Suicide Slip Slide Slowly Sinking...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXFUCKYOUFUCKYOUXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I was at my brother's for two days and one night. I miss doing posters with him. I used to pretend that I really was a big help and he was very sweet to encourage me to think that way but I know better. It wasn't all about the posters for me anyway. I still really liked seeing P develop his ideas and designs. Talking to him and just being able to hang out with him even if it was just to help or do whatever I could was one of the biggest draws to me. I don't know what it is about P. He listens but he's also got some interesting opinions. I don't agree with everything he says but he doesn't seem to have a problem talking about the bad shit as well as the good things. And he can be funny as shit even when he's pissed off and throwing things.

 It's getting harder and harder (YOU FUCK I KNOW YOU'RE THERE DON'T EVEN THINK I DON'T KNOW YOU FUCK) to deal with talking or socializing with anyone. Hell it's getting harder and harder to deal with anyone else in this house. How long will it take before this is over? I had hope but after a year and no impetus I just don't care, even the unbridled anger has done nothing but burned a hole in my gut. 

C has gotten to the point where he feels that there's nothing to lose by talking to me. I hope it's not too late. I can not change any one but myself. Hence no passion in getting together with another living thing in this life time again. Trying to just put out fires that were created by others a long time ago. Damage control gone on and on...

K is talking to me, it feels like everything has seriously failed now to the point past return. Almost like when the failing is so far gone that you can't wait for the rotting body to drop to the ground in pieces. 

Still it makes my heart ache. Learning the ways of adulthood. The people older than you can't solve your problems and you have to find a way to come to terms with wicked life and the disappointments that come with making mistakes and realizing your imperfections. Not every battle is worth bringing to the fulfilled end. Cutting anchor and riding towards land is better than being sunk below a screaming ocean. 

Desertion of a failing project is not the worse thing that can happen. Being bled to death by a bad venture is not honorable, it's just stupid and being practical is not evil just a decision that can save you time, money and disappointment that may drag you under if you think that seeing a draining scheme gone bad all the way through.

So I am teetering on the edge of not caring myself. I know I will make myself survive past this so that Mom, Caryl and Kevin get through the challenges they've before them. I know that hell is around every corner anyway. I know that I could see worse. I know I've seen bad. I know like pregnancy once you see something on the other side of serious pain and you are responsible for it you will not be busy thinking of the suffering that it took to get to fruition.

Dying will come. It is guaranteed. That is why it is pointless to wish someone dead. It's an inevitability. Dummy.

Well do yourself a favor, play this song and sing along. Cause it's been the worst day since yesterday.

Dad is in the hospital with pneumonia. He's been there since Sunday morning when he fell down and couldn't get up. (see it's going down, he's going down,) He was fine until the ambulance brought him into the ER. It took from 10 am until 1 pm to get him into a room upstairs. The ER wasn't even busy. They put a Foley catheter in Sunday and then tried a Texas catheter on him. He's wearing a diaper now, at least that's what Mom says. Still on antibiotics, but now being walked around by nurses and getting Rehab so he can climb the stairs at home. 

The feeling is nothing. No apathy, no worry, no anxiety (still doesn't stop the panic attacks, what's with that?) no fumbling for the future and trying to prepare. I just don't seem aware, it's not that I don't care. I'm not anywhere. 

I stood in RiteAid and stupidly asked Mom: "What now? I don't know what I'm doing." And it really didn't matter. I didn't care if she made me walk home over the bridges or if we drove to California and rented a condo on the Pacific. Nothing's "normal" because normal is a feeling of familiarity. When all hopes and expectations go out the door normal has been scoured out and nothing is left. No expectations, no schedules for maintenance. All of life's arrangements are taken away and a clear clean nothing is placed before you. It's bewildering and breathtaking and like standing on top of a mountain right after you have sweated and hiked and grunted and cursed up the mountain's side. You look over an apex and you're above the crowd. The perception is so clear you don't know if you should run and jump just to see if you'll tumble down the side of the mountain or of you'll fly into the air. And it doesn't matter. Because you are out of the fray. You are clear of society. No one really matters because an end is coming clean. Something is going to become clear. No matter what you do you are not in control and you just have to experience it. If you're smart.

And that is why I am unsane. I can see the rent in the fabric of humanity. I am familiar with the chaos that rides roughly over all. It rests it's hand on my shoulder and points. It whispers that death comes to one comes to all, what's the hurry? It'll have me in the end. It may be ugly, it may be fast, it may be slow motion but when the switch is flicked off it is over. No one will remember me and it won't matter to me, I won't be here anymore. All my anxieties, all my wishes, all my contributions and dreams and desires will be washed away and worn in the sands of time. And no one will be the wiser. Even the people who made the history books are not really remembered. They are warped by the hopes of idolizers and propaganda of the temporarily powerful. No one is truly understood or represented honestly in the books. Human's just think that they are supreme. In all their self realizations they are blinder than the ignorant.

Flogging Molly - The Worst Day Since Yesterday

From Swagger - (Lyrics) Well I know, I miss more than hit
With a face that was launched to sink
An I seldom feel, the bright relief
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

If theres one thing I have said
Is that the dreams I once had, now lay in bed
As the four winds blow, my wits through the door
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Fallin down to you sweet ground
Where the flowers they bloom
Its there Ill be found
Hurry back to me, my wild calling
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Though these wounds have seen no wars
Except for the scars I have ignored
And this endless crutch, well its never enough
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Hell says hello, well its time to I should go
To pastures green, that Ive yet to see
Hurry back to me, my wild calling
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Beneath Deep Waters Hides A Demon

There's something that I don't want to admit. Whenever something wonderful happens to a friend or family member it makes me angry. I want to fucking punch them in the face. A rage so full and complete overtakes me and I want to kill them or ruin their happiness.
I don't know how to deal with this. I assume it's because of the many horrid things that happened to me. The many "typical" events in my life that were kind of stained by shame or ugliness. My marriage, my pregnancies, the insignificant significant others in my life, the graduations that kind of happened, no sweet sixteen, no protecting role models, all the guideposts in life were warped and dingy, twisted parodies of the American Dream. See I can't complain because the poor children in Uganda didn't have complete families so my completely dysfunctional family was more than what they have. I wasn't born bereft so I have no rights to be angry.
The awesome thing is that I am. I don't give a shit about all the homeless waifs in China. I don't care about the starving Lithuanians. They are not my problem. I am my problem and this angry demon that lies in wait underneath my calm brain stirs the waters of sanity.

Spiderwebs

I realize that I am caught in the spider webs of dysfunction. In a different life where lies and denial were not used to avoid the unsavory aspects of a past that was foisted on me, I would have been able to overcome many harsh realities and maintained a healthy self-esteem. I am who I am because of what was done to me early on. Not just by molesters and abusers and bullies but also by "innocent bystanders". People who didn't want to hear about it because it was negative. People who weren't affected by it but could have made a difference but couldn't be bothered by it because it wasn't their problem.
It's not a wonder that I question everything I do and that I believe it is meant to be when I have a nasty twist of fate. It's no wonder that the messages in my brain are negative and I avoid most things for fear of something horrible happening. It's not a surprise that I never expected any support or help from my family. Where would I turn for help if the people who should have helped me ignored that I was alive?
Reversing 40+ years of neglect combined with sexual abuse, bullying and emotional abuse as well as physical abuse is a daunting task to take on. I need to be more patient with myself. I'm lucky I am not dead or homeless or in a different abusive situation. No I am here, back were I started. And the family's never changed. Denial, emotional abuse, neglect and disregard are all present and accounted for. Nothing has changed except the year and the state of my parents' health.

I ask myself this every now and again and it is accompanied by the feeling that everyone's opinion of me is one of disgust. I know that I a suppose to be strong and just go on and not care what everyone thinks and how they treat me. But that is the role of a saint or pariah. Someone who is closer to crazy but untouchable because their destiny is tied to God. I am not a saint nor a pariah. I feel like a nonperson. Unconsidered who has no rights. The kind of person no one wants to deal with and who feels when something awful happens to them that they deserve it no matter what.

I'm feeling closer to and comfortable with suicide.

Interrupted

I've not written in the "WRAP" book. Honestly I don't really care. I think it did help but without guidance it makes little difference except in having a certain goal for each day to write things down and to have some kind of activity to record. In a way it helped the guilt blossom a bit if I had an off day but all in all it was positive. I think it would be better to attend a group where certain goals were worked toward like behavioral issues or recovery from certain symptoms like sleep habits or anger issues that were being worked toward resolving. I would still like to find a way to do that maybe make my own group here in southern Rhode Island since there is none.
I've been suicidal lately. I'm holding off planning it but know that I have the means to complete a suicide. A year of no medication was not a great idea but did help to resolve why I am angry about my situation. A mix of self perception, the environment here at the house I grew up in, my family's dysfunctionality and my own long list of issues that haven't been resolved along with a shortage of good mental health help makes my life a living hell. At the moment I rely on my Mother to keep me company to get anything done. My anxiety hinders me at making decisions, meeting people and going anywhere outside of the house. As it is now it took me a full year to get a working printer but I can't hook it up through indecision and belief that it won't work. It takes me a three days to a week to call someone, sometimes longer. To have the thought then decide whether or not I should call to deciding if they hate me or want to hear my voice into deciding I must do it for whatever reason I have to call then to prepare myself mentally so that I don't roam off topic or dwell on angry or depressive thoughts or subjects makes the whole task unappealing. I can text. That is limited to only a few people since my brain is convinced that people hate me. I am a pariah now and the thought of me disgusts people or they think I am useless.
I am listening to Blur right now. The things in my head tell me, repeat ugly negative things to me. I am attempting to drown them out. Usually I curse at them and tell them ugly things to get them off my back. Lately they are driving me to distraction. I can't have a good day with things whispering to me about my every move, my every mistake, every stupid thing said, every suggestion that someone has discovered how stupid I am, the small misconceptions, little possibilities that someone has discovered I am a fraud.

Various Musings on Abuse

I don't know how to handle abusive situations. I've always just suffered them or escaped them when I could get out of the situation. Attending groups at shelters never helped give me any idea how to handle abuse. It was mostly repeating that men were evil and women were innocent. When asked what to do about the abuse women were told to leave. I mean before hand therapists told you you could secretly get a bag ready with money and clothes and hide it when the time was good. You had to leave out the back like a thief. Women (because men were never abused,) were expected to be powerless victims and act like they had no control over the situation.

To listen to rhetoric about abuse and people who've been abused you'd think that victims have no choices. I never agreed with the advice of the people who were there to help me through the abusive event. I've found that abuse is many times not an event. Abuse comes from human manipulation and social influence. It involves more than the victim and the perpetrator. Many abuse victims encounter multiple abusers in their lives sometimes more than once during a set period. Personally I have been in many abusive situations with different abusive people in different places. School, the baby-sitter's, home, family events, the hospital and even public places have been areas where I've been assaulted or abused or bullied. I believe that specific training could help me to be more assertive and possibly reduce the abuse that happens to me. I really think that finding ways to deal with other people will help me be less of a target and lower my stress and anxiety. 

I have been experiencing abuse since I was a toddler. Over the years my siblings, parents, classmates and baby-sitter's children have had their turns. I've grown up an untrusting paranoid adult who often experiences suicidal wishes. Depression has followed me throughout my life. I've been called lazy for sleeping often and deeply until *I* sought diagnosis and discovered I am bipolar. Then it seemed everyone let out a gradual sigh of relief as if to say: "OHhhhhh that is why you are so fucked up! We were right! It wasn't our faults! You are defective! We were not wrong in blaming you for your problems!" My parents thought I was retarded because I had delayed reading and speaking skills. I was in special education classes for my delays. I've had unusual sleeping habits where I'd walk our dog at 2 am while everyone was asleep. All the signs that there were problems all through my past had been discarded. It was okay though because there was nothing anyone could have done, right? When your brain chemistry is faulty it means EVERYTHING in your life is your fault. 

There has been many times that bullying and abuse has happened to me. In our family every person has experienced and seen abuse. It has been a part of our lives and part of the communication (or miscommunication,) in family interactions. Through mobbing techniques we were taught to be quiet and not question or whine as children. Throughout my childhood I felt I was never wanted nor loved. But always felt guilty. I should love my Mommy, I should love my Daddy. They worked hard to keep me in food and under roof. I never asked for them to work all the time. I only wanted to be safe. Truely what I wanted was not important. I was stupid and lazy anyway in everyone else's eyes. I was raised to believe that I am wrong, guilty and undeserving. That is the basis of my low self esteem. The climate of abuse and victimization over such a long time had eroded any will that I've had to live and thrive. It damaged the belief that I could have a happy life. Knowing that I am a loser and that I can't win with family or anyone that I have loved has kept me down and unmotivated to believe that I deserve help or can successfully get help in my life. 

The therapeutic help that was given to me was so flawed and unprofessional that it was detrimental to my building trust in anyone with a psychology degree. The therapist that brought me bags of food while I was in public, on the street without my permission or requesting it. The therapist who told me that since my son would not talk he didn't need therapy for the molestation by his Godfather. The many doctors who told me that I wasn't bipolar, or they didn't have time to listen to me and only prescribed drugs or that what I was describing as indicators of bipolar disorder were not symptoms. The years I was given antidepressants and roller coastered up and down without a doctor questioning if it was the medication that was wrong. Professionals in the field of therapy and psychological disorders are less reliable than any other medical profession that I have ever met.

Who am I? What am I doing? How can I live in a safe atmosphere? I was able to make a safe place for myself and my children after leaving abusive situations more than twice in the past. The only person I could ever trust was me. And the problem was that I was not stable. I could have boundless energy at one time or not be able to get out of bed another. And I knew that the abuse, neglect and molestations I had suffered were part of the problems of keeping myself balanced. Whether or not my chemicals were balanced in my head if my psychological history was still affecting me and determining my self esteem, anxiety, social interactions as well as my paranoia levels it could trip up the bipolar symptoms as well as send me into a deep depression that was not chemical related but could become chemically detrimental.

These are notes from a documentary that I partially watched last night: "Human Resources"

The driving force in society is not love but fear. John B. Watson.

Irrationality of Rationality.

Taylorism _ Fragmentation of the workers is encouraged so that classcism is beneficial to the rulig classes. Discouraged workers creates workers who are not involved with their communities. They have lowesteem and motivation.

A Section of Musing Over The Past...

I realize that when I was a kid I could section off the pain and enjoy the holidays. As time went on and I got older that proved harder and harder to do. There were times that I did what would seem to be crazed things. The year I refused to spend Easter with the family and made LW stay in Bristol with me. I remember the anger. I remember the resentment. I remember wanting my family to pay to suffer like I did. I was driven by rage to have a day separate from the people I blamed for my misery. 

A Lesson That Happens Every Now And Again...

Teaching K to give Paul respect. I know that K loves Paul but his history to annoy the living sh!t out of family members and animals is almost legend. Paul sees him and lays his ears back. His eyes become huge and disturbed. I used to laugh when K would tease him and make him angry. More and more I saw that Paul was beginning to hate and fear K. K was bullying him.
K is actually a very loving person. He can be so very sweet and he understands when something hurts. In fact he's very sensitive to pain and when he was little he'd try to comfort me when my anxiety attacks became unbearable. Sometimes when dealing with G/A I would actually feel like life was spiraling down on me and a huge vacuum was sucking at my guts. I felt like I was being literally pulled into H3ll and that my soul was being drawn into a dark and dank place. I would clutch C's hand and ask him if everything was okay, "Everything is okay. Everything is going to be okay, right?" over and over again. I think I would scream that I was going to H3ll and plead for him not to leave me or I would be damned. It is making my eyes water up so I am going to stop thinking about it.
K didn't know how to deal with it. He would crawl into bed beside me and ask if I was okay. He was seriously concerned. I freaked him out. To this day we can create a fearsome anxiety black hole between us. It isn't pretty and I've realized in order for me to help myself and him I need to stop when I am angry, turn to him and say: "I am really mad right now. I need to talk to you about this at another time. I am not going to make sense soon so let's stop talking." Before I wind into a screaming fit and say horrid angry mean things. There is something there that makes me react very strongly to him. And he just takes it. So I have made it a point to a) stop before the meanness starts and becomes harmful, b) give him the opportunity to be mad at me by telling him that he has the right to his feelings and c) asking him politely if we can talk about the problem when I have some time to think it over and can express myself in a more polite and respectful way.
Dealing with Paul has been an exercise in letting K know that he too can be a better person. He too can control when his emotions and treatment get out of hand. He too has his own power and can use it to create fear in something, someone he loves or use it and control it so he can make a better relationship. He can make a difference to Paul and he can make it so that Paul is not afraid of him. Even that Paul may seek him out.
Although Paul may only be a cat, animals have feelings too. And when we don't abuse those feelings we can exercise our benevolent will to exist peacefully with other creatures. That sounds all dirty hippy but it reduces abuse, neglect and angry feelings. These are the things that I can do to make a different life and create a different world. I love K and Paul. I want them to be happy. This house has seen so much neglect, abuse, anger and unhappiness we need to shape it into another place. I need to exorcise the demons out of this place. I need a safe haven. It's got to start somewhere.