The tipping point…

[NarcKiddo]

It's great to see you back posting on the forum, Chart. I'm so happy to read that you are experiencing a reduction in shame. 
 

[sanmagic7]

 

[Chart]

Trigger warning: Black thoughts, Lolita ethical limits, unreciprocated love

Slid out into the sun two minutes before the end of the morning. Feeling feelings these days/weeks/months/year. Tired. Can't keep my eyes off the the window. Looking out, looking for, needing something no one can give. Today is Halloween. My daughter made cookies. My field of wildflowers in a sea of sin. I cannot move, cannot think, cannot pass 24 hours without the crushing sadness... the attachment that eluded me like a ship that arrives in thick fog. Every night it repeats. Every night I die and am reborn, the same little suffering runt I always was. How can it be that these people that I love to the bottom of my being could be such monsters? Loving beasts because there is nothing else to love. A wasteland of Autumn branches scattered across dead ground. I have no edge. I study Autism (though I am far from that)... masking... I look at myself. A mask so thick I can cut deep and never bleed. I wonder where I truly begin. I float. Trying is too much now. My drama is as ridiculous as a teenager. I so desperately want to do something. To have energy. I am eternally hopeful. And eternally deceived. I cannot maintain any consistency. I have NO energy. Rising in the morning to go to work is like pulling out a tooth with my own fingers. I grunt when I bend to pick up the pencil that I carelessly let slip. My daughter is so happy to connect with others, and yet these others are completely empty. I tell her it get's a lot better in High School. I hope to god I'm not wrong. Perhaps it was just luck for me. I watched a movie last night, Lisa Frankenstein (with my daughter). It reminded me of my friends in High School. It was good, but I had Cptsd and had no idea. I'm gonna throw in the towel soon (the French say "sponge"). I'm gonna start REALLY not caring. I'm gonna become combative. I'm gonna get into people's faces... soon... can't take much more of this inaction. I want to make trouble. How on earth can anyone be shocked that humans go on rampages? The riot is a direct-line consequence of holding that s**t in for too too long. It doesn't hit a fan... it hits a category five tornado.

I want to work with a team. I want connection with value. I want to build. I have almost no creation coming out of me... since forever. The last smiling-me was photographed over fifty years ago. Ever since it's been cheese-cake-fake. The forever gift of chronic self-loathing. How long can you beat that serpent before it finally stops twitching? I so want something to happen. I so want to move. My daughter is 13. I'm counting the days. And like a clenched fist, I'll open my hand and let the creature fly off. But the freedom will be mine. And always welcome to return, but my work is done there, and there is something, many things, I want to do. You saved my life. And now I want to live it.

I fell in love with a girl a few weeks ago. I saw her across a room and she sucker-punched me through the chest. I heard the voice in my head that I always doubt, but is never wrong... she is handicapped... mentally handicapped... please don't ask what that means because I don't know myself... but she has a brain that is... different... like mine, like yours maybe... I don't know. That's what I HATE about my "gift"... I understand it not at all. Later, after the reading by an actor/poet, everyone mingled. I made small talk. I moved about. My daughter took one side of the room and I headed for the table with snacks and drinks... I stole an orange juice. (I LOVE refusing alcohol...) The girl joined a person I was speaking with. We all spoke together and she looked at me with that look. I acknowledged the information that my Gift had already given me. I felt bad/guilty/weird. I am twice this woman's age... All this... all these thoughts and feelings... all this knowledge and understanding and in reality, there is nothing, absolutely no grounded facts to stand on. It's like suddenly plunging down into the depths of the quantic realm and dancing in slow motion with a painting of Salvador Dali. I moved away... the test. Five minutes later the girl was once again standing next to the person I was speaking with, someone new this time. I felt her presence and her "draw" towards me. I felt all this and was still unsure of everything. What good is knowing All when you can't do anything? My daughter swung around back to me. I said we had to go because her brother was awaiting us... a half-truth. It wasn't imperative, but what was I going to do? I've never been able to pick up a girl... not once in my life have I have been cool and suave and taken the girl home. It's just not in my capability. I wish I could. I wish I at lease had the option. But it's never been that way. Every relationship I've ever had has been Jungian fate and organized Chance. In an infinity of chaos, there's bound to be a few rounds where things do in fact fall into place. I've never once in my life encountered a girl without knowing what would eventually happen. And I do not believe in self-fufilling prophesies. Yes there is destiny, but no there is not determinism. I believe with all my soul we have 50% Free Will.

So I ran away. Did nothing because I was actually incapable of doing anything. I admit it and accept it. I'm not looking for trouble. There are far fewer guns over here, but I cannot imagine how fearful I would be talking seriously with the girl's father. I've had too many arguments over Nabacov's Lolita. I agree he is a criminal and a rapist. But I also know that feelings get mixed up, so a certain understanding is preferable to guillotine extremes. Think (or write) what you want... but acting on it is another chapter entirely. I know I'm on thin ice here... I'd move on, but for me, it's all about the love that I feel so intensely inside, and that laps up on an empty beach... things we do in intimacy but cannot be spoken of. I feel the love, and the love turns corporal, and all night I dreamed of making love... It was so wonderful. And all mixed up with the primal Wrong that I feel that I am. *sigh*

And she was truly beautiful.

I don't go in for his politics, but it was a perfect line... "Forgive them Father... they know not what they do..."

I had something else I wanted to say... to share... My trauma-memory has already lost it to the ether. I guess I'll be back when it magically reappears.

Happy Halloween everybody. There's nothing scary outside tonight (or ever) that compares in the slightest with the the neuronal terror we've already encountered.

[Chart]

Here's what I forgot...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBFqa6nsDr0&list=OLAK5uy_nnhoRExDf7EML-m8t6eo9MjIYXeL6c3Z4&index=1&pp=8AUB