My Re-evaluation In The Face of Distortion
Trying to find someone with a like minded capacity of intellect is a sure set up for failure. Baring a willingness to coexist with respect for disparity is the key to enlightenment. I can not obtain success without first identifying and addressing my very own self defeating practices. With that said, don’t call me schizoaffective, or manic.
I am trying really hard to silence my own internal oppression while forcefully rejecting the lascivious lure of explosion. If you wish to see a pleasant me, please allow me to implode in peace. I will return eventually. Do not what I ask of you humbly, and you will surely find yourself absent from me. I have recently been penalized for masterbating, and extending myself too far to help others, while helping myself to ‘recover’ in the process. I happily announce that I am free to do as I please , poor, mentaly combustible, and I smell like a dog. I, with a cocky smirk, can assure you that I am not at all following the 12-step rules. I am following my own rules, as I alter the rules of mankind.
I am unraveling again. I am absolutely bored and consumed with such animosity, and adoration for the world in which I live and breathe. This burdensome experience of living is consuming me whole. I modestly claim my own discoursing form of dialogue and acknowledge that I am my own enemy. I am also my greatest ally, simply because I am willing to learn.
It often takes me a while to get myself in order. I need time to reestablish my rightful claim to my own spectrum of independence and liberty. When I choose to listen to all the reasons why I shouldn’t do what I do, I start to believe it. I start complying with that which is my insanity. I stop listening, and succumb to a defeated silence. Every now and then I succumb to the hearsay. And then..I remember that it’s a choice, not an obligation. I am a woman, not a child. An educated and able bodied one at that. I embrace the failure that results in success, and the success that may result in failure.
Today during my employment support group at HTH we discussed the topic of time management. I have once again been enlightened by the reassurance of my very own distorted perspective of time and space. Doubt in the face of obstacles is a delusion of the mind, and a waste of time. I have adapted a new practice which is “defining the domino effects of negativity and procrastination.” Distinguishing the differences between making excuses, and utilizing logistical reasoning, in order to identify self defeating practices and actively altering them.
At what point do I discontinue allowing my disadvantages to be defined as a disability , and start referring to them as an unjust assault upon my natural born rights as a human being. When will we as humans start respecting the nature of human formation when left to blossom on its own free of perversion, abuse, coercion , and neglect . There are too many distorted contributing factors poisoning my mind, almost all defined by a higher authority , that define the terms “normal”, “acceptable”, “justifiable”, and “sane”. It all revolves around the deliberate, and intelligent use of abusive power. I hone such power, and can be quite abusive to myself.
Quite honestly, comparing me as a “mental health consumer” to some individual(s) who willfully sanctions a great and destructive act upon innocent people is an insult to my integrity no matter the level of infraction. It doesn’t unravel me with emotional disparity…it pisses me the f*** off with the courage, dignity and audacity to push back. This doesn’t mean that I am manic, depressed, or unreasonably troubling..it means that you better step your game up….because I am not the one to pray upon..anymore. I am not a victim.
I have reclaimed my natural feral state of mind. As I cautiously navigate through life from a domesticated lense. Suicidal ideation is not a mental health concern for me. It is a ceaseless internal dialogue within the human mind that is my own. It is something I use to address, alter and calculate all that I consume intellectually. All that is external and internal to me has overtime and shall continue to parish, eventually. Everything in life is temporary….especially when it comes to my belief system. Especially when it comes to me. I have developed this new found theory thanks to my training with intentional peer support at HTH.
My actual past suicidal attempts were an example of my very own ignorance, and lack of awareness. Something else dies within me with every passing day, while something new is formed in its place. I have been hardened by reality, and softened by my curiosity. This is my hardship when dealing with post traumatic stress disorder. This is the conflict of my eternal soul.
I am holding on to the idea of “goodness”, while considering a darkened alternative that seems to be so much easier to comprehend. I struggle between my right to thrive and the option to decompress my attachment to compassion, and my own ethical conduct. I am experiencing what has accumulated over the last 29 years, and is known as Compassion Fatigue, which is an “indifference to charitable appeals on behalf of those who are suffering, experienced as a result of the frequency or number of such appeals.” I am exhausted and worn. My empathy almost entirely depleted. I am evolving once more.
The only thing worth holding onto, for me, is the pursuit of security, whatever that is supposed to mean.
I serve no other purpose than that which intends to destroy me; survival. I know not what I speak for I release my words foolishly uncensored. I am tired and sick. My body and mind are at constant odds where one is eager to persevere and the other wishes to crawl and hide within the core of the earth for an eternal release from existence.
I am totally broke, stretching far to make ends meet and keep my family afloat. I dread the thought of all that which is ‘not enough’. Yet, I have taken in another dog. I may be poor, but I’m rich with love. This is how I cope when I feel defeated. This is how I survive when I find myself contemplating an alternative. This is how I alter my thinking when the plans start unraveling to relieve my companions from the burden that is me…I add more ‘shit to my plate’ and find a new thought. I obligate myself to persevere.
12-steps for those who want it. (In addition to my rebelliousness.)
Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.
( Absolutely not! I admit to no such nonsense. There is no power greater than my own, that can control the decisions that I choose to indulge. I am sadistic. I am rebellious. I am a victom of sodemy. There are times when I simply choose not to be present. And then there are times when I choose to rebel. I am both the victim, and the predator.)
Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
(Bullshit! I, and only I, own full accountability for my sanity. Anything else is a willing intrusion upon my being. A willingness that is only penitrible by ignorance. Knowledge is my power. It is not greater than I. It is me throughout evolution.)
Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
(No. I made the decision to demand control over my own free will, my right to say ‘No!’, and to turn my life over to the heresy of knowledge. There are over five versions of the Bible in my library, including the Karan. I am still looking for the notorious satanic bible just for added pleasure. It’s just another book. Just another addition to my cynicism.)
Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
(Well. Yes. Fine. You win this one. How else could I possibly evolve?)
Step 5: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
(I am not sure. I have embraced all that is or was wrong with me wholeheartedly. I wore my soul on my sleeves and held nothing back. This was the cause of many failures, as well as my survival.)
Step 6: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
( my character is not defective. It has been malfunctioning for quite some time. The error has been detected and my vessel is now on the way towards a full restoration. Please bare with me as I continue to upload)
Step 7: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
(I humbly ask that you leave me alone and allow me to address my shortcomings to be addressed accordingly.)
Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
(I am a bitter, and reluctant soul, yet forgiving. Even if the only person I can forgive is myself. I aim to do better.)
Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
(I convinced my mom, and step dad, to adopt a pit bull. If you knew my story, you would understand that this is enough for me.)
Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it
( you know? If I’m wrong… I’m wrong. I won’t fight it. I never did. Even if admitting I was wrong when I wasn’t would have saved me an asswhooping. I just can not tell a lie. I am human. I do not know any better until I learn better. This is nothing I feel the need to apologize for. I simply ask for forgiveness.)
Step 11: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
(I argue with myself 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I beg, and plead for silence, and absolution. There is no god that controls me. There is only me. There is no entity that causes me to do “wrong or right”. There is only me. Psychomotor agitation and meditation do not blend well when the mind is constantly activated.)
Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
( well, listen here, while I sip this beer, and try to comprehend what I am trying to steer. I am not an alcoholic, and neither are you. You are simply bored, as I am too. You call yourself an alcoholic. I call myself a willing fool.)