A Strongly Opposing Inability.

It’s true:

I am a precariously teetering creature; fragile, on the edge between the ability to cope and survive, and a strongly opposing inability.

_

 

I’m good at allowing people to assume that I am “normal”;

I don’t know how to reach out to others for comfort or support;

I was born anti-social, and Life’s experiences have only hammered this trait irretrievably deep into my being, in turn;

I am honestly not sure how long anyone can make it in Life behind a facade before finally just coming undone;

I have realized that I am running on empty – and have been for some time now – and am puzzled in stomach-wrenching way by the fact that I haven’t sputtered and died out yet.

_

 

Here I was all this time, thinking I had things pretty much in order; in terms of the emotional handling of recent and life-altering circumstances and the associated outcomes, at least. My seasoned readers know about the struggle with my kid, how it’s been so long-standing and draining yadda yadda yadda. To the point where it is all just so incredibly bad and dark and regrettable that I have detached myself totally from it all out of sheer necessity. Do not get me wrong, it has been HELL; but it has been something that I have been “dealing with”, even if that means detaching myself (from a situation that I hold zero control over anyway). I have also written lots about my mother; about the lifelong boxing match (I mean this emotionally, more than physically, but she is a psychopath who likes to scrap, too) between us. I have also described the unfolding ugliness surrounding the relationships between my kid and my parents these days, as my daughter has pretty much taken over control of their household and rules with thievery, destruction and chaos; I have written about my need to break away from the never-ending toxicity and generalized unease that is naturally and unfailingly attached to any dealings with any of them.

I haven’t been in contact with my daughter at all; which has been surprisingly easier this time than ever before because she disgusts and shames me on a whole new level. I have been trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with my mother throughout, however, which I have already admitted here as being a stupid idea, and one that is counterproductive to my emotional status. I love my mother, in spite of myself; and genuinely long for closeness with her – the one that she has dangled in periphery all my Life. I am willing to bend for her; I am open to trying, but she is just so seemingly set permanently in her unhealthy and dishonest ways that it has begun to feel futile. I have straight out told my mother that I desire “no-contact” with my kid; and she always puts on this song and dance about how she totally gets it and is proud of me for being able to take care of myself, to put my foot down, etcetera. She plays as if she is totally in my corner to my face every single time, without fail; but is totally being a Fatmouth.

She sings a different song to other people; many have said this to me over the course of the living nightmare with my kid for the last ten years or so. She thinks my own brother (who does not sit there and let her badmouth me without defending me in outright defiance, for the record) won’t be so angry that he won’t tell me about it afterward, which is just mind boggling to me. In such instances, there are typically other family members present to witness what will ultimately become argument between them; my mother doesn’t even consider that any of those people might foster any relationship with me strong enough to warrant a bite to her tongue, either. She vows secrecy over touchy issues and then turns around and tells the very secret thing to the very person who wasn’t meant to be told. When confronted by the secret teller, she plays the ol’ “oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell them….? I didn’t realize you didn’t want me to tell them…” o convincingly that the only options you’re left with is to bludgeon her to death with clawhammer or just suck it up and move on. I realize more and more daily how toxic she is, even when she isn’t trying to be. She is toxic to me, at least. And, the reason behind her seemingly “exceptional” relationship with my kid is suddenly blatantly clear to me as well:

Of course they share a closeness that neither one has with me…they are so similar and alike in personality and behavior that it could be no other way!!!

 

I know what I need to do, like…for real; doing it will be the part worth mentioning in the future.

Time.

A perfect example of what I mean when I say that “Father Time’s not on my side” is today’s fucked up tangle with The Opportunist.
The Opportunist was obviously feeling lonely in the rain at home and decided that he’d try me. The reason why he felt like it was okay to contact me (despite my crystal clear instructions in the past on this issue; as in, I told him to flat out lose my number the last time he tried to text me, six + months ago) is simple: Time.
The Opportunist apparently feels that enough time has passed now for me to have forgotten who he turned out to be – how shit ended between us – and the fact that he trampled my super-high-risk heart knowingly. The Opportunist was someone SO VERY CLOSE TO ME, that he knew all of the intricacies that have molded ME – everything. And still, in order to climb his way higher up, he stepped on my head and kicked me off the ladder in the end. He really fucked with my head there for a while, really hurt me on a human level. And…I can’t even get myself started when it comes to the abandonment attached to this man (thing)…the vulnerabilities I endured to get close to him, to let him in…he fucked me up, yes.
But the thing is, that Father Time hates me…and doesn’t give me the comforts that he affords most people in terms of his nature, no; he doesn’t heal me; never has and never will. Father Time and I don’t get along so well, little does The Opportunist realize. I forget nothing. He sent me a slew of text messages all throughout the afternoon today, obviously in the grips of some manic episode of his own; but that’s not my problem either. I finally replied… once, and his texts abruptly ceased to come through.

The last one he sent was,

“Hopefully, you’ll let me put a smile back into your life without any extra stress…”

To which, I simply replied,

“You stole my smile.”

And that was that.

Quote for the Day 11-5-2014

I’d rather stand alone than with someone who’s gonna hurt me.

On This Door the Opportunist Knocks

Image

Yeah, well – not this environment, not this time, not any more.

The VIP has left the building, Ghost…without you.

 

All else aside, I realize what it’s been that has held me up over this most recent ugliness spewed at me by the presence of a disguised opportunist – previously in very close quarters to my life and heart – I see what has been bothering me so much about it all: it’s the metallic, residual taste of blood in my mouth;

the sobering fact that once someone stings me – once another unwelcome reality punches me in the throat from out of nowhere to remind me that ‘Hey Stupid! You Can’t Trust Anyone Not To Betray You Eventually!’ – I begin to warily pick apart each and every relationship left standing – I grow cynical and defensive and suspicious of the people who haven’t yet abandoned me: my friends and family. I start to do this mindfuck loop in which I question everyone and everything as a direct result of the betrayal of one single maggot who was unworthy from day one…

I don’t care that it’s all over, I am starting to see that the douche bag did me a favor by showing such vivid colors in such undeniable hues; I have already sensed the calm easing its way back into each day from morning to night (no early morning dramatics; no more hours wasted on the equivalent to free therapy sessions beginning with my first cup of coffee); I already feel the tension unwrapping itself from around each eye and loosening its tightly wound grip from my shoulder blades…

Whatever it was, that “thing” I imagined up between us – it had become unhealthy very quickly for me – it stopped feeling good a while back – only felt bad when it felt like anything at all for months leading up to the final breaking point: the day that the line was drawn distinctly in the sand between he and I, permanently.

If they aren’t lifting you up, they’re holding you down…I had ceased to be lifted up any more…

But I knew leading up to that day also, deep down I knew I did not like who he is, what he is – the type of individual that he represents…I knew that, I had already seen and recognized, even communicated that fact to him.

“I don’t like two-faced people…” I declared one morning as he insistently talked shit about somebody who I, personally, happen to love quite fiercely – someone who he is all sugar and spice to in person, face to face. “I hope you know how telling it is that you would say those things about __________, given the circumstances; especially since you have no problem turning around and smiling to his face ten minutes later…”

Image

He somehow assured me way back then that I was wrong about him, about what I saw. But on some level deep down, if I’m being honest here, I have known since that time that he was no good. And I ignored my own instinct in order to suit my own more immediate needs: Human Closeness and Intimacy. How fucked up is that? Because in the end, he totally duped me and walked away snickering, finishing off that last mouthful of cake with victorious gulps…but I have truly learned a few new things from this otherwise worthless and useless exercise:

1) I still have major abandonment issues that I need to deal with.

2) When someone burns me, it burns…and it sets into motion cause and effect whether I like it or not.

3) I am still the Bigger Person, despite all of my efforts not to be.

4) I’m okay with my longstanding sentiment of:

If I am out of line for feeling for another human being (especially after considerable lengths of time in close quarters together), shoot me.

I don’t want to be a mutant human being all shallow and fake as Hell, wtf can I say?