The misfit

 As I've alluded to before (and also stated overtly), I am a misfit in my environment. I simply don't fit in. I have no good relationships with people within a 20 mile radius and I am both at odds with my surroundings and not able to appreciate anyone in my vicinity. I wouldn't necessarily say that I'm getting bullied, but if there is a social game at all, I am losing it. I look back on my time on this planet and there were times when I didn't like where I was in life, and things tended to improve. Then things got worse, and didn't improve. So it's a bit of a crapshoot as to how we go about fitting in with our surroundings and with people. I have retreated into more-or-less isolation. I just really don't like this part of the city and I don't know if I'm the only one in this building who feels that way, but it eats at me. Everyone else seems to be having a decent time and/or appreciative of where they live.

I much prefer my living situation in 2019 - 2020. And yet there was a guy in that place who ended his life, so it's clearly a subjective experience as to how or why we fit in with where we are. I am just kind of jaded about the medication, I don't know if I still need to be taking it.

A world of isolation

 I am currently reading "The 48 Laws of Power" by Robert Greene, and one of the laws is not to isolate yourself. Like Louis X1V, it's important to surround yourself with people to keep your ear to the street and learn about approaching threats and opportunities. Some of the 48 laws I am pretty good with, but this is one that escapes me. I feel when I leave my unit I am subjected to a world of disappointment and quite frankly, people that I do not like and that do not understand me.

Right from the get-go, I was at odds with this place. I don't know if you've ever been somewhere that was truly detestable to you, some place that you did not want to be and did not fit in in. Well that describes my living situation. It has been 3 years and every day, almost, has been painful. I've lost touch with all friends and my family, and pretty much just slug it out each day.

Anyway, I have become sort of an island. I do not make it out to mingle with people and that is not because I am anti-social, I understand this law of power, it is because the first impression that I had of this miserable neighbourhood was negative, and that has carried on through the years. Usually in order to like a place, I have to have met at least one person who lives there, someone who can provide an introduction.

Toxic masculinity stereotypes

 As someone who is disabled and can't work, I notice that when men get together they often get involved in a macho, self-congratulatory air where they stroke each others' egos. This is often compounded when there is booze involved. Myself, I am unable to participate in the egotistical happenings of the macho male. I had a dinner last night with some people and I noticed that when the booze came, it was a discussion, or competition, about how they were successful and great beings. I just sat there talking to the person to my left, enjoying the conversation. But I couldn't really get involved in the booze-soaked macho male discussion to the other side of me.

When I start to feel bad as a result of being excluded from the typical self-praise and ego-stroking conversation around me, I remind myself, that it is not necessarily my fault I ended up where I did. I remember when I was in my early twenties, my mood went haywire and eventually over the ensuing decades I have been subjected to psychiatry. But it is noticeable in how men treat the disabled how scummy they really are and how fragile their meaningless lives are.

I'm glad I had an awakening politically and spiritually, as well as physically, realizing the truth of humanity. It involves intelligent compassion and being comfortable in one's own skin. This is the subject for another post (and I am not well-versed in this yet), but I am not sure capitalism is the best way of organizing humanity.

Peace of Mind (cont'd)

 The joys of having a parent who is an alcoholic. There were some loose plans to get together as a (limited) family this holiday season, but upon backing out, I get yelled at by Howard and told that my reason for not wanting to come (my mental health) is "no big deal".

So I thankfully am done with this family and can move on. I'm not even worried about a potential inheritance. I can unblock my sister in a few months or a year if I need to keep the communication open, or call the trust company and provide them with my phone number.

Peace of Mind

 Of all the goals that I seek, the one that is the most valuable is "peace of mind". I am not after great wealth or riches, or power, I just want to relax and know that everything is okay. Unfortunately I have alcoholics around me (figuratively) so creating distance and boundaries is essential for me obtaining my inner peace. I view a simple life with peace of mind more valuable than a complicated life full of riches and intrigue with inner turmoil and angst. Every time I have a run in with Howard, my inner peace of shot. The man pounds wine and scotch all day and night, every day. I will let him do his thing, without wishing him harm, but I want nothing to do with him.

I think it's safe to say that the rest of my life will be geared to tranquility and peace, and accomplishing this shouldn't be that difficult if I'm simply able to have the power of will to release, both mentally and in the physical world, ties with the people who are clearly toxic. Unfortunately, Aaron still lives in my mind as a tremendously scary and unbalanced person who never provided the closure of the end of the relationship, but I can still let time do its thing and move on from the damages that they have cost me.

The way that relationship with Aaron ended is that it didn't end. I beat him in chess over the phone (phones complicate human social interaction immeasurably, we have "texting" as a new method of communication, not to get started on "social media", which I avoid). And he disappeared into the night, never to contact me again.

I have to realize that he has his family, the "Marks", who provide him with money, that he must stay loyal to. So having me around was just kind of a side-hustle, a fringe relationship that he would never really truly embrace. He was still a child. But allowing this dangerous child into my life was a mistake. He wouldn't leave, and then ended up with the "ghost" way of ending a relationship, or friendship, or whatever the heck it was. Remembering where peoples' loyalties lie is a useful way in determining how good someone is for you. Or maybe it just doesn't fucking matter.

The wrong turns

 Do we use mental illness as an excuse for poor life decisions? As I move through life, I am distraught and how difficult and meaningless things have become for me. The only reason I can have to explain why I am in the state that I'm in is a poor upbringing, or bad parents. The other could be that I'm just naturally not that bright or effective as a person. Or maybe it's a combination of both.

I can look at my life and see it as great, but as I get up in the morning, all I can do is look around and see what's wrong with it. The idea of death is comforting, that one day this will all end. There is an end to it. No one escapes it. So, comparing myself to others during the time we have on this earth is a bit futile. I wonder if my medications are right? I don't like the idea of being on medication. There are a slew of side effects and honestly it has turned me into a bit of a vegetable. I think of Aaron saying "You've tried the alternative, right?". I truly hate that person.

I just look back to when I was twenty-three and my mother drove me to the emergency ward after I admitted, at 4am, that I could accept some professional help. They immediately admitted me into the psych ward and I was locked up there for 3.5 weeks and drugged.

That, to me, is a catastrophe. And the result of a stupid decision by a very stupid bitch (my mother, Lois).

I have been through many trials and hardships as a result of this to the point where I'm just a shell of a person. I don't have any meaning and my life leads and has lead nowhere. But not to worry, I only have another 30 - 50 years of this shit.

Catching up

 Coming to terms with my age and my living situation is going to be key going forward if I am going to survive my 40's, 50's, 60's and beyond. You see I have been coddled most of my life and am in denial about my lot in it. There are some good things about my life like some minimal financial stability and okay health, but my dreams point to a life that could have been, a life of greener pastures. But alas, here I am, and owning up to it, not having disillusions about it will pave the way for smoother sailing.

I submit my mental health is still not good, and I am suspicious of the medication that I'm on. I don't know how to solve that problem, it seems like a bit of a mystery. Even the doctors I've spoken to seem to be a bit baffled, not really knowing what they are doing. I truly wish I didn't have to be on, or I didn't need, medication

Disabled

 I cannot find the strength within me to work. My friend says there is pressure on men to make money, as if that need is hard-wired into me. I dabbled in a potential option, a training program, that would funnel me into a financial career. However, upon further consideration, I don't have the ability to do it. It would be a difficult grind, every day, for at least three months until the career started.

I have to come to terms with the fact that I am on a lot of medication, and my body needs to rest and just do it's thing. I have tons of things I want to do with my time, so that isn't a problem. And I have a great friend. It's just sometimes the idea of ambition surfaces within me, and some weird inner desire to be successful makes me want to sign up for things.

But being disabled, there are limitations on what I can and can't do.

Confuddled

 People rub off on me. It is ingrained within me to absorb other peoples' energies, and I spend time in my mind, precious real estate, going over conversations and experiences I've had with other people. I seem to be coming to the end, hopefully, of my obsession with the term that I spent with Aaron in 2024. That period was shockingly instrumental in shaping how I view myself. I have to admit  he made an impression on me, but it's more like chains that bound me and tied me to an older version of myself, one where his presence in my life was meaningful.

I struggle with day-to-day things like a hatred for my medication, and the constant annoyance of having tunes and songs play in my mind. I keep hoping that these infectious melodies will subside, and there are indeed periods of appreciated silence and quietude, but overall I can't seem to shake the curse.

Living alone and being introspective, I have the time and reserved inclination to remark on these things. I try to maximize happiness and efficiency in the use of my time by coming to terms with the deeply psychological realities of my life. I spent some times at the clubhouse today, which was essential because I craved stretching my legs and altering my scene. I am reminded of my time with Ryan, from the store, because he motivated me a lot and our relationship really opened up a lot of pathways within myself, in terms of gaining confidence to approach people and achieve.

I am looking into a trading program where we are taught to trade (strategies, techniques, etc.) and it seems like a pretty good opportunity, if one is interested in trading the financial markets. I am, but unfortunately I don't know about the timing because I am going through some severe repercussions of the side effects of the heavy medications I'm on. I see the doctor tomorrow and am hesitating now to tell her I want off, or to taper. There are positives but overall, as per some of my prior posts, I feel like shit most of the time.

Irresponsibility

 My mother, who drank herself to death a year and a half ago, always went through great pains to ensure that her children would be provided for after she died. She even set up a Hensen trust for myself, which is a fund that helps your child out when they have a disability, as I have.

My father, upon my mother dying from drinking, immediately abolished this Hensen trust and is now drinking away whatever money my mother had and had wanted to leave her children. I visited the colossal piece of shit in his apartment a few weeks ago. He had a small, $1,000 Persian rug which he had just acquired and for which he made a special point of showing me.

If you want to witness the destruction of a family, look to mine. Alcohol seeped its way into both my parents' lives and continues to dominate my father. But really, abolishing the Hensen trust is a huge slap in the face to myself. There was a large sum when my mother died, and I'll bet Howard is really blowing through it. He does not give a shit about what happens to anyone after he has gone. And because he is impossible to deal with, I have been forced to block his ass and can't communicate with him. Further, I probably won't see a penny of the family's money which had so carefully been preserved by my mother.

I will always be poor and disabled, but at least I can have some peace of mind when it comes to finally extricating myself from the relationship with my father. My sister is just as callous and cold-hearted, and has not made any effort to see me.

Venting

 Hell is a place on Earth, I am sure of that now.

With no money to enjoy my life and living in a cramped bachelor surrounded by crazies where all I can do is play video games and watch things on my computer, I know that I got fucked over somewhere along the way.

But my decisions led me to where I am now. Still, my mother driving me to the mental hospital at 4:30 am in 2007 really did it to me. I know I was 23, an adult, and responsible for myself but who could expect one's own parent would show so much lack of foresight and stupidity. And as proof of their dumb, asshole-ish ways, my sister is in the same boat as I am, unemployed and medicated up the wazoo.

But the good news is, there's only 30 - 40 more years of this bullshit for me, provided I don't die of the very common symptoms that these hardcore drugs that I'm on are famous for.

I'm Mentally Ill

 When I think back the days before my diagnosis, I feel I was doing some questionable things. Today, I don't necessarily like to accept I have this diagnosis, but I did act odd in the year before I was finally hospitalized.

Perhaps it was inevitable that I would be hospitalized, but I look back on the method in which that happened to me and it seems a bit odd. I never turned myself into the hospital, that choice was made for me by my mother. I hadn't slept in two days and came to my mother telling her I would accept help, but wound up locked up for 3.5 weeks.

Today, I can only take my medication and hope for the best. I wrestle in my mind in an endless throw of ambivalence whether or not I am actually mentally ill. Maybe my problems are deeply psychological, and not a physical "brain" issue.

I have to research this more, and look into books on the subject. However, lately, I have been into computer/video games. And spending time with my friend.

Paranoia, the strength

 Because I live a secluded life in public mental health housing (fun), I often use the blocking feature on my phone when people call me too much to ensure I have privacy and peace and quiet. This often offends people, and they disappear from my life. It has happened three times so far.

Because my family are temperamental and strict, they have not liked this strategy of mine. So they have all disappeared from my life. They treat me as though I were a normal, healthy person and not mentally ill (which I am). It is hard for a man to admit his mentally ill, let alone to do something about it and take meds.

Anyway, I guess I'm on my own. I can go through the rest of my life like this. What I don't like is the music in my mind. That started up when I started olanzapine, and pretty much is there most of the time. I call the bluff of psychiatrists, mentioning this phenomenon, and they invariably have no idea what to do. Psychiatry is a bit of a pseudoscience, I think diagnosing is more of an art than a science. There is no "test" for bipolar.

But then again, some people do seem fit into that category. I guess what's why it's called the diagnostic and statistical manual.