally.
I would rather like to die alone then to wonder why I'm dying alone, but I'll take what i can get.
The last couple of weeks have been interesting as well as enlightening.
My youngest daughter had come flown out from the desert, bringing her oldest son to stay for a visit with the Ex for a few weeks while school is out. It was so good to see them both, especially my daughter. I have always felt closer to her but have never known why. She looked good, sounded happy and seemed more 'grown up' as she talked about the adult things in her life.
Things between me and the Ex had become more 'pensive'? Slowly, I am loosing ground with her. When we re-established a relationship, things were almost frantic. While there were concerns from her that someone would find out, it didn't stop her from requesting my presence rather frequently. But slowly she began pushing me away. Now, I can be with her only in public and in places far away from where she lives or in parking lots. She no longer accepts invitations to my house claiming that the neighbors will find out and that she may get in trouble(?). Personally, I don't much care for those people and I especially don't care what they think. Even texts have slowed down and if I ever try to talk of anything more than how the weather is, I am quickly shut down.
Yes, I know! It's pretty clear that she's 'done' with me.
Over this time period I had heard, overheard, caught mistakes and seen things that would make any normal person start to question whether this person could be trusted. A little lie here, a deception there - all forgivable if you love and trust that person, right? I kept my mouth shut most of the time letting those things fall through cracks, deciding they were unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
Ah, but who's scheme?
Over these last few weeks some strange things happened as well. One of her allies turned and spilled her guts about a few things, a chance sighting put her somewhere other than were she said she was going and a few more lies had their truth revealed.
And then comes clarity, and everything changes.
Finally a little Zen magic comes my way and I can see things for what they are and what they are doing to me. In short - I can no longer be around those people that continue to, in full knowledge of, cause me pain. I can no longer be acquainted with those who find I am useful when they need or want something from me. I will no longer allow those people to continue to take from me what I no longer have, while giving nothing in return.
I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU, AND PEOPLE LIKE YOU, TO HURT ME ANY LONGER. I DO NOT DESERVE THIS. TO BE TREATED LIKE A DISEASE, LIKE A DIRTY SECRET! NO, I AM BETTER THAN THIS. I AM BETTER THAN YOU!
I am finally getting some strength back. I am finally in a position to be able to defend myself and soon I will have enough strength and resources to fight back. It was almost too late, but my mind is slowly putting itself back in focus. It's almost done rebooting the new Robert's Brain OS version 2.0. It's showing me the opening splash screen. It says, "Finishing System Restore. Please Be Patient. Not Much Longer." Yes!
This time last year I made the rather questionable decision to take a bunch of pills with the intention of permanently going to sleep. At the time, my life completely sucked and despite my best efforts to make it 'not suck', I continued to slide into the awaiting mental oubliette I had inadvertently created for myself. That didn't sound like very much fun at all, so I took a bunch of pills instead. My plans, however, were thwarted by evil do-gooders who managed to call emergency services who, in turn, transported me to a hospital where those sonofabitchen Medical do-gooders stopped it from happening.
They called it "saving a life." I called it a "waste of resources."
After a few days and some reflection I decided to give living another try (besides, they had taken all my pills and wouldn't give them back). And in a weak moment, I decided to forgive, stop hating, be involved, and force myself, if necessary, to find a better life and become a person again. There were conditions though. I realized that I could forgive but only if I forgot. The strain of the damaged done to me in the past was simply too much, as was waiting for the wounded to offer an apology. I had to put it down, create a condition and new rules for my brain, and move forward. So that's what I did. I told my brain that I would agree not go back there, to that place of hurt and anger, ever again and that I will make a stronger attempt to keep my Demon locked up. In exchange I asked my brain to grant me peace, clarity, wisdom, patience and understanding for all future endeavours. I then asked it if it would consider a joint effort to move us back into the realm of 'normal'.
To my surprise, it agreed.
For a while it seemed like everything was going perfect. There were a couple of times where the evil past was brought up and I was subsequently 'brain-slapped' before going ape shit, but over all - not too bad. But life is an unyielding bastard spewing difficulty and hardship wherever - and whenever - it can. It does not car about your shit at all and it's sole purpose in your life is to make it as difficult as possible. I don't know why I ever thought I escape it's torment. I wanted to be a good person. Was that too much to ask?
In this last year, I spent no less than 104 days in pain that ranges from "Goddamnit that hurts" to literally "passing out pain". I started a social life only to end it abruptly because of a fantasy intrusion that will never be realized. I met really nice people who seemed genuinely interested in me only to flake out and revert to my 'alone is better' status. I still have a stranger living in my house and about a dozen other things going on that continue to beat on my head like a pissed off hammer. I promised myself I would not waste this life and have made every attempt (I believe) to achieve that goal, but as I said earlier, life is an unyielding bastard and simply doesn't care.
I have gained nothing and have learned even less. Last year I thought my life could not get any worse. Man, was I wrong or what?
Must I make so drastic a change as to disrupt the last bit of stability I feel? Be damned the consequences, fire the torpedoes and head East young man! In honesty, there are very little consequences to consider. I will not be missed, but I might be labeled. I might be made into a good 'what happened to' story. I might be blamed for everything, and why not? I certainly won't be around to defend myself. In the end it's more likely I am simply forgotten.
I am never going to be able to put into words the angst I feel. I am never going to be able to explain what my head feels like or why I think like I do. I wish I could. If, for nothing else, to offer a more complete picture of the person I really am. "And who is that", you ask? I don't know. But I know who I'm not;
Have you ever looked into a large crowd of people to find someone you know?
I'm not that person.
Over and over and over yet again. The same scrambled mess, the same inane thoughts. Much like the proverbial record that, because of one solitary scratch, continues to repeat one portion of the same song seemingly forever. But something has eventually got to give. Either the record heals itself and the scratch goes away or the pla
Four years are just gone. Lost forever. Four years.....damn it...
Though small, I have made some progress in controlling this supposed 'disease' I have. I have gleaned a few things about myself and of people in general. I have learned a great deal of how the human mind works and have a better idea of how it can be controlled with that knowledge. I have learned that seeking peace and tranquility is a noble pursuit, however unrealistic, and that people can change but are likely not to. Yet I am no closer to the meaning of life or a cure from what poisons me. I am no closer to finding my way, to knowing who I am or knowing if I am loved or even cared about.
Of people, I can only say that there are basically three types: Those that help, those that destroy, and those that help destroy. People don't ever genuinely change. At their core they have em
Though my core programming remains unchanged, I can honestly say I have changed. I have changed in the way I am able to deal with a sickness out of my control for many years. I have changed in my ideas of sharing and displaying my emotions. I seem to have found the power switch to my heart and after turning it on, found the effects overwhelming. I cry now (a lot actually) and I am not embarrassed or afraid to. I listen and give people talking the attention they deserve. I genuinely love and hurt. I openly admit my faults, even about my illness, and try my best to address them every single day.
I am far from perfect and I know and accept it. My faults are large and the list is long. Putting those faults introduced by my mental madness aside for a moment I can tell you that I am insecure and immature. I often times cannot see the good behind the bad and my overall view of the world at large - of the people at large - is still one filled with no small amount of bitterness and, yes, even hate. I am often still late to apologize (but I do so more now than ever before). But worst of all, I am completely lost.
I have tried and continue to try every ... single ... day. I cannot express this loud enough or with enough emphasis. Make no mistake about it, yes I am proud of what I've accomplished so far. Those changes I have accomplished I would consider 'behaviorally acquired' through normal life or reality. At my core, at my roots, I am the same person - good or bad. I don't think it's posible to change that but I do believe it's possible to abolish those flaws acquired through life's lessons. We take so much with us through life. Mostly the bad handed to us by Fathers, mothers, uncles and cousins, Grandparents. Basically, anyone we are told to or believe we can trust. The betrayal by those trusted leaves wounds that will never heal until dealt with. Until then they continue to gather everything negative. As in any fight you've got to know when you've lost. The sooner you admit this, the sooner you can move on and begin healing. It is pointless to continue, and in your heart you knows it and will continue to die until something is done about it.
However great the effort, however great my intentions, I have come to realize that I have lost this fight. I have let my home become a prison. My guest is now my shackles that keep me bound to this fake plastic tree called life. Of my friends I can only say that while there intentions are well placed, their help is often as shallow as they are. People will only ever help until it exceeds their comfort level, then they abandon you. Even my own Mother, in offering what she believes to be help, has a limit and a wall of understanding that is impossible to breach or expand. What she offers as help continues to open those wounds she caused so many years ago and she remains oblivious to the obvious and even at my ripening age, knows literally nothing about me.
I must stand on my own.
How? How am I to stand on my own when the very idea of normal life seems an illusion? To pay bills, check mail, answer the phone, work? All ideas from an alternate society. One I used to belong to, but now as foreign to me as another language. They don't know me, and don't want to. I am damaged goods. That one guy who is slightly 'off'. Who talks a little crazy. The one that might hurt them. I am unemployable as well as being the that cannot be helped. Television lied to me. There is no help for people like me, the bottom feeders, the desperate. The Doctors lied to me. I cannot be fixed with your magic drugs Doctors, and since I have no insurance, it's best if I just go away and die quietly somewhere without bothering you, right?. Family and friends lied to me. In the very belief that family would provide me the strength I needed to heal. What a fool I've been.
Do I require so much that I am now considered unworthy a person? Does anything I've accomplished hold no weight with you? Can no one see how much I've changed, or lost? Does no one care?
Everyday I struggle with these ideas and fight my own demons to keep what's left of my mind to me. I certainly don't need to be fighting yours as well. I know what needs to be done and I need to do it before I am once again emotionally shredded into little pieces. I cannot make it through one more round of that. Still torn between what I consider duty and survival you would think my choice would be clear. The logic of the answer is simple,
I MUST leave.
Otherwise I am sure to die here.
So what must I do? How does one procede at the task of saving one's self? I will admit that I am terrified of it even try, though I've witnessed others that have done it with a blatant disregard for the damage they leave behind, they seem to do all right.
This is when I urgently need guidance, a trusted source of advise, but find nobody around me that can offer any. Right now, this minute - I realize how very alone I am and realize that it doesn't matter how much I've tried because nobody cares.
It is the largest of questions in only three letters.
Why am I this way? Why am I so unworthy of love and to have someone care about me? Why must I continue, day after day, to endure a torture that will never, EVER, end. Why do the powers that be find it necessary to continue to add more crap to my crap filled life. Why must every minute of pleasure be repaid with months of pain? Why did they keep me alive? Why couldn't they have just let me go?
Years of this anguish are taking it's toll. Every thought now filled with a hopeless emptiness that my void of a soul no longer listens to. Words spoken to me are nothing more than empty courtesies. There is no meaning or substance. No love. No caring. Just words as if picked from a dictionary. Heartless.
I have tried, really tried, to find the good. To better myself and be someone of worth. But a person can only take so many hits before the referee calls the fight. I have screamed for help. Swallowed my pride and admitted my faults and weaknesses. Strived to be honest in emotion and reaction. I have hidden nothing. It is simply not enough and I don't know what's missing. I thought this was how a person was supposed to be. Was I wrong? Was I supposed to keep my feelings hidden? Was I supposed to remain the seemingly heartless bastard I was made out to be? It would have been a lot easier. Then, I simply could have walked away from everyone and everything. Everyone could have stood around patting each other on the back saying things like, "See? I told you so."
Those efforts I've made do not matter. Wether I'm here or not does not matter. So then, Why am I still here?
I don't know anymore.
A strong breeze managed to find a path through the seedy little 'Quicky Mart' parking lot I was waiting in and (without any warning) stole my hat. I chased my hat around the parking lot for what seemed to be an eternity. All the while doing the stupid little 'wind took your shit' dance, looking like a complete idiot. My perspective offered up a new few of the world for me. One of previously enjoyed gum, and cigarette butts. Even though my hat had beed doing the 'Asphalt Walz' through all of the newly discovered treasures, I finally lasso'd it, and threw it on my head.
What was I doing in this "Quicky Mart" parking lot in? I was waiting. I was waiting there to meet my connection. To move some merchandise. To score some cash.
I was there to sell the last thing of value I have in the world; My Fender.
I know, I know.
It's just a thing, a possession and in the scheme of life, it is unimportant. But to me it was one of my few remaining links to a past disappearing too quickly. To me, it's Grandpa's story told one too many times. A story of adventure, discovery, treasure and a life long love affair. A story that we all have. More important to us than it will be to anybody ever told. My Odyssey. Even my legacy. And I was waiting there to sell it.
I remember the day I got and where. It was a the Guitar Center in Hollywood, incorrectly tagged amongst some unworthy Yamaha Acoustic Thin Styles. A solid Black on Black masterpiece of simple Fender goodness with a mix of Japanese influence. That guitar caused a lot of controversy back then as Fender thought Japanese Fender was trying to show them up (and they were). The truth is, they did.
The first thing I did when I got home was open up a copy of Guitar magazine. The year was 1987, log before the net. Guitar magazine had a list of the Top 10 New guitars for that year. Sitting at number 1 was my Fender with an MSRP of 5 times what I had just paid for it. A standard Fender Strat only found it's way to the number 6 spot that year. Also in the magazine; Steve Vai was ranked as the number one Rock/Metal Guitarist, ousting Eddie VanHalen and U2 was going to be playing The Forum.
Now it's 26 years later. And except for those times it was on loan to one of the kids, I've had this Fender Strat for over half my life. In that time I never, not once, ever contemplated selling it. Even when times were tough. Even though I was never a great, or even good guitar pla
But hard times are here and with my future always uncertain it was necessary to let it go. So in this seedy Quicky Mart parking lot, for the embarrassingly low price of $1200, I was selling 26 years of my life to someone I had never met, and would most likely never see again.
I see him pull in driving. "Nice car", I'm thinking, "but he looks like Fred Durst". As he walks over to my car he offers one of the easily recognizable and universal "cool guy" head nods and says, "Hey, you Bob?" we spend about half an hour talking, then make the exchange. As he drives off all I can think of is that I've been robbed. 12 $100 bills just doesn't seem worth it when you compare it to everything that guitar meant to me. I began to feel sick as I started my drive home.
Honestly I did not think it would hit this hard. It's just a guitar, right? I guess somehow I injected part of my soul in that guitar, and now I really feel it. To me, this is the pinnacle failure of my life so far. I lost the one thing that was truly mine, and I did it on purpose. I guess it was bound to happen. At some point, life begins to take more than it gives. Now, with nothing left, I wonder what it will take next.
I am a fool.
I know, I've said that before, but its still true.
In my heart I know what needs to be done. Still, I delay the action. My heart is so committed to an aggravated assault against my mind that it cannot allow me to do what is ultimately right. It cannot let go.
I've known her at her worst and at her best. I've seen the damage she is capable of first hand and would never like to again. I've seen her fall a part. I've seen her admire and appreciate. I've seen her as a loving mother. I've seen her as my best friend and as my worst enemy. I've seen her look at me in love and in hate. I know her.
The first Libra could be seen throughout our developing relationship. A friend, a lover. My wife, my lover. She radiated beauty everywhere she went, demanding the attention of all that where in her presence. She supported me and raised 4 wonderful children. And I loved her like no other.
The second Libra was hell. Divorce and hatred, loathing and abandonment. I will not go back here - ever.
The third Libra, this one right now, however, is the most difficult for me to understand. I see my friend and lover, the mother of my children. I see her heart in all of it's generosity and her beauty still a glow. She has pain now. Pain and disappointment. I can see in her eyes the disbelief of how this life has turned out. I can see how much I have let her down. It is an uncomfortable feeling. How can all of these things be so visible to me know and not when I needed them to be. When I could have done something about it.
Twinges and scowls breeze across her face occasionally (a memory left over from the number two Libra, most likely). They are fleeting and seldom stay for more than a second, but still. In this Libra I am lost. The difference between what I see and feel and what she feels are devastatingly different. There is no love seen in her face and only a superficial indicator of caring can ever been seen. And even that has become rare.
Still, I hang on. I hang on for something my brain has been trying to tell me will never happen for a while now. I am overtaken by the forces of denial and stuff the negative thoughts as far away as possible. I am lost in the presence of her and wish to stay there for ever, if posible. But I am selfish.
The last few days I have began to realize the facts surrounding this one sided relationship and just as it did 4 years ago, my heart is starting to break all over again. There is no hope here, the never was. There was only a cease fire and a loose agreement to begin talks in hopes of establishing a treaty of some sort (done). But there is no future here and I beginning to understand that.
But what to do?
It seems I have fallen again. Now, to her, relegated as a friend I am only allowed to observe. I must sneak into her house after dark in the absence of light to visit with her. I cannot be seen in the daylight. My offers of help are sometimes accepted but only if the above criteria can be met. I am not allowed to know anything too important or too private and am always kept just outside "the know"
I knew this wouldn't be easy but agreed to try it anyhow. Just to be close too her again I would have sold my soul. I still would! But the initial energy has dissipated leaving only a vapor trail.She was here once, but I missed it.
I am a fool for hanging on to something I can never hope to recover. A fool for standing in the way of her seeking and finding her own happiness. A fool for jeopardizing and destroying my life by trying to hang on to a fleeting dream of a life with her that never existed.
I have been resisting the urge to do this. To write down another word reflecting the misery my mind once again. I do not want this anymore, yet I, once again, I find myself mired down in the cruelty of life's mud, but this time I have no shovel.
"Standing in the middle of nowhere. Wondering how to begin. Lost between tomorrow and yesterday. Between now and then." ~The Kinks
No one song lyric has been able to depict my life so accurately as that one. This is how I have felt for so long.
There used to be a time I thought I was happy. But that was all violently stripped away without regard as to what was I to be left. It turns out not much. My days are filled with emptiness and false hopes. Dreams and fantasies abound. I believe in myself as long as I am unable to. Until I get to the point that I start to unravel.
I cannot describe it. I do not want to. I am in desperately in need of help, but surrounding me are the selfish. Those people that are able to tollerate me as long as there is something I can give them when demanded. They sem to take advantage of my "brokenness", knowing that I will give the last thing I own if they but barely ask.
Still others do far worse by providing the false hopes guaranteed to do further, irreparable damage.
It is all my fault. Only my perception, right?
I have exhausted all of my resources. There is nothing left of both my money and myself. My broken brain refuses to restart and I have no way to do so on my own. I spend my days crying and chasing cars. I wrestle with the identity of those I can and cannot trust. But I do not live. Living around every corner there is someone lurking with their hands out stretch, eagerly waiting to take what's left of me.
But I have no more. I have nothing. There are no more days of clarity. No more days of being responsible. There is nothing...I am done.
I want to be happy. I want to have friends that are interested in my survival. I want to live and restart my life. And I want so much to be loved and to share that love in return.
...and I need help.
The promise of the new hangs in the air as the days fall away from winter to reveal the possibilities of Spring. My senses are excited once more. The air now becomes crisp, instead of cold. The wind now just a breeze, slightly chilled. The Sun continues it's battle to show through the rain clouds and each day gains a little more ground. Winter is all but dead. All of the trees, all of the plants, indeed everything that lives is now actively standing in defiance of the dying Winter. Awakening from long sleeps underground, the early bloomers are making an always spectacular showing. An introduction, as if to make the Spring official.
For people, a different kind of awakening is occurring. The sounds of Weed-eaters and lawnmowers fill the Northwestern skies until the Sun can no longer stand against the roof of the night. Hustle and bussle at the local hardware stores and those nurseries catering to plants, people stand and contemplate. "How will this look" or "What do think" are comments frequently heard. Their choices are many, too many to list, but all beautiful in their own right. No complaints about how much work it will be or the time that will be lost trying to place these no longer orphaned plants. Just visions of beauty as all of us imagine how much they will add to our lives.
We look at everything a little different during the Springtime. Unburdened by the darkness of Winter, our minds sprout upward toward the Sun and begin to once again see all that was hidden from view for so long. As if magic returns to our world for a short time making everything possible. We are able to see the best in everything, from plants to people. Everything is exciting and nothing is impossible.
This is my favorite time of the year, and I do not plan to waste it.
Previous PostsWell That Was Unexpected...., posted January 23rd, 2014
A House No Longer A Home, posted November 30th, 2013
~Fini~, posted November 14th, 2013
Got A Match?, posted November 8th, 2013
Sould I Stay or Should I Go? Go, Definetly Go...., posted October 24th, 2013
Swinging For The Fence..., posted October 14th, 2013
Who Cries for the Broken?, posted October 12th, 2013
Can I Leave Now? Please., posted September 10th, 2013
Out of Sight, Out of My Mind...., posted September 3rd, 2013
The Edge...., posted August 30th, 2013, 2 comments
The Forgotten..., posted August 25th, 2013
So Very Tired, posted August 11th, 2013
A Little Clarity Is Not Always A Good Thing..., posted July 31st, 2013
It's Been A Whole Year? Really?, posted June 19th, 2013
A Broken Record Eventually Stops Working, posted May 25th, 2013
A Fool and His Life Are Soon Parted, posted May 13th, 2013
Traveling A Little Lighter, posted May 10th, 2013
Three Libras, posted May 5th, 2013
Breath In, Bleed Out, posted April 24th, 2013
Into The Intentions of Spring, posted April 15th, 2013
March Madness, posted March 23rd, 2013
Observations Made Through A Cracked Telescope, posted January 25th, 2013
On The Lighter Side..., posted January 21st, 2013, 1 comment
Deal, posted January 20th, 2013
Diving Into Ice..., posted January 20th, 2013
Roam, posted January 20th, 2013
Slow Down...., posted January 18th, 2013, 1 comment
The Missing, posted January 12th, 2013
Damn Dreams, posted January 8th, 2013
More Bad Poetry......, posted January 7th, 2013
I Just Can't Help It..., posted January 7th, 2013
Like A Puzzle Missing Pieces..., posted January 7th, 2013
High Resolutions for 2013, posted December 31st, 2012
Alright Then, Let's Light This Candle!, posted December 30th, 2012
Sunset In My Eyes, posted December 30th, 2012
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