Patience and progress

I lack the first, I don't see the latter. I notice change. But change isn't always good or better, it's mostly just different. Also did I tell you I hate change? No? I hate change. It makes me feel uncomfortable. Most changes are too abrupt, no time to adjust. This is the new situation, better get used to it fast, since it's there. Why I like getting older, so nice, slow, almost static. It ends with death and each day you get closer. There's a beginning and an end. Perfect. Why accidents should be forbidden.
And I really can't say these changes are progressive or positive. I can't see where it leads to. I'm frustrated by my inability to see things another way, I'm frustrated by not seeing a solution where I can clearly see a problem. I'm digging my way through pages of crap regarding trauma, memory, personality disorders and whatsnot. And they are all clear that they have no fecking clue how the brain works, just guesses (wild ones even) about what can be fixed and how. So many dead ends and so much time wasted and I can't see how. So yes, I'm frustrated and angry and tired and scared and yes I'm taking that out on myself. But they are just means or symptoms, they are not important. Ways to cope. I don't want to waste time talking about them with miss therapy or shrink, I don't need to find other means (since they are either too expensive, too addictive or too destructive or all of them), as long as I think I control them instead of them controlling me I think we can just ignore them and focus on real issues. Suppressing or fixing symptoms, well, can kill patients you know.
So what are these changes. The knowledge that I feel crap because my mother wasn't very nice. Instead of feeling crap because schoolsystems still suck donkeyballs, I'm still in divorce after a few years in a hellhole in the middle of fecking nowhere, kiddo showing more oddness and is more and more tiring to handle, I still haven't unpacked all from last moving over two years ago and I have to be Scrooge all the time so I can cough up enough money for kiddo education. But it's all my mothers fault I feel crap. Really.

Work in progress

Miss therapy sees this as progress, I see mostly dead ends. Every time I think I know how to get out of this I run into something I cannot. Or don't see. Or don't understand. Find the progress, she says, see how good you are doing. I don't know. I fail to see. Or maybe I refuse to see. I've never pondered how good something is I do. There's things you have to do and hence you do them. Yes, yes, yes, I know. I do judge myself when I'm not doing them. But. Waa. Not doing your duty is bad kk? How can you value duty. How can you praise that. I don't think I can. Or I don't see how. As I don't see the how with so many things lately. How!
Patience I lack. Apparently once you know what should change doesn't magically make it so. How stupid.

Now what.

Someone made me realize that I hadn't really thought about the end of it. Sure talk to neighbors after family, but how many people do I want to talk to about icky past before I know enough or even what I want from it. I've been pondering getting info from others for quite some time and never dared until now. It's just that I felt time was running out and if I wanted to get other views I had to do that before they were either dead or their brains had turned to mud like my fathers. I didn't want to give myself time to think it all through to not end up in metameta justifications why I think I have to do this. (Ya, I finally got to this draft I had lying about for months and no clue why I never posted it or even how to finish, so I just sneak it in here now.)


But now what. Uncle was looking ahead while I was still dwelling in the past and how to get it sorted. And I still am. He wanted to know what plans for the future I had. What would I be. What did I want. And I don't know. The future scares me. I simply can't look past the time where kiddo won't force me into a daily routine anymore. It's empty (yes, I'm already pondering pets for that time). Just me. A freedom I can't imagine. He said they had all imagined I would become a writer. Had they now? I wanted to not be there at that moment. Oh gawd, expectations. I can never live with that. I can never make any expectation true. Also too much now. Can't keep track of anything. I just don't know.

Sleep! I has it.

Finally. Full nights filled with it. Still exhausted and napping half my days away too. But I don't want to complain about that, since well... sleep! Lovely wonderful sleep.

All roads lead to Rome.

and my mother. Always my mother. And I don't know why. I still feel better or less stressed when I can excuse her behavior, no matter if I have to wriggle to the point where it was really all my fault. No matter how farfetched, I can always go back to the point where I should have known or done better or different. In the past I rarely really questioned her authority or her right to punish me. Even my fantasies (not counting the fantasies where I saved the world and lived happily ever after surrounded by talking animals and all good humans had birds to fly them places) revolved around me doing nothing wrong for once. If I had aligned all light-switches right without getting caught doing so, there was a high chance next day she would overlook something I had done bad. Days were too long to do everything right or I was too rotten. And I believed that it was her kindness that saved me from punishments or her goodwill to not spoil the atmosphere. There was no other explanation because well I was bad. It had to be that, because whenever it exploded again she had a huge list of all my wrongs during those days or weeks where all seemed right. I'm not sure I can explain it any better. And yes, while writing this I can see how distorted my view looks from a distance.
But still I can't seem to change it. It's where I hopelessly get mixed up. Whenever someone claims I'm doing something wrong I agree (mostly not openly) and I just quit. I know I'm doing it all wrong, I know I should do better, if only, but I also know I cannot. I can never be good. Be it work, games, social interactions, somewhere sometime someone will tell me I did something bad. And that's sorta the end. I can't ask what I did wrong since I should know. I can't ask how to avoid doing the bad since I should know. I can't ask at what point it will be good enough since you can always do better. Stuck. And I give up. I go make blatant mistakes since then at least I know what and where I go wrong. I mostly get by with claiming that I think it's good enough and if you don't like it that's your problem. Which works most the times.

I don't really fear my mother in the way that I'm afraid she be waiting for me after the next door or come hunting me because I broke a glass. The thought however to see her again scares the shit out of me, since I know I done wrong and we might both forget I'm not twelve anymore.
And blah, this whole post seems so wrong on so many levels.

Out of another impasse

I think. And not even sure how I got there. Stuck inside my head. All thoughts returning to the uselessness of everything since I was of no use. Short unfinished and deleted rants about all my shortcomings, revolving around the impossibility of ever doing everything right (including the difficulty in defining right). Meta-meta-meta-reasoning. Unable to get anything done. Unwilling. Just tired of running around in circles. And not seeing it, not understanding. Not that I claim I can see or understand it now. I just feel unstuck. Damn you miss therapy, you are good. Not that I have a clue where I am heading or even if there is something to head for. But I can move again.
Self-pity mixed with arrogance and wanting to be recalcitrant topped (or rather blended) with the general idea I was making a fool of myself (one of my mothers favorite ideas about me) isn't very stimulating in any way (besides burning down some very ugly buildings). And as always we get back to my mother. The omnipotent presence, big brother. I know. Oh how I know. I don't fear her or her reactions anymore (how I have matured!), I just fear the world. There is people there. They are illogical, they change the rules without telling you, they can reject you and they do and will. With no ill meaning. Oh no. They mean so well. Yet they do so wrong. So I'm stuck between not knowing if rules have been changed so I will totally fark up or just not do anything (which really sometimes is less tiring).

it's winter she said
look at me, I'm a statue
frozen till spring comes

Morality and me.

I has it. But it's mine. Or maybe the title is wrong wording, I don't know. The point is that people seem to use normative ethics while I use descriptive ethics (yes I blatantly stole that from the wikipage about morality). I know that what I consider good or bad is personal. And I like to keep that logical. My actions (and those include my intentions and decisions) are based on what I think benefits me. That might be very egoistical, but I've claimed for years that all actions are. I just think that I'm more honest about it, or see it more clear that way. No matter what good deed you can always distill an egoistical personal beneficial reason behind it.
I feel good when you feel good, hence it's beneficial to try make you feel good.
I don't break the laws of the society I live in. Not because I think the normative ethics that formed those laws are mine, but because I don't want the punishments that are related to breaking those laws. Which is also tied to what I consider my obligation or responsibility. Within my own morality you have to take the responsibility for your own actions. So that means no breaking laws till kiddo can do without me. Also no falling apart till then. Weighing consequences. I see no wrong in whatever seems to be morally wrong (according to the society I live in) to protect myself and my kin. Lying, cheating, stealing, manslaughter.
Which leads me to those things that I have learned to name friends. I can do without mostly. Being human means I like some forms of contact, but there isn't much that I can't have with anyone else. So I seem to be stuck with weighing invested time versus annoyance-level. I think I can accept a lot of things other people consider problems since I don't relate them to me mostly, only thing that counts is how comfortable I feel around certain people and what I want from them. Which means I stick too long around some just because invested time keeps outweighing the uncomfortable-level and also means I might be ditching people too fast because of that. And well, to get back on topic!, the people that I cut contact with are the ones that give me the idea way too often that I have to justify my actions to. Explain the why over and over. I can't do that. I go confused and I quit. It also finally gave me the insight of all the people I lost contact with over the years. They either cut contact with me because they couldn't find any mutual ground (or respect) between us anymore or the other way around. Or I (or them) let it bleed to death since it was too tiresome to restart again from scratch after x time. I'm not very good with maintaining a certain level of contact and I want everything to be sorta frozen in time while there is no contact so we can just keep going where we left.
You can disagree with my intentions/decisions. I understand you # me. I just can't handle the implication/accusation that you # me means I am wrong. There is no wrong or right. There is just personal opinions (or feelings if you want to phrase it like that).

autumn storms sweeping
leaving no leaf on trees, how
can you fight seasons

What does it mean it doesn't mean anything to me?

Yesterday new shrink asked me more questions about feelings, reactions, patterns and so many made no sense at all. Again like so many things are without sense or meaning. But! Apparently that's just me. And I wonder if that has always been that way or if somewhere along the line it got broken.
It took me ages to figure out how those questions were meant and what I had to answer to make it understandable. Do I fear meeting new people? Yes? Do I fear new situations? Yes? Does that hinder me? Uhm what? I don't know how it is to not be scared. I have the distinction between amounts of fear. And sometimes I just can't raise the energy or will to go places. Do I plan everything or am I impulsive? Uhm... can you like not plan things? Can you like not think about consequences? Do I have trouble talking to people? Or looking at them while talking? Or problems understanding them? Now? Yes. Normally? No? I think. Answering questions caused pain. Looking directly at people caused pain. Misunderstanding caused pain. Understanding caused pain. Yes, no, yes, how do I know if that is my normality or a made normality? Did I have friends my own age? Or rather younger or older than me? Waa? There were by my mother accepted and approved children I could and sometimes had to be around. People caused pain. Purposely or accidentally. Friend is a meaningless concept, but I've learned to tag some as friends. There are people I'm comfortable around, there are people who don't irritate me (much), there are people who seem to understand what I blabber about. Do I have strict order in doing things? And do I get stressed or uncomfortable if I don't follow that order? Wait what? Of all the illogical questions... There's order in doing things always. Like what is the most efficient, the least effort, the most logical (socks before shoes! Undies before pants! Undress before shower! Make sammich before eating! Boil water before adding to cupnoodle!). Why in the world would you want to not follow the order you set yourself. So how do I know if it stresses me if I don't. Or well I would probably get very stressed by not following same patterns.
Questions about emotions, talks about feelings. Meaningless! Do I feel lonely? Maybe? Aren't we all lonely no matter with who we are? How can you be un-lonely? Happy, unhappy. States of mind. Reactions after or during events. Do I miss people? No. How can you miss people when you never have them? How can you regret something when you cannot undo. The past makes the present.
And losing track.

How can this ever be good?

I can't see it. I can't see how to turn this into something not destructive. Knowing that stuff wasn't right, but keeping blame somewhere in middle wasn't pretty but it was bearable. In a way. It always gave me some escape to just let it rest, to stay vague and to keep it away from me. Like it never really happened to me. Just a sad story. I know bad stuff happened, I know it wasn't my fault (really? yes really). But it meant nothing to me.  Like so many things have no meaning for me. And I just ignored all real thoughts about it. Somehow letting thoughts flow semi-freely makes me feel frustrated, angry and sad. And how is that good?
I don't know how realizing how broken you are will do you any good. And looking around just makes me see how broken I am. For real. Random chitchat and all social conventions have a meaning to others. For me it was like a trick I had to learn to not be totally outcast. And I'm good at tricks. They are tiring and annoying, but I learned them well. And I never really realized it wasn't a trick for most other people. It's a normality I don't think I ever get. If I wanted I could dig back into all criticism I've ever gotten after I left parental house (I prolly got some from others back then too but they never stood out more than criticism of my mother so I can safely assume it had no impact on me) and trace back all I do different now because of me adjusting to it. Just to not be wrong somewhere. (Don't mind me for not being coherent, it's really hard to stay on track since I don't even know the track.) Or not adjusting at all and doing more of it, only because I only had to weigh it in my own logical way and either dismiss or adjust. I so carefully built up a working person that I don't even know what's below that. Besides sadness and rage. And I'm afraid that's all there will be left if I am forced to strip away the shell. And how can that be good? I've done things in my past that neutrally speaking weren't right, I just did because I could and it had no meaning to me. I've treated some people very harsh just because they lost their use for me. And not feeling guilty really (cept at some vague point about me being evil).
When I see blatantly happy people who do not think about their actions I just want to set them on fire or make them scream in agony in whatever other possible way. If the sun shines while I'm moody and I had means to take it down I probably would. Or well that's mostly my line of reasoning, whenever I think about I should have had a different past. I could have been different. That I am made like this and you all (yes you all *points*) will have to pay for it. Must pay for it. Since well it isn't my fault I'm like this and so unattached and I got robbed of things I can't grasp. Since I can't undo what has been done, I can't become how I should have been and I will never even know how that would be. I can't even imagine how life would be without the fear of doing something I will be punished for in whatever way or even how to ever get there. I can't see how realizing that is not how it's supposed to be will ever make me feel better.

I loathe being me.

I dislike being so emotional, so unbalanced, so unsure of my reactions. Trying to keep busy with nothing just so not to let my mind wander, but there are too many hours in the day and I'm tired. The empty evenings and nights are the worst, too much time. I dread being alone yet the thought of seeking company scares me more. I want all and nothing. I don't know, everything is messed up. I'm not sure if it's good or bad I feel I'm going worse. Or maybe I've read too much, I really don't know. I don't think I want to cope with a few more years of this, yet I fear I will have to since well kiddo. It's fine yet it's so wrong. I'm not fit for this, not the right person, not the right place, not the right time.I can't, but I will.
I'm not sure if I'm in control still and I loathe that too. I feel the urge to control at least something so I'm back to weight and booze. I mostly want to curl up in a corner. I loathe being so incoherent.

I wait for thunder
rain to wash it all away
but all is drizzle

Back to reality

I feel drained. I'm back to sitting and trying to nap in between. Two nights of tiresome dreams, two days of endless hours stretching ahead of me. There goes the idea I'm almost ready for reality. And I start to wonder (once again) if I ever will be. Past weeks weren't really all that bad, it was mostly me not being able to handle all the people and strongly disliking I couldn't handle. Too many happy families, too many children, too many moments where I felt robbed of things I should have had.
Now that I actually rethought the past I know that most the times children do actually have fun and relax, that their fun usually won't backfire and explode in their faces and I watched that with a certain bitterness (that I loathed). Bitterness, envy, sadness. Those short moments I let my mind wander I just cried (and yes, disliking that too). And the twisted part of my brain just wanted to demolish. Maim, rape, slaughter. Too much happiness. And I wonder where it will end. I've talked to people, it didn't make me happier or more satisfied. I can find more people and squeeze information about my past from them, but for what use. I can fill in the blanks rather accurate I think and somehow it's not enough. It's never enough. I can never get back what I lost or never had. And I'm torn between anger and sadness.

someone told me time
is linear
I agree math sux