Lost and Searching

Acceptance

Suicide and Saying Goodbye

6 years ago, I tried to kill myself.

Well, kind of. I wanted to kill myself. I held the knife to my wrist and I pressed. I pressed as hard as I could. I held it there while angry tears ran down my face. I pressed it while people watched. While nobody tried to stop it.  I wanted to press it in, split the skin, and watch it bleed.

But I couldn’t. No matter how badly I didn’t want to be alive, I also didn’t want to be dead. I never managed to pierce the skin. I ended up putting the knife in a wall and walking away.

It was the culmination of a lot of years of depression and running from things. From growing up bullied, to falling for women that never wanted to be with me, to my parents divorce, to being jobless and broke. I had never dealt with anything, ever. I just pushed it all away and let it pile up in whatever space I could find.

It never went away though. It was always there, jut like the depression. And when the depression started getting worse, I became intensely introspective. This led me to find all of the things I tried to run from, and they came spilling out. I couldn’t stop them. I was drowning in them. I had no idea what to do anymore. Everything was pain.

On the night I had the knife, I was at a party. There were probably about 20 people in a relatively small apartment, with a fairly even mix of men and women. Everything was normal for most of the night. I was drunk and being more sociable than normal. I had even had a bit of luck with one girl, but then she left. The night was starting to wind down and I watched as people kept pairing off. Everyone was finding someone to hook up with, which is cool, but I was alone… again.

I’m not sure why this was the night that that was too much for me. It had always happened that way. There was never anyone around that wanted me. Nothing has really changed in regards to that. It always hurts when I’m the one that ends up all alone, but it was never that bad. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, or the growing depression, or what, but this was the night.

I can’t even tell you where I got the knife or why I had it. It was just sort of there. I think we may have been fucking around with them and trying to throw them into a wall. I can’t be certain. I was drunk and that part is hazy.

After I put the knife in the wall, I went back in and, as far as I can remember, tried to sleep. I slept fitfully for a while and then called my mom to see if she could pick me up as I didn’t have a car at the time.

I didn’t see anyone from that night for nearly 6 months. I didn’t really realize it at the time, but this was the final straw in a break with reality. It had been happening for a while, but that was when it all finally happened. After that, I stopped going out. I didn’t see anyone for months and I barely left the house. I pretty much didn’t leave unless I was getting food. I spent as much time as possible on the computer playing stupid little games to distract myself from all of the stuff that had piled up. However, I’ve written about all of this before. I’ve just never recognized it as what it really was: a break from reality. I took time away from the world to deal with all of my shit.


I don’t write about this with sadness. I never felt an ounce of melancholy while writing this tonight. In fact, I’m feeling better than I have in a good week. For some reason though, this story felt like it needed out finally. I wasn’t necessarily hiding it, I just didn’t know how to frame it and express it. I’ve mentioned it and sort of written about it before, but never in detail. It was time for it though. Time for one last tale.

I think this is a good final post for this blog. I don’t really have much need for it anymore. I’ll blog again, but most likely not here. This was the journey out of my deepest depression. While the story isn’t over and there’s still much I need to work through, this phase of it is done. It is time to move on to other venues and outlets.

So thank you, and goodbye.


The Journey I Sought and the One I Got

The journey I sought was not one of worldly adventure. I didn’t want to travel the world and see the wonders of the world. I didn’t want to climb Everest or go on safari in Africa. I didn’t want to see the pyramids or visit the wailing wall. I never wanted to jump out of a plane or off a building.

The journey I sought was very different. I wanted to spend my entire life getting to know somebody. I wanted to live with her and love her. I wanted to start a family and have children. I wanted a house with a garage where I could work on cars. I wanted love, and that was all.

The journey I got was nothing like either of those. I ran from my fears and struggled to make it this far. I fell so far that suicide was an option I considered. I took the dark rode, the one you never want to see. I didn’t mean to. I ran, and I got lost.

The journey I have now is one of rebuilding. I’m trying to put the pieces back together, those that got broken on the way and those that were always broken. It’s a long journey and it isn’t easy. There’s still much left to rebuild though.


I Didn’t Want to Say Goodbye

I’m sorry things got weird. We had a connection, I thought that meant it might lead to something more than friendship. The movies lied to me, they told me that’s how it works. They don’t bother telling me that most times, it doesn’t mean anything.

How was I supposed to know otherwise? Nobody told me that part. You just seemed like an awesome chick and we got along so well, so I thought we could be more than friends. I didn’t mean to make it awkward, I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

I got confused. Nobody ever listens to me, so when you did, I thought it was because you liked me back. My friends never treated me that way, so I missed the cues. It didn’t help that you’re flirty, but I should’ve known it didn’t mean anything, it never does. I should’ve known I wasn’t special to you.

I still think about you; wonder how you are. I could ask, but it hurts to talk to you. I’ve gotten better about not looking at your Facebook profile, and I deleted the pictures you sent. I wish we could still be in each others lives, but I’m too ashamed of how it ended and too hurt by the loss. Maybe another time, but not now.

Goodbye, and remember that I cared for you once.


Deflated: The Pitfall of Being Excited

I really should know better than to think something good might happen without me busting my ass. Why would that happen? If I want something I have to bust my ass for it. I always seem to forget that when it seems like something good might happen though. I want to hope for the best and it always gets me when reality sets in.

I thought I was going to be able to buy a car, get a new computer. I was so wrong. I did get a new phone, some new clothes, and a few comfort items, but I’m still without the major items that I want/need.

What I really thought I was getting was a reprieve from years of struggling just to make ends meet. I’ve had a job for about 2 years now and I’m still struggling just to get out of these holes. I know that’s not all that long, but it feels like forever. I just wanted one bright spot where I could say that things finally turned around.

It’s rough seeing people around me in their mid to late 20s that have their shit together, doing whatever they like. Dating; living on their own; getting married; having kids; buying cars, houses, toys, whatever. I’m living with my mother, struggling to pay my bills and doing it all on my own. I don’t get to live rent free with my parents like so man others do.  I haven’t had a car in 6 years. That has meant foregoing a lot of things because I can’t fucking get there.

I’ve been stuck here for a long time. It’s easy to overlook how much a car means until you have to rely on others to help get you around. I can’t go shopping unless my mom is home and lets me take her car. I can’t go out with my friends unless someone is willing to pick me up. I can’t go out and drive around just because I want to. I can’t just run up to this or that on a whim. I have to plan everything if I want to go out because I need to know how I will get there and how I will get home because I can’t just drive on a moment’s notice. It is very isolating, which is rough. Yes, I am a solitary creature by nature but it isn’t easy being forced into it because I can’t get anywhere. I can’t go to people and people choose not to call me when they do stuff because they know I can’t get there and they don’t want to pick me up (which is fine, it’s their choice and I’m not going to be upset with them for not wanting to pick me up, I wouldn’t want to either).

I’m doing a bit of boo-hooing, but, really, I’m still a bit further ahead than I was 3 months ago. It just sucks thinking I’ll be able to actually get somewhere and then have it taken from me. I’ll get there eventually by working my ass off, it just would’ve been nice to skip 2+ more years of struggle.

It just fucking sucks being poor.


Welcome Home – Part 1 of ‘The Ongoing Story of Him’

Welcome Home

 

This was the 4th drawing I made one night and the first in what would be an ongoing series dedicated to my own life. When I drew it, I had just switched from Holywood to Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. Until now, I hadn’t ever given much thought to how perfect that album title was for the situation. In truth, it was chosen because it is a favorite album of mine and it soothes me. I draw much inspiration from it, having heard it hundreds, if not thousands, of times since I found it. It is one of the most important albums in my life, and it seemed only fitting that I would listen to it this night.

The original plan for the drawing session had been to listen to all 3 of Marilyn Manson’s albums about his fallen god in order, but after I finished Holywood, I started to think about the woman I was kinda-sorta involved with at the time and how that relationship actually existed. Being in the state I was in, actually seeing that I was not special to her in the ways I needed to be special was threatening to collapse my psyche and throw me into a downward spiral. So, I hastily changed albums and settled on something that I knew would bring me back from the brink and put me back into a safer place. It was my safey-safe. And there began my journey in art and self-exploration.

The upper right – ‘I almost lost you’ – came about from nearly spiraling when the album changed from Holywood to Mechanical Animals. When it was averted, I simply wrote the line on the page. At the time, it felt like a note to her, but looking back, I think it was just as much a note to myself. I nearly lost my mind delving into a situation I really wasn’t prepared to deal with that night (it took me nearly 8 months from that date to finally confront it and I’m still dealing with it today).

The words are ‘*MROW*, ‘My Dear’, and ‘Whore in Sheeps Clothing’, which come from “Keeping the Blade”, “Always & Never”, and “Welcome Home”, respectively. At the time, they were written to my first. They were evocative of our childishness (the *mrow*’), my unrequited love (‘my dear’ crossed out), and my eventually pain and lashing out (‘whore in sheep’s clothing’). They are floating in the scribbles, buried in them and written upon them. They were always on my mind, as the scribbles represent. But they were also shrouded in chaos.

These words were just the ones that came through as I was drawing, but the entirety of the lyrics of the three songs represented here capture the emotion conveyed within. They speak of the pain of loving and having nothing returned. Of wanting and not being needed. In “Always & Never” the Writer says ‘I’m still waiting here, my dear/For one kiss from you’. While this, to me, speaks of loving and wanting, there is also a literal interpretation in my own life: I had just one kiss with my first love, a very chaste peck on the lips, and I have been waiting for the next one for the past ten years. Not from her, but from anyone. With ‘a whore in sheep’s clothing’, I am not wanting to call her a whore. More accurately, it is about her being something other than what I saw and my inability to cope or be with what she truly was. I loved what I thought I saw, but the reality was far different from what I wanted and needed.

While I had my first in mind when I drew this, it turns out that it was quite apropos to the situation I was dealing with at the time. So much of that played out as an accelerated replaying of my first kinda-sorta relationship. It’s eerie. Even the names were similar. I cared deeply for both of them and they both came about during very chaotic times in my life. Looking back, it seems that the last one was there to close out the first. Through it, I found closure. I was finally able to put her to rest and move on from her. And while I am still working on moving past the latest, I was not crippled the way I was with the first. This time, I am hurt but I am not giving up and running from it all. I have chosen to stick around and deal with it, even if I can no longer do it directly with her.

 

This series, taken from a single night of drawing, was drawn with my future in mind. When I did it, I thought it dealt with who I was talking to at the time. I wasn’t wrong, exactly, I just wasn’t right about what it meant. She was there, but not as I saw her. She was a ghost reborn and she exited far sooner than thought. I think that going over all of this and finally posting it all and talking about it will be my way to say goodbye. As I lay it bare to the world and analyze it in the written word, I am seeing it in a new light. I am finding things within it that I hid from myself before. It was far deeper than I ever expected.

I showed all of this to her, but it didn’t go as planned. I had hoped to share it with her, but I ended up just showing it to her. I think that was part of why I decided to leave. It was then that I realized that things were not as I had seen; that I had blinded myself to her because I was in need of closeness, which she could not really give. I had imposed things upon her subconsciously that she could never have lived up to. For that, I am sorry. For the rest, I am hurt.


I’m Sorry: An Apology To Myself

I am sorry, so sorry.
I’m sorry for everything that I let happen to you, for all that I could not stop.
I’m sorry for all the children, the ones that caused you pain.
I’m sorry that I wasn’t stronger, that I didn’t stand and fight.
I wish that I could have done something, but I ran away in fright.

I’m sorry that I hurt you, that I could not love you.
I’m sorry that I mutilated you and took my anger out on your body.
I’m sorry that I didn’t learn a better way, one that left you safe.
I’m sorry that I pushed you away, and forced you to hide.

I’m sorry that I ran from you, that I did not stay to help you heal.
I’m sorry that I didn’t see just how bad you hurt.
I’m sorry I was so weak, that I could not show you love.

I’m sorry that you could not turn to me,
I’m sorry for ignoring your pleas.

I’m sorry for everything that you didn’t get to be.

But you are me and I was you,
And we were scared and we were broken.
We didn’t know how to handle it,
We didn’t know what to do.
We tried so hard, but we fell so far.

But I am here now, I will not leave.
We can talk it all out,
We can finally heal.
I’ll never leave you again.


Self Exploration Through Creating

I am so ready to be done with all of this emotional bullshit. I am trying to put it out of my mind and to focus on other things, but it just isn’t happening. It is so plainly obvious in all of my artwork that I do. All I see in my last two drawings is loneliness and pain. I mean, I’m drawing fucking hearts and hand holding. It doesn’t get much more obvious than that. The void of it taints everything in my life. I can’t figure out how to change it. I’m not a very social person. I know nothing will change in my room, but I don’t know where to go or what to do.

Enough is enough though. I’m not ready for it. I know I’m not. I want it so badly, but it’s not time for that yet.  And you know what, it’s good that it comes out in my art. My art should say something about me. To that end, I spent my lunch break at work and a bit of time before work creating a new piece.

 

 

I don’t typically talk about what a drawing means. I like to allow the viewer to assign their own meaning to it. However, I feel like I should on this one. This is a very personal image. More so than the others. At the center, is me. He is surrounded by people. I made them slightly opaque to signify that though they are there, he can’t see them.

 

I’m actually not entirely certain right now. I’m at least half asleep.Yes, it’s 2 in the afternoon but I wake up around 10 pm each night for work. I just know that I don’t draw myself often, though it seems to want out a lot more lately. Maybe rather than writing what I am feeling, I can translate it into drawing about what I am feeling. I did that today. I’m surrounded by people that care about me, but I can’t always see it. I still feel very much alone. I’m not though. As I have been writing these blogs for the past 2 months, family and friends have been coming out to tell me they have read it, they are here for me, and that they admire what I am doing here. When I did this, I never expected anyone to read it, but to hear that the people in my life read it and care about it all means the world to me.


The Missing Piece

Until I finally have what it is I have searched for my entire life, I will always feel the void of it. I know and I understand that it is not the time for it yet, but I can never fully put it out of my mind. It is a part of me. It hurts me. It has destroyed me in the past. I am doing all that I can to put it out of my mind, but it is still there, waiting and lurking.

It has brought me to tears several times this week. This week was huge. I got a promotion I have been working towards for months, I got a new avenue for art, and I got my finances in better shape for the first time in many years. I am so incredibly happy for all that I got this week, but there is that lost and lonely part of me that mourns that in all my happiness, I have no one to share it with.

I’ve thought about it more though, but in a different way. Though I am thinking about being alone, I am thinking more of what it is that I crave and need in this loneliness rather than just ‘I’m alone, I hate this, give me anything!!’. I see now that what it is that I crave is not some hyper-sexual goddess to fuck my brains out. What I want most of all is someone that I can sit with and talk with and share my life with. I don’t see much meaning in doing things for myself. I’ve never cared much for myself. I want more to share who I am with others. I am fully aware of who I am, I don’t need to do things to edify myself.

Except, I do. I am a broken individual. I have a lot of issues I need to sort through and I need to learn to actually do things for myself. I have been working on this; it’s why I bought the tablet and other things to advance my art, but I still only do it in very few ways. I need to get a handle on my life. I need to be the one in control of it. What do I really have to share with another right now? A broken shell that is waiting to be filled. There’s more than that, but my personality, intelligence, and whatever else will be overshadowed by my overwhelming sense of brokenness. I do have much to offer, but I don’t think I’m ready to really offer it yet. I want to, have wanted to for years, but I don’t know that I actually can yet. I can’t know until it happens though.

I have no knowledge in this subject at all. I just know what it is I want and what I want to do.


Art, Impatience, and Manifesting My Changes in the Physical Realm

I’m not really sure what I want to write. I kind of want to bitch at myself for whining about love and loneliness so much, but that doesn’t feel right. I do talk about it a lot, but I think I’m finally managing to come to peace with where I am and am nearly ready to finally let it go and just wait and see what happens while I work on other things.  Really, I just don’t know anymore. I’ve shaken out a lot of stuff this past week and now I’m trying to sort it all. I shouldn’t be so impatient though, it’s only been a week since I dealt with some of my largest issues and a few months since I really started working on any issues. There’s only so much that can happen in that amount of time, but because the waiting extends far prior to the working, I keep feeling like it should have happened. I know better, but that doesn’t always quell the thoughts and impatience. So, my goal for now is to work on patience and work on my art and healing myself.

 

Speaking of art, I played with my markers last night. Ended up with a few interesting drawings. I’ll upload them here to share. I won’t go much into meaning or anything though. I do not like to assign meaning to my images (the exception to this being those that I drew while tripping). I prefer to allow others to assign their meaning to it. For me, the process of making art is very much chaotic and random. I am capable of drawing things that I see, but some things are done by simply putting marker (or pen, pencil, whatever) to substrate and seeing what the fuck happens. Of the three drawings I did, one was something I saw (though it took its own form) and the other two were purely random. One of the randoms I understand but the other is truly abstract, though it does have a form to it.

 

 

Unfortunately, my scanner blows out the colors some. I was able to adjust for most of it, but the faint orange that I use on the beak and on the winged one’s back do not show up correctly even after color adjustments.

 

Really not sure where to end this post. I’m still trying to get a handle on manifesting the strides I have taken mentally into the physical realm. To that end, I drew the pictures above, I have continued to clean and rearrange my room, and I have started trying to get back to eating healthy again. I still feel like there is much to do, but it will come in time. I am very much looking forward to my days off this weekend. I haven’t had a day off since last Thursday  which was supposed to be the day I was coming home. because of that, I have been somewhat cut off from friends (not having a car will do that, but that is my next big step). So, it will be good to get out there and see them this weekend. Maybe get some alcohol in me and just let the fuck go for a night.


Borne of Chaos: Finding the Truth Among the Pain

I’ve been mulling over two thoughts today. The first is, where does one find these fabled ‘woman that think intelligence is sexy’? I’ve met all of two in my life, both of them this year. Neither was right for me. Granted, the first one almost took my virginity and the second one did, but still, I’m not actually looking for sex. What I want is a relationship and I know no woman is ever going to look at me and think ‘My god, I need that guy’. I just don’t engender that upon first look. However, I have always known that if the right woman sits down and talks with me, she very well may think ‘My god, I need that guy’. It’s the nature of who I am. I’m not ugly, just big. But being big limits the number of woman that will find me attractive. My intelligence does increase that number some, but it is still limited. I have the personality and intelligence that women want, but not the looks. Though I am working on becoming a smaller version of me, I will never be skinny or ripped. Who I am is a big guy, and that is how I plan to stay. I just don’t want to be this fucking big.

 

In the end, I know that my intelligence will play a big factor in finding someone, the question I have trouble with is how does that happen? For someone that ironically craves order and sees patterns in everything, it is very difficult to accept that meeting someone will be purely random and by chance. There are ways to skew that random, but it is still random. While I do love random and the non-sequitur, random in aspects of my life like love or day-today things bothers me. I can’t help it. I need some form of structure. I think that may b my biggest issue with wanting someone. I can’t really accept that it boils down to chaos.

 

This brings me to my next thought of the day. I’ve been talking about wanting and needing someone in my life for a long time, but why? Do I actually need someone in my life? Will it solve all of my problems and make me whole? The hard answer is, No. No, it will not. I do not actually need someone in my life. I’ve made it to 26 without anyone, I clearly know how to live alone. I don’t live as well as I could/should, but I can do it. I don’t need anyone to take care of me (though I did when I checked out of reality). My problems will not go away just because I meet someone either. They are not a cure-all and it would be horribly cruel to treat them as such. I am the only one that can fix myself.

 

In truth, I do not need someone, I just very much want it. That begs the question though, why do I want it? I can’t really answer that. Part of it is seeing how happy others are in relationships. I don’t think I’ve ever really been all that happy in my life. There are spurts of it, but it has been a very average to below average sort of life. Part of it also that the happiest times I remember are when I had someone I was talking with, though those talks rarely ever led to anything more than talking.

 

I’ve also put myself through hell by wondering if I would ever meet someone. It has been a central thought of mine since I was 13 or so and all of my friends started dating. The longer I went without having met anyone, the more difficult it became for me. I felt left behind. I felt… broken. Which is asinine. I was not lesser for having gone without. A relationship does not define who you are. You are the only one that can define you. But I have always missed that point. Even those friends that did not have steady partners were still out there hooking up and having sex. That never happened for me either. I was always on the sidelines looking in, waiting to get put in the game. I wasn’t though. While it did take me 26 years, I found quality over quantity. I also found that I am just not made for random hookups. I need something else there if I am going to have sex.

 

All of this leaves me with much to think about. I don’t think I could swear off the looking and wondering, but I think I can put it to the back burner and stop focusing on it. If it truly is borne of chaos, watching it and fretting over it will do nothing for me. Which means letting go of it for now will help me find peace with who I am and make me more ready for it when it finally comes.


In the end, it was all that I needed

No matter what comes from this trip, I had to take it. If I hadn’t, I would have always wondered. I never could’ve let go and moved on. Until we met in person, I could not truly know that friendship was all there was. A part of me knew and understood that, but that deep longing inside of me could never accept it through any means other than directly seeing it.

I’ll not say it doesn’t hurt, it does. Unlike the past times though, this will not hold me back. If anything, it is motivation to find someone that wants more than friendship from me. I’ve been in this place before, but never like this. This time, I can accept that friendship is where it ends. I am at peace with that. All too often the only thing wanted of me was friendship, and it always hurt me to the core. This time, the pain is not so deep, it is in losing something I never had. It is ‘Oh, well, it kinda sucks that I can’t have it, but I never had it in the first place so I can’t be too upset about it’. It’s like buying a lotto ticket. When you buy it, you hope, and you dream and you imagine all of the amazing things you’ll buy, but then the time comes and you see that you did not win. It hurts when you see that you didn’t win, but only for a moment. The moment quickly passes and you realize that you did not lose anything, you just did not gain anything either. You are in the same place you were before.

Though, in this trip, I did gain. I gained knowledge, of myself and of the situation. I cannot be unhappy about that. I learned that I have a voice, I had just been cowed into not using it over many years of being ignored by most around me. My voice is still small, but it is there and it is growing. I’ll stretch it and grow it from here on out. I do not need to fear what may happen if I act and voice things. Instead, I can just deal with what happens when I do. The pain of dealing with it is far lesser than the pain of always wondering what the fuck would have happened had I raised my voice and declared myself.

Internalizing everything is what drove me to such dark places in the past. To avoid them, I have to be open and honest, though that is no easy task. Talking is not something my family has ever done. We always asked about how our days were and how things in general were going, but we never sat down and talked about the shit we’d gone through. I never talked about cutting myself or wanting to die. We didn’t even talk about my mother’s mental issues. We never talked about my dad or my sister’s issues. We just acted the part of the slightly dysfunctional but largely happy family. I had a great childhood in the confines of my family (school and elsewhere are several other blogs entirely), but I don’t know that I was really prepared for the world at large. I think I was given all the tools I needed, but I was never shown how to use them.

My dad is an amazing thinker, a brilliant person, and so very inventive. He always has answers and he always finds solutions. My mother is a very loving and compassionate woman. She is also the rock for anyone that needs it. My sister is the most driven and hardworking person I’ve ever met. She has created a life path for herself that will lead her to incredible things. From them all, I learned strength, compassion, humility, and love. I also learned to to think for myself, to be me at all times. I learned that no matter what, you take care of those you love, and I learned how to be a strong person, even if I lost that knowledge for a time.

Without this trip, I do not think I could have really seen all that. I knew I had strength, but I did not realize just how strong I was. This trip has allowed me to see myself more clearly. I had to go away for a bit to find myself. I am many of the things I knew myself to be at one point, but I had lost them all. I had had some stolen from me through pain and fear, while others I hid from myself so that I might avoid pain and fear. However, I have found these things again. I see now that they were not figments of my imagination, but things that were lost and needed to be found.

I have also learned from this trip that there are things I need to let go of. Things I have held onto for many, many years that were killing me. I need not fear pain. Pain is inevitable. I cannot stave it off. It will find me at some point. The thing I needed to learn is that it does not matter. I do not need to let it hold me down any longer. I need to deal with it and move past it rather than try to avoid it. Avoiding it causes it to come back for many, many years. If I deal with it, it will be but a moment, and then it will be gone.

Another thing I have learned is that I need to leave Oregon. Though I have spent this entire trip at my friend’s house, I can feel just how much more at home I am in a large city. It is no longer an idea that I should leave Eugene, it is an imperative. If I want to make any big change in my life, it has to start with leaving Oregon. I will always love Eugene, but it is far too small for me. In being where I am this week, and looking back on Eugene, it is much the same as when I look back on my depression. Where I am now is brighter and clearer, while where I was is so dark and cluttered. Eugene kept me safe through everything, but in order to become myself, I need to leave it and find a new place to call home.

In the end, the trip is nothing like what played through my head, but it is everything it needed to be. It is closure and it is new doors. This trip is the time away I needed to find what it was that mattered. This was a centering point and it will allow me go even further than I thought I would. It was… perfect. I foresee that this will be a catalyst to a much better version of myself.

I am sure I will talk more about this trip in the future, but it will always be done in the anonymous. Where I went and who I was with is only important to myself and that person. For the world at large, knowing that I went is enough.


Unexpected Love Letter… to Myself

I have a lot in me that I need to write about. I have a lot that is trying to escape me. I’ve spent a lifetime repressing everything, but I am trying to change that. The writing helps. I have worked through a lot of things through this writing. I have already changed some opinions and thoughts from the very first posts to now.

Thus far I have covered my loneliness, my fear, my hatred, and my pain. I’ve really only touched on those things though, so there are many more posts like that to come. However, there are other things I need to get out. I still haven’t touched bullying, religion, faith, music, drugs, or art, to name a few. There is much I have left to write about. I know there are a few posts about bullying in me, just as there is an entire series on religion. I may start with an outline for the religion posts and relegate them to their own page. There was a time in my life when I was supposed to preach and though it is no longer my calling, that man is still within me. Music and art… well, they fall under religion too. So do drugs, in a sense.  These things will get their own posts as well.

I’ve only been doing this for all of 15 days and once this is published, it will be my 10th blog to date and the 4th in just over 48 hours. In total I have written 5736 words (this blog not counted). The darker the subject, the longer it has been. My shortest posts were about being happy. Unfortunately, that can’t be helped yet. Happiness is still a rarity for me. There is much darkness waiting to be expelled, so those will still tend to be the longest posts. I long for the day when I can write about how well things are going, but at this time, I can’t even fathom how they would look or sound.

Though I know what I feel I need to write about, I cannot predict when, how, or why I will write about things. The writing just happens. I have a feeling this week will see a lot of posts though. I will be left to my own devices for some time, which means the odds of my going into my head are high. However, rather than dwelling on it all, I will come here. This is my release, my catharsis. This is my sanity.

For now, I write only for myself. I know I have friends and family that read it, though it is still just a small handful of people. I am no longer going to hide myself away. I may not approach anyone directly about what I write, but in time I will be open to discussing it. In truth, I did not expect what has come of this. I wrote that first blog and it opened a floodgate. I expected to be my old cheeky and self deprecating self from my days on myspace doing this, but I was very wrong. Those blogs were more about stroking my ego. I wrote them because I wanted people to see just how much pain I had, like I was bragging about it. I stopped when others stopped reading or commenting. Now, I have few reads and few comments, but there’s no fucking stopping this. This is blast off. This is aiming for the stars because fuck stopping at the moon or mars. This will be me. It will be a telling of my journey. I’ve started it already, but, for now, I am still writing the preamble. I have to work through the past to get to the present and clear the way for the future.

I’m finally unlocking parts of my mind I thought I had lost. When I look back on my darkest times, I see that they were literally dark. I see it. The memories are dim and tinged in grime. There are some I need to clean off and truly explore, but there are others that disgust me and make me wonder how I could have let that happen. When I look at my present, it is clear, though chaotic. I can’t really look to the future yet. It’s still hazy, but I see there is sunshine there, it just has to burn the haze off. In spite of how I talk in other blogs about how I can’t stand fucking waiting anymore, I realize I don’t have much longer to wait. I may end up waiting a few years yet to find Her, but in a few months I think I will be so busy I won’t have the time to feel the waiting press upon me.

This is just one of several avenues I am exploring. It has already consumed me, but I have other things I will focus on as well. I have my weight loss to work on. I am still not where I need to be with exercising, but I am working on that and actually don’t mind walking places anymore, I just happen to live in the hills and am not quite built to handle that yet. I am working on my eating though. I no longer crave fast food all the time. I eat it rarely (for me). At most, it is once a week and even then, it will only be 1 or 2 small items at the most. Yes, that’s not perfect, but I am not that. There was a time when I would eat it every day, or more. I also do not buy any frozen foods, a former staple of mine. I do not keep any junk food in the house anymore. I used to buy a box of zingers and finish it in a night. And, you know, I’m happy about it. The few times I have had fast food it hasn’t been satisfying and has fucked with my body enough that I didn’t want to go back.

On top of that, I have my painting. It’s still in the fledgling stages, but it is getting there. I have already had one paid job. That came 3 months after I started really painting again. I do not know where the next 3 months will take me. I even set up a Facebook page specifically for my painting, Kustom Painting by forgotn. As I clear out some of my demons, I know that my art will flourish in a way it never has before. I had no idea I could paint what I could when I picked up that airbrush 3 months ago. It literally just happened. Before I knew it, I had something I loved and was excited about, something I have rarely felt about my art before. I know that I am only just beginning with it, and already it is far greater than I ever expected. it will take me far. I strive to be the best. I want people to know my name because of my art. I want to be featured in Airbrush Action and other national publications. And I know I will.

I even have music again. It never really left me, but during my darkest time I ended up with 25,000+ songs because I was seeking anything that could fulfill me and not finding it in any of the music I found. It was just collecting it for the sake of collecting it. it gave me no fulfillment. However, I found it again. I found it in a greater way than I did even at 14. It motivates me again. I am enjoying all of the new stuff I find. I thought I had varied tastes before, but now it’s exploding. I even found release in some stuff. I found one song that touched my soul, and it came from a place I never expected. The first time I heard Created a Monster by Krizz Kaliko, I choked up. The first time I heard it after my trip, I broke down completely. It allowed me to mourn that broken child that was bullied for all those years.

Though I have still yet to find love, I am finding that I am easier around people in general again. At the darkest, I had developed a fairly severe case of agoraphobia. I had trouble going to my best friend’s house, let alone somewhere where many people would be. After my 6 month break from humanity, I did work to get back out there. Fight Night helped with that greatly. It was a once monthly event where I would be surrounded by people I did not know, forcing myself to deal with, at the very least, the sensation of being around them even if I did not engage them. Now, when I go to Fight Night (or any other social function) I do get a bit nervous beforehand, but I openly engage people while I am there, something that just 2 years ago filled me with so much fear I had issues getting out of bed.

That comfortability with people will continue to grow and will eventually lead me to a place where I am truly open. This will be compounded by the increased confidence I will gain in losing weight, painting, and generally becoming more comfortable with myself.

I’ve had a friend telling me I needed to learn to love myself. I kept telling her I didn’t know how, that I couldn’t. I seem to have been wrong. This started as an overview of where this blog would go and what I wanted to do with it, but I think it has evolved into a love letter to myself. I clearly have things that I can love, I just overlook them and marginalize them. I know I’m an amazing person. I know I am one of the good ones. I just kept seeing myself through the eyes of those that had scorned me. For once, I think I am seeing them through my own eyes. I see that there is stuff worth loving. I still see things to hate as well, but I am learning to be alright with the ones I cannot change. There will be days I can’t look past them, but eventually, the days I don’t notice them will outnumber them. I am growing. Far faster than I realize.

It’s interesting to notice this stuff so randomly. I hadn’t planned this, I just started writing. The writing helps me explore things without getting overly stuck on certain parts. When I think this stuff through, I tend to find one aspect of what could be an entire post and obsess on it. I would blow it up into a macro and get lost in a single pixel, ignoring the rest of the picture that loomed so greatly around me. This blog is growth. It is catharsis. It is me. It is still very wordy (I am approaching the 2000 word mark for this blog), but I think it has to be for now. Eventually, I will change that. I will add art to it and I will design it more. Even tonight, I changed the theme for the blog. It is far less dark and I think the tone of the newer posts reflects that. In a sense, all of this is working to bring color back into my life. The more color, the less darkness. I’m still living in a mostly gray world, but I am finding bits of color here and there. Even the gray is an improvement over the pure black that it was just 2 years ago. There’s even a bit of pink coming up soon. That should be an interesting time. Plenty of exploration to do there.

As I start this new paragraph, I realize that it is likely to be the last. I think it is time to draw this to an end. I have covered many things here, but I think the one that will affect me most is that there is much to love in myself. There is also still much to explore. And so, for the first time in any of these writings, I do not sign off dark, or even happy, but contented, something I have not felt in a long time.

And thus, I bid you good night. I love you all and will be back sooner rather than later.


Owning up to my Past Mistakes

I never really knew just how fucked up my mind was. I’ve been lying to myself for a very long time. As far as I know, the last person I *really* opened up to was Anna. She stomped on my fucking heart when I did it. Haven’t done it since, until very, very recently. Why should I have? If every time I let myself be vulnerable I was going to have my heart crushed, why the fuck should I be vulnerable?

Well, because there is no way to find anyone in this world if I’m not willing to be vulnerable. Yes, some of them will hurt me, but there will be one that never will. And she is worth all of the heartache I have to go through to get to her. I’ll find her and it won’t matter anymore. Not the one that laughed, not the ones that gave me snide looks, and especially not the one that told me I wasn’t good enough, because I’ll have someone that cares and she’ll be all that matters.

I’ve blamed everything but myself for all this time. I blamed my size, saying no one wanted to be with a fat man. I said I was just too awkward, that no one wanted to be with someone so weird. That I just didn’t know how to talk to women (partially true, I do have issues engaging, but that can be overcome). I said they were just using me, that they were bitches that wanted anything from me but love. That… a million fucking other things. None of them are really true. Yes, being big limits me, as does being awkward, but those are hurdles, not walls. There are those out there that don’t care.

In truth, it’s all lies told to comfort myself. The hardest truth is that while I pined for love and whined about being alone, I never did a goddamned thing to change it. Not really. When it came to love, I never opened up. I gave them what they wanted and hoped they would freely offer what I wanted. I never put in the effort. I never let them know what I wanted. I wouldn’t let them see me vulnerable unless they showed me they absolutely wouldn’t hurt me. Of course, they couldn’t show me that. I never gave them a real chance to. I assumed they would hurt me, so I did what I could to keep them from doing it.

I paid for that dearly. I’m now 26 and have never really let anyone in. I even held my friends and family back. I’ve been more open on the internet than I have been face to face. I’ll tell a random blog all about the shit inside me, but it’s hard to tell the people around me. I’ve internalized all of it and it has tried to destroy my mind. I’m still not comfortable opening up about it. It’s my pain and my shame and it’s hard to talk about. I don’t like to cry in front of people, but if I talk about this stuff, I will. I did when I wrote this.

I think that I’m more willing to open up now. I know it has to happen if I want to move forward. It’s a scary thought though. I’ve spent my life not letting anyone see any of it. Going out, putting on a smile, pretending it was fine. I know those that know me well saw through it, but I still had the veneer on. I still did everything I could to hide it. I also know that they could see there were things wrong, but I don’t know that they ever knew what.

Because I held it all in, it used to manifest itself in other ways. I used to cut. A lot. I tell people I don’t keep lighters around because I liked to set stuff on fire, but the real truth is I do it to keep from burning myself. I used to hold the lighter on or to a piece of metal and then hold it to myself once it was hot. I’m covered in scars. I used to have severe anger issues. There were holes in my walls. My knuckles are still fucked from hitting stuff. I used to hit myself too. Anything I could do to hurt myself physically. It’s why I wasn’t afraid to do stupid shit that would hurt me. Nothing I did to myself physically could hurt me as much as my mind already hurt.

Alcohol never helped either. I found the bottom of many bottles and never got away from the pain. However, alcohol could let me overcome myself. Sober, I have kissed all of one woman and that was 10 years ago. Everything else I have ever done has come well into a bottle. it’s still not much, but it was something, though it is bittersweet. Yes, I have done it, but I didn’t feel much. I didn’t remember much. I didn’t really enjoy it. Needing alcohol for that was not good though. It was a band aid to a larger issue. I am glad I never managed to lose my virginity drunk. I would’ve regretted that.

This all comes back to what they all come back to. Loneliness. This time though, I realize it was my fault. I drove people away. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t give me any knowledge of how to find someone to let in, but I do know to try and let them in when I find them. I still hope it doesn’t take much longer. I know I need to grow before I can be ready, but I also feel like I need it to be whole.

I will be dealing with some of this soon, in a very direct way. I will be doing something that forces me to confront many of my fears of intimacy. I will be going on a trip and putting myself out there. I do not expect it to end in pain, but the potential for it is there. It requires me to go far beyond my comfort zone. It requires me to be vulnerable. It terrifies me, but it also excites me. It’s been a very long time since I put myself out there. This will not be a trip to see Her, but it will be a trip to help me break out of the shell I have encased myself in. It is the next step in healing and moving forward and I hope it propels me far.

I still fear dying alone, but I do not think I will be the one causing it anymore. I still fear being hurt, but I realize that cannot be avoided if I really want to find love. I know few could hurt me the way Anna did. I have to risk it though. If I don’t risk getting hurt, I risk dying alone.