- Current Location:The coffee shop of whining
- Current Mood:poor me
- Current Music:classical
Is it me or the psychosis again?
Is it me or people in poverty taking revenge upon "yuppies" which I'm so far from?
Is it me or very confused people talking shit?
Is it me writing this all along or do you seriously believe I could hack a schizoaffective's blog, take over her hobbies, her writing style, and live her life in so many details with a bad memory?
What kind of a fool are we all? I'm a fool for even feeding the trolls & continuing to care when it seems everyone has stopped listening. I guess thier plan worked in a way I didn't expect, get me talking so much about this BS I don't write entries and everyone loses interest. I did say I don't want fame, so I guess the joke is on them. *sigh*
- Current Mood: annoyed
- Current Location:the coffee shop of self righteousness
- Current Mood: good
I guess mister is just another ill person who needs compassion. I refuse to be part of his life ever again, but I feel bad about speaking ill of him here. There is plenty of help if he only sought it, but I may never know if he seeks it. I can only fix myself and that is a tremendous task in and of itself. At this vulnerable place in life there are plenty of people aiming to take out the weak, help the needy, or seek solace in those with similar problems. I don't understand why anyone would seek to make the life of a schizoffective harder, but people are evil & selfish sometimes. I'm grateful people are there to help, even if I get upset with them. I feel bad others are in similar situations, but I guess it leads to similar growth or spirit. I thought maybe I could lead people to recovery and be a role model, but we're all equals here. I have personal struggles, failings, and successes . I day people will see who the real key is if it matters, but really I just know it's important for my growth to keep blogging or journaling. I see so many great writers struggling to get by, so I don't see it being a career. If my story is something others can relate to and prevents any suffering, other than just feeding my self defacing ego, maybe it's all worth the paranoia and suffering it causes me. I miss the online friends I used to talk to, people change and find themselves identifying with new people, being this negative people never stay around forever. I feel so helpless and confused when it comes to relationships, even though I dated one person for 10 years, it wasn't a happy 10 years, it was 10 years of clinging to someone who wanted to leave. Looking back the biggest difference in society I've made is seeking recovery and helping myself, so I'm glad I keep going and keep on this recovery track no matter what the rumors are. I hope everyone can afford to recover and live a happier life, especially those who have suffered so much their suffering has lead to suffering for myself and others.
I personally signed up for Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, it's not exactly for schizoaffective, but it doesn't hurt and it makes sure the root of the issue is not me. It would say not to dwell on the past, meaning not to rant about mister or Jay and to enjoy the guys who are interested in my mind and my friends.
I'm finally doing one of the three things I tell other people to do: exercise. I swim regularly now, which has been great. All I need to do it eat healthier and meditate, who knows when that will happen.
I'm completely sober now, well for over 2 years now. I regret mentioning being part of any anonymous groups, as it's a violation of tradition. I do not represent or endorse these groups, they are helpful, but promotion is in violation of tradition. I still play too many video games and eat too much sugar, but progress is good.
Career is a big question right now. I love writing and it's good enough people are faking being lost_the_key to claim it (The clue is I'm literally a white female), but it doesn't pay and there isn't enough fame to make it pay. I can sort of program & have IT experience, there is a demand for it, but it's tedious and I get anxiety sitting down to program. I have an art degree, but there is no demand for mediocore digital artists even if I love it. There is a demand for trained customer service people, but I get grumpy and have poor attendance. I'm trying to get disability, but I have an ex who may be trying to sabotage everything I do for his own ends. Even without such a monster trying to destroy me, getting social security is hard even with a real disorder. They want to say if you aren't on meds, you need to try meds. If you are on meds, then the meds take care of the issue and you should be working. So you try working and if it's too good of a job & you fail, they say try an easier job. Then you fail at an easy job and even if you get social security it's not enough money to live on and you are stuck not even being able to work an easy job, which is worse than working in my humble opinion. So either I missed something about my options or I need to try other options. I still don't understand why anyone wants to claim my blog, yeah it's over a decade of hard work, but it's worthless without new entries and you need the brain all the practice gave you in order for it to be worth while. I mean even if this fake wins, she or he can't keep writing the same entries the same way, because she just doesn't have the practice. Not that it's a great blog, many people could easily start a new blog and quickly have more followers if they play their cards right. It's just the part of using my username and mister that bothers me, earn your own fame or you are doing something without morals. Of course, bad people don't care about morals, they just are on survival mode. They try very hard to convince you they care about morals, but whenever a test comes they fail. Speaking of failing moral tests I need to go back to work.
- Current Location:please don't find me
- Current Mood: bored
- Current Music:smooth jazz
I had neighbors who I found creepy.
I have a couple exes.
I write this blog, which I hold in low esteem.
I think I said this before, but in case I didn't.
- Current Mood:fine
- Current Mood: grateful
- Current Location:The Dancing Goat
- Current Music:beat poetry
His room mate interrupts, "You can't live here anymore, this is the last straw." Still dressed in her waitress outfit from last night. "Good night sweetie." he says to her with great respect as he slaps me on the ass like some dumb whore, I've really fucked up this time, this trashy guy doesn't even respect me. "What happened to the girl I met last night?" I say nothing, Oh the girl who had a drink and you took advantage of, because it was raining and she has no car. Well I appreciate the ride home, now your room mate is kicking you out and I hate myself for what you've done to me. This should have been a warning to get away from this guy, he has no respect for me or his room mate. I seem to think all this quickly in between the pause, "I've been homeless before, I can handle it." My heart sinks, this poor guy, now all I can think later is he conned me into sleeping with him and then he got a cheap place to stay. Karma for helping this guy is now years later he is destroying my character, because he thinks I'm trying to destroy his. His actions destroyed his character, I only spoke of them. "We can at least wash the sheets." I say, so we go to the laundromat. We meet an old man with little skulls on his shirt, it's mr.K when he is older I swear it. What am I doing? A few hours pass and I'm finally free. I feel bad for the guy, so I give him my number. I was part of the reason he lost "his roof". I walk into Brooklyn's, "I had my first one night stand." It was the last time I ever talked to Anna before unfriending her on Facebook. She looks surprised and isn't sure how to react. Then the phone rings, it's him full charm. We meet up again, I can't stop laughing, he says these things so quickly and impeccably, but I never seem to remember them. The smart assed statements seemed clever the first 200 times he said them. He starts to sing, "Oh lord won't you buy me a mercedes benz…" I'm not quite right, but this guy is really not right. If he was here he'd say, "Oh gee really." dripping with sarcasm. "I love you." he says to his friend. "Are you really saying that in front of her?" she says. "Oh she understands." he says. I want to cry, smack him and run away, I started so many fights over this. Guys stop respecting you once they have you, even if he is one of 4 he doesn't care, he treats you like an object not a human. I'm lonely, Jay is gone, fine whatever, it's better than being alone I guess. Why doesn't this guy look like a punk? His hair is blond, he wears a plain white t-shirt and jeans. "The real punks all dress like this." I look over his albums, I have no idea who these artists are. "This is real Virginia hardcore." So I let this now homeless punk kid who says he is my age, which I find out later he was born in 1986 not 1982, move in. It seems like a good deed, but I learned later some good deeds have negative consequences. The first is him tormenting my poor little cat until we finally took the poor thing to a public park to be free from it. I should have picked the cat, but I'm human and I picked the hot human. Loneliness does crazy things to you. He frowns for a moment from his perm stoned grin, "How can I make you happy?" he says nearly every day. Well, you make yourself happy with temporary things like concerts, pot and using people for sex so you really don't even know how to make yourself happy. I block this thought out, "I dunno." I say like a disrespected ditz who lets someone like this use her. It only went downhill from there. We had a few good hikes, it was the one time in a long time I felt okay again, the depression was getting worse and every thought was a negative thought. It's hard to be happy when you are being disrespected daily and hear your boyfriend loves everyone else, but thinks of you as some dumb whore he met at a punk show. Maybe it will change was the start of 4 or 5 years of misery. "We're not dating, we're just friends." he says. I didn't earn being his girlfriend?! "I like you, but I don't love you." he says. "I'm a sociopath." he says. These things haunt my mind, I'm with some sociopath who doesn't love me?! Is he a sociopath? I pick up a popular book on sociopathy The Psychopath Test. I read it and get the shivers, it fits him a little too well. I go through the Hare Criteria and he qualifies. So I go to group and share this with a rich guy who has a crush on me, "Get rid of this guy! Trade up." Great, but I don't want a republican, otherwise you're an amazing friend. I tell my psychiatrist how angry and depressed I feel around this mr.K guy, "I'm going to tell you something and it's not going to be easy. I know you love this guy and you don't want to leave him, but you have to." she says in the most caring way. Why would this lady risk her job to tell me this? I shouldn't be with a sociopath, I saw what a real psychopath did to my mom. I debate whether or not he is a sociopath and continue to, but even doctors and psychologists get it wrong how can I KNOW. But if there even is a chance he might be one, geez that is a tough risk to take even to stave off loneliness. Sociopath is a label poor bipolar men get, so do borderline men. Maybe he is misdiagnosed. Either way until he gets into recovery he is causing me to suffer, so maybe if I leave it will motivate him. But I lie, "I have to leave you, you don't make enough money." What a shallow little lie, but how do you tell someone you can't risk dating a sociopath when he is hurting you? Oh but know suddenly friends are disappearing and I can't help but wonder if he is connected, he is trying to cut off my connections by slandering me to my old friends. I breathe in and sigh, it's just a hunch, I don't know, but something is strange. I overhear something about prostitutes and the last time I saw him it seemed like he was talking to gay male clients. I can't even tell mr.K's parents back in VA, they'll end up in NAR-anon feeling helpless and worrying about him. He is choosing not to be in recovery and he is suffering so much due to this I'm suffering. I'm more mad he isn't in recovery than what he is trying to do to my reputation. My words are failing me and I'm judging him, instead of showing his character. I'm supposed to describe how he smokes his cigarettes, how he speaks, and how he walks so you can infer his character. I was taught to write better than this. I remember one of the last things Jay said to me, "I could have treated you worse." I was annoyed by this, well you could have treated me better too. But how mr.K treated me is exactly what Jay meant, he could have paid less for rent, he could have bad mouthed me with lies years after we broke up, he could have never said I love you….how it must feel to be less respectful and kind than Jay, to be compared to Jay as the guy who did what Jay wouldn't ever do. Because Jay was an innocent guy who made a few mistakes in comparison, he still said, "I love you." every day. He still listened to me rambling and tried to talk philosophy with me. He saw me as a friend to the point we had to stop dating, we were too good of friends. I compare them as if one is better than the other, but characters are all a mix of good and bad, all aspects considered they are about equal as I am equally bad as them. Mr.K was a great chef, I couldn't even describe his food adequately. He was made to please a simple minded sensing woman, not some brooding moody artist. He didn't love me, he liked my body and say the value of it, but he saw and appreciated nothing else. It hurt so bad I take it out in misandry towards many men, even the gentle sorts of men I relate to as friends who show me a level of respect far above what our culture expects. The last time I felt anything positive towards him he was still playing me, he was "visiting" from VA just like he had "moved out of state." as he told his fiance who "conned him for $25,000." Perpetual victimhood, blaming everyone else, these are characteristics psychologists teach people to move away from. As he left that last time he mattered, he reached out his hands and almost said "I love you." but he just couldn't. Flowers were easy for him to buy, spending time was easy at some point, even training me for his purposes was easy. He said something on that visit that puzzled me, "You're a professional." I never want to be referred to as a professional when it comes to sex, I'm made to write and stave off loneliness, but never that. He'd walk on the wrong side of me and pretend it's a joke, but it wasn't. I realized the dominating emotion around him was anger and sadness. He never talked to me enough and I felt sad & neglected. I spoke to my psychologist about it. "This guy is doing the least amount of work he has to do to keep you hanging on, the second he sees you pulling away he gives you a chip." She moves her hands and drops an imaginary chip. "Such language," She says as she goes "Auck!"
Why does this guy deserve so much of my writing attention? I don't know. I think better people deserve it more, like my loving family, but my brain just wants to figure out how to avoid men like this. Maybe after years in recovery I can relate to him again, after some dialectical behavioral therapy and after he gets some real clean time. But still no matter what the first impression sticks with us, he'll never respect me or love me, despite what therapy he gets. A normal, recovered, mentally healthy guy couldn't respect me after all that. It's over, I have to accept it, he has to accept it. We have to stop talking and writing about each other and move on. I know this, but I'm stuck in the past. I'll never truly know if he is a sociopath or if it's severe, or if it's mania. He never slept much and never stole anything other than maybe my missing blue belt and blue belt certificate. I know he doesn't respect me, because of my actions so many years ago and I know nobody will understand why I acted that way, and that is all I need to know. Moral of the story: take the time to get to really know someone, mom and dad tell you this kind of advice for good reasons. At the same time , there was a deep message to the amount of times he listened to "The Pursuit of Happiness" and how deeply unhappy he truly was and may be. Just some flawed type 7w8 on a spiritual journey, he'll figure it out when the time is right. I'm sure my rants about him don't help, but that's what exes do sometimes.
- Current Location:The coffeshop of regrets
- Current Mood:disrespected
- Current Music:The Pursuit of Happiness - Kid Cudi