Watched from the outskirts all rimmed in love, you gave over no safety that I could feel of. Watched bygone while I struggled and spit venom and vomit up until I was spent. Watched while the waves came on moving higher, swore I’d tell you to fuck off from my funeral pyre. Watched while I grew sturdier before I faltered again, lost deep in mire of life and filled up with sin. Watched endless triumphs burned to the ground, seemed life went crashing down even without you around. Watched this final run at the finish line with new eyes and a tone that said things would might not be fine. Watched as realities melted and took rent in my head, finally recognized that all wasn’t right for my seeming age. Watched with compassion even from afar, spent time learning rather than coaching a “star”. Watched me enroll and hit the books, instead of crack pipes and needles if you only knew. Watched me change for ways in the better all dulled by the pain, I walked through the fires in flames before I saw you again. Watched me marry and find a good woman who’ll last, she once told you to get bent though its all in the past. Watched me grow up finally into something akin to man racked in regrets and scarified skin. Watched the people I’d hurt and sometimes you’d side, with me over others, though it crushed my pride.
At the end of my days when I look on out to consider how far I’ve come and whether I should be bitter. You did the best you could with your view of the world that you did what you could to help despite all the churls. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I would’ve been, maybe the futures changed are in respect to what you did. Parenthood must not be easy I say as a father, one seemingly absent forever trying to reclaim self enough not to falter. And if my children one day come looking this way I’ve got apologies, presents, and a lifetime to share— I’ll do it different then you did, I want them to know that I’ve cared. And if that isn’t enough and they hate on me still, I’ll know that I forgave you for it eventually, even without a will.
I’ve posted at various points about the women I had been in meaningful relationships with over the past several years. I’ve started the process of trying to own my mistakes and damaging choices that I made which wrongly hurt so many. I’m not expecting forgiveness nor looking for absolution – I simply want them to know that I see, finally, what I was doing, and that I am using that knowledge to change – but that I am truly sorry that I never gave validation to their suffering or trials as my partner.
The woman in the picture is my wife. We have been married for nearly a year now and during that period, for nearly 7-months of that I was in a schizoaffective psychosis that made it excruciating at points for us to interact. I left her for another woman, an ex, and then came crawling back as the hallucinations and delusions became too much. She welcomed back a broken and distorted man who was in the middle of, very literally, losing his mind.
At various points during what should have been our honeymoon period, I was convinced that she was in collusion with a massive entity that had designs on my life or was controlling and manipulating every facet of my existence. At others she was the embodiment of every other woman from my past, down to peculiar quirks, gestures and habits. She was going to be my executor and was part of the CIA, maybe she was part of a higher learning classroom where the objective was to transfer the emotional condition of each unknowing participant to their partner in order to engender sympathy and empathetic understanding of their challenges, she had been solicited by the local police force as part of an investigation into me and was the only reason I wasn’t in jail, we were unified spirits finally returning to each others company as we had been separated at birth, I was an android, we were both part of a “Matrix” style computer simulation, we were in a computer simulation again but this time it was part of a pre-death effort to recover functional control of the potential disability funds that I was too apply for – we were both on our way out and there was a timed limit to how long we could be sustained, she was god, she was my mother, she was my sister really, we were siblings, we were part of a government solicited experimental project that dated back into the early 1960s and was consistent with mind control practices used by the CIA and the conditioning had finally started to falter and a reset was needed in order for us to continue on, the experiment was over and the pain was from the conditioning being wiped, I was part of a TV show and was always considered an overindulgent jackass but the popularity had hit a decline and now the producers were reworking to see if they could salvage what had been a massive financial expenditure, there were patterns in all of the lights and colors that indicated specific events that would be forthcoming, the patterns were there to trigger latent programming in my mind to demand I act in certain ways……on and on and on.
Heather dealt with accusations, assertions, demands that were incredible unreasonable, threats, hostile looks, battered and desperate sobs, breakdowns, manipulations on her reality to try and line up with what seemed to be gaslighting, and capped with endless triggers to her own trauma that brought it back into full swing for her PTSD – she walked down the same road as I, holding my hand while my mind shattered and I became completely incapable of functioning in any sort of a way. I became wholly dependent on her emotionally and often physically as I would need direction to do the simplest of tasks.
I don’t know how she did it, I can’t imagine the entire extent of psychological and emotional damage she endured for that period – all while being judged and criticized by her family for standing by the side of a “schizophrenic drug addict” to such an extent all support and contact was removed.
She is truly incredible. Today, I am enrolled in college full time studying towards a law degree. We own a small RV that barely functions but acts as home. Support comes in from my family as we have actually rebuilt a degree of trust and love now that I am on a steady and clear path forward. They see the efforts that we have put in and the support we’ve given each other. When Heather broke down and checked into the local hospital, I was able to be there as a steady support and ensure that she was taken care of and all the outside concerns were handled so she could relax.
I was shattered at one point to the level that while sitting in the hospital with a deep wound from breaking a window in frustration that I didn’t know my name, my gender, my birthday, anything beyond that I was sitting in a hospital. She nurtured and helped grow me back into an actual function adult, and a partner that adores and supports (as best he can) her in turn – trying to reciprocate what she extended so freely despite the obstacles.
I love her to pieces, she astonishes me with her creativity, emotional connection to the larger whole, altruism, sympathy, caring and respectful behavior towards anyone and everyone – completely free of judgement. She is loyal beyond what could ever be expected of someone to endure and when she sets her mind to any task she has such a commitment as I can only dream of. For all her peculiar little quirks and certainly acknowledging that we all have faults, she is one of the most remarkable people I have ever met with a story that would bring any rational person to their knees in disbelief. She has been on quite the journey with me, and I am proud to finally be returning what she invested – surely to the disbelief of anyone who was in doubt of her decision if they were still paying any attention.
Most what I admire however is the truthfulness she embodies in every action and conversation throughout the day. Coupled with her open mindedness regarding life and non-judgemental mentality, we can speak openly about our challenges, desires, mistakes, fuck-ups, and everything in between. She has challenged me to have such a degree of integrity as she does, to walk the walk and own my actions, to grow by mimicry at first and then taking my own steps. She and I are building a life together, starting from nothing, but laying every component carefully so as to have the most solid of foundation–something neither of us has ever done.
We truly have been through one hell of a ride, but today we are able to laugh, enjoy some precious moments, and be secure in our connection to each other, knowing that nothing can, or will, break us apart.
A note from Skye: at a juncture in our relationship where I had left the woman who is now my wife behind to go on a callously stupid and ill-fated journey elsewhere, she inscribed a note on the blackboard I have inside the roof of my truck (then my home). She wrote me, “Never forget, that home is where the heart is.” Despite going through terrible fights and challenges as I lost my mind following a tearful reunion and after our marriage which eventually led to my diagnosis of schizoaffective, she has remained a constant presence and holds my soul, mind, and thoughts to a more serene path than I have ever imagined to be possible. It isn’t easy for either of us sometimes, but in honor of the forthcoming holiday and a desire to put a smile on her face, the short poem below came about. The dog I had at the time which came to love her as well was named Luna – hence the image attached. Thank you for reading.
That beast with feel good flames,
It shatters personality with energizing fear,
Makes a whole of fractured creatures,
Absence felt but unseen shines light,
On the gnarled path to something true and right.
Rather than lost and alone we find our way here,
Out of the forest of broken hopes,
To a land fabricated of dreams and words,
Of possibilities and limitless features.
When we journey beyond the ken of all that’s known,
I’m coming to the realization that on so many different levels I am either a remarkably calloused and demanding individual or there is a screw truly loose (several more likely) upstairs. It’s the only thing that can, or would, account for such indiscriminate moments of self indulgent burbling and behaviour as leads me to regularly overlook the concerns of those loving figures in my life. Unless I am well and truly an actual certifiable dick.
I’m even finding a flair for it in the fact that I tend to fixate on my own reactions and actions in situations – pre-emptively justifying some flagrant display of asinine “my way or the highway” choice making prowess with a fixated smile plastered in disregard on my face (which I will only later realize to my own chagrin). If I were to explore the world around me, step outside of this little glass room and observe that what I previously represented as fun was actually a brazen push off of my wife’s emotions and verbalized needs (supplanted by my own), irresponsible actions that drained coffers and put us at risk, and a worthless extension of a wonderful day into the doldrums and mire of a night huddled at opposite sides of the van.
Somewhere along the lines there is a lynchpin moment – like when I say, “wow, we are getting along great recently!” Klaxons should go off inside my head that any moment now my own self-destruct sequence just silently clicked on and started down. If I can chase back that singular moment as it happens and repetitiously drill it into my head that this is the moment where a choice can mean the validation of goodwill and genuine happiness being experienced and a continuation thereof, or disaster and a repeat of the same overplayed mistakes once again.
It seems intuitive that anyone would want to sustain positivity and goodvibes that are making themselves felt in an interpersonal dynamic – so why does my brain blank to suddenly and with seeming intent when it comes to taking the basic neccessary steps to do so? I don’t like the burned out husk of joy that is left when I don’t, no one does. If I have to be self serving enough to recognize the discomfort that the miss of that moment will bring to myself in order to identify the external impact that will precede, so be it.
I really hope I’m not just a dick. That would really be terrible.
Tremulous chattering in the van like we’re beetles in heat. Something like that anyways. Its fucking cold but it sure beats being on the street. Time to start on one of those commitments. That thing where we write everyday, try to spew out the content that drives each of us bonkers, makes us sicker and crazier than anything else upstairs no matter how much we beg and pray.
There’s joy to be found here. In the way that our interactions have changed. Its subtle, so very subtle, but present and there’s no denying the pleasure it brings. Instead of side eyed looks they come straight on, a touch of passion, and I’m even back to singing terribly constructed spasmodic morning songs.
Like a drunk man who’s way too sober christening each second with noise to blot out all of the thoughts before they come screaming to his room begging for their toys.
But it’s all got a rhythm to it. A banging irrational rhythm.
From the awkward sex making in the cubbyhole cavern with blanket draped window we reside, to the front seats arm deep in residue from yesterday which resides. You’d think we were animals, but that’s far from true. The hallucinations today have me convinced that we’re clearly not part of the normal zoo.
Despite every frothing nuanced prayer that initializes my psyche, the distorted grimace of broken promises and lost understanding, perched atop a wistful hallucination, a misted and cloaked recollection of the past run doggedly down by the present pretense.
If ever there was something akin more to the listless and forgiving welcome end of the fight with the embittered arrogance of senses beguiled by a world at odds with the wasted conviction that drives each of us to draw determined store each day.
I don’t want to see that shit.
It’s going to remain a figment of some darker god’s plaything.
Poor darlings chained up until the scent of dread and hate and playful desperation and longing and weakness and fear cum resignation. Soaks the fingers loose from greased clasp on steel.
Fucking breaking would be the sweetest of releases.
To find forgiveness in deceit , blunder through fields of denial, laden and swollen deep with the putrid rage at self and world.
Just take one more day beautiful.
Please.
I’m begging through this weakness and shame of my indignant mistrust.
Please.
Please show me I’m crazy enough that I won’t die in my hate lust that these fears have spawned.
I’ll be your puppy faced joker.
Your sterile cat of misapprehension.
Feed me your sin to mirror mine and kiss these wounds to sew them shut against a clot of your mercy. The sheen was lost so long ago and hasn’t been a clean reflection since you woke me to a world of normalcy bathed in the crackled genius of the wounded.
I have been falling far short of making the appropriate connection with my wife over a life defining realization that she has gone her life as an undiagnosed Aspie (high functioning autistic). There are odd layers of parallels to which there is a natural affinity, but there is something that I have been missing. This is my first attempt to look at the world through her eyes as I am best able to express and am hoping with guidance to be better able to straddle the world as she experiences it in contrast to my mental quirks like schizoaffective.
A screaming madhouse of trumpets blaring,
Drummers on speedballs layering the double bass,
Wavering certainty,
Confidence on the rise, but just barely,
The world is too bright,
The looks of strangers is just strange,
Maniacally plotting,
To a joke that you don’t know,
So tell them these interesting passion facts that they won’t know.
Smile while you cry,
Laugh at the wrong gasping sigh,
These rules and constraints are making breathing unfair.
Choke down and recite,
I’m okay and this is all right,
Till the next bad sound,
Bad brush of a fabric,
Discomfort from all around,
Can’t they see the connections?
Feel the motion of energy,
Don’t they understand this quality?
The world is askew,
Words like love and care,
Confused and tried over long rounds with intensity crackling the air.
There’s a kaleidoscopic cacophony of feels,
An incredible world beyond what we’re so painfully pound,
Just a look,
Just a taste,
“How can I be such a waste?”
So little understood,
All my earnest wishes are to call you now true friend,
This awkwardness leaves me bashful and confused,
They all leave anyways in the end.
How much do I accomplish just by opening a door,
Welcome in the miasma of fear that would leave a neurotypical floored,
Scent the wind,
Gather reserves,
By the time I’ve left my bed I’ve confronted an onslought of nerves,
Nevermind the staccato blasts of sanity on swerve.
If you listen and watch,
Appreciate the stimming and don’t consider this to be “my loss,”
You’ll know I am gloriously fragile,
Toweringly glassine,
A ravenous angel of knowledge and love,
Set to task and to pace,
Hurtled forward by God with a shove,
So be patient,
See that for what you may fear,
I’m sublimely sweet,
Easy to wound deep,
Each day the scars rip,
And for all of my toil and grit,
A reluctant soldier of survival all legit.
Penance is my smile for a crime that set me a glow,
Step into my world,
There is so much that I’ve been dying to show.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 