Tongue twisting word misted lofty ethics suddenly shifted. Verbiage awry crooked context, sand quickens sickens the truth with maddening lies. Bullheaded bully vacuum packed morals gone dead done right presented cleanly above suspicion heartless lips soulless head. Accusations flutter steer recklessly fly rashly land poorly eventually die. Miserable life distorted denial avoids change ever always engarde tromping a perilously pointless and petulant hike. Existence’s trials trails marching for miles dust caked grins always grimy shiver obscenely spit softly back at ’em –shake the fear off and smile.
I’ve been on both ends of the stick I suppose at different points, something that I’m not proud of, but can admit readily enough. Whether it was spawned from fear, trauma, etc, doesn’t quite qualify as an excuse for how I behaved at points during my life, it was my responsibility to “not be an asshole”. Feeling someone play out their own internal sickness in the same way towards me is an eye opener.
Tattered, tired, and angry though someone may be, it has to be an echo of some truly painful and unresolved issues to advise an individual dealing with a mental illness that they are despised and everyone is in the eaves waiting for them to die. Shitty and deeply manipulative behavior,knowing that the recipient can literally do nothing other than just sit with themselves, absent means to defend themselves without seeming more culpable as a perpetrator of something justifying such vicious and cutthroat suggestions. There is no power in the words themselves other than what the recipient gives them.
Maybe though, in some ways, it might just be how a person deals with their particular brand of sadness and pain–the only way they know how, lash out. Go for the throat. God knows I’ve done it before more times than I care to think if not totally in that literal context. A whipcord reaction to hurt those that hurt you, even if it is based on incorrect judgement calls and assumptions.
Everyone heals in their own way, and while that doesn’t make it right, finally, I can put myself in the other pair of shoes and understand the feelings behind the words. Temper my own frustration and resentment at the unnecessary cruelty with patience and accept that it is what it is, and life will continue to move on. It’s not worth giving though or dwelling on someone’s words when they are bent on hating or hurting you, let ’em go by the side and don’t look back.
Someone once told me, if someone’s an asshole and lies or treats you poorly, at the end of the day, they’re the asshole, not you.I’ve been an asshole plenty across my life, and that makes a lot of sense.
We have only ourselves and our actions to control–for better or for worse.
if only it didn’t get wasted on recklessness and flair.
A heart of gold that’s caked in grim so foul by
denial in fluid form quite thick with salty accusations.
The entropy which held his corroded soul?
Only his own beautiful and despairing wiles,
his mental contortions and poorly calibrated machinations.
Knowing where to breach the wall starts up a new trip,
destination target of personal acceptance where he wouldn’t have to be so slick.
So out the fingers onto board,
let introspection guide–it’s time–
now to scour honestly at what really is inside.
The good, the bad, the disgusting and the brave.
Let’s turn the light where it should shine,
come to love yourself and be unafraid.
Written during an interlude to personal evaluations that have been a long time coming. It’s not all black or white, and that’s how I’ve looked at it for so long–either I’m a good person or a bad person. Reality is I’m a good person who has done and does bad things wrapped up with a bad person who does good things as well–happens to support the delusion that while I’m doing one I’m not the other. Ihave despised myself, been hopped up and arrogant, placid and timid, confident and sincere, dishonest and truthful–but I have never really sat down and recognized the individual parts of the whole to welcome them in and actually come to peace….my hope is that for whatever reason, that process starts today.
Actually doing some of the work for once instead of just expecting understanding to shit brilliance on me at some random point.
This runs in conjunction to me getting back into treatment though I never thought I would and despite still (poorly) struggling with the old demons. And, while terrified that I’m just wasting oxygen while doing it, I’m finally engaged with a full PACT team of recovery specialists to help give me a pathway and outline to work within to get healthy mentally and spiritually–become a viable member of the community instead of a pariah.
Last thought I suppose, because I know I’ve ground out so much vitriol here on my vomit board over the years–self indulgent and caked with inconsideration at many points–unappreciative of much that happens around me because I don’t understand the workings of the world nearly as well as I once pretended. Today I’d like to express some gratitude for the strange things that happen, both the uncomfortable and the “saving grace” moments. Times when you find that missing pot which vanished, or you forget to turn your headlights off for two hours but your car still turns on, your friend just happens to be there right when you turn the corner, or that any of us find love to begin with. Thank you and my gratitude to the invisible universe that makes it all happen. I’m going to marvel at the beauty of it more and perhaps be less confuzzled and distressed by the parts I don’t understand.
Wiggling brain worms of love cross each other on withering paths, laying out siege plans and more, demanding the mind bow and be labeled a whore. Tussling tatters of titrated remains, their infection spreads softly but fierce is the pain. When all is lost to the annals of memory (that malleable stuff made of thoughts stuck in entropy), we’ll know not the beginning, seek to suss out the end. But by that point the parasites will be dug in, they’ve rewired the hardware, unfucked the program and rewritten the codes. Their beautifully at odds with all we call real, if God were a worm I might be filled with more zeal. A zest for the unknown where dreams can take flight, even a place to call home in the bitterest of nights. But, here I sit. Obliterated identity left off as a stain to be cleaned by the new host who’d prefer I be insane.
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.
Hat trick pony across the line, shepherded wisdom you felt was fine. Triumph and fall away don’t presume your sacrilegious idolatry on me. Priming pumps at the Chaos Madcap shoplifting tears having a panic attack. Raze the Earth come all blue destination choke back for our school. Anti-hero rapture chord in flight pulled on so loosely now cinched up tight. Bargaining with soul to sell minister no more hearts and regrets in hell. Hardcore stomps and tromps on you confinement time in a human zoo. We’ve got no more noise but slaves to quell freedom squandered, no one spent it well.
I keep trying to write something that grabs hold of the feeling of being in a psychosis–fully separated from reality in some horrible fashion. I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to capture the experience, but hopefully some fragments of it made it onto this draft. -S
Pry them open to reality all flawed time to see the breakdown.
Fragmented existence done in fractal recall patterns contour the daily grind.
Never stable it will flow over you vicious, merciless, and without care.
Trust nothing you hear or view belief in yourself will be the only way through.
Find solid footing in personal identity hold fast to it as the walls collapse.
Never accept what you remember memory and truth are malleable.
Painted in a thousand shades of false test yourself and survive.
Wiped out internally by the struggle cleansed to nothingness, a relief.
Struggle harder and the pain will gather, simpler by far to outlast it than fight.
Planes of existence and thought overlap confusing rationality to no end.
Get gone boy this is no game for children. Sit back and let yourself be washed away pray, pray, pray to any god listening that it will end soon. Sometimes they listen and sometimes they don’t, but what have you got to lose?
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.