Change two

scotts face

My plan to reduce the people I have tagged into my life that are not present is moving slow. It seems simple to “unfollow” and “unfriend” people on Facebook, but there are complications. I recently did that to someone and I got a message from that person asking me why? I mean, we became FB friends and then nothing. 

My habit has been, that when birthday announcements roll around that if I have no knowledge of said person or the vine has long withered, I did the dirty deed. Consistently that has not been a problem. 

I met someone once who wanted to be my Facebook Friend and told me he had 3000 friends on Facebook. So, I blocked him. He collected friends. WTF? 

Anyway, I will figure this out. I want to make sure I am not over-reaching. I want to make sure I am doing the right thing. I’m not sure what the future holds, but TBH I feel like a lot of post-covid folks, post-burn, are going through the same reflections. 

 

This thing… it’s awful (trigger warning)

the man in the mirrorLet me start off with a trigger warning on this one, because I am talking about suicide and death. This subject has been on my mind and if you have not been able to tell from my recent posts about Burning Man this year, then you have not really been paying attention. 

Last week I found out someone I knew was killed when he was hit by a car. I hear he was killed instantly and did not suffer. The loss of someone who shined that bright in the world really bummed me out. We were not friends in my definition of friends, but we were comfortable with each other to be very friendly. He was, in my opinion, a bright light in the world. 

Flashback to the beginning of the year when another soul I saw a a tremendous and brilliant light in my universe was taken away because of a heart attack brought on by drug use. His college age daughter came into my work a couple weeks ago and gave me an amazing hug. When the person in the previous paragraph news hit me I think I was transported back when I found out when person B was lost. 

Add that there are a lot of people around me suffering because of recent suicides that were planned out. I feel the heart-ache from these friends and see the pain of losing those people. 

Add to that these cheesy messages crudely attempting to reach out to people who are thinking about suicide:

If you or someone you know has talked about contemplating suicide,
call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at:
1-800-273-825

Maybe these appeal to people who are triggered and not sure of they want to end it all. Recently, people in my universe seem to be planning it out and that is not the customer who is calling these numbers above. 

I would never call one of those numbers. I think calling Walmart Customer Service would be more enticing. That!.. would surely kill me. 

I can tell you how close I was to being one of them. But the thing that keeps me from doing it is the faces of the loved ones who around me. To think about hurting any of them is more than I could endure in life or death. I firmly believe in leaving this world better than when you arrive and I strive to do that everyday. I fail at it tremendously sometimes. But… I get back up and push on. 

I wanted to get this off my chest. I firmly believe no one will read this. Nor is anyone really paying attention to my blog. All these years of waaaah and whine hardly appeal to people today. And it should be noted while I blog more when in a funk I am often in a lovely place! Thank you for… well nothing. No one reads me. 

Good morning

Today is Tuesday, which is my Monday at my job. It’s really no different than most days, other than I know I will likely be busy-ish for the first part of the day and then the second half I have to sit at the door. I have to greet people, tell them thank you for shopping at Cliffs, and make sure they are wearing the right kinds of masks. Also, make sure nothing is leaving unpaid. Pretty basic. I am being paid a wage that fits the job… I think. All good, right?

The weight of depression and anxiety is really debilitating and feels like a huge weight on my chest. Looking out from within I keep looking for a ledge to grasp on to to keep myself moving forward. Some constants like showing up to work is the firmest foundation I have. Making sure I meet my partners needs at home (food, general house care, etc) is another.

BUT, looking out there is a monster inside that looks at that second paragraph and keeps pointing out the flaws and what it thinks I need to do. That broken Id, is a crotchety, angry old fart who keeps saying they know better. It wants me to quit this job full stop. It wants me to just take a break. Like a big break. It tells me I can survive without the illusion that I HAVE TO KEEP this job.

But that voice has been right and wrong. That voice is not a healthy thing right now. There is a lot of weight on my neck with mourning, remorse, regrets and a growing fear of social situations that is literally killing me.

Most recently I found out someone I really care about has cancer.

The fallout with my mom is still really upsetting and I cannot feel safe backing up into that lane again.

I still keep wondering if there was a way to be in a better place with my biological family, even though that is and was – unlikely.

Is my partner and I really good for each other? This January will be 10 years long.

I feel like a glob of solid lard. I have been unable to get out and get exercise. I have been unable to go to the gym, and I am paying a gym membership, but I am just stuck in a mode like my feet are sinking in mud. I do think about what it would be like to not have those worries any more.

(Heavy heavy sigh)

Good morning world.

The last 2 years…

When 2019 started it rolled into a year where there were growing medical problems in my mom’s household that demanded attention from family. I had started some personal projects that were not going well, my head was not in the game, and I was really feeling like things were not going my way. Who knew?

To begin with, 2018 was a shit-show for much of the year. My relationship was starting to show stress and all my projects were just fucking hard. I was really experiencing some burnout and the universe was trying to tell me to just stop. I did not listen.

So everything for my mom and step-dad turned to shit quickly and they ended up in hospital. Eventually they ended up in hospice care and it was unlikely they were going to survive as late as Christmas 2019.

My mom and step-dad eventually came out of hospice and needed more care. Neither could take care of their finances and my mom may well have come to a point it was no longer safe for her to drive or manage some of her basics. So changes.

I managed their bills for 2 years. There was no family around to do anything, or at least there was no will to jump into that fire, by anyone but me. Granted, there were offers from the step-sibs but it would have been a bigger mess. I did this with a sense of duty to a parent, that there was no one else, and not a sense of much more.

The ‘rents

My parents were people who should never have had children. The same could be said for my step-dad, so you can see there are some personalities at work here that were very much in their own reality. There was a history of abuse, parental irresponsibility, sexual deviation, and just shitty behavior in general.

My dad (the biological one who is referenced in this site a few times under #jack) Jack was a well known artist who did absolutely amazing work as a cartoonist as his second job. His parents were Ray and Voneta, and he had a sister named June. There was nothing I could find by talking to relatives that indicated my paternal grandparents were anything less than ‘normal’.

There is the exception that my grand-dad was an alcoholic, a point my father was sure to make that I understood when we went back to his family home after his parents were both passed. My grandmother Voneta had intense eyes I can remember as if she sat across me today.

Her dad, my great grandfather George, his 2nd wife was Mirdle, were amazing. I have nothing but great memories of them.

My mom is Sallie. She is also still alive even though in the last 2 years we were sure she was not going to survive. She said on a number of occasions that she was not long for this world. There was a point about six months ago when I started to realize she was going to out-live me.

She worked hard in her life and had a less than pleasant life and I think when she retired she thought she was leaving all of it behind. The thing is no matter what, changing your environment to avoid your own miserable personality is not going to change that fault in who you are.

She became an alcoholic and was so bad that I was forced to simply walk away. Yes, she eventually became active in AA, but there was a point where she drifted away from that foundation. Instead of it being called out and urging her to return to meetings, she drank copious amounts of Old Miluakee and convinced herself it was okay. I found a bottle of wine hidden in the house when I was there not long ago.

There is a personality to an alcoholic that is selfish and self serving. In my adult life today I am surrounded by them. And many are rooted in the 12 steps and practicing being a healthier human and I never saw that in my mom. It was getting worse by the day.

Her parents were genuine, salt of the earth, true and green as they get Irish folk. The matreiarch was Phyllis (aka Phylligumbo) and her dad was Charles N.. I wish I got to know them better, but I was genuinely blessed to have known them. My mom had four brothers and a sister. My mom was the oldest of them. What a bunch of characters. I can say that not one of them seems to be a clone of the other, but all her siblings were their own people.

And the last player in this is my step-dad, Bob (Robert). That man was one of three men to marry my mom and the third man that was just a shit on so many levels. Yes, a classic alcoholic, with little or no sense of other people around him that mattered.

He had a sense of humor that was sometimes funny, usually inappropriate, and often unkind. In the last year of his life he was always in a diaper and confined to bed. Much of that last year the dementia was so bad I was not sure he had his faculties at all. He died abruptly in October.

Bob had siblings that were just as wildly different as my mom’s siblings. Linda was amazing, kind, and giving. Dennis was about as lost as Bob. Jay was a good man, but I did not know him hardly at all. His wife and I sometimes talked and he had to have been awesome to have such a kind wife like Ellen.

Sib’s

My bio sister is Lynn. She and I grew up oil and water. Our parents played us against each other our whole lives. I blamed my dad for that most of my life, but in the last couple of years it became clear how much my mom was involved in that as well.

Lynn probably grew up as close to normal as she could, given the crazi-ass family dynamic we had. I have no idea what her thought on all that was, but looking at her success in life is satisfying in a way. She managed to raise some very beautiful kids and get them into college.

We have not really spoken in 30 years. We had a huge fight that had been boiling on the stove like a pot with a lid locked on it that channeled an entire childhood. I was ugly, mean and filled with emotion. It is a time in my life I regret.

I failed her as a big brother. I have 3 landmark points in my life with her that seem to define a lot:

  • when she was about 2 or younger (not really sure), I was swinging a bat to hit a ball. She yelled, “I got it” and ran face first into the swinging bat. It hit her right in the mouth. That moment is frozen in my memory. I was 5 or 6 at the time.
  • one of my friends was being a dick and we were all alone in the house. He wanted to do something that was on the level of supreme asshole and I told him “no”. He jumped in front of her with his dick out and it was such a shit thing to do. I am not sure if I ever talked to him again after that. I honestly do not remember.
  • once when I was driving her to her dentist appointment, or was it for her braces, we talked about me being gay. She told me she wished I was not gay. In that moment, for her, I wished the same thing. For myself too, because it was a different world back then.

I have steps too! Bob’s kids, husband #3, had five kids. They had 2 different mothers, because Bob.

  • Sean (mother #2) was the youngest. I had known Sean his entire life at one point. He married his first girlfriend he met when they were like 12 or 13. She is an amazing woman. He and I have not talked in so long I could not tell you.
  • Jennifer (mother #2) is the most troubled. Can’t say much about her because everything I write sounds a bit judgy and bitchy. There was a short time when she and I were fine, but she has a lot of baggage to deal with.
  • Christine (mother #2) is the one I grew up with and we maintained a dear relationship much of our lives. She was very important to me and still is, but I worry about her. Her husband, John, is perfect for her. He is amazing, strong and more man than most men I ever met.
  • Rob (mother #1) on the surface seems the least scared by his dad, but he seems to be the best at self preservation. He was simply not willing to jump in the path of the bus Sallie and Bob was driving and probably the best for it. His wife is such a cool chick.
  • Tracy (mother #1) is an amazing woman whose journey feels like the most relatable. She is caring for her mom now, they struggle with each other, but she is surviving. In my eyes she is a super hero.

That was a lot about a few people none of you know about. I think writing this tonight was just something I needed to do for my own mind. I want to write about this nonsense.

Of my own immediate family, I have decided I needed to walk away. Just in the last week or so I realized that all that venom was more than I could handle any more.

There were some events that got me there. But looking around and seeing where my mom was in the scheme of things made it vital for me to step away. Especially with my sister entering the picture.

The venom I was getting from Lynn and her husband Tom was not deserved. They were hanging on to a mislaid past. A past I have mostly let go of. It is also a past I have been working on for a long time. I have not caught up with all the stories I have written over the years on this blog about that. I could catch up.

For now. I want to channel this stuff out myself and free myself.

Where am I?

I just wrote a post on my BM blog. It was something stuck in my head that I hoped by putting it there would help. I am struggling a lot with my place in the world and how to keep plotting around through it. I have been disappointed in people my whole life beginning with my own family. My biological father and my biological sister are 2 huge flares in my past.

Blah blah blah… I am 55 years old now and have put all this drama from my younger years in the appropriate bins and try not to open Pandoras Box when I can. I made some great accomplishments this year though:

  • CMonster and I struggled through 2018 and after some counseling we got into a great space.
  • Starting in September 2019 I started treatment for PTSD that brought a lot of things into focus; it wrapped up at a key point in March/April.

None the less, I still have work to do for myself. I struggle very hard with it as well. And sometimes things crack. This stuff with Covid-19 and BLM have weighed heavier.

I guess I am just rifting….

No one is reading any of this shit anyway. Its a long road to anything meaningful here. I am just so tired. I am just so worn out. I am tired of people fucking me over. I am just tired.

Feeling it

I have no friends. Well, I do but they are all so far away. This really sucks that I am alone in that area. While C Monster is very important to me there are people missing in my life right now that are beyond my relationship.
In San Francisco I am alone… and I feel it intensely some times. I know at least a thousand people here and no one to hang out with. Some people seem like they could be there but they are not. Maybe I am too thick to see them?
The thing is I have worked really hard on cultivating some things here, but the friendships have been based on the wrong things. I had a friend named Victor who left me in the dust. Repeat several times and insert the names JJ, Jaden, Mark and more into that slot and the story repeats itself.
I have left friends before. Only when I saw them hurting themselves or other people and I could not be a part of that. That was my call. I did it with my parents before they went into recovery. I did it to people I was closest to. But that took strength.
I am alone. In a room full of people I am alone. I wish I had something better to write

Welcome back stranger… you’re fucked

I have not been using this thing in a while. I kinda forgot about it for the most part. The thing is that over the last year I have been very conscience of the weight I have gained and the confines of my living situation with my bf.
There has been a lot of life hitting me in the face. Jobless – again. Dealing with a drunk – again. Life is just been a weird spinning ball of piss.
Done with the Debbie-Downer stuff now. On the positive note I went to my first Alanon meeting last week and found it eye-opening. I thought I was going for one reason and discovered there were other ones too. I heard voices from the people there and realized they were saying some of the same things I had to say as well.
The thing is that years of therapy and conscience has risen me above blame and dependence, but not free of my own shadows. It’s vague but it means something to me. Not that anyone is paying attention to this blog to begin with.
Thinking about why I severed my relationship with my father today… I remember how he thought it was because he would not give me money when I asked for it. I remember what it was like realizing that he would never see me more than an annoyance in his life.
There is plenty about the past on here already. I am tired of dealing with my past, with him, with whatever damage is in my own psyche. I have no one to blame but myself. Everyone has some form of fucked up childhood and those that don’t are really fucked up adults.

24 Hours later

Venting should be therapeutic. Catharsis should be lifting? Idk, but after yesterday’s post I hoped to take some of the weight off my shoulders and find ¬†little more freedom of the weight that has been in my heart. I have no idea if I achieved any of that, but a lot of shit went down.
wp_20141005_00624 hours later my bf and I had a huge fight after I wrote that about some MORE seriously… seriously stupid stuff. I wanted out of the relationship again, and didn’t. He is the one usually holding us together and it was as if he was letting us unravel. But it was really me.
I went to work as usual today and it was… meh. A long day. A meaningless day, but a day where I wonder what the fuck I am doing with my life. This job is a year of karma points. That’s all. But my boss said some nice things, not what I expected, and I wondered again if it was all worth it.
Turns out we are supposed to go to Pismo Beach for a wedding for one of his friends. I am going… just to get out of town. So yeah.

Inside Out

My post yesterday felt a little on the dramatic side. I can feel like I am in some very dark places some times. My life… swear… feels like I am caught in some Greek tragedy. It is the Groundhog Day from Hell.
None the less, I am still navigating and keeping from sinking. I try and stay strong, though I am as weak as the bones I was carved from. I see all the faults of my parents in me. But I also see the strengths as well.
I am done faulting my father and my paternal lineage with where I am and who I am these days. There is a point where I am old enough to consciously make decisions for my self and take ownership of who and where I am.
The inner conflict I face sucks, but the horrible truth is I have to suck it up and find myself somewhere inside.

More Crazy Dreams

I have been having some weird dreams again lately. Nothing too freaky, but Salvador Dali might appreciate the visual anyway.

Dream #1

rp_P1010006a-310x150.jpgThe night of my last post about my dog that passed, I dreamed about him. Well, my interpretation is that it was really about him. I dreamed I was unpacking some stuff from a year before and lost in a bundle of old clothes was my dog* severely dehydrated and near death.

*Note: the image was a small dog like a black poodle sweaty looking and matter with a gray tongue sticking out. This considering my Tom dog was a blonde German Sheppard. I did have a black poodle as a kid named “Cotton” who passed on at some point long long ago.

Now, I think my biological father (Jack) was with me in this dream when we found the dog who was trapped in the bundle of clothes for a year. We rushed to get the dog water. No one expected him to live a minute longer, but with the first sip of water he began showing signs of life.
Apparently he started getting healthier and at one point morphed into Charlize Theron in the same sexy dress she wore in the Chanel commercials and told me that she/he had been waiting for me to return. I think that was when I woke up, because it was bizarre.
The dog collar I mentioned in the previous post… well, I picked it up again yesterday before I left and considered taking it with me, but could not. I felt like it needed to stay. In some way I think my Tom-Dawg is still watching over my mom.

Dream #2

Well, this might be a few dreams running together from last night. They seemed to take place with me in prison.
In one part I remember being in a prison (I knew intellectually it was a prison in the dream) but it looked very industrial and sciFi. I was looking out and could see the sunset.

camera0067

My Biological father and his wife


And finally, I remember being in an industrial style prison space like I mentioned and somehow being responsible for killing my biological father (Jack again). I was accused of killing him and in the course of the accusation I was wearing some kind of wrist band that held arrows in it and it misfired shooting arrows all around the room. I think I ended up shooting myself and causing some kind of flesh wound. So weird.
In a whole other part I remember being in the yard of a classic prison and seeing all kinds of things going on. People were plotting and committing small crimes, right out of Orange is the new Black, all around me. I saw someone being paid a half bottle of booze to kill someone. I saw a drug deal, I saw contraband being smuggled in. And in this case everything was in black and white.