Hurricane Blackout

Fan Fiction probably won't go up today, and that is because I need the internet so I can look up little facts and things to make sure my writing is accurate. So no internet this week means I couldn't do any of the research I needed to do to get it done. Instead you get an insanity induced rant.

I'm writing this during the blackout caused by Hurricane Sandy, and it's going to contain a lot of whining, and bitching and moaning. And I advise people to not read this. It isn't going to be pretty, it isn't going to be well written. And the only reason I'm linking it to my Facebook and Google+ accounts is that I know people will read it anyway. But before I let you all go reading my helpless, insanity induced tripe I want to apologize ahead of time. I want to apologize to all the people who were hit harder by this hurricane than I was; to all those people who have to contend with broken homes and bodies my prayers go out to you, and I'm sorry that I'm about to bitch about my own sanity here. Like I said, I advise people to not read this. I wouldn't be posting it if I didn't have some strange compulsion to do so.

With that out of the way, the hardest part about this blackout for me is the alone time. I try really hard to drown myself in media, rather than have to face the demons that still plague my life. And fact is it works most of the time. Most of the time I don't have to think about my problems until I'm curled up in bed crying myself to sleep; at which point the whole thing is mostly moot. Now I'm forced to sit here, without anything but my left hand to distract me and the nightmare that I put myself into just keeps becoming clearer and clearer. I put on a strong face day in and day out, because I figure this is my problem, so I'll deal with it. The hypocrisy is that the problem is one that can only be solved by letting it be someone else's problem.

For those not in the know, let me explain. About a year and a half ago I was in heaven. I had a beautiful fiancee and a large group of friends, and I fucked it all up. It took me a long time to figure out how I did it, but that never changed the fact that I did it; and now I'm writing this not to place blame, or throw insults. I'm literally writing this because my own sanity is teetering on the edge of a knife, and I have no other way of even starting to stabilize it.

So I'm betting people are wondering how, well, I figure it starts with my fiancee's parents. In order to get out of what I considered a toxic environment at home I moved in with her parents. Unfortunately I took all of my emotional baggage with me; and a large part of that baggage was a distinct inability to place myself within my own environment. This led to a large amount of magical thinking, the most important one being as follows. Her parents had a weight problem, one solution was to get them to start moving around the house, which led me to conclude the best course was to try and get them to clean up the house. This of course circumvented the entire issue of me being a guest at the house, this line of thinking never even occurred to me. Though admittedly this was one of the very first things I would figure out during my solitude.

So I spent a long time sitting on a time bomb with her parents, before it finally erupted, leading to me being kicked out (inevitably) and leading to her breaking things off. Well that wasn't the only thing fueling this, I had slowly become more inattentive towards her, and this was due to two separate issues. One I can't talk about because it involves secrets held by her and a third party, but the other one took me a while to figure out. See for a while I couldn't figure out why I didn't feel like doing most of the things we had enjoyed together early on. It wasn't until later that I began lacking energy to do things that I enjoyed doing that I found the source of my woes. My stamina apparently was extraordinarily low. By the time I noticed I could barely handle ten minutes of slightly difficult labor before getting incredibly tired. Which meant that I was subconsciously avoiding anything that I knew would take effort. This included everything from fairs, to sex, to Rock Band. This is something I've spent a lot of time reversing, and how will become apparent later.

Now we had mutually agreed to remain friends after the break, and I in my ignorance had no clue what that was about. See putting aside her being my first girlfriend, this was the first time I had broken away from a friendship, and still had the ability to go back and see the person on a regular basis. I had spent most of my life moving across the country, loosing friends every time I moved. I had one semi-regular friend thanks to my occasional trips to my Grandmothers, but eventually I made several mistakes there as well, and the distance and increasing irregularity of my trips destroyed that friendship too. And I guess I might not have hurt these people as much as I feel that I have, and perhaps the next step for me is to reach out via Facebook (trust me Myspace wasn't even around when this shit happened) and see if I can rekindle some of my lost connections. However that is neither here nor there, especially considering there is no internet in a blackout, meaning I cannot use Facebook even if I wanted to.

Regardless, every time I had lost a friendship before, it was due to distance. I couldn't go back. So time would inevitably heal the wound, a fact that became faster the more it happened. Well by now you've got to be thinking “this boy is just bitching and moaning.” Well yes. Yes I am. And I fully apologize to everyone out there with actual problems. I fully accept that there are people with far more serious problems than my own. I've also come to realize that if I keep quiet about my own problems it will likely end with me in my underwear with a chainsaw running down main street and giving many more people worse problems than I have. That was a joke. I don't think I'm capable of violence, I had that beaten out of me a while ago. Doesn't change the fact that if I don't talk, my tenuous connection to my remaining sanity will snap.

And yes, the obvious solution is therapy. However, therapy is a dedication of time. See it's not so simple as go to a therapist and boom you're cured. I'd have to go to a therapist for likely five years running to fix my major problems. Now the problem with this, is I can't change therapists midway. I had a therapist for over a year at Kean. She retired. Now if I were to go to therapy again I wouldn't start with a year under my belt, I would start at square one. So I need to make sure the environment isn't going to change in the near future; and so long as I'm living under my parent's roof there is no assurance that I'll be remaining in one spot for long enough. I've already promised myself, when I move out on my own the first thing I'm doing is getting therapy.

All that aside, we go back to the issue at hand, not understanding how relationships and friendships work. This goes hand in hand with another little mental trait of mine, my own feeling of worthlessness and guilt. I was extended what I perceived as conflicting information. She wanted to not see me for three months, but she wanted me to come to the weekly group gatherings.

Me being easily confused and feeling guilty for the break-up decided to choose one, specifically the one I felt would punish me the most. And I picked a winner. Three months later and the only friend that was still speaking to me was Ted; who had never stopped coming by on a weekly basis to hang out and work on stuff for the blog. I soon got a call asking that I don't come to the weekly gatherings again because I had insulted everyone there. As well as something else, but that again revolves around secrets that are not mine to tell; plus the claim laid at my feet there I still don't know what they were talking about anyway so I can't refute it.

At the time I had no clue what they were talking about. It wasn't until a few weeks later that I learned about a conversation between me and my brother over Skype at three in the morning had been passed around. That sounds bad, and it was. I said things in such a way that they could easily be misconstrued as insults of a very deep and personal nature. In my own defense I have never sought to hurt or harm anyone, at the time I was babbling about the potential nature of a stereotype; something I like to do to distract myself. Of course my own inability to communicate, the fact this was all in text, and that three in the morning slurred all my words into an incomprehensible mess compiled to basically insult everyone of my old group of friends.

So bridge burned. Make new ones right? Well not so easy for me. See, I have never once approached someone else unless I was already close friends with them. Which doesn't make friendship impossible, just a little harder to get. I just need places where people gather and where I might find that outstretched hand; except I don't go out of the house. I see no need for theaters, and malls, and stores. I only really go out to eat when I'm with friends or family. Which leaves work and school. I've only got a semester and half left at Kean and it is a two hour grueling commute to get there, so I really see no point in trying there. I'm currently unemployed, but that remains my one future hope. That I'll get a job, and someone there will start to build a friendship with me. Though the most likely scenario is that I'll get a work-at-home job, which will destroy that.

So what did I do wrong? Well that was the hardest thing to figure out; and I honestly felt I couldn't even start to try to make new friends until I figured out how I lost the last ones. Eventually I realized that by not showing up, rather than starting to rebuild a different kind of friendship I just made the break-up harder. It was a selfish action, perceived as: if I don't show up we things couldn't change. Which wasn't how I viewed it, but I can see how others would view it that way, or at least looking back I can. And it's not like anyone in that group was particularly vengeful, or amoral. In fact I have never seen so kind a group, often willing to go so far as fifth or sixth chances towards someone who's messed up. Which makes my exile that much more damning. If I can't been seen well in these people's eyes, I'm just beyond saving. I might as well find an internet job and become a hermit; 'cause there is no chance I'll ever find people willing to put up with me. Except Ted obviously, I have no clue why he hangs around me, but I'm grateful for every minute he's willing to spend with me. I'm just afraid that one day I'll do something to drive him away too.

Now the last thing before I'm done here is a surprising thing. As much as this last year and half has been a living hell only survivable through massive media dosages and being a damned stubborn ass; I wouldn't trade this time for anything. I grew the hell up. My mind is sharper now than it has ever been. I'm starting to actually associate with my body, as well as place myself within the greater context of the world. I learned to do things I was too lazy to even consider doing; cooking, cleaning, acting, weight-lifting, computer repair. I picked up new habits like stretching and running. I'm planning on picking up some other new hobbies like sewing, dance, martial arts. I repaired my relationship with my mother and step-father to some degree. I've taken care of my twin baby sisters, dealt with their temper tantrums and changed their diapers. I have learned so much that I wouldn't have otherwise, and can safely look back and say that I've grown. I've matured in ways I hadn't been capable of. So while I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, I also do not regret the choice I made to get here. Dwelling on the past without trying to learn from it is a waste of time, something I couldn't avoid doing, but I tried to minimize the time I spent agonizing.

And with this, I think I might finally be able to move forward. If those people I once called friend wish to forgive my past sins I will return without hesitation; if not I hold no grudge against any of them. I will move forward, with or without them, maybe I'll find something better, maybe not. That's the fun thing about life, there really is no way to know how the future will turn out; all we can do is keep looking forward, and keep hoping for a better future.

And I think that's about it. I feel better now, and I'll probably feel even better after I edit and post this. I'm one of those people who don't like to do anything unless it serves more than one purpose. So yeah, next time someone asks how I'm feeling, I'll still answer okay, but know this; the answer is not okay. I'm never okay, I'm so far from okay it's scary. I may be repairing parts of my life, but it's a slow, grueling process. And at least until I build a few new friendships I probably won't truly recover. Might even take until I can get that therapy, but no I'm not okay. I'm hanging in there. I'm clawing with bloody stumps so that life doesn't leave me in the ditch. I'm hopeful for what tomorrow brings; but as of right now, and probably for the foreseeable future, no I am not okay.