Saturday, April 29, 2017

Masochist, and not in the fun way

If you could get out of my dreams that'd be great. And where she shows up, there's got usually are. Because damn if my mind is a sadist to itself or it's really that big of a masochist. Maybe both. And I very that you're people no longer in my life with unresolved issues, but you're not the only ones. For gods sake, she hasn't been in my life since 2008.

Except I see her on fb and I can never bring myself to unfriend her. At least it's some glimpse into her life. Yep, a masochist through and through.

But you. You are the same asshole in my dreams but only now I see it all for what it is. And if I could bleach you out of my memories, I would. Just so I'd never dream of you again.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Asking for prayers/well wishes

I was going through the archives here looking for a post only to realize I never spoke about it. Well fuck me.

In Feb of 2013, my little brother overdosed and ended up in a coma for several weeks because of it. He was lucky that his friends cared enough to call for help. He was only 21 at the time. From what I understand he's doing well now.

I don't know why I never wrote about it. I was home two weekends in a row. One for that. The next for the weekend event that friends and I (yeah, Steve too) attended. By home I mean the event was down the street from my pediatric's office.

Saturday. Fuck. Frank's brother overdosed and didn't make it. I never got to meet his brother, as he was living in FL in rehab. He was 22. Just fuck.

That's probably why I didn't write about my brother at the time. I don't have words for this and I still don't know how to healthy process that weekend four years ago. Four years. It just doesn't seem like it.

All I'm asking is whoever you pray to or however you think we'll of others in times like these, I don't need them. But Frank and his mom do. More his mom.


Wednesday, April 12, 2017

It's not summer yet, but the weather says differently

Can I just have Spring weather for a little bit?? It was summer weather today. Blegh. Eighty-frickin-six was the high. I live in the North of the US. When I lived two hours north of here, it didn't get reasonably warm until early May. Granted, I was in the valley of a bunch of mountains...but two hours south shouldn't make this much of a difference.

Maybe I need mountain weather again. Or hills. Maybe more north, in a different state. I like my area of the country. For the most part. I could be somewhere more liberal than where I currently live. The confederate flags on trucks is a bit disturbing and disappointing...

Oh I could get political but I shouldn't.

On a completely unrelated note, Frank said to me yesterday "So, Canada?" Honestly that's too close for me these days. I brought up moving to Canada last fall. It's been mentioned since here and there.

Maybe Australia. Oh wait. Never mind. Politics are fucked up there too. New Zealand is always nice but very difficult to move to. Maybe Canada after all.

Though Frank would complain about all the snow, at least it gets snow and isn't this ungodly summer in April going on.

Or Maine. I don't think most people think about Maine too often. New Hampshire is nice as well. I could get me cabin or cottage in the middle of the woods in either state very nicely.

Things to ponder while I attempt to ignore the heat lol

Monday, April 10, 2017

Feeling Conflicted

I was reading some old posts just now. I'm incredibly more jaded, though I had less reason to be. But I noticed something interesting upon my perusal. I'm not sure when this changed but a few years ago, not long after I returned to therapy, I referred to the man I see as "the therapist" and now it's "my therapist." Thought it was something of note to mention.

As for being jaded, it seems to be lessening as time passes. I haven't talked about it much, but I do miss the large social life I love had. I'm an extrovert and social butterfly. I don't regret the decisions I made regarding past friendships but it's a damn shame I had to lose basically everyone near me in the process.

I have no desire to go back to the kink scene. I have no patience for petty infighting nor being nice to people I dislike and/or don't respect. And when the chips fell as they did, no one reached out.

I desperately miss my friends from back home. People three hours away. I don't know, maybe if it's possible I'll move closer to them. Because a few people, there's nothing keeping me here.

Though sometimes I wish I were the type of person who could live in the middle of nowhere. My dream house has become a cottage or cabin in the woods. I'd live in a clearing but the woods would be all around me.

Conflicted is a good word to use for how I'm feeling. Different aspects of self wanting different things. That's not unusual for me though.

Kind of like my current feelings on therapy. Part of me can't wait to go back. There's so much to say that I have no other outlet for, at least not with another person. I don't believe journals count. The other part is satisfied with not stirring up everything in my mind on a weekly basis. It has been quieter and less panic inducing.

At this rate, it'll be 2018 by the time I'm able to return. I can understand my therapist not wanting to deal with the hassle of insurance companies, but I'm getting screwed over in the process. And knowing my mind, all of that is going to have an impact on if or when I return to therapy. Feeling abandoned is not something I'm great at coping with, in case someone missed that heh

Monday, April 3, 2017

Puzzling Dreams

Nighttime, in bed, is the worst time of day for me. It's why so many of these blogs have been written late at night lately. Being alone with my own thoughts is not ideal.

The last few nights I've been dreaming about searching for someone. One night I had several dreams and while they drastically changed the main premise was the same. Find a person.

Not the same person, mind you. I haven't even been me in most of the dreams. The more surprising part has been when I am myself in the dream and people from my past show up. No one I generally think of or have any emotional attachment to either.

Something must be weighing heavy somewhere in the confines of my mind, but I'm genuinely at a loss. Most likely if I do realize what it is, I won't remember these dreams and whatever connection it is. Or it's my mind being weird. That is always a strong possibility.

Regardless, it's a good puzzle to distract me from what I was originally going to write about. And what was on my mind even as I stated this post.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Idk what this is about besides being angry

The Universe laughed at me the other day going to visit Lisa. I took a different way than usual and passed where Frank works. I could see it from the highway. Like a train slamming into my brain, I realized that Frank and Steve work practically next to each other.

The anger was tangible. Thinking the Universe is being a dick was real. But that's literally the story of my life.

Of course I've been angry ever since. Not constantly, but far more often than has become the norm. Lisa said it's normal when I talked to her about it. I went from a grief fueled, occasionally angry, hatred to just fill blown pissed the fuck off kind of hatred.

Everything I think about in regards to Steve makes me furious and hurt all over again. Like I've been stabbed and all I can think is to rip out what feels like a dagger. Then stab him with it and watch him bleed out.

...I never said I wasn't crazy. My therapist hates that word but it's apt. Sanity is not on my side but PTSD will do that. I can see, taste, feel everything like it's still occurring.

No wonder I'm so angry. Not just at him. At all the people who hurt me in ways I'll never recover from. Because I will always remember and be mentally hounded.

I don't want to be angry to the point where it physically hurts. However, it's better than grief and sadness. Those are devastating for my mental health. Anger is something else entirely. Unhealthy yes, but it doesn't send me spiraling. Anger is more prominent.

Don't get me wrong. The sadness, grief, pain, and yes even love (because I don't know how not to love him), are still there. Buried underneath all that anger, they exist.

I hate that I'll never be able to forget about him. The best I can hope for is for some of the pleasant memories to dim. My mind has a harder time holding onto those. You may wonder why that's the best I can hope for. Sounds backwards.

If all I remember is the bad, I avoid that like the plague. Memories with highly conflicting emotions make the bad ones worse. There's a comparison.

And now I'm crying because that's such a terrible way to have to live to be near sanity.