Out of the Wilderness.

Hello again.  I’ve been preoccupied and distracted.  Busy.  I wish I could tell you that my life was improving.  Well, on paper it is… I’m going back to college and I’m doing okay.  Alas, on the psychosocial front I am dissolving.  It has been a foray into the wilderness of humanity.  Dating unsuccessfully, meeting loads of new people and not making any friends.  I have been chemically prevented from anything like serious disdain or regret but lately… I’ve been more circumspect.  As I think about my experiences I am reminded of “As Good As It Gets” with Jack Nicholson.  Wherein his character, who has psychosocial issues comes to the realization that maybe “this is as good as it gets”.  The more I think about that, the less hopeful I become.

I feel lonely so I reach out.  It starts out fine.  Then a joke is told, usually followed by some confusion or misunderstanding and it all goes south rather quickly.  What was supposed to be funny becomes a serious discussion and then degenerates into an argument.  You can’t say anything nice about yourself without people getting extremely precious about it.  Whether it is true and you are simply stating a virtue or it is a joke and you don’t actually mean it at all.  It just turns into a tragedy and every bit of hope that you had for having a nice easy happy social life goes completely to shit.

I like people less and less.  I like myself less and less.  I become introspective about the entire thing and the suicidal ideation that hasn’t been a part of my life for so long starts creeping back in.  COmpletely welcomed like an old friend.  Why bother?  You try to be nice, it starts a fight, you try to be defensive and keep people at arm’s length and it becomes an argument.  Dating is a mixed bag of solipsistic and shallow women and meaningless encounters that range from indifference to casual sex.  Nothing lasting or progressive.  I’m an odd virus in a petri dish.  Nothing else can exist in this space without corruption by or with me.  I either devour it, or it is so hallow that I simply spread right through it, obliterate it completely.

So, without love… Without support or close ties, friendships or lovers, what exactly is the point?  If this is as good as it gets, why carry on?  I cannot be cured, I cannot live a healthy balanced and normal productive life, so why live?  I’m not feeling sorry for myself.  I genuinely want to know.  How can I find meaning in this wilderness.  What is my purpose?  To continually attempt to have a better life that I am utterly incapable of maintaining, only to fail repeatedly and simply be frustrated…?

I don’t want that.  Every single street has a one way sign…

Hard day. 

Do you ever have a hard day and realize that when you need them most, you have no one to turn to?  Of course you don’t.  You’re not a monster.  You’re not the poorly grafted Frankenpersonality.  The hideous abomination wrought by that most unholy of afflictions, bipolar. 

You’ll be fine.  I’ll be alone.  Coping, or at least telling myself that’s what I’m doing. 

Necessary Biological Transgression. 

You’ll be misunderstood and spend much of your time alone. It will be frustrating. You’ll second guess yourself. Thinking over things you’ve said  and done, knowing that some are definitely questionable. Therefore wondering if the rest are contributing brush strokes in painting a horrible picture. This is of course a waste of time and an exercise in vanity. 

You will never truly belong. No deep and lasting connections. Mostly obligatory social interactions. This is as much to do with your personality as it is your disorder. Though, from whence comes your personality? You were a sweet child and adolescent. Even very kind and sociable throughout your teens.

People who should know you, know about your disorder, still misunderstand you.  They are surprised and upset by your behaviours or impulse issues. Which hurts your feelings, creates distress and rifts between those who would be closest to you. Therefore your depression comes all the more easy, you are the most isolated and ostracized person in the world.  Totally alienated from everyone, nobody ever making the extra effort to include you. To reach out.  To let you know that you are loved and cared for.  Because you likely aren’t.  

Your sense of genuine attachment or connection to other people begins to atrophy.  You drift further away from humanity.  Your own sense of belonging to the species eroding.  Messages of decisiveness and hatred filtering in from social media and news outlets.  Misanthropy pervading your very being.  Nihilism becomes you.  Soulless.  Suspended in darkness, peering dispassionately out at the swan song that is the human pathogen as you prepare to egress.  Mutate.  Next evolution. 

So Long and Goodnight

I’ve left Kali behind and immediately my life got immensely better.  It’s so wild to think that the pheromones of that woman had me so twisted up I believed that she was actually in love with me.  She is Poison Ivy from Batman.  She uses her pheromones to make men go crazy and do her bidding.

Now Delilah is back in my life.  Slowly working her way back in.  I am not jumping into a relationship.  Yet she and I are talking and getting physical.  It’s comforting.  She is such a sweet woman.  I’ve also gone visiting with other women, some new and some from my past.  My friend Crazy is having similar issues with a man with whom she is sleeping.  She and I are getting close and considering physical options.  She is an ex of mine from 20 years ago.

Sure, there is a part of me that recognizes that I am filling a void.  However, there is also a part of me that is merely making up for lost time.  I don’t like spending long periods of time out of service.  So this entire clusterfuck with Kali represented a gross loss of time that I need to recuperate.

I will always love the women that I have loved.  I still love Kali.  But I also still love Crazy, Delilah and Kimberly, whom I visited in the big city recently.  Then there was Sylvie whom I did finally manage a session with.  Though now she has started dating another guy.  Truthfully without the bonds and restrictions of a relationship I always find something new to get up to.  Or something old to get up to.

I can’t rightly complain about my life.  Things are improving.  Spring is coming and I’ve left another controlling, manipulative woman in the dust.  I pity her.  I pity the shortsightedness of women.  Their total incapability to work through such tiny issues to gain the big prize and all the little beautiful things along the way.  I am super considerate, so being a woman in my life is rewarding.  I will always be there for you and thoughtfully doing sweet and useful things for you.  So to just discard that is the paramount of insanity.  I have recently had a run of bad experiences with woman incapable of moving up and onward with their lives.  Improving and expanding.

There will come the one someday.  Until then I am actually very blessed with feminine presence in my life.  I am just going to go on safari and enjoy the majesty and beauty of the natural wildlife all around me and let it move me.  The goal in my life is to be a better person than I was in a better place than I was and I am achieving that.  Leaving behind those who have no interest in these things doesn’t hurt me in the slightest.  In fact, it is a huge benefit to me.  I have taken a massive step up.  So long and goodnight!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bitter Poisonous End

So everyone is clear on the definition of love, love is when two people see everything about the other, the nasty parts as well as the good parts and instead of running the other way they think, we can work with one another on those nasty parts.  We can work together to sort those out and in so doing we can become one whole perfect unit.  This only works if both parties consistently show up and get to work.

The woman with whom I was most recently involved, Kali was my soulmate.  We saw one another for exactly what we both were.  Both flawed, both bipolar.  It was a beautiful union.  I am still very in love with her, I always will be.  She is physically, intellectually and socially perfect for me in every way.  Emotionally she is so damaged that she can’t allow herself to be loved properly.

Before the Christmas holidays of 2015 she would send me cute messages of her own volition, send me pictures, cute and sexy.  She would tell me how handsome I was and how excited she was to see me, how much she missed me and couldn’t wait to see me and talk to me.  During the holidays I had difficulty making contact with her though I dismissed this with her excuses that the holidays are a busy time.  She texted rarely with apologies and maybe a picture.  Perhaps a promise that she would try to call later.

She returned after two weeks of this and I thought okay, things will get back to normal.  She loves me so much she will try to call me on the phone just to hear my voice.  She will still send me pictures everyday.  Without me having to text her first she will surprise me with texts just to tell me how great I am and how much she loves me.  This might have happened about three times tops.  I started putting in all of the work.  She would reply positively, but fewer pictures if any and no uninitiated texts at all.

At this point it is very evident that you are clearly and totally not on someones mind.  She claimed to be upset and depressed which I accepted and was concerned about alas, there is only so much anyone can do through texts to legitimately help in these situations.  So I began to probe around the idea that she call me.  After our phone calls she always felt so much better for having heard my voice and knowing that she wasn’t alone.  I would say sweet and wonderful things with a voice and tone that she normally loved and it would all be a little better at least.  Except she now resisted this.  Despite admitting that this might help she flat out did not accept taking any part in trying to make it actually happen in any way.  FUCK NO, was she going to try to do this even in the slightest.

Her love for me was dying, obviously.  When a woman’s heart goes it’s gone.  This I have learned.  You can do nothing to prevent it, though you try like a desperate fool in vain because as a man, you are bound to fight for a love you have in so short a time learned not to live without.  Women truly do not need men.  Men desperately need women.  So I fought, which only made matters worse.  I tried all the soothing things I possibly could and made myself a door mat for her.  This obviously didn’t work.  Why would it?  Why would having an attractive, capable, kind, loving, caring, intelligent, thoughtful, considerate, sexually perfect for you and completely smitten man at your disposal please you?  It wouldn’t.

I tried all the nice things I could and then I challenged her.  I started being a little bit vicious on those points that I knew that she was being weak.  Which, rather than motivating her only made her flat-out hate me.  I have always suspected that there are things that she has withheld from me, not outright lies per se, more like lies of omission.  I challenged her on this which upset her worse.  I challenged her on her unwillingness and fear to put her foot down and take control of her own life in the face of her oppressor, calling her a coward in the process.  I feel terrible about this though the goal was to motivate her to actually DO ANYTHING about it she only decided to turn it back on me as rage and hatred.

None of the above matters.  Not a bit.  There are really only a few points that actually matter.  She stopped loving me some time around Christmas and I have been fighting desperately for us, but seeing as I am the only one fighting there really is no us.

I don’t blame her for not loving me, I blame her for continuing to say the words, for claiming still that she loves me when it is plain to see that through her actions and behaviour there is no love left in her.  She is only herself with no space nor interest in anyone else.  I feel sorry for her.  I genuinely pity the fuck out of her because from here in her life she will have to find someone else who isn’t nearly as good as me or stay with the clown she lives with who is abusive.  Who she also shares no love with.  She had a perfectly good lily pad to leap to and instead she shat all over it and is now totally uncertain of her future.  All she had to do was keep loving the man who loves her more than life itself.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink as they say.  I can’t make her love me and I can see that she clearly has no intention of pretending even for her own sake, which is actually for the best.  I don’t want to get suckered into it now.  The good news is now I am fully aware and free to move on.  No guilt and no urge to turn back.  She had her chance, if she were to have a change in heart now I know that I couldn’t possibly trust it after months of neglect.  It really bothers me though, that act of burning a bridge while you are standing on it… Her love was so great and wonderful while it lasted, I was certain we would be together forever and then she just shot it in the face.  For no reason.  I’m going to have a Kali shaped hole in my heart for the rest of my life over a few months that were mostly unrequited… It’s a horrible monstrosity. A tragedy.  Part of me wants to die and another just desperately hopes I can find anything like her anywhere else…

Dark Side of the Moon.

I’ve made references to being on the “dark side of the moon” in the past.  It comes full circle.  For me it almost always does.  It is a place only the mentally infirm will know.  I know many do not view bipolar as “insanity” in the traditional sense.  Talking to ourselves, being paranoid or distrustful.  Making delusion assertions or hysteria.  No, for the most part we bipolar types fly under the radar.  We are primarily acceptable.  Until we aren’t.  In those moments when we are not it isn’t evident that we are suffering from an illness.  I’ve said things of this nature in the past but I will reiterate: our mood disorder and the behaviours that accompany it are attributed by onlookers as personality traits.  Even when they are aware of your disorder.  Sometimes they become hostile especially because of it.  Like, don’t you know any better?  As though mid-episode you can snap out of it merely by focusing on the fact that it is happening…

Human beings are small.  Despite having the largest brains and being the most intelligent species we are on average super-stupid.  My estimated IQ is half again what is considered average.  This is no boast, it is actually a curse.  Things that are mundane to me are super challenging or do not even register for the average person.  Even in attempting to explain it to them in very carefully chosen, simplified language I still think that most of the time I am misunderstood.  People who believe that in marching for equality that property damage is in some way acceptable or will not in any way hinder or override their cause…  Protesting in general.  Pointless.  A show of force is only good for one thing.  War.  If you are not prepared to fight, the side that is will win.  People still do not get this.  I digress.

Between ignorance, emotions and plain stupidity I find myself in a very unique place.  A kind of loneliness that few will ever comprehend.  For unless you have a mood disorder or have dealt with one long enough to truly understand it, are of above average intelligence and will not take anything I say as an immediate affront, you and I will probably not get along.  I know, it seems like I pity myself.  There are times where I do.  There are times where I miss being the center of attention.  I used to have hypomanic episodes that placed me in party mode and made me indispensable.  Now there is a part of me that no longer really tries because I recognize the value in my separation from everyone else.  Social media is still an issue…

Back to the Dark Side of the Moon.  This is the place that I reside.  Like many of my ilk.  I knew the song “Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd off of the album “Dark Side of the Moon” since before I could talk.  Only recently did it enter my thoughts due to my current mind state.  I went over the lyrics as I recalled them.  Sure enough it struck me… the song was about Syd Barrett.  It has themes of loss of sanity, well clearly the word “lunatic” is used frequently.  Moreover however is the lyric: “I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon” which is Roger Waters essentially admitting that he feels that sooner or later he is bound to join Barrett in his psychological state.

There we are, standing off the path, on the grass.  When everyone else is happily strolling along on the path as intended.  You find yourself playing music, yet the people in the band are all playing a different song than you are.  You are the odd one out, you don’t know the melody and no matter how you try to play along your song isn’t the same.  Like Syd Barrett you stand on stage with a band you’ve been playing with for years and mid song you find yourself launching into a completely different one.  Eventually you simply wander away.  You are no longer a member of any band.  You fade away and you find yourself alone.  On the dark side of the moon, as nobody hears from you in years.  Moreover, nobody is really looking for you all that hard.  You do not get invitations.  Christmas cards are a laughable concept.

So you dig a well.  You sit at the bottom.  You die inside.  The few voices that break through into this void you have created tell you not to give up.  You have no clue why.  If there was any need of you the phone would ring.  Isn’t it simply easier in the long run?  Just to fill the well with water?  Or concrete?

February is the worst thing that can possibly happen to me.

Triptych Pastiche.

The title will support the theme of this article and were I half the writer I believe myself to be I would actually make of it as such.  Though I am a finely crafted mimic, a recurrent undertone in the homily that is my life’s tale, I am only that and nothing more.  However… As a pastiche one can be renewed as unique, sublime, original and divine, for this is upon which I have been mired for so long.  It is possible to pay homage to multiple things and thus be set apart as something wholly individual.  To be defined, whilst still tipping ones hat at those from which it draws its characteristics.

Contrary to what I had originally believed to be true, I am really rather well defined in three parts:

There is Jack McBastard, the interloper.  The unwelcome rogue.  An agent of chaos, he brings to the table a litany of useful tricks and characteristics.  Even though the result may invariably be ruin and carnage he is an agent nonetheless.  An agent provocateur.  The mad keeper of the gates to Mania.

Dysphorian Alpha, the future self that I strive for always.  A partially built, megalithic construct assembled from the parts of great men that I admire.  He is found in my visage as it is the simplest part of myself to shape.  The finest shave, a collection of eau de toilette, finery and positive charms.  Socially acceptable at my best behaviours and always upbeat.  I find him in my genuine confidence, my lack of fear or need for competition as these things suggest loss of control or rivalry.  Alpha is peerless, yet humble, his confidence dictates that he has no need of displays.  He is rarer than the other two as he is the final stage of my metamorphosis.

Then there is Dysphorian the curator.  My present and evolving regular self.  The glue and stitches holding together the poorly grafted frankenpersonality.  The man who plays between these two diametric titans and is torn asunder from the fray.  When they clash, he is crushed between them.  When they dash in opposite directions, he is drawn and quartered.  This is the character that everyone sees.

As I have stated in the past, there used to be confusion with regards to bipolars and whether or not they were multiple personality.  It is easy to understand, we aren’t multiple personalities, we are several personalities attempting to be one.  He is the curator, the keeper of the characteristics and traits.  Perpetually under the weight of the opposite poles and far behind schedule.  Always playing catch-up.

With regards to Kali… I have been the ass.  I have been playing catch-up between these two and finding myself much needier than I should.  I have been impatient and moody and there has been no need of it.  Things aren’t going to be like a newlywed’s honeymoon everyday.  That is the matter of going through life without being in control of our own circumstances as of yet… That can be expected.  I am merely going to do my best to keep the romance alive and not worry so much if she isn’t always available at every moment.  I knew, and know, that this is an unrealistic expectation.  I should know better than to push so hard when there is nowhere to push to, that is exactly how pressure is made and nobody likes pressure.

I love her.  I can never lose her.