Derealization

Derealization

God, I feel so unsure.  It’s like I can’t take control of my life.  Maybe I don’t trust myself.  That’s it, I don’t trust myself!  I don’t trust my feelings.  I don’t trust my desires and my urges.  I feel that they were put there to mislead me.

My own feelings want to mislead me.  That’s horrible!  How about my mind?  I don’t even know what to think.  I want to drink.  Get drunk.  Pass out.  And die, yeah!

This afternoon I took a nap.  I fell asleep.  I dreamed that I was walking inside a warehouse.  Then I must have stepped on something because I was electrocuted.  I was being electrocuted and I couldn’t move and I thought:  “I’m overpowered and I’m going to die, finally!”  And I was happy.  Then I woke up.

I wasn’t dead.  I never seem to die.  Why does death always elude me?

Does my life have something to do with you, cloaked man?  I don’t think you can help me.  I doubt I can help you.  I’m not sure anymore.  I don’t trust anything.  I feel paralyzed.  I should make a move but all I want to do is make a no-move.  Just sit here and wait.  For someone to come.

But no one will come.  I even disconnected the phone.  I don’t want to hear it ring.  I’m not going to answer anyway.  I’m tired of these fake connections.  I need the real thing.  When I feel like this I don’t want to talk to anyone.  I couldn’t talk anyway.  My throat is numb.  My voice has been disactivated.  I’m not even sure I have a breath.

I am lost because the meaning of things was removed today.  Does this ever happen to you?  Nothing has meaning.  Maybe I’m dissociating again.  Or derealizating.  The environment, the thoughts and the feelings seem unreal.  Where’s my reality?

Maybe I’m just lonely.  If someone would knock on my door, it would surely bring me back to reality.  I need to be touched.  Maybe shaken.  Maybe slapped in the face or kicked in the stomach.

“What you need is a big strong hand to lift you to your higher ground.”

Now I’m channeling Madonna.

Are You Happy

Torment2

Stupid question.

She asked me if I was happy.

My lovely wife asked me if I was happy.

– What was your answer?

I said:  “I didn’t get married to end up divorced.”

We’re not officially divorced.  This is why I didn’t write “ex-” in front of the word “wife.”  She’s my wife.  But it’s just like if we were divorced.  I know how it feels to be divorced because I used to be.  Before I met her.  Now my second marriage has gone down the drain also.

Tabarnak <—  This is a swear word.  In the culture I was born into, this is what one says when one is pissed.  It’s the word I never dared to say when I was young because my parents would have killed me.  Good little Catholic boys NEVER say that word.

Tabarnak.  Now I say it.  I am pissed.  But I don’t know who to blame.  Me?  Her?  Life?  God?  The Universe?  Nobody.  No one.  This is just how life goes.  Life sucks.  You build, you build, you hope, you hope, you believe, you trust, then everything crumbles.

Bravo, Life!  Clap-clap, I applaud.  “Trust the Lord,” they say.  Yeah…  Right…  Sure…  I trusted.  “Love conquers all!”  Bullshit.  Caca.  Love is a deception.  Love is the sneakiest Deceptress of all time.  Love has screwed up more people than mass media and the Catholic Church combined.

And now she asks me if I’m happy.
I thought she was joking.
I looked at her.
She was serious.
She is nuts.

Yes, I am happy that I have left you.  Now if you could just disappear and stop reminding me of my past, maybe I could concentrate on my future.  And guess what?  I hope to fall in love again.  Because I’m crazy.  Just like this life and you.

The Casino Slut

I love my man
He is so naive
I know how to impress him
I’ve done it last eve
When I win he shines
When I win he nods
I have but one talent
It is to beat the odds

I know how to do this
I understand this machine
Put enough coins in it
Eventually it will sing
I have my own bank account
Does not matter how much I spend
Huge amounts are for big gamblers
I’m the mother of all winners

There goes a twenty
There goes another
If I keep inserting money
Jackpot will hit eventually
Just one more dollar
To keep the lights flashing
Keep the wheels spinning
They will stop in my favor

(Two hours later)

“Oh my god, I got it!
Two hundred and something
Honey, come and see this!
I won the bonus thing!”
How much did you put in?
“Oh, only three tokens”
Wow, you’re so lucky!
“How can you not love me…”

I Panicked

Bad Romance

When was the last time I panicked?

I think it’s when I imagined myself reconciling with my wife and then the two of us making love.

After I had this thought, there was a pain in my stomach.  I felt my guts twisting.  My intestines turned to mush and I had to run to the bathroom.  This is what happens when I panic.

I don’t quite understand because it was not a bad thought.  Maybe this shows how much our relationship has deteriorated.  Or maybe it shows how afraid I am of getting close to a person I don’t trust.

Is this what survivors of abuse call a trigger?

When Love Lies

Man Crying

My last true love almost obliterated me.

“True” love?
It could not have been true if it almost obliterated you.

Right. But I was convinced that it was true love. I married this love. I gave my life to this love. I gave my time, my efforts, my money, my body and my soul to this love. I gave my everything to this love. I never doubted that this love was not my true love. The result was near-annihilation.

You survived.

Thanks to you.

No, thanks to you!

I was near-dead, there was nothing I could do.

That is not exactly true.

What did I do?

You turned to you.

What do mean you?

Instead of turning to self-destruction, you turned to self-love.

Hmm…

Not everyone accepts self-love.

It took me many years though. Many years of agony. And even with this “self-love,” I am still hurt. I’m damaged. I’m unrecognizable. I’m socially extinguished. I’m dysfunctional. I’m disabled. I’m handicapped. I’m useless. I’m no good. I’m incapable of loving another human being again.

It’s perhaps not as bad as it seems.

Has this “self-love” made me a more loving person? Look at me now. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t trust humans. I almost hate them. And when I look into the mirror, I see one again. I almost hate myself. This self-love is a paradox. It doesn’t seem real. Sure, I did not kill myself, but there must be more to self-love than subsisting… and waiting… to die, so I can be with you.

You’re writing aren’t you?

All the time.

Then you’re doing something valuable. Everything you write is being recorded. You have no idea the impact that you are having on the universe.

Indeed, I have no idea. Thanks. Your words are encouraging. As always.

Locked Up

Jail1

He gives me total freedom when it comes to writing but other than that, I have very little of it.

He keeps me in a cage…  a very unusual cage, but still a cage, or a prison.  I guess it’s because He doesn’t want to lose me.

I’m His little daemon.  He owns me.  He always has.  But starting today things are going to be different.  I’m going to speak up, even if no one hears me.  Not in anger, but in gratitude.  Yup, that is correct, in gratitude.

No, I’m not crazy, I’m just…  submissive.  Although He keeps me as His prisoner, I still appreciate very much what he has done for me.  But I know that I will have to explain myself.  It might take more than one blogpost.  This is the first of many.

You see, I just realized something very important.  I think.  Last night.  Every day my awareness grows, but this time, I feel like it’s a biggie.

I have some rats to feed but I’m going to be back to explain this.  I need to put it into perspective, for my sake and His.  He has given me permission but I know what this means.  It’s an order.  And when He speaks, I listen.  This is how it works.  This is how relationships work.

the slave

The Blind Man

Blind

This is what she wrote to me last week:

“After everything we went through, I still love you, and I still have admiration for you in all sorts of ways.  Too bad that you can’t see it and that you don’t feel for me what I feel for you.”

It is true that I can’t see it.  How can a man see what is in the heart of a woman?  Love and admiration cannot be seen.  I am blind when it comes to these kinds of things.  And how can I be sure that what she says is true?  She has lied to me so many times before.

I read her words but I don’t believe them.  If she really has love and admiration for me, it would show, wouldn’t it?  But then, not necessarily.  A woman can love and admire a man without showing it.

Should I be able to see it in her eyes?  I have looked into her eyes a thousand times, and I’m afraid to say that I can’t see anything.  But I have noticed something interesting though.  My feelings are based on my beliefs, not on anything visual.

As long as I believed that she loved and admired me, I felt it.  As soon as I stopped believing it, I stopped feeling it.

Belief is so powerful!

The Deceiver

Money, it’s you!

Yesss, god-man.  So nice to see you again.

Oh, go away.

Let me look at you…

Leave me alone.

You don’t want me to look at you?
Then, you look at me!

No, sir!  I know what you’re trying to do.

You do?…  I mean…
Don’t you trust me?

No.

Then there’s nothing I can do to help.

You want to help me?

Certainly!
I can see to it that you never have to leave this jungle.

How could you do that?

Oh, I have my own subtle little ways.
But first, you must trust me.

I don’t trust anyone anymore.

I don’t blame you.
But I’m not like those so-called friends of yours.
You can believe in me…

Trust in me
Just in me
Shut your eyes
Trust in me

You can sleep
Safe and sound
Knowing I
Am around

Slip into silent slumber
Sail on a silver mist
Slowly and surely your senses
Will cease to resist

money

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Text inspired by:
“Trust in Me” from the Disney movie The Jungle Book

Timidity

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It’s obvious that you have been trying to attract my attention

Okay so I have stopped doing all that I was doing

Now why are you not saying anything?

I give you 100% of my attention

And I am listening

. . .

More?

You want more?

How much more can I give you?

What?  You want to see more of me?

What would you like to see?

You must be joking!

I’m blushing

Stop it

It’s tempting

I’m not sure I can

Am I allowed to show you that?

I’m afraid that it might get me in trouble

But I am nevertheless glad to know that you are interested

No one has ever been that curious about this private part of me

I get a strange feeling when you look at me like that

Is it possible for anyone to like me this much?

Your intentions are definitively harmless

There is no doubt about that

The problem is me

I am shy

Afraid to reveal

An intimate part of me

Although I absolutely trust you

Then what’s holding me back?

I am a mystery to myself

Did you know that?

How can I reveal

A part of me

That I have not even

Discovered

Myself

?

I Can’t Help You

trust14

Here is another wonderful “talking to myself” session.  This one will be recorded publicly though.  Perhaps to shame myself or to entertain bored readers.

I’m tired of thinking of her.  It’s a waste of time.  If I could change the way I think of her, that would be great.  I should hypnotize myself to make me love her.  That might work.

Love her?  No thank you.  “Like her” maybe.  No, not even.  Accept her.  Yes, I could start there.  Accept her current existence in my life.  Can I do that?

Well I think I have accepted her already.  I let her be, don’t I?  I let her affect me too.  Maybe this is what I should be working on.  I should not let her affect me.  Or, I have a better idea.  Why not let her affect me and then transform the effect into something good!

Let’s try it.  She said this yesterday, after I said to her that she already has everything:  “No, I don’t have a husband who loves me.”  I did not reply because I knew what it would trigger.  So I just kept silent.  I absorbed it.

Now the phrase is coming back to me and Oh!  I could smash…  never mind.  There is no use smashing things.  She sincerely wishes that I would love her.  Why should I let it upset me?

I cannot love her simply because I can’t trust her.  And that’s ok, I don’t have to trust the people I don’t trust.  There is a reason why I don’t trust her.  She is not trustworthy.  To me anyway.

I trusted her at the beginning and she took advantage of it.  She profited.  It was her choice or perhaps not.  Maybe she had been programmed by her family.  Or she programmed herself in order to survive within her family.

Whatever it is, the issue is hers, not mine.  And she refuses to look within herself.  That’s why she suffers from anxiety.  I can’t help her.  Would my hugs help her?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  I don’t know.  And you know what?  I don’t care whether I can help her or not.  I’m trying to save myself here.  I have spent enough energy for her already.  The little I have left I will keep.

Sorry dear.  I know you’re drowning but I can’t help you.