Definitions
What am I?
Who will I become?
When will the suffering end?
These questions present a constant struggle for me. In the vein of my last post, I have started my freefall into hell and self-destructed. I moved out from the woman’s place on Sunday night. Is it the act of desperation, selfishness, or kindness? Having recognized the self-destructive path I had taken, I thought it best that I retreat to my apartment and try to regain some semblance of dignity and self-worth.
Pain.
Loneliness.
Solitude.
Why?
It is complicated, like all things in life.
There are issues that have I suppressed for years, some originated in childhood, and others linger from my last divorce. Most of them center my own insecurities which manifest in my inability to manage money. The nexus of this disposition is related to a couple very large debts: taxes and student loans. I cannot ignore these issues any longer.
Another revelation hit me late last night, the reason I don’t care about money is that I don’t place any value on myself. This manifests as, ‘ there is no value in the effort I have to put forward to earn money, so what does it matter. I’ll just burn it in any case.’ When I sold my house, earned 5 figures in the transaction. I then proceeded to spend all of it. It took months to manage that one. It went a little here, then a little there. On and on until there wasn’t much left. Now I have to cover the promises I have already made and create a new lair for myself. With those two issues, it will all be gone and I will be back to living paycheck to paycheck. On one hand I really don’t care. Water under the bridge and all of that. On the other hand, I should have used the money to pay off some of my debt.
I read a little Suze Orman a few years ago. She talked about most people can trace their money problems to their first money memory. I know what mine is and it is very painful. Basically, I was denied something trivial, a child’s t-shirt. It wasn’t lack of money. I asked and my father just stared at me without saying a word. I became frustrated and started to cry. Then he got mad at me for crying in public. I was removed from the store. That’s it. I was 6 or 7. The emotion connected to this little mental clip is a feeling of worthlessness. I can never make ‘enough’ money. It doesn’t matter how much or what I do with it, I feel empty and unfulfilled. Having a more adult perspective on the event, I would think he was considering the request but a child doesn’t know that. I got frustrated and then I angered him by not being tough enough. In my present life, a six-figure income is meaningless. I have earned that amount before, back before the bubble burst and honestly, I’m on track to do it again very soon. I can’t not do it. I take every little job, waste hours to make a few extra bucks and then go to work where I turn in a bit more than 40. What an understatement. I worked 2 normal days last week. Every other last including yesterday I pushed over 12 either on site or logged in remotely.
So what’s the fucking point in trying? Ego. I learned to be an ‘Arrogant Fuck’ as I was so elegently described by Christine a few weeks ago. I refuse to stop for anyone or for any reason. Prove me wrong, then I will consider your point, until then get the fuck out of my way.
Yes, I am in a very hostile mood at the moment.
Suffice it to say I see a very bad time ahead of me and instead of entrenching myself and preparing for the coming firefight, I have chosen to make myself a better target and pull the fire away from those near me, least shrapnel and flak from the impending assault catch them by accident.
I have created this situation. No one can fix it but me. At least that is what I keep telling myself.
It was pointed out to me today (again), that I always refuse help from those closest to me. The harder someone tries to help me, the more belligerent I become in response until the offer is withdrawn. These fangs actually work when exposed. Imagine that.
This same comment was made by the woman last night. “Stay and I will help you.†I refused, packed what I had to have and retreated to a nearly empty apartment.
It keeps perplexing me why anyone would want to help me. I really don’t fucking get it. Tony told me asking wasn’t an option. I was going to get help whether I asked for it or not. Hard to refuse that one, but then I can just disappear for a while and drop off of the radar screen. That’s one way to refuse help, never let any one know where you are, what you are doing, or what you might need.
My own intelligence is always a problem for those around me in times like these. I am smart enough to avoid help and assistance while I destroy myself, but not smart enough to accept that which has been offered. I can and will do it on my own. “Thanks but no thanks.â€
My way of change is usually very violent. I never learned how to find the middle path, even as I have tried for years to find just that, a balanced middle path. I pick one path then push, fight, scratch, crawl and bleed until I get what I want or everything blows up in my face.
Today, Rome is burning.
I have to face these demons within me and I don’t want anyone near me as I do it. It is bad enough that I have to deal with this crap. Why would anyone want to be within 50 meters as it happens?
Part of it, I’m reasonably sure, is that I have very low self-esteem when the armour has been peeled away. I feel very empty inside right now and I don’t really care what happens to me. Death would be a relief. How bad could it be, when considering the hell that we humans inflict upon each other? I’m not looking for it, but if it comes I will not fight to stay here. That’s for goddamned sure.
My self-destruction has another facet; I find it intolerable to hurt those around me any more than absolutely necessary. I try not to become a pavement stain, least my Mother has to be told I off’d myself through a mistake or miscalculation while doing 150+ on one of my motorcycles. That particular vision isn’t possible, since I don’t have access to the keys to any of my bikes at the moment. Hmm… How did I let that happen… walking out without even my motorcycle keys. That’s says something about my mental state. Anyway. In this case, I believe that it will be better for everyone, if I just keep my distance and let Karma do its thing. Maybe I will survive. Maybe I won’t. In this moment, I really don’t give a fuck. Nihilism and Hinduism combined. Kali can’t be very far away.
I have to fix me. I will not drag everyone else around me through this shit any longer. It is time to do my thing. I can act ‘normal’ at work, while I fight and struggle in the darkness of my so-called ‘free time.’
So.
There it is and here I am, 20:00 on a Monday night taking a break from my programming. Yes, I am at work. After an errand I came back to continue doing what I need to do. W.A.S.P. rattles in my headphones. A sliver of moon reflects Sol’s gift. Alone, basking in a dual LCD glow, I write my code. I have a flashing cursor and music filled with anger, pain and frustration. That’s all I want or need right now.
So what am I?
What definition shall be applied on this day?
Not a good one I should think. Not good at all. Maybe if I really care the result but at the moment, I really don’t care. I am not asking for help with this post. The opposite in fact. If I want help I will ask, engage you, or create an opening for you to enter. Until then please keep a safe distance as all times.
