062221

[062221]

10/08/22

I don’t know what this is teaching me. Maybe one day I’ll find out.

I was fisted by a guy who gradually added fingers every time I’d visited. I knew what I was getting myself into, I did it anyway. & now I’m bleeding.

I’m worried about a possible warrant for my arrest. I’ve been on a heist to say the least. I got drunk, drove my car and stole 80% of my long list. I proceeded to go to George’s house, using Thomai as a pawn- so that I could see his reaction when I lied and told her I had a sugar daddy. & now I’m even more humiliated with myself.

Heidi moved down here and all I can do is sit back and watch my two best friends fade away from me and into eachother. I often think about my mistakes and memories I’ve made with them and they were always responsible for me. Now I feel this inadequacy that I’ll never measure up. This living situation has me in constant panic and I often fantasize about moving to Miami to live with Jacqui. I could never afford it.

I quit my job at saikoi and I feel like I’ve lost all the trust and respect of the friends who put time into trying to get me hired. September was beautiful because I got to eat midnight sushi with good people and sing karaoke until my voice was hoarse and now I feel like I’ve let everyone down. They haven’t texted. Only vin sin, the nicest one of the group who I outed for telling people we went on a “date” at Miller’s. I’m a terrible friend to all of my friends.

I’m impulsively picking at my face everyday. My beard has become choppy from the ingrown hairs I’ve twisted and extracted again and again. I’m picking at any and all blemishes and leaving a constellation of dark spots and permanent scars on my face. I feel so ugly, my body is unhealthy, I’m on drugs now, because if it’s not adderall it’s a klonopin and the weed is never old, even when it is.

I’m trying to love myself because I don’t and I wish that I just would. I hate my voice, my body, my choices, my past, present and future. My problem is that I think running away will solve everything, and I still believe it. If I had a 1 way to fucking Taiwan I wouldn’t think twice. Not a grand to my name. Never a dollar in my pocket.

I think about how I was sad as a child. I’m still sad and I’m starting to believe that I’ll always be sad. So sad that when I look back, things weren’t that bad. They’ve just gotten progressively worse into my adulthood because I wasn’t taken care of properly. I was abused and now I abuse myself on a daily basis. I punish myself for my own behavior, mistakes and failures.

My mental illness is like a boom box in my head that won’t shut off. I don’t hear any voices or anything like that, I just feel like the volume is too high and I can’t control it. I’m always self sabotaging because of it. I cope healthy one day, and drink the next. I’m in a limbo. My life is in limbo.. just waiting for me to fall and end the game. I’ve never been this low and it seems like I’m sinking deeper and deeper.

If ever faced with DNR papers, I’d sign my life away today. I don’t see any light besides a small spark of a nursing degree in two years. A nursing degree that I would’ve finished by now if I wasn’t busy prioritizing a dying relationship to a man I started a life with here. Now he’s a stranger and he probably hates me and I shouldn’t care but I love him and above all, he is still my heaviest wound.

I should be grateful for what I do have. I feel so disconnected and I feel like I’ll never have a normal brain because I decided marijuana was my life at 13 years old. Here we are 12 foggy years later. Totally lost. Suicidal, selfish and ungrateful.

I’ve held on this long for the people I love, so when am I going to hold on for myself? When am I going to want to? Things never looked up, and all the Instagram quotes give me false hope. I don’t know where to begin, but this. This feels like the end.

[062221]

9/28/22

Today the mania took me to the apps. I’m done waking up to this constant anxiety of making ends meet. The thought of me renting an apartment is so distant I stopped believing in myself. So I looked for a man. In search of a mid 30s successful man is everyone’s dream. I wouldn’t mind it if he was 60 and we could keep it exclusive, but there are plenty of exotic hoe bag fish in south Florida.

I just can’t do it anymore. The fear I get, I could fall to my knees and seize. Without fail, my stomach knots the moment I lock eyes with a table at Saikoi. My unsure smile, their long long looks. The level of anxiety is almost relieving.. because I knew at some point it would end, overall it made my other anxieties seem small. Still, the stress is overbearing and I have begun withdrawing from life again.

My fingers are tender and scabbed, the hairs in my beard are extracted, my central nervous system is tinkering with my ability to speak. The Adderall is giving me sensory overload, it reminds me of the nights I’d lie next to Justin, a 4 am cocaine crash, the darkness was never louder. That was a another blackhole period of time, but Nubia saved me from it. Now where do I go?

I’m beginning this journey on a bad knee. I can’t hold a job, I can’t hold a friendship, relationship, or a responsibility. Where do I begin? The loathing has become resentful and all I can think about is how good Corey fucks me. He does however fulfill his fisting fetish by getting 4 fingers deep, the throbbing is so intense I almost enjoy it because it’s taking away from the mental anguish.

So here I am, klonopin daydreaming of flying away, the weight of my body reminding me that i’m still caged into whatever destiny this is. I don’t even have the courage to write. I can’t go on like this and I don’t know how many times I have to write it, and how many times I have to be “strong” by convincing myself “it’ll get better”. Trauma isn’t just the response to the event, it’s carrying your own dead body with you for the rest of your life.

[062221]

I don’t even have the courage to write.

[062221]

9/12/22

I can’t help but keep fighting the feeling

The feeling of not feeling

The knowledge that people have overcome this

The uncertainty of if I’ll overcome this.

In the heat of this September night and the smell of chocolate ice cream, the palms overhead slightly wilted but still green,

I am dying again. Once at Saikoi this afternoon, and again, drenched in sprinkler water here at LifeSkills. I hear frogs echoing in the distance

I want to surrender everything, so that my friends and family have access to what little I have. I want to tell them all I love them, even though I’ve been burnt.

I’ve loved and loved deeply, loved him until he slipped through my fingertips, loved him enough to let go.

There’s no more crying. No more running. The greatest tsunami has surged over every bit of progress I’ve built.

I want Nana. I want to watch her crotchet and watch scary movies. I want to relax and slip into her ethereal green aura and get drunk on white wine and adoration

So I think it’s my time. After years of contemplation and humiliation, I’m ready to go. I’ve had to be strong all my life, it never made me stronger. It wore me down, and beat me into an arthritic sore

Hospital stays, med adjustments, exercise, therapy, writing! But mostly working jobs. Unsatisfactory jobs that fit the mold of the ugly society I wasn’t made for. The efforts are endless..

So when somebody tells me to just breathe, or don’t give up, I almost want to laugh. I’ve been breathing for 25 years enough to know a corny ass cliche when I hear one. Deep breathing is practiced and not giving up has only led me this far into my sickness. I don’t care for the word coward, cowardice isn’t my autopsy. I don’t care for anything really

I just care for my brother and how handsome and poised he is. How soft his voice is and the comfort of his understanding. I wish I wasn’t so mean, I wish I never took him for granted. When we’d fight, our parents told us that when we get older, all we’d have is eachother. Well, they were right. I hope he’ll forgive me.

I’m selfish now because I never was. I want to fly. I want to soar and see the world. This life is not for me, it was not meant for my soul. I feel so disconnected to myself, I don’t even know myself. Working restaurant jobs and tech jobs, balancing school, having mindless sex with strangers.. is this what life is? I don’t want any of it

[062221]

9/9/22

I look up at the ceiling, I look to the sky. Searching for purpose, Before I decide If life is worth living. I’m tempted to die, leave all of these worries and kiss them goodbye. I wake to my sorrows. I sleep through the time. I squirm and I cry and I just don’t know why. They say life is precious, the storm will subside! So, I’ll crawl until life gives me courage to fly.

[062221]

8/9/22

Sapporo on break in the bushes of the church next to work. Life is… medial. As I pass my TEAS entrance test, I’m met with another setback. Disorderly conduct. It’s standing alone on my public record and will prohibit me from moving forward in my nursing program. It seems as though I wipe my tears, build myself up, and suddenly I’m knocked down by my poor decisions. Perhaps it’s the universe carving my destiny, telling me I’m not ready. Not to mention, the healing I’m having to do to reinforce my soul before handing it over to online courses, overwhelming impending doom, and all that is.. nursing school.

I refuse to quit and downsize my ability to grow and get better, to learn to be a successful RN.

[062221]

8/6/22

I’m at Saikoi waiting for Rob to arrive. If I’m honest, I admire Rob. I think he’s wholesome, humble and loyal. He’s shy and broken hearted like me. Our separations brought us together and our friendship of 7 years has been intact. I don’t mind that he talks too much. I engage and let him speak, just sitting nodding my head, pretty much staring into the sharp etches of his facial structure. He’s arrived and I’m finally at ease. This sucks

[062221]

7/4/22

I’m at LifeSkills putting up a facade to fulfill my obligations as a behavioral health tech. Little does everyone know that I’m in dire need of help too. Maybe they do know, the discomfort displaying itself in avoidant behavior. I’m lackadaisically distraught, floating around the campus, yet so blissfully distracted to have a task. “I’m God! I’m God!” A client screams into the violet purple night sky and I am floating off into the solar system, cold and breathless in the 85 degree weather that is a Florida summer at 3am.

[062221]

8/2/22

Why is it always the plane ride home? The shadows of sweet solitude tugging at my shoe laces. I wonder if it’s fear or the air conditioner causing this internal shiver. Warmth at this altitude is knowing that I’m alive, as often as it seems although I have no pulse. In the utmost faith of gluing myself back together, I book flights. The least I can do is pat myself on the back, prideful for being a risk taker against all odds.

Oh, to be a nomad, a traveling collector of talisman. Master of meditation, breathing in exotic places- to live humbly and plant magic within the earth. This is what I long for. & for the first time in 12 years, I long for no man, no romance - besides with myself, exceptional spaghetti and plane tickets of course. I long for me getting comfortable with me. I long for a place to call home. I long for rhythm with all of my blues, destiny steering me through the foothills of endless desert into my oasis.

I’m leaving California feeling lighter (especially in my wallet) and definitely wiser. The subtle art of letting go is evident in my spirit. This is the first step in my journey to redemption. As we descend into Florida, I’m letting go of all suffering. I’m ripping out the messy pages and rewriting my story, making sure to stop and appreciate the tropical fauna, focus on my breathing, and practice resilience.

I drift into this simple mantra, expressing love and gratitude, a toast.. “ I love me ”…“I love me”..“I love me”. In repetition until I believe the fleeting words in sobs and in daily reminders.

[062221]

07/18/22

I’m departing to Boston in two days and the tears want to come out. I feel so ashamed that everyone worried about my well-being. I look weak and I feel weak but I know that there is strength within me.

I’m afraid that I’m still living my past and future lives instead of being present. Locking myself away here in humid solitary as Nubia, Rob and their kids have a bbq in the backyard. I think often about growing old, looking back at a life of a sad, sad boy. I don’t want that depressive reality and I want to overcome that fear. I need more in my life. & If I’m being honest I’m longing for change everywhere I look. That’s the problem, I’m longing for instead of doing.

& I simply just don’t have fun anymore… sex is it? adult “fun” is risky and I indulge in it too often. I just crave to be looked at, to be a vessel of pleasure. I feel sick to my stomach on my way home every time, with wonder lingering in my subconscious mind if having unprotected sex is really what I’ve sunken to, no condoms, no PreP just alcohol and sweaty regret.

[062221]

07/17/22

In the event that my Angelite bracelet is now broken, I am internally screaming, shaken bones, grit teeth terrified. I don’t know where my impulsivity is leading me. I’m having cold feet about California, frostbitten feet- the weather forecast reads daytime temperatures in the 60’s… in July.. There is no hotel, there is no debit/credit card. There is no sense in my poor decision making, I permit myself a sway in the wind amongst the most important stage of my life.

The suffering, the self loathing I do is uncontrollable. There is no such God, not even within. My emotions are so amplified I can’t sit still. I’m an active fire nothing but a cocktail can extinguish.

It’s sad that death is a powerful concept when one no longer has a pulse. Dying is much more grueling, especially when one feels no pulse.

[062221]

07/12/22

Mania is leading me down alleyways of danger and kleptomania. Especially when there’s a one way ticket to LA with no plan.

I’m not moving- I love Florida, I belong under the palm trees minutes from the shore. I taste the rain in the air, bask in the thick fauna, I hear life all around me; I’m just not sure if I’m fully healing in a setting where I’m not alone. I find solace in being a lone wolf. It makes sense that I’m yearning for something, perhaps it’s peace. I know this impulsivity is preventable. It’s pure adrenaline, a fight or flight risk, and I choose flight. This is happening to me for a reason. This may be a lesson presenting itself in the idea of jumping off a cliff into the pacific sunset. I have nothing to lose.

The scary parts are freezing nights walking the streets of an LA suburb, what’s scarier is having to hide it from Nubia and her dad. Not only is this an insane decision, but I want the integrity and space to put my life into perspective.

I’m soul searching and learning to be okay all by myself. I’m scared that I’ll have to pack my bags and live on the road. I’m working crazy hours to fund this trip. Waiting for my insurance to kick in isn’t conducive. Bills are postponed, meds are sufficient, time is available. Upon my return, I require grace, patience, and intense therapy. I’m over the moon about the way my life is lining up now, happier about the ambition I have to even lead a life.

I have a flight to Boston, a train to Maine, a flight to LA, and a train to Oxnard California. Protein and water is the most cost effective way to replenish myself. Sweaters and blankets for those cold California nights drift me into comfortable ease. Beach bathrooms and showers, cute coffee shops, trails and sailboats lining the marina. Tree agate in my right hand, rose quartz in my left.

I am falling asleep knowing that I set this up because I love and believe in myself. I am going to be okay.

[062221]

07/10/2022

I can almost close my eyes and see railroad tracks. Red flashing lights, a calm before the storm feeling. The imagery is just too real, like an eerie setting in a movie. I know this is a sign. It may be that the medicine is working, it may be the plateau in emotions today, but whatever it is, feels.. relieving. It brings me to tears to know that I am ready to withstand my obstacles. It also frightens me, remission. I hate being sick and holding onto this moment, I refuse to lose it. Red flashing lights represent urgent caution. Train tracks stifle me. I have to stop. Work strategically and think independently. I am patiently letting the train pass me by as I continue forward. There is no jumping in front of it. No matter how lost, I am determined to see my potential.

[062221]

07/08/2022

Today, the sun is comfortable as it melts. I feel like warm honey drying off from the pool. I process while exercising and I can’t tell if it’s working. The pool is salted by tears. I cry and I cry and I cry. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. But I proceed to make my bed and start anew. Happy for evenings like this, the sun kissing my skin, cicadas singing.

Today, I quiver with fear. I am still trying to get in the habit of stepping up one stair at a time. Climbing where? I catch myself losing to the future. A future of uncertainty, uncertainty that affects my present mind. I’m scared I won’t succeed, with the cards I was dealt. How am I supposed to be satisfied in my present? I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I’m glad I’m concerned at least. I’m prideful of my ambition.

Today, the world is cruel. The media is influential, the kids certainly aren’t alright. I am 90% inactive on all social platforms as a result. But I wonder if some people think of me. I wonder about people back home, if they envy the happy life I portray online. I still wonder what a lot of people think of me, so I no longer give them something to think about. I no longer have an excessive need to conform, to desire, or compete with anyone else. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. My life isn’t cookie cutter, and neither are all lives behind each lens. It’s a hard concept to grasp, but I’m learning to simply let go. Especially of jealousy.

Today, I accept that the five stages of grief are present all at once. George is a beautiful relic that I hold onto. He isn’t here but my soul embeds his face into my mind. My heart longs for him, foolishly. I still cry. But I smile. I pray he is well, I hope he is happy and I am glad for my realization that life unfolds and it is okay for people live alternate destinies. I know he doesn’t want me. So I just imagine us- laying out, chain smoking cigarettes, complaining. I imagine the stagnancy we would have, how content I am now that I have no obligation of formfitting to his twisted idea of love anymore. I think of how we still love eachother. I both dread and appreciate that.

Today, my brother is also on my mind. Falling off the horse is no easy task. Getting back up again is harder. To deal with defeat is the hardest. There is no getting back up from a dishonorable discharge. His scenario is almost like dropping out of a bachelors degree just months before graduation. He does have a plan, much like me. He is ambitious, but another as lost boy under the sun. I pray for his strength which prevails. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I hope he isn’t as mentally sick as I am. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I know he is okay in the arms of aunt Sylvia much like I am, just at a distance. I fight the urge to call/burden her but I know she is always available. Busy but always available and always supportive.

My days are emotional rollercoasters, though as the klonopin kicks in, I start to reflect. As I am now, I still carry heavy weight. It manifests in my throat like sobbing, in my heart like breaking, and in my intoxicated facial expression like a night on the town. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I slow down and swim into ease knowing all is well and I’m still breathing. It is a gift I am wasting, but a sign of encouragement and perseverence. It is a gift that I am using more frequently, and a gift that I’m learning to use strategically throughout my trek on this road to recovery. Breathing in hardship and breathing out optimism.

And getting inside the house before the mosquitos feast at 8pm

[062221]

07/06/22

I remember sweeping eraser shavings off my desk in school, looking back at the paper, still seeing my faint granite mistakes. Well- Today, I begin to erase my past; and though I can still see it, I am making peace with writing over what no longer serves me. Today is the first day of my journey to redemption. I feel like Julia Roberts in “Eat, Pray, Love” when she practiced silence in India. Her character struggled, surrendered, and persevered. I finally surrender to my past.

At square one, it’s difficult for me to navigate what to do or say. It’s a challenge to write because my style always ensues my past. It’s also detrimental to ruminate about a future I know nothing about. Here in the present, I may pat myself on the back for being alive today. I am learning to be gracious of a mattress on the floor. I am accepting help. I am beginning to fix feasible things instead of hyper focusing on the outcomes. I do, In fact feel the fire under my ass, catapulting me to independence.

I can take a walk, pick wild fruit, sit and bask in the sun. I can use what I’ve learned at Imperial Point and cope consistently. I can begin to practice how to feel comfortable in my own skin, how to really love, finding that only within myself. Planet Fitness advertisements are surfacing and the motivation is slowly approaching me. I know I have to strategize and budget, but I don’t have to worry about that right now. In fact, right now I can gently just.. be.

Although my life is in pieces, I’m glad that my friends and family are here for me. Even George. I no longer feel embarrassed asking for help. There is great responsibility in the way that I seek help. My focus is to stay focused, solely for my well-being. As for Nubia, I feel lonely, but almost glad to be distanced. It’s unfortunate but vital for the both of us. I don’t have to worry about regaining trust, I can build on myself and acknowledge that she still loves me.

It’a 5:52pm and I am also understanding that writing is a practice. I know that I should be studying for my Life/Health Insurance exam but I enjoy writing. I escape into the privacy of my thoughts and release the unnecessary weight. Writing is a tool I use to decompress and an art to embrace. I am happy to be content in even just having a hobby and having the willpower practice. “One step at a time” we say.

I’m understanding why the present is important. It gives us grounding, hope and time to fulfill a purpose. It deters us from negative thoughts pertaining to the past and future. It’s the art of letting go of all the baggage and accepting struggles for what they are, only as they come. I cannot change my past though I wish I could. I can surrender to my past like Julia Roberts and release from all toxicity by putting in the work, for me, and for the future I decide to be here for.

[062221]

07/03/22

The moon is a crescent with a pink tinge around it. The airwave is hot and the breeze is comfortable. Firework embers from all angles up above. I should be at peace here in the simplicity, the zen of it all. Instead, I am near death by a millimeter.

This isn’t just a bad day. This is an array of constant defeat. The desire to lead a healthy life is there… it’s the mental anguish that is the precursor to the suicidal thinking. I have no more fight. I’m only holding on for my loved ones.

I packed the little belongings I have in trash bags today. I have explored the idea of living out of the Jeep for a while now. I just want to hide away and drive into the unknown. I want to be free of speech, obligations, responsibility and civilization. But I’d run out of gas in a Passover town somewhere, no expectation of ever establishing myself further.

When articulating the agony to my support systems, I’m often told that my conflicts have solutions. Everyone sees the good aspects of my life, But I just don’t. The negative lives too loudly and the gratitude is being talked over. I have received feedback from every angle of support. I wish I could see the positivity that others see. All I see is fear. Fear of not getting better at all.

I have spent the entirety of the day in tears, my face is swollen and my throat is strained from sobbing. I hate to display it here, but I have nowhere else to turn and the kids have seen enough of it that it’s almost normal to them. That itself is sad. To project my instability in front of the children is embarrassing. They understand that I’m sad. They know the behavior is beyond them.

I feel bad for self isolating when I need my family. It’s as though I’m whispering for help, when they’ve assured that I can always call for help. Talking helps, walking helps, but the pain is still physical as much as I am emotional. Our long distant phone calls end and I proceed to endure my situation. I feel that I’m burdening everyone around me, so I sought to disappear, In every aspect. My family loves me, my chosen family loves me. I just can’t seem to love myself.

I cannot change the past, but I can accept it for what it is and focus on the present. It’s challenging, but I can’t help but fulfill the fact that I am a product of a poorly structured childhood. Bullying, abuse, financial instability, emotionally unavailable parents. I clearly never had control in my life. Now that I do, I don’t know how to conduct myself properly. I don’t know what self love is and I’m lost at sea.

I hope that the moon is looking back at me tonight. I hope the monarch butterfly we saw earlier brings change. I hope that I can take this life a day at a time. I hope that I have the willpower to do so. I hope that I learn patience and kiss curiosity. I hope to continue yearning for better. I hope to stay alive.

[062221]

06/26/2022

I spoke with George on what would’ve been our 4 year anniversary two days ago. It was regarding the electricity bill in the apartment we shared that charged to my account. I was confident he would get back sooner. It’s been a couple days and I’m familiar with his schedule. He gets out before 4pm everyday without a doubt. He could’ve resolved this issue without having me to remind him not to forget about me. Which, was a dumb way to put it because that’s exactly what he did to me.

Some days seem easier but there’s never a day I don’t think about him. It’s easier lately that I’ve told him I was dying and he had nothing to say, apathetic as always. That shame and regret after sex feeling suddenly turns my stomach when I think about intimacy with somebody who had checked out long before we separated. I’m left wondering what it is about him that I desire. I can’t find the answers.

I’ve returned to LifeSkills to keep myself occupied & to make up for the hours I was losing having been fired from the breadwinning detox position I had. Residential is riveting, hot, and comical probably about 90% of my shifts. The other 10% is left feeling bad for the clients who are subject to a poorly run isolation of a facility. Since I’ve been back, I’ve already consensually eye-fucked a client. I instantly thought about Troy and how the adrenaline kept me yearning. I’ve reflected back on how sick I really am, it wasn’t (or didn’t feel) all that bad afterall.

Today, I am feeling agitated and overwhelmed. I am hoping to get things done but my body feels like jelly and I can’t even get up to poop. Today, will start when the Wellbutrin kicks in, and the dishes start disappearing along with my mind, morals and other responsibilities. It’ll start when I deactivate Instagram and TikTok looking for content to create for views/likes. Never so much about me in present-tense, but always for views and likes. To be seen.

I will make my bed and brainstorm. I will take my klonopin and age through my mood shifts with ease. I will oil up, eat, enjoy the sun, enjoy the smoke and sit on the possibility that I could be making strides though I’m not quite ready yet. I could land that serving job and please everybody in my life except for me. I’d have nothing but money, nothing but a entity pulling in currency. That’s what others fail to see. It’s not that I’m lazy. It’s that I foresee an unhappiness resulting from having no time to focus on myself, to take extra care of and to learn how to really love myself.

I’m also contemplating living in my car. I knew what I was doing when I chose a Jeep with a wider interior. I knew somehow I wasn’t going to be able to afford the car and my other responsibilities off of one income. I would need to shower at the gym but it would profit me $600 I can save towards putting myself through school.

So much up in the air. Very little confidence I’ll be able to catch it all.