promeny

I am still not drinking any alcohol, which is great. My therapist thought that it was impressive that anyone could stay way from it for that long. However, there may still be aftereffects from not drinking for so long, since my brain was just flooded with that stuff for years and now it has to readjust. Someone today showed me an image of brain scans of an alcoholic who wasn't drinking as opposed to one who was intoxicated; the sober one had low brain activity, whereas the intoxicated one looked like the normal control. I've always figured that alcohol was a form of self-medication, and that I was likely hugely depressed before I started to drink alcohol, but now I think it has gotten worse than it used to be, although I will say that I'm still able to function as an independent adult and I still seem to be fairly intelligent.

This month was a little weird. I used DXM for a while but I decided to stop, because for some reason it was making me very irritable and emotionally enraged for a day or two after I used it. This never happened when I was drinking alcohol; I think that the two substances operate on some of the same receptors in the brain, and as such when you aren't doing one, the other might start to have more intense effects. Back when I still drank alcohol, I would be very calm and peaceful after I used DXM; now, I have to restrain myself from screaming. Outside of that possible cause, I really have no idea why it is like this now.

I didn't go to the university today. I'm getting a vague feeling that the last friend that I have there doesn't want me around so much anymore, although she is still pleasant. It was time to move on, in any case, but I really should just gradually taper off, instead of not ever going back, ever. I had an excuse because I had to go to Pullman today, so I can just tell her that tomorrow.

In general, I don't think that I'm going to bother with people anymore. I mean, I just don't connect with anyone, even if they don't have a problem with me. I sort of realized that I don't have any close friends, and the few friends that I have would turn their backs on me if I crossed a line or two. It has always been like that, this is just how people are. I'm not angry at anyone or anything, I just can't feel for others anymore. It used to be that I could have a lot of hatred for people, but now I don't think that I can even hate anyone anymore. Maybe I could, but it would be too much personal investment and it is a waste of time. I still like living in the world, but other people have been kind of a disappointment, I guess. I didn't used to be like this; I was once someone who idolized other people and looked for mentors. But now, I can only look towards myself, for not only am I an odd person with an odd set of cultivated skills and wisdom, but no one else gives a shit, either. I feel that I became this way due to the neglect that I have faced.

I was thinking for a while that I was becoming less intelligent and I was losing my memory, but that usually turns out to be false. But it is always best to be on your guard about that.

I renewed the lease for this year. I think that it would have been premature to have moved this year, but if trouble happens with my father (which it might), then it might pose a problem. He is currently gone on his sailing trip with his girlfriend; they reached the end of Baja and sent me an e-mail that wasn't very grammatical, although it was better than the others. He then called me last morning, and woke me up. We talked for only two and a half minutes; the tone was pleasant, but he just wanted to know if he got any odd mail and if I had been doing the chores. He said that it was a dollar a minute to call; that isn't going to set you back very much, and he could have at least asked me how I was doing. I at least would have been polite (not that I wasn't). I'm pretty sure that this is pretty revealing, and if they come back from the trip I might not want to have anything to do with them.

I've actually felt very calm as well; sometimes I feel that there are no problems whatsoever, which is a first since I moved back here seven years ago. I think that it is because I have the security of knowing that my father isn't around, and I can kind of forget about the whole thing. That actually has been very nice for me, and I've realized that I can have a relatively happy and productive life if I finally escape all of this bullshit. Most people have told me "No, don't move..." but honestly, I've been here for years and have given everyone so many chances, only to become more burdened and calloused. Would it be selfish of me to leave? No more than everyone else has been, I think. And besides, I've just been unhappy for so long. There have been moments where I look out to a view while drinking a beer or a coffee, or smoke or otherwise am on some drug, and I feel a sense of beauty and peace, but in general these past seven years have really, REALLY sucked, and I finally have the balls to get myself out of it. Maybe I'm hitting my mid-life crisis early, but I really have no where else to go but somewhere else. I mean, why stay here, with all the broken hopes, promises, and painful memories? I just want to live somewhere else, and have a new life.

I could say that nothing happened over the past month, but that would be a big fucking lie. Would have been true until about a week ago, though.

I was over for dinner at my father's house last Wednesday, and he brought up in a lateral fashion that he and his girlfriend were getting married. There were a fair amount of clues, so as such I knew that it could have happened, but the way that he brought it up with his girlfriend right in front of me was emotionally manipulative. I couldn't look him in the eye or tell him that it was wrong (which it is), but I was able to expose him as a liar to his girlfriend, saying calmly that he told my brother that he wasn't going to marry her (which he denied) and that mother never wrote because she thought that he would never remarry (he replied by saying that she did, so I'll have to look into that). And I didn't even mean to expose him like that; nonetheless, it is pretty obvious that he was either lying all along, or decided to go back on his word. I have caught him lying about benign shit multiple times over the past year or two. And even if he didn't plan on lying, does that negate the fact that you can't trust someone who goes back on their word, let alone respect them? I don't think so.

Of course, I told my sister about it. It was hard to do, but I had to; it would have been wrong otherwise. She felt angry about it, but was very reasonable and controlled; she was not hysterical at all. Her main concern was that the house and the belongings might go to another family, which is very possible. I brought up the facts that our father was writing prenups, thus potentially meaning that they wouldn't, and that he told me to make a list of the things that I wanted after he died. She was pleased about the latter, but added that if he dies the prenups won't matter, especially if the house is going to be in the girlfriend's name. I don't know if there is anything we can do about it; it could be worse though, since that house wasn't the one that we grew up in. Still, it is a family resource, and it shouldn't be handed down to a stranger's family just because some divorcee from a lower background married a DOCTOR who was too weak and desperate to stand on his own.

Our conversation was perhaps the most important one I've ever had, or at least one of them.

The day after, my brother called me. He did say that he talked to our father, but didn't bring up the remarriage. I could tell, though, that he was slightly upset; I might speaking too soon, but I think that he is finally starting to see our father for who he really is. He asked me if I wanted to move to where he is so that I could be closer to family that I get along with, and I said that I was now thinking about moving (which is true). I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was worried about me. He also wants me to get a job, which I am thinking about. SSI wouldn't be enough to live on where he lives, and it isn't meant to replace a paycheck in any case. I just applied to Orange Julius yesterday (I have a friend there) so I might be lucky in getting one.

I probably will move. It is just becoming intolerable to live here. Not just my father, either; I've simply been here for too long. I need a change, to leave the past behind me. I've been here for six years, and the people around me just keep getting younger to the point where I don't fit in anymore. I feel like I'm just stagnating here. I could stagnate where I want to move to, as well, but at least I'd be doing something different for once. It is just a matter of money, I think, but that can be remedied over time. I should start getting rid of some of my stuff to prepare for the move.

It is just so bizarre, this turn of events. I can't do much right now, because I'm just dealing with all of this bullshit. And none of it is my fault, either; not a single bit of it has been brought on by myself. I'm being too civil and calm, if anything. But it is like this: I wake up, not really knowing what is going on. Then, after about half an hour, I start to realize the reality that I'm in, and after about an hour I get to the point where I'm so sad, angry and disgusted that I want to scream and vomit. My father is a disgrace to the family, and I'm not alone in thinking that. This whole thing is practically a waking nightmare, one that I never would have thought would happen when mother was still alive, because at the time I bought in to my father's lies. But in fairness, I always knew that he was very weak on some level or another...simply not as weak as this.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about it. Just have to prepare for my own life away from this whole ordeal. I'm done with it now. We never going to be one big, happy family, especially when mother is just replaced like this.

I'm experiencing anxiety and stuff at this time. It is just the time of the year; three years ago was the day when my mother entered hospice, and she died two months later. You'd think that it would get better, and in some ways it ways, but in quite a few other ways it hasn't. I still dream about my mother on the odd occasion, but it really does feel like she's dead now. It has been that way for roughly half a year.

Tomorrow is also the five year anniversary of me leaving MTSU. I can't decide if that is a long time or a short one. Plenty has changed about both myself and others (I don't trust alcohol anymore, I don't like to party, I don't like bars, and one of my friends is dead). But even if not, it doesn't matter because that phase has passed and I doubt that I'll ever meet those people or visit that place again. I mean, sure, you never know, but it just seems unlikely. I did like being there, for the most part, but it is time to move on. On to what, though, I am not sure. I don't have much of a clue, to be honest. Oh well, at least I can say that I more or less act like an adult now.

So I'm just dealing with seasonal shit. Mostly in my personal life, but there have been a few things in the environment, as well. I must have allergies, because my eyes hurt and my nose isn't always doing well. I also don't like it when it suddenly gets hot. Mostly, though, I feel like I have mild dementia, because I can't focus, I get very angry for no reason, I forget things, and I feel like I'm hallucinating half the time. Then again, I seem to do that around this time of the year, and this was true even before my mother dying and then dead.

I've been having odd bouts of hypnagogic visions. It is cool that I have them, but I can't control them very well. I'm just taken to different vistas, and I can see them as plainly as if my eyes were open, but there isn't much to do in those places, if you even can do anything in the first place. Whenever I request a vision or an action of my own creation, it seems like my subconscious taunts me and either denies it, or gives me something I wouldn't expect. It seems that even in either the Astral plane or the Mental plane, I have little to no power.

Just...I don't know. It just feels crazy.

It has been a while.

Some stuff has happened. For roughly three weeks, I've been taking DXM every other day as an experiment. This was prompted by Rite Aid having a "Two for One" deal on their syrups; I enjoyed this for a while until I learned that I could buy three bottles of gelcaps for only three dollars at the local Dollar Tree for an indefinite amount of time. I've been learning a lot about the nature of DXM, as well as the nature of myself and my mind. For instance, it seems that you don't receive messages and visions from entities and spirits from without, but rather they come from your own subconscious. Essentially, you have more than one mind and self, and perhaps your mind has a mind of its own that you are usually unaware of. When you take DXM, you remove a lot of the barriers between your consciousness and your subconsciousness, and as such you can learn many things that you otherwise wouldn't. It is possible that you do become more aware of spirits and entities from the outside as well, but for the most part it is all you.

There has only been one time where I had a bad experience. That was the last time I took it, three days ago. I decided to take DXM right after I took it the day before, and I noticed that even on low doses I was getting strong visuals. When I took the last bottle of gelcaps, the euphoria and dissociation went away and my body started to heat up, with my eyes feeling odd. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, and I saw that my pupils were very dilated. I sort of panicked and thought that I got serotonin syndrome, as my legs were also twitching, but after a few minutes it became tolerable and I rolled with it. The visuals were awesome and among the most crisp I had ever seen, however I had a lot of anxiety and the trip wasn't very enjoyable.

I'd like to find other ways to explore the subconscious, but DXM is simply too fun. Outside of my last experience, I don't regret what I have done, although I should probably tone it down a bit.

About two weeks ago, I caught my roommate talking smack about me behind my back. It was stupid of him to have thought that I couldn't hear him talking on the phone, especially when his room is right across from mine. He was just going on about how he's sick and tired of hearing me talk to myself and laugh to myself, and that he has to clean up my mess. The first part is slightly understandable, however the second simply isn't true. He is the one who makes most the messes around the apartment, and there was one time where he didn't do the dishes for six months. Not to mention that he makes me wait around for well over an hour whenever I give him rides for his errands (I give him rides in exchange for him doing the dishes, which he rarely does) and just drags his feet in finding another roommate; I've been paying barely affordable rent for almost a year. He doesn't eat my food, which I am grateful for, but he has been very grouchy and unpleasant over the past few months and we don't get along as much as we used to. I feel like a fool because I have told him things that I now in retrospect should have never said, and I trusted him. He's always been weird, but I tolerated that, partially because I'm weird myself, partially because I'm a tolerant person, but perhaps mostly because I was simply too sheltered. I've only had three other roommates besides him. I don't regret living with other people, but I think that I have lived with him for too long, and now it is time to get a place of my own. I just need to figure out how.

Two of my friends were gone; one has her husband in hospice and the other had jury duty. The one who had jury duty is back now, and I have talked to her a bit and have confided in her about my recent troubles. She really is someone who I can trust; before she left for jury duty, she accidentally told me that she loved me. Of course that was an error, but I was still touched by that. I hope that my other friend is okay; I know what it is like to have a loved one dying, because my mother died more that two and half years ago. Odd that I lost my mother when I was only 28, but if she wasn't dead I'd still be living at home, not as grown up as I am now. Just goes to show you, that most clouds have a silver lining.

I collected some selected poems that I wrote from March of 2013 to March of 2014, and I'm going to write some philosophical and psychological interpretations of them. I plan on self-publishing them under the title Psychotic Poetry and Their Philosophical Interpretations; it will be great because I haven't written any books in a while, and I feel like I should. I haven't read as much books recently, but that will likely change in a few weeks.

Outside of all those things, nothing else has really happened. But a lot did, when you think about it.

I had a dream last night, where I was at the old house in Pendleton, the one on the farm. My mother was present, and she had married another man, a German who looked similar to a previous professor that I had years ago. He kept on bossing me around, but I was having none of it. During the midst of it, I suddenly said "You're not my real father." Then I left, and I was in the parking lot of the house; it was raining, and I could see three radio antennae on the hills glowing red (it was night). I thought about where I should go, and I decided that I could take my car and go to two shopping malls in some towns that I dreamed about roughly a month ago (that was kind of neat that I thought of locations from a previous dream; maybe there is a unified dream world). I then did something with an animal, but I don't remember what.

And then it cut to another dream, where for some reason I was a woman. I supposedly had to show up in court, and I was at the outside entrance to the lobby; there was a sign saying what to wear to court, and with what, in abbreviations. Apparently there was a rule that you couldn't bring guns to the court, which should have been obvious, but then a female police officer showed me pictures of a rifle on the floor, along with a squirrel that had been killed in court.

I was free to leave, which I did. I walked around the neighborhood, and I was behind an old apartment complex, where I saw a VHS rental store. No one seemed to be in there, so I went in, and they had some fairly strange, but interesting tapes and other objects. When I went out, I saw myself in third person as a woman who had revealing battle armor on, and the armor gradually changed to a demon that was molesting me. After a while, I looked at myself in third person again, and I was naked. I had a female body, but something about my lower half was...exaggerated. Then the dream ended.

All in all, I've been feeling slightly better. Just feel like giving love to a certain type of woman that I probably never could, and somewhat distressed over that. But it is still a step up; I now think about selflessly giving love, rather than selfishly receiving it.

Someone on OKCupid messaged me back. I may or may not pursue it; the woman is good looking, but she has a kid (she's older than me, slightly) and I sort of get some not-so-good vibes. Still, it might not hurt to do so.

I did DXM again two days ago. I didn't get my ass handed to me, but I still didn't know what the hell I was doing. The visions seemed to increase in detail and color, and I got the vibes from the spirits that I was on the right track to becoming a wizard. I could actually see, faintly, the spirits around me with my eyes open. I didn't get a lot of insights during the trip, but the next day I learned a lot from it. That seems to be the trend, now; the greater the message, the longer it takes to figure it out.

I've been reading Jung again. The book is titled The Psychology of the Subconscious, and although I've only read about a sixth of it, it is really cool. I'm learning a lot about the subject, and it will help me with writing my book in a month or two.

I have this crushing anxiety in the evenings now. I really don't know why that is, outside of probably the after-effects from drinking that wine. I really hate it; the first time I had it two days ago I was afraid of hurting either myself or others. I didn't used to have any of these problems so I really don't know why it is fucking with me now.

All I know is that I feel better after taking Olanzapine and smoking a second cigar. I really hate having to take medication because of how it fucks with my body and brain. I'm too tired all the time, I feel dull, and I'm not losing weight. Although it should be said that I do think more logically than I used to. I just don't like feeling like this.

I've lost my passion. My poems suck now and I can barely read philosophy. I just feel so down. I'm not going to hurt myself because I still want to see what the future can offer, but nonetheless I'm just depressed. There are short-term solutions for that, but seriously, what is really going for me in this life? What am I ever going to accomplish? I can't help but to feel like I'm a piece of refuse.

I'm just sort of here, right now. I woke up at 5 am and I almost feel as if I had a stroke. Bad sleep and too much heat, I guess.

I finally played Shining the Holy Ark yesterday; I was amazed at how much fun I had. I normally don't play video games anymore, but I'm starting to see that they may provide a great distraction from drinking too much beer. Last night after I started playing it, I didn't feel like having another beer. That is wonderful.

I wrote another paper on Godel's Incompleteness theorem today; it is my way of staying active and accomplishing something, I suppose. I plan on writing a philosophical paper every Tuesday, just because I should.

Apparently the people who interviewed me last Wednesday called my former boss on Friday, and she said some good things to them. I'm really glad that they took me seriously, and it may turn out that I will actually get the job. I need both the distraction and the money.

Well, that is it. Wish I didn't feel so weird, physically and otherwise.

I really don't know why I have so much hate in my heart.

It didn't have to be like this. I wasn't always like this. I don't want to be like this.

I think the reason why I'm like this is because I'm not really close to anyone (partially my fault) and I have the fear that I will never be appreciated or loved.

My past is filled with moments where I was either shunned or rejected from a job or something else simply due to being different. It didn't matter if I dressed the part or was technically more than qualified; they simply saw something in me that they didn't like and as such they discriminated against me.

Part of the reason why I hate most women is because I know that if I was born one, I wouldn't suffer this injustice. Women are fucking coddled in this society. Yes, you may look at places outside of western civilization where women have it worse then men, but that isn't the world I live in. In the western world, women have it much easier. Men are the ones who truly suffer and are exploited in this society.

This is all due to the fact that I've never been loved. Only looked down upon, pretty much. If I'm not ever going to be loved despite how hard I try to be a decent person, then what is the point in being decent, you know? It is a fool's game.

I just see nothing but a life filled with suffering, loneliness, hatred, discrimination and false hope for me. Again, it didn't have to be like this. I was once a good person.

I don't want to hate. But I don't see any other way. Women could never know the pain of a man.

I'm just so angry right now.

I'm suffering. I can barely think straight and I'm filled with panic, fear and anxiety. I have the morbid fear that I'm going to have a heart attack; I constantly feel pains in my chest. I constantly feel like screaming and crying, laying in a fetal position on the floor. I'm filled with agitation, having the fear that I'm going to go crazy soon and hurt someone. I constantly shake, with tremors in my hands and I occasionally feel the need to vomit. I can barely eat.

Why am I suffering? Why did just one dose of Sudafed permanently fuck me up like this? None of the substances that I did for recreational purposes ever fucked me up even half as bad as this. I don't understand how just one pill that I innocently took could seemingly ruin my life, or at least seriously hinder it.

I'm almost entirely anti-drug now. Not only recreational substances, but also the legitimate medications, too. I have a fragile brain and I can't break it.

The ER can't help me. The psych ward can't help me. Alcohol can't help me. The few friends and professionals that I see usually aren't around.

I need help. I know that. But I don't know what to do.

I have dinner with my father every Monday. Since I'm the only family member in town now, it is just me that visits him.

Last night was surprisingly pleasant, even though before I saw him I felt like screaming at him. I'm more understanding of him now, but I'm still more sympathetic to my dead mother. My sister is, too, which is odd because she had a relatively poor relationship with her.

I've still gotten pretty fucked up, though. I honestly believe that my mind is slowly dissolving; it is sort of hard for me to talk and I'm becoming a lot more socially anxious and awkward. But fortunately I haven't done anything seriously shit-headed yet; I'm just an oddball.

I really don't think that it was due to the "drugs", even though obviously they probably didn't help. I simply wasn't taking them that often, and they were relatively low-grade. Still, I've realized that there are doors in my mind that I would rather have closed, and there are things about me that I would rather not know about. Not to mention that in the past two weeks, my eyes felt like they were going to explode when I did them.

So as such, I'm scared now.

Despite all of this, I am not very depressed. I chalk up my issues right now to the fact that it will be a year since my mother died soon, and I can't really deal with how I coped with it and how the other members in my family are coping with it. What is left of the immediate family is quite fragmented right now.

I still have things to live for, and I have hope that things will get better. I started my book yesterday and it surprisingly shows some promise; I'm going to work on it every day, I hope.