Sorting and categorizing some craziness

May 19^th 2013.

There it is again.  That nagging Question…

Who am I?  Who have I become?

I am standing on a line between the right person, and who I know I am.

There are examples of people as far removed from the normal social and interpersonal mores’ as I am functioning…even thriving.  I however am also cursed with intense rationalism.  So I bounce between a detached, intensely passionate, whirlwind, of thoughts and ideas, and lunacy….

And a number crunching, precise, rational, planner.

In the middle I lose my mind and drift through the world hopelessly obscene.

Irreverent, intense, interesting, scary, trustworthy, and unreliable…

This lingering intrinsic dichotomy is pervasive to every part of my physical, mental and spiritual self…

I look at the blocks that make up my life, the successes, the failures, the ongoing careful planned juggling show, and I think to myself, how can I not tell this story…

Then I realize that people will read it…all of it…

I think to myself, how can I dare write this story.

April 18th, 2013 raw no edit

Solace

Ease into it, it’s good.  Somewhere between the jovial and the speculative we are drawn back to where we are right now.

Alight in prescience these things you speak of are not important in the now.  They are the only all too real, all very much alive, that then becomes the past.

It is a thousand shards of memory.

They shift from one set to another as I cycle through the moods.  There are a lot of smiles.

It is perfectly understandable that it be so.  This is a moment of peace.

The biggest shadow seems to matter the least.

I want to be remembered as someone who was alright.

I want people to remember me warmly and fondly.

I remember reading the obituary of someone who died young.  It spoke of finding peace.

I don’t want to be remembered as I hope he is finally free from pain, or finally at rest, I want people to say, “Holy Shit! Do you remember the time he…”

I am the eternal advocate.

There are so many angles for why.

I believe I am becoming the person that they say things like “I hope he found peace.” about.

I don’t believe I’m there yet, but I am facing serious doubts at my ability to stop it.

So while I can see both the future and the past in varying degrees of accuracy, It is looking like there are a lot more bad memories coming and much fewer good ones.

Whatever we do in this life ceases from it when we are gone.  Only our memories remain and the presence of our personalities is what dictates how long people talk about us.  If I can’t make the memories I want to leave behind?

There are a lot of smiles…

Nothing, special

How many people out there have ever had a stand-off in their front yard, with police...guns drawn, bullhorns out in the driveway...when they weren't home.

I have.  I tried to come home and got waved away by the police who were trying to 'save' me because it was 'Too dangerous'

How many people out there were also worked law enforcement, long enough to know you were capable of doing it right.  At least corrections, some people count it some people don't.

I have.  Six years made it to day shift, had a unit commendation, was even a trainer for a few weeks(a bit of horseplay nonsense that I both take responsibility for and don't regret, it was funny, I was dumb, and I would probably do it again, and deserved to give up training status.), yet I was signed off in areas that a lot of my more senior co workers weren't, not elite, but better than average and good at it.

I've been a standout personality in every environment I've ever been in.  I believe I have a unique insight and different way of seeing things.  Of course I could also be completely bat shit crazy.  I won't rule that out.  It doesn't feel like it though.  It feels like I'm on to something.  Whether I'm crazy or not figuring out whatever this is is going to either make or break me.  Still I feel like there is something in this sharing, this growing I enjoy writing, I think that the stories and pictures in my mind will be well met and enjoyed.  So I must believe that if there is an answer there must be something in these words, because they seem to matter.

I make people laugh.  Certain people more than others, but everyone once in a while.  I'm not always good at it, and sometimes it just isn't funny, but I'm good with the A for effort, and even when I don't get a laugh I almost always get a smile for the effort.  It is the thought that counts and I feel like my presence brightens people around me...usually.  When I'm down and it shows, people around me are often concerned or emotionally moved.

I also went to school for psychology even though I didn't finish I continue to be interested in, and read up on psychology and have a broader base of knowledge than the average person.  Which is making me drop into this clinical voice that doesn't seem to flow as well as the feel I was going for with this piece...

So I will leave this as a free flow honest thought rant.... no edit, I wrote it once beginning to end and hit send

twysted about thereabouts

The music is too loud.

I have to do things a certain way.

My head aches and the music pounds it into a workable rhythm.

The computer is throwing out an eclectic mix.

I’m complacent at the moment but something inside is stirring.

The pity patter of guilty feet…

The piety of no small feet…

The parity was not to be…

The piracy of normalcy…

There’s a demon loose in my house.

I must flush it out if I am to be free of it.

You see they all lurk in the recesses.

In the darkness and quiet they must be stalked.

This is what it feels like to go crazy.

Seeing it lurking in my family history and feeling my world coming apart at the seams.

I know it’s come for me.

I will fight it to my bitter end, no doubt.

I shall record whatever information I can along the way, as long as my wits allow me.

I shall enjoy it for its shortcomings and try to maximize my unraveling wherever possible.

Should I not make it, somewhere along the way someone will find this and maybe someone will get something out of whatever this is.

notation no edit journalistic

Tangible.  I am sleeping on a real mattress with springs and everything.  Albeit it’s on a frame made from a full sized bed frame and a full sized futon metal bar frame.  It serves well enough as a box support for the time being.  SO…despite having been on 2 futon mattresses for 7 months, they were on a frame, and so is the mattress.  I have yet to end up on a mattress on the floor.  I don’t know why that is a benchmark I have sought to avoid over others, but it is.  Truth is I don’t even necessarily judge anyone on a mattress on the floor in a negative light, I get it.  The point is, it is one benchmark of being poor that I did not reach…

This isn’t a request for pity.  It is merely an observation.  This shit is profound to me, and I intend to garner something from the experience, and note some kind of data along the way regardless of outcome.    

Macabre (no edit whatsoever)raw

A suicide note:

In parts.

March 8^th and 9th 2013.

                I can feel it coming.  I think there is a strong chance that I will kill myself fairly soon.  I can feel it, not wanting to live anymore.  A complacent ‘can go on’ attitude replaces it from time to time, but it’s like a shark swimming around in my head…back around and biting and back around and biting.  The why bother killing machine.  I keep telling myself a variety of cutting angles to pour over the same confusion.  So many negatives coming together at the same time, like spears through the reserve bucket, until all you’re left with is all you’ve got.  You live, and you keep trying to refill that fucking bucket, but any resources you pour in it spill out the damn holes.

                I am fairly certain I have settled on the exhaust pipe.  I can pop a melatonin and nod out in the back seat listening to music and just never wake up.  I’ll need to do a test run with a battery operated carbon monoxide detector and whatever kind of apparatus I guinea rig up to deliver the fumes.  Nothing says loser like a failed suicide attempt.

                I don’t want to die.  Christ I can picture an idyllic life.  I would build a small structure, and build on it as I lived.  Two acres max, which in fucking Maine isn’t that big.  Music a few close friends and a peaceful go to work, work on the house, and hear some stories kind of life.  I try to picture what job I’ll be doing, I can see myself  with my current employer, but can’t really picture a solid ‘job’.  It gets blurry and hazy here.  I don’t know what I want to do.  I can exist where I’m working but the more I feel it the more I don’t think I want to work here forever, there’s too much bullshit.  Then I realize that the perception of bullshit is on me.  I am simply too unbalanced to deal with bullshit.  True I have made it to jobs with respectable wages and benefits and somehow always manage to self sabotage something, somewhere.  I am callously indifferent to feeling, afraid to put anything toward anything, because I know that I can’t maintain it, I know I will fuck it up.

                I know I’m going crazy.  I don’t know if it’s a side effect of all the stress or the underlying cause of it.  Either way I am trying desperately to find a way to get back into the real world and reduce the stress and somehow see if that is enough to move ahead for a little while.  Secretly knowing my days of pulling normal off have grown fewer and further between as time has progressed.  What’s causing it?  Is it me, is it treatable?  Not that I can afford it anyway. So what do I do, employ my limited resources and fairly decent mental abilities to solving a problem and hope I can keep myself together long enough to get by.  In the meantime it is necessary to have a back-up plan.  A comforting respite if I find that I really can’t deal with it and to find a somewhat dignified way to recover whatever bountiful posterity I might have.  To go out as someone who did the best they could and lost it, rather than someone who lost it, and lived a hateful jaded, and unfulfilling life.

                Stay tuned, I can honestly say I have no emotion towards either outcome.