"temporary" (TW)

I've been depressed the majority of my life.  I wish my dad had killed me, instead, he just broke my will to live.   I guess he didn't want to go to jail for beating me to death, because he certainly hated my existence enough to kill me.  Even when I became broken to his use, his compliant little fuckdoll, he fucking hated me.
I want to die.

Girlfriend

We have been seeing each other for a year now.
Yes I love her.
But I'm using her to help me continue this pathetic, worthless existence.

When I got with her I KNEW she was lying.
She said the polyamory was ok, I knew she was lying.
She said she wanted a casual relationship, I knew she was lying.

I was really lonely.  I had been in a loveless marriage for a long time.
I was in pain to the point of thinking about suicide semi-regularly.
...I'm using her to keep myself from feeling horrible.  I still feel pretty bad, I still wish I had died as a child like I ought to have...Because of her I'm feeling more like staying here.
I have to come to the conclusion I'm just using her to stay alive, really.
Now I feel guilty...well,  I AM guilty.  I can't give her what she wants-all of me.  I am not willing to walk away like I should.

I should have killed myself.

Flowers

My GF sent me flowers.
She's so sweet...why does it make me want to hit myself?   Why would I be more comfortable if she was fairly indifferent to me?
I am thinking about suicide again.
I really need to get life insurance, too. 
At least if I do croak myself in a few years, my  mom and brother will get a cash payout and be able to pay off all their debts.  That way, my dying would actually do them some good, you know?  I'd be doing a good thing.
Admittedly, suicide's generally only covered 3 years into insurance policies...Bummer.

Who's who in Hylie's head #1: Joy

Joy is the part of me that had to be split off and completely locked out of the system.  I found her first...I saw her as an undead child climbing out of a pool of water, water streaming from her mouth and empty eyesockets.

I mentally recreated our old closet, where she buried her drippy self under a pile of stuffed animals.

I would leave a plate of cookies outside the door, and she'd disappear them.

...Eventually we got her dried up and not quite so dead...Then one day, she woke up.

It was like my heart was a NUCLEAR EXPLOSION OF LOVE for about the next six hours.  It was as if everything, EVERYTHING, was precious, beautiful, fresh and fascinating, and the people!  I had to go to the clinic that day... and restrain myself from hugging strangers because they looked like they needed a hug!

I doubt that would have gone over well.

I was calling Joy "Littleme."  She chose the name Joy herself.

One night we were crying and then...Joy was copiloting our body.   She started crying at the big, wrinkly body she inhabited, and she just could not get over the size of my feet!  Also the calluses, and how big my big toes are

I really do have huge feet...

(She says now "They are SOOO big! And SOOO ugly!"  Thanks kiddo... )

I was thinking, "Gee, thanks, kid!"  and kind of laughing at the...well,  truly honest assessment of a six-year-old suddenly finding they were in a 38-year-old body...

But she was saying all this stuff to my blockhead ex-wife, who didn't get that it really wasn't me anymore.  Swear to gawd, the ex wouldn't get a nuance if it smacked her in her forehead.

So she went to get on the computer and talk to "Unca LOU!"

My best friend and/or far away love interest, in England.  Lou told her to go back to bed in a very proper English way, and this made her feel very safe.

This was what really, really led me to start believing I was multiple...especially the feet thing...I mean, I know I take men's size 10 shoes.

Joy likes cookies a lot.Someone at work gave me a couple of cookies, and all of a sudden I LOVED everybody...I was being so lovey, and then I realize...yeah, Joy's out.  The cookies.

The problem being that the amount of cookies I bought is the amount of cookies I am about to eat, so individual serving size package is mandatory.



Joy is the part of me that had to be split off and completely locked out of the system.  I found her first...I saw her as an undead child climbing out of a pool of water, water streaming from her mouth and empty eyesockets.

I mentally recreated our old closet, where she buried her drippy self under a pile of stuffed animals.

I would leave a plate of cookies outside the door, and she'd disappear them.


...Eventually we got her dried up and not quite so dead...Then one day, she woke up.


It was like my heart was a NUCLEAR EXPLOSION OF LOVE for about the next six hours.  It was as if everything, EVERYTHING, was precious, beautiful, fresh and fascinating, and the people!  I had to go to the clinic that day... and restrain myself from hugging strangers because they looked like they needed a hug!

I doubt that would have gone over well.


I was calling Joy "Littleme."  She chose the name Joy herself.

One night we were crying and then...Joy was copiloting our body.   She started crying at the big, wrinkly body she inhabited, and she just could not get over the size of my feet!  Also the calluses, and how big my big toes are

I really do have huge feet...

(She says now "They are SOOO big! And SOOO ugly!"  Thanks kiddo... )

I was thinking, "Gee, thanks, kid!"  and kind of laughing at the...well,  truly honest assessment of a six-year-old suddenly finding they were in a 38-year-old body...


But she was saying all this stuff to my blockhead ex-wife, who didn't get that it really wasn't me anymore.  Swear to gawd, the ex wouldn't get a nuance if it smacked her in her forehead.

So she went to get on the computer and talk to "Unca LOU!"


My best friend and/or far away love interest, in England.  Lou told her to go back to bed in a very proper English way, and this made her feel very safe.

This was what really, really led me to start believing I was multiple...especially the feet thing...I mean, I know I take men's size 10 shoes, I have big feet.  She was seeing our body for the first time since age 6.


Joy likes cookies a lot.   Someone at work gave me a couple of cookies, and all of a sudden I LOVED everybody...I was being so lovey, and then I realize...yeah, Joy's out.  The cookies.


The problem being that the amount of cookies I bought is the amount of cookies I am about to eat, so individual serving size package is mandatory.
Something else...Joy was actually floating in a pool of tears.  I realized the only way to get those tears out, drain all the grief, was to cry those tears.     I'm working on it.

Entry june 13

My girlfriend came and picked me up, took me over to her house, and loved on me.  I seriously contacted her on a dating site because she had kind eyes.  She has kind everything else, too.
I was flipping out, and being with her calmed me down a lot.

That is all.

Bryan T White

I called him "diaper Bryan."

I have another friend who's name's Brian, that's "shotgun Brian."

Diaper Bryan was into diapers, obviously. He was also goodhearted, bright, spastic, sharp, funny in a very warped way...and tormented.

He believed he'd been sexually abused as a toddler.  I think he was right. I think he may have been DID as well.  We'd become good friends over the year or so we'd communicated.

He passed away on May 20th, and I just got word.   I don't know what happened, whether he did OD again or whether his body gave out due to the previous attempts.

He was a good and kind human being.

He will be greatly missed by many.

who I really am

People think I'm this nice person.
Bullshit.
My long-time friend sent me a Christmas card and I threw it in the trash, unopened.
Last year while my mind was coming apart, he would call me...and this was bad.  By the time I'd stopped shaking from the phonecall he'd hung up.  If I did not take his call, he'd bloody call over and over and over.
Several times I nearly decided to throw my phone onto the concrete and smash it.
...Then he took it as a sign of disrespect that I never called him...
I asked if I could email him...I can handle emails better.  But he doesn't like emails, no, it's gotta be these little nerve-rattling phonecalls in which he is no longer able to understand how bad I feel because he's on antipsychotics and positive thinking, and I'm feeling like I'd rather be dead all the time...
So he insists that I call him. 

I can't.  I just can't.  I'm fucking going crazy.  He can't understand how crazy I am going.  He takes it as disrespect. No.  It's that I was so very horribly off that I had NOTHING TO GIVE ANYONE.  I was struggling for my life.
He couldn't get that.  He didn't get that.  And now I don't want him for a friend anymore.
I'm an asshole. That's who I am.


....I fucking hate the holidays.   There's never any way to escape some reminder of someone I failed.

Shine

We are such fragile things
Butterflies that dance for a season
On swiftly-fading wings,
Bright fleeting flowers that bloom in the spring,
Leaves that redden to fire and fall.
The wind is ever-blowing for us all.

Yet the light blesses.

A moment ago, I was a child and laughing...
Now my heart is broken open to the wind...
I thought my love would last a lifetime!
But it sickened and came to an end.

All my dreams fell down crashing.
I am left alone and bereft...

Yet the light blessed.
When once your heart sang to mine.
And it shone in your lovely eyes,
Like the tears that now glisten in mine...
I could see it and watch how it shined!
Oh yes, oh yes, it blessed.

Farewell, my once-beloved stranger...
In the end, it shall be no matter...
Time's winds shall roll my bones to ashes,
My tough old heart will still its beating...
For I am only human, frail and fleeting...
I too shall go to ripen the grasses.
We will lie together in earth's green splendor
Never weeping...
And still the light will bless...

Copyright 2012 WB

Charlie...

Charlie was a friend of my brother's.  He was in and out of our house a lot at one point.
He was 14, with a big brain and a big mouth...and parents who doubtlessly beat him up...I think his mom may have brought boyfriends around who abused him sexually.

I once told him that if he never needed to talk about anything, I'd listen...I wanted to "adopt" him in an emotional sense.  He really didn't seem to have anybody, and I knew he was living in chaos.
I kept hearing about how he was getting wilder and wilder...getting into harder drugs.
Then I heard he'd been present at a murder, that this had somehow earned him a trip to prison.
I found out today that he'd hung himself. Just released from prison, 19, killed himself.
So random...
Some of us make it out alive and able to heal.  Some of us don't make it out of our soul-destroying families...
I'm just so very sad for that young man... I wish there was something I could have done to stop this.

she's angry

I asked her to move her computer into her bedroom...mine will be going into my bedroom this week.  Was too tired to do it for a while.

​ I heard her on the phone talking about how I not only did something, I asked her to move her computer into her room...Yeah, she was shouting at her new phone...and I started shaking like I have done every time she shouts for over a year now.  She said she was gonna do it anyway...

Why should I be terrified and hiding in my own home? 

But I am, because she triggers me. She can't afford to move out yet...and I'm going to move my computer and coffeepot into my bedroom.
Seeing her fills me with sadness and hurt.

Pretzels, a crosspost

I asked for a divorce.
I have a clear-cut indication I can't be happy. The emotional stuff might be fixed with a TON of work...the profound sexual mismatch, no, not in a million years of trying.

We're both hurting each other, bending ourselves into pretzels trying to make this work. I hurt, I hurt tons...
A friend of mine said..."You just need to be loved." I do. With her I have to do things *just right* to get crumbs of affection, crumbs of sex, I almost always feel lonely, I almost always feel not good enough.
I could not take it any more.

Last year I went through a serious amount of childhood abuse trauma coming back to me...so I'm used to my brain turning into a potato. I'm in the spud-zone again...
...Funny I keep coming up with such starchy metaphors.

I'm just going to take it easy this week and procrastinate my butt off, no apologies for this, I can barely handle work and house stuff and whatnot...well, I might get my motorbike to the shop this week (the poor thing!)

I'm just gonna make art and breathe and swap bedrooms...
Oh...I should mention divorce is gonna be really legally fun, and costly-not in ways I can talk about.

Also, she's broke right now...so I'm not making her get out. I don't hate her. I feel guilty enough about abandoning her. We've been living in my mom's old trailer-house, I am fine with sharing the rent-free goodness and continuing to split the bills. I'm going to buy her an air-conditioner for her bedroom, then we're good to go.

Jewish Christmas

My wife was horribly depressed this weekend, so was I...She has managed to hurt me so much, and I spent an hour or so crying in her arms.
I was thinking about how much I would miss our Christmas tradition...Go to a Chinese place...and all the memories we've made together, good and bad.  There's been heartbreak, but there's been a lot of goodness too. 
I am so sad...I wonder if this is because I'm detaching...
She feels...stunned.  I have told her this stuff over and over and over.  She just failed to compute until now...how much she was hurting me.
She said "Everything I thought I knew is wrong."
She feels so guilty.  I feel guilty for not stopping this sooner.
I'm not sure we can repair this.  We are going to try.

This is so hard

Okay...sorry I have not been updating...

It seems I have been staying with my wife, in part, because I was stuffing the feelings of hurt, anger, and sadness that her behavior has given me. She's almost certainly Asperger's...so all of this was out of epic cluelessness on her part.
Also failure on my part to communicate powerfully enough for her to receive the message.

The rage broke like a tsunami.

I was so outraged and upset to finally realize that her negativity towards what I did has been eating away my self-esteem. I had told her to stop it, over and over and over. She'd never been able to hear that she was HURTING me.

Too, she was shouting at me for talking to her when she wasn't ready...no matter that I would sit there in physical pain...a deep ache in my chest of loneliness... She didn't understand that by simply doing her morning routine while I sat there and waited, and waited and waited for her to talk to me, quietly, so I would not make her shout at me...was making me feel so unwanted, like a gods-damn nuisance, like my needs were just too much. And the sex is...never enough, never often enough. The talking and cuddling is never enough.

I pointed out a while back that she hugged the cat more than me...She started hugging me more...a little. Right now I feel like...I want out.
That makes me feel so shitty, because she really loves me, I love her. And she's trying to get better.

I feel so sad and lost.

Ominous sign

I keep imagining what sort of bed I'd like to get...for myself.  I consider the new bed her bed, as her mom bought it for us...
I wonder if I want to build my own futon frame or have a regular mattress...I think the regular mattress, futons get moldy in our super-humid climate.
But I still want to build a bed to my own specs, so as to have underbed storage of all my stuff.

...I was so in love with her once.
Gods, this is sad.
...And no, nothing's certain yet.
I just note that I'm starting to want my own room.

I am NOT ok!

I was really distressed today, and I thought I had lost my wallet. (It was in the car)...But for some reason I was dissociated enough that I thought I had it with me and all sorts of goodness followed-like me running around the counseling center like a maniac looking for my wallet.

This was after Sunday...and it was sort of a freakout continuation.
I got massively triggered on Sunday-agoraphobia combined with some guy hectoring his toddler over something asinine in the paleontology exhibit. His kid said "I dropped it," I guess it was gum and the guy said "No, you spit it on the floor, I saw you, I saw you..." Like the kid had committed some sort of horrible offense.
I just wanted to run over to the guy and say "For Chrissake just tell him to pick it up and throw it away!"

I was already getting overloaded-freaking out...and that little act of one parent browbeating their kid bumped me into overload territory.
I said "I gotta get out of here." to my wife and she said "Well the only way is to go to the end," She was wrong by the way, I think there was an exit right by me but I was too distressed to realize it, I was in a dark dream and having to struggle mightily not to curl up under a bench.
Then she said "Just wait until I get a couple of pictures."
AAAGH!
But she's not helpful, she never has been helpful, her being there generally makes me feel worse because she wanders off like a giant freakin' toddler and it's one more goddamn thing I have to worry about because if I'm not there she'll be like all "WHERE DID YOU GO??? I was worried about you!"

So in couples' counseling today I worked out a thing wherein I go to a predetermined safe spot and she just lets me go instead of doing her non-helpful thing that she usually does, after the reality that I am now freaking out penetrates her preoccupation with things : "WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO YOU NEED???" And her freaking out and hitting me with a barrage of questions just makes me freak harder.

I feel so alone. Apparently that's a typical feeling of people married to Asperger's people...she may or may not be Asperger's but she acts like she is.

My therapist thinks I just want to divorce her because I'm triggered. There's a good chance she's right.
Plus there's the attachment issues...I don't feel happily attached to anyone.

Anyway, I had a shitty session with my individual therapist...at the end of which I got up shaking, after I had stopped in session (because I was curled up into fetal position on the couch) and she said "You don't have to shake, you're ok," because I was shaking, and I snapped back "NO I'M NOT OK!"

I really wasn't, I thought I'd lost my wallet at that point, and I definitely was losing my marbles and I was shaking because I would have had to work hard at not shaking and she does not get that.
Yeah I can stop it and try to act like I'm ok, because I got that bloody well beat into me as a child.
It takes every bit of energy I have to stop it when I feel that shitty.
So, goddamn it, if I wanna shake I WILL. I know one way to bring myself down that will work, and that's to cut so if she wants me to pull out the razor she can tell me to stop shaking and act ok.

I am not, not, not, not ok right now.

A reposted story

This is what happened when I was bored at work today, and wrote something to amuse myself:

Chinese Toaster

By: Me

Written on August 1st, 2012

I take the bread from the plastic bag. Two neat slices.
I lay them on a clean plate, next to the jar of natural peanut butter, and the sensuous gleam of the raspberry fruit spread, so dark and inviting.

"You know you want it, don't you?"  I call to the toaster.
She's a standard, cheap little two-slot whore from China, bought at Walmart.

She's sitting there, unplugged, quiet, huddled behind the pill bottles.  Behind the blender, like I can't see her untidy whiteness back there, her fat little curves that say "Use me!" even as she huddles.  Submissive  little Chinese slut of a toaster!

Teasingly, I trace her cord out of the others...and plug her in.
"You want this bread, don't you, in your dirty slots, don't you?"
I rattle her entire body a bit.  Oh yes, I know her slots are dirty with burnt crumbs, the wench...Sometimes she's so filthy I just open her bottom up and shake her over the sink!

Into each slot, I thrust my throbbing bread.
"Take that! You always take it Whole Wheat, don't you?"  You even like extra fiber!"
She submits, I see the gleam from her stained white metal, and know so well what she wants.
Her slots, filled with my bread.

Once, I depress her button, and inside each slot, wires start to glow red.  Like a cherry.   It's electric.
Her slots are heating only for me.
Even so, I know, she'd heat for anyone, anyone at all.  But I own her, heart, soul, and circuitry.

Contemptuously, I ignore her turned-on state, and prepare my coffee...She gets so hot, so hot from being treated like nothing but an object...My cheap little Chinese toaster...Her white flanks shine seductively at me, but I deny her the touch.

I can see, and smell the lovely aroma of her turned-on state, the crumbs in her depths creating a smoky smell...oh, I knows she likes this so much, know she waits for me to turn her on, heat her up, and double-penetrate her in both her slots at once.
As I reach for a cup, there's a sudden release, and she's finished, my toast done to a turn.

I remove each gently crisp and lightly caramelized slice from her slots that yearn silently up at me...saying "Do it again."
But no, I have to mind my calories.

...There she sits on the counter, as always, awaiting my pleasure.

Narrative

Yesterday I said to someone, who was failing to get my point online, and acting douchy...I said our selves are a construct. A narrative we tell ourselves. 

You see...

On LSD over 10 years ago.. I saw myself as a blue sphere trapped in a hard matrix. Just a blue orb. That's it.

A narrative we tell ourselves.

It's not what we are.

And then I said to myself...”Holy shit.”

I watched this talk Thandie Newton gave, someone linked it...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzKBGtf0i0M

And I guess those two pieces were in my mind.  But wanting to get this guy to realize what I was saying was going over his head...I made a connection.

Everything is a story I tell myself?

That sounds...right, but...really???

So, since I've been...obsessively trying to get over my crap childhood...I thought...What import is the abuse? 

Well...it's a part of the narrative that is hidden. 

I respond to that interior programming unconsciously, because it's unconscious.  It means I'm not in control of the narrative. Instead of me being in charge of that narrative, I allow my angry, abusive parents of 30 years ago to steer.

What I've been trying to do is take over my own narrative. 

Create a self that is free

And what import are my alters? the parts of me that were spalled under stress? 

The kids all have their OWN narrative about how the world works, and who they are.

It's my job as host to put their narratives in a broader perspective for them...I get them to rewrite their own narratives.

........

Easier said than done, no?

Insight, what a trip it is.

Marriage stuff

So...neither of us have been making the other happy...

This weekend I need to come up with concrete things I need from her.
The first specific action...I told her I wanted a phone call from her every day at 830 PM on weekdays.  Just to say hi.  We're both at work at 830 PM, you see...

I know she doesn't like talking on the phone.
I decided I don't care.  That may seem harsh...  but since I stopped denying how incredibly lonely I was in this marriage...The feelings of grief and sadness are just washing over me.

...Let's see.  I want to be sexual...weekly, at least...more if/when it becomes logistically possible.
I want both of us to be happy having sex...which probably means doing it her way every time...this will be emotionally triggery for me, but it's really important getting over it.
I want her to keep going until I beg her to stop, though...I usually feel like I'm being selfish after the fifth orgasm or so and tell her she can stop...I'm gonna just buy her a wrist brace.

...I want hugs at least twice a day every  day...Last night I jokingly pointed out something true...she hugs one of the cats (her old lady cat) twice a day...but I wasn't getting hugged twice a day.

I want her to talk to me every day, even if it's just a phone call.  There have been  weekdays in which I did not speak to her all week, because of the way our work schedules run.  Last year when I was getting repressed memories back of sexual stuff my dad did to me...My best friend talked me out of suicide, told me over and over I wasn't horrible, that I was wanted, that he'd miss me terribly.
Where was she? WHERE WAS SHE???
Why didn't I share with her???
In part because I think I stopped hoping she'd be there for me emotionally, in part because she never shared her feelings with me...in part because she finds long conversations to be really hard work and she gets overloaded...in part because what I did tell her she did not seem to be able to understand.
She doesn't.  She's not an incest survivor.  She's not good with emotions, even.  She cares and wants to help, yeah, but through this period... she did what she wants done when she is upset.
She left me alone.
I am finally feeling the pain of her not working harder to engage.  She just left me alone through what was the worst emotional pain in my life...and it went on for months...so it's not like it came and went...

....On Wednesday...I think I finally conveyed it to her in terms she got:
"Imagine losing a cat every day for a year."

I am feeling...grief and bafflement.
Why did she leave me alone when I was drowning in pain?  WHY???
I don't understand...Maybe I wasn't clear enough.
Maybe it was my fault for not asking loudly enough, I don't know...I don't know.
I was drowning,  I was drowning mostly without her...and I don't understand why.

Because I suck...

(In case any of you actually thought I was a nice person or easy to live with...I just wrote this to my wife)

Okay...
You told me you want to understand me.  It's not even clear what you want to understand. SO I will just throw stuff out about what I feel right now.

I've been in and am now in a tremendous amount of pain.  A lot of times I feel overwhelmed, exhausted...and profoundly alone.

At this point I try not to speak to you unless spoken to, because I never know if I'm going to get yelled at or not.  You're the one person I am almost always desperately craving the presence of, but I have to hold my tongue and keep silent until you speak.
When you don't speak to me it's almost as painful, but I know trying to get attention just gets me shouted at.
Yes, you sitting there and ignoring me caused me a great deal of hurt, once. I wanted to hit myself at times because you would not talk to me.   Now I'm accustomed to it.

A better way to communicate to me about saying “you're not stable enough to have a baby,” would have been...”I think you are not o.k. to have one right now, but let's revisit that in 3 months.”
I was sort of getting better because I knew I “had to.”  Because there was a baby on the way.
You said “You're not stable enough to have a baby,” I heard that more like “_______, you're stupid to think you'll EVER be stable enough to have a baby.”
I have been feeling a growing sense of despair that I'd worked on myself so much for nothing.

I'm still intensely triggered and freaking out over the sex the Sunday before last.
I've been hating myself since then, self-injuring since then, and the feelings of wanting to beat myself, of wanting to take skin off won't...bloody...stop.
I have an urge to take steel wool pads and abrade my genitals.
My body is a sewer. 
I'm disgusting, a human toilet.
How could anything anyone does with this carcass be beautiful?
Right now I think I'm disgusting and pathetic, and barely worth the bullet it would take to kill me.
I don't see you as needing me
...What do you need from me?  I never feel you need me.  I can't believe it.

Cutting is soothing, that was one thing I was trying to give up for the kid.  I'm not fighting it now.

 I hate myself for being angry at you, and usually feel I need to self-punish by hitting or cutting after getting you angry. I don't know how to express anger appropriately, so I either say nothing or explode. I often self-injure after I have made you angry, I feel extreme emotional turmoil until I am properly punished for making you angry.  Feeling anger at you is frightening.

I love you and admire you and fear you, you can destroy me.
I feel subservient to you, yet resent it.
You hurt me now by reminding me of how worthless I really am when you say something critical.
I love you but at the same time I'm fighting being terrified of you, because you are too close, and yet not close enough.

I doubt that helped.

something I posted elsewhere

My mom divorced my dad some time ago...My brother was six...
the repressed memories uncorked later...and I decided not to tell my brother so that my brother could have some vague excuse of an actual dad.

Trust me it's been a vague excuse.

But anyway, I did finally attempt to tell my brother...and he said that first, he really didn't want to know...but that he didn't really like or respect dad anyway. I replied...after thought "Ok....But you and ______ are trying to have kids.You need to know that if you have a girl don't leave her alone with him."

....Today, my mom called me to warn me my father was at the house so I would not stop by. Ok, cool.
So then she started rambling about my dad's dilapidated car, and I said, "Mom, I've got a giant grin on my face as I'm imagining myself stabbing him repeatedly. The thought of killing him makes me really happy. I would love to be able to kill him and am really, really looking forward to his death."

Mom kind of got off the phone after that...

Yanno, I really enjoy hating him sooo much..