I need to rage a bit, but I'm going to put it into a spoiler for the people who don't want to see it. I'm also not sure how long it'll go on because I'm not even sure what I'm going to say until I start writing it.
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
I'm angry right now. I don't have a specific thing that I'm angry with, or angry at. I'm angry due to the irrational nature of my Borderline Personality Disorder crashing into my mild manic phase. Which means I've got a high level of mental energy, and my Borderline Personality Disorder is causing me to feel suspicion, paranoia and doubt about all my personal connections. As a result I'm feeling a general sense of rage welling inside me and I have no idea where to direct it in a healthy manner. I've been reading hardcore military sci-fi books as a partial safety valve because the realistic grim environment and violent story lets me bleed some of the emotion into imagining.
I keep having to swallow the urge to lash out. People are going about their (relatively) normal lives and behaviors and suddenly I want to start screaming and rampaging at them, even though what they're doing doesn't normally bother me. Fortunately I recognize this as a sign of my disorder rearing it's ugly head. But it doesn't shake the fact that I have the fierce desire to rampantly attack something emotionally.
I was talking to a friend today about the fact that on December 30th I'll have been single for 2 years. I'll not have had sex for 2 years. Some of my friends don't see what the big deal is about that. I tried to point out that I went from having regular incredible sex almost nightly for seven years, to nothing, with no real hope on the horizon. That before that the longest I had gone in the last 13 years has been about 5 months. My wife used to say that I always acted differently when I wasn't having sex. That I was less rational, more angry, more prone to mood swings. That I suffered random fluctuations in my physical energy levels... and frankly that I was just less pleasant to be around. She didn't mean in the usual "you're a horny man" sense. She honestly believed that something about my personality and my blend of disorders used sex as a safety valve that helped keep my stable. A safety valve I haven't released in a long time now.
I'm frustrated that when my wife was still around I had several girls who expressed an interest in me. They knew I was in a polyamorous relationship at the time, so it wasn't really just "harmless" flirting. But for various reasons they didn't think a relationship was feasible. When my wife passed away those women didn't just stop being interested, they ran the fuck away. Part of that I'm sure was because I was in a seriously fragile emotional state and they didn't want to get tangled up, but some of them seemed to flat out re-invent history to make it seem as though they had NEVER indicated they were interested. Which means I'm either far more terrible at reading cues and people's words than I think, or people felt it was "safe" to flirt with the married guy, then discovered it was suddenly NOT safe when he was no longer married. Most of those women, don't talk to me anymore. Period, they've basically abandoned our friendships entirely. Some of them still like to talk to me from time to time, as though it never happened. That almost makes it worse. There's a big part of me that just wants to block/defriend/abandon all pretext of friendship with every girl I've hinted at an attraction to that's shut me out, so that I don't have to deal with the lingering feelings of attraction/embarrassment/shame. But I keep telling myself that I'm a "bigger person" than that. I'm getting sick of being a bigger fucking person.
I look at myself now, and frankly, I don't see myself getting involved with anyone again. I have always had a lot of trouble getting into relationships with people. I've always had a problem getting connections formed. I've mostly been considered moody, creepy, detached, analytical, arrogant, and assholish. And that was when I had a ready laugh and a warm outlook. Those have faded since I lost my wife. I don't laugh or smile as much anymore. That goofy inner child that used to fart around for people has faded and left a quieter introspective person behind. Add to that the fact that I live on a combination of being a landlord and disability and have two kids, one of whom has autism, and I'm not exactly a "catch" by most market standards. Add in the fact that I'm a nerd/geek/gamer who suffered a certain degree of agoraphobia so has trouble spending a great deal of time outdoors... and I pretty much sum up a LOT of loser punchlines. The only way to lock it down solid would be to move back in with my parents, preferably in their basement. To say that I don't feel I have a lot to offer a woman anymore is a pretty massive understatement.
You add to that my unsatisfied sadistic tendencies, polyamorous ideals, faded spiritualist/pagan leanings and general disgruntlement with the Universe at the moment, and you don't have a very pretty picture.
I hate the fact that I can't even VENT properly anymore. When I started writing I expected/wanted/was-aiming to vent, scream, curse, snarl... and instead I just quietly laid out the shit that's bugging me. That detachment is one of the reasons I keep getting sent home from my stints in the nut house. The doctors don't think my emotional issues are severe because I have the duality of reasoning to keep things frosty. Even while I'm writing this I'm thinking/imagining/fantasing? horrible things. Madcap irrational urges to say extremely inappropriate things, cut friendships... essentially slash and burn my life in some ways. Get everyone who smacks remotely of drama or emo-ness as far away from me as possible, even if they're good friends just going through some tough shit at the moment.
I'm angry right now. I don't have a specific thing that I'm angry with, or angry at. I'm angry due to the irrational nature of my Borderline Personality Disorder crashing into my mild manic phase. Which means I've got a high level of mental energy, and my Borderline Personality Disorder is causing me to feel suspicion, paranoia and doubt about all my personal connections. As a result I'm feeling a general sense of rage welling inside me and I have no idea where to direct it in a healthy manner. I've been reading hardcore military sci-fi books as a partial safety valve because the realistic grim environment and violent story lets me bleed some of the emotion into imagining.
I keep having to swallow the urge to lash out. People are going about their (relatively) normal lives and behaviors and suddenly I want to start screaming and rampaging at them, even though what they're doing doesn't normally bother me. Fortunately I recognize this as a sign of my disorder rearing it's ugly head. But it doesn't shake the fact that I have the fierce desire to rampantly attack something emotionally.
I was talking to a friend today about the fact that on December 30th I'll have been single for 2 years. I'll not have had sex for 2 years. Some of my friends don't see what the big deal is about that. I tried to point out that I went from having regular incredible sex almost nightly for seven years, to nothing, with no real hope on the horizon. That before that the longest I had gone in the last 13 years has been about 5 months. My wife used to say that I always acted differently when I wasn't having sex. That I was less rational, more angry, more prone to mood swings. That I suffered random fluctuations in my physical energy levels... and frankly that I was just less pleasant to be around. She didn't mean in the usual "you're a horny man" sense. She honestly believed that something about my personality and my blend of disorders used sex as a safety valve that helped keep my stable. A safety valve I haven't released in a long time now.
I'm frustrated that when my wife was still around I had several girls who expressed an interest in me. They knew I was in a polyamorous relationship at the time, so it wasn't really just "harmless" flirting. But for various reasons they didn't think a relationship was feasible. When my wife passed away those women didn't just stop being interested, they ran the fuck away. Part of that I'm sure was because I was in a seriously fragile emotional state and they didn't want to get tangled up, but some of them seemed to flat out re-invent history to make it seem as though they had NEVER indicated they were interested. Which means I'm either far more terrible at reading cues and people's words than I think, or people felt it was "safe" to flirt with the married guy, then discovered it was suddenly NOT safe when he was no longer married. Most of those women, don't talk to me anymore. Period, they've basically abandoned our friendships entirely. Some of them still like to talk to me from time to time, as though it never happened. That almost makes it worse. There's a big part of me that just wants to block/defriend/abandon all pretext of friendship with every girl I've hinted at an attraction to that's shut me out, so that I don't have to deal with the lingering feelings of attraction/embarrassment/shame. But I keep telling myself that I'm a "bigger person" than that. I'm getting sick of being a bigger fucking person.
I look at myself now, and frankly, I don't see myself getting involved with anyone again. I have always had a lot of trouble getting into relationships with people. I've always had a problem getting connections formed. I've mostly been considered moody, creepy, detached, analytical, arrogant, and assholish. And that was when I had a ready laugh and a warm outlook. Those have faded since I lost my wife. I don't laugh or smile as much anymore. That goofy inner child that used to fart around for people has faded and left a quieter introspective person behind. Add to that the fact that I live on a combination of being a landlord and disability and have two kids, one of whom has autism, and I'm not exactly a "catch" by most market standards. Add in the fact that I'm a nerd/geek/gamer who suffered a certain degree of agoraphobia so has trouble spending a great deal of time outdoors... and I pretty much sum up a LOT of loser punchlines. The only way to lock it down solid would be to move back in with my parents, preferably in their basement. To say that I don't feel I have a lot to offer a woman anymore is a pretty massive understatement.
You add to that my unsatisfied sadistic tendencies, polyamorous ideals, faded spiritualist/pagan leanings and general disgruntlement with the Universe at the moment, and you don't have a very pretty picture.
I hate the fact that I can't even VENT properly anymore. When I started writing I expected/wanted/was-aiming to vent, scream, curse, snarl... and instead I just quietly laid out the shit that's bugging me. That detachment is one of the reasons I keep getting sent home from my stints in the nut house. The doctors don't think my emotional issues are severe because I have the duality of reasoning to keep things frosty. Even while I'm writing this I'm thinking/imagining/fantasing? horrible things. Madcap irrational urges to say extremely inappropriate things, cut friendships... essentially slash and burn my life in some ways. Get everyone who smacks remotely of drama or emo-ness as far away from me as possible, even if they're good friends just going through some tough shit at the moment.
Yeah... enough of that horse shit. I'm such a crybaby.
I've realized that women flirting with me aren't actually interested, or at least that is the way I'm treating it. The game is fun, but I don't put any faith in it. I think if anything ever actually becomes of it, I might have a heart attack.
Don't worry. You're not the only one.