Saturday, December 2nd 2023

I write to and for myself every day; I struggle with posting anything here anymore. My blog started as an outlet to vent my problems; but nowadays I journal, have friends, and can in tackle my problems a lot more head on and healthier than I used to. I still want to blog; it’s just been in limbo on what I want to do with it.

I don’t want to post about my feelings, which is what this blog started out as. I no longer feel the need to show the world my belly; I’m stronger than I used to be, and I really do not like how weak I was back in January and February, fawning over that girl. It’s embarrassing to even think about. Simultaneously, my writing back in January and February was extremely passionate, energized, authentically me, and oddly enough something I’m proud of?

I can’t think of anything I’m really proud of writing since February. It’s all felt inauthentic; I’ve been putting out a version of myself that’s how I want others to perceive me, not quite accurate to who I actually am. Even admitting that is incredibly difficult and shameful, like it goes against how I want to be perceived.

I want to come off as strong, stoic, unmovable, unshakable, in control. I’m not. But I’m also not the complete opposite; I know I’m not the emotional crybaby I see myself as. Somewhere around July I developed some severe self image issues, this is the first time telling someone else. I became extremely self conscious, developed an eating disorder and some pretty bad imposter syndrome. I figured this out somewhere in October, and have been working at fixing it.

The core of this stems from my refusal to heal from the breakup that started this whole thing. Like I said earlier, I wanted to come off as strong, stoic, like nothing could hurt me; so I stopped talking about how I felt about that, and honestly just bottled it up. I still think about it, 11 months later… That’s fucking embarrassing to admit. It’s like a festering wound that I’ve just covered up and hidden away instead of treating, so that’s my point in talking about it now. So bear with me.

I want nothing to do with that girl. I think she brought out the worst in me, and the last year and half I spent with her was the worst time of my life without question. My problem is that in my mind, there are 2 different versions of her; the real one walking around today (the one I want nothing to do with), and the idealized version of her in my head that haunts me every day.

At the start of the year, my whole motivation in changing was to win her back. I was extremely motivated, I lost 30 pounds in the first 2 months, it was pretty cracked. Shortly after we broke up, I asked if we could get back in contact 6 months down the line and see if there was still anything there – extreme cope and desperation on my end, she didn’t say yes or no, so I clung to that hope. Around June or July, I stopped wanting to get back together with her; I came to terms that we were done for good.

That being said, I used to carry around an extreme and unhealthy amount of guilt for any burnt bridges in my life. I couldn’t stand unresolved conflict, someone who hated me. I felt like I need to right any wrongs done on my end. It didn’t come from genuine compassion for the other, but a selfish obsessive need to right things. I wrote Kasey a letter in July. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I know it wasn’t a ‘I want to get back together’ letter, it was a mix of apology and ‘I’d still like to be friends’. It was fucking cringe. She didn’t write back. That was the burial for my feelings towards the flesh and blood girl.

My problem is that that in my mind, there are 2 different versions of her; the real one walking around today, and the idealized version of her in my head. The latter fucking haunts me every day. It’s a mix of the memories of when things we’re good and a desperate need to prove her wrong about me.

I’m so desperate to show how much I’ve changed, that I’m no longer the lazy, unmotivated, coomer, fat, creep, fat, selfish degenerate piece of shit that I used to be. I’ve put the frame for all of my self improvement in the context of proving that I’m somehow different, somehow better? I don’t even know why. Like if the real girl reached out, I don’t imagine I’d have anything nice to say, if anything to say at all. All I know is that I do not want to be the guy I was same time last year. I fucking loathe that guy.

Anyway, the reason I’m admitting all this shit and going through this humiliation ritual is to try to dispel this whole ‘don’t show any weakness’ thing that ultimately comes from wanting to prove her wrong.

I don’t need to prove her wrong. She doesn’t deserve it. Like I said earlier, that last year together was with her was awful and it takes two to tango, not all that shit was on me. I am done begging and pleading for forgiveness, trying to mend every single burnt bridge.

I feel like that radiated some sort of weird angry incel vibe, not my intention. It comes from a place of having self respect and knowing my value. I think The Smiths said it best; “Why do I give valuable time to people who don’t care if I live or die?”.

Now I want to talk about where I’m at and where I’m going.

My current number one goal is to get into the army. The reason I can’t just enlist today is because I was hospitalized for suicidal behavior when I was 18.

This is my first time telling anyone besides a girlfriend, feels extremely vulnerable. But, my thoughts on the matter are that my recruiter, MEPS, and every person or entity involved in my enlistment already knows this, so admitting to it here doesn’t hurt me. Like as is I am currently ineligible to enlist, me saying this isn’t going to make it worse or hurt my chances.

It was my senior year of high school, I wrote my suicide letter on Google Docs, on my student account, and the system somehow flagged it and I got pulled down to guidance within an hour or two. I had no intention of anyone besides my mom reading the thing, I have no fucking clue how it got flagged, it wasn’t flowery or explicit, it was just a “I’m done and I’m sorry” sort of deal – not that it fucking matters. Anyways, Mr. Snook is the fucking GOAT and I am extremely thankful for that man, he saved my life. From there, I went to Lancaster General, then to a private psych hospital for like a week or two. I signed a consent waiver, so it was voluntary, but it still killed my eligibility for the military, which was actually my post high school plans, and why I floundered and did nothing of value for the following year or two.

All that being said, I no longer deal with depression. I haven’t had even the small inkling of suicidal ideation since I went off antidepressants at the start of this year. Getting off of my medication was the single best decision I’ve ever made in my entire life. I never even considered that suicidal ideation could be a symptom of the medication, like you hear the dudes in the medication adverts say so fast at the end of the ad.

I consider myself cured of depression. I talked earlier about my self image issues, my anxieties, my ghost girl, but I think that is all like micro-drama type shit we all deal with. It’s a normal healthy level of unhealthy shit. I know how my brain worked and felt when I was depressed, and I know it’s different nowadays, it’s hard to explain.

Anyway, to even begin getting into the military, I need a psychological evaluation saying that I no longer deal with depression. I haven’t been able to find one that would take my health insurance; my old psychiatrist required me to be an ongoing patient to have one done, and being an ongoing psychiatric patient would make me ineligible. I did find one that would take me out of pocket and not as a preexisting patient, but they quoted me $650, which I did not have on hand 2 months ago, when I was talking to my recruiter. So this was a big reason I was fed up with my job at the vet and picked Amazon, which has been a pretty solid decision, as I do have the money as well as a solid cushion now.

So my goal is to pull the trigger on the psych eval within the next week or so and try and get all of my other paperwork needed collected by New Years. I think it would be fucking sick if I was able to enlist on the 1 year anniversary of this whole fucking changeup in my life. I’m pretty sure that runs counter to what I was saying earlier about proving that girl wrong; but like the idea really fuels me. I think it would be fucking awesome.

Besides, or perhaps in addition to, the military, I want to go back to college and get a bachelor’s. Archaeology, anthropology, and history is what I wanted to do / be as a kid when I grew up. Indiana Jones and whatnot. So that’s where my sights are set. I think I’d like to be a history teacher, like Mr. Mitchell.

What an absolutely pivotal figure in my life. I’ve been meaning to write him for the past 4.5 years, but I’ve been so unsatisfied with my life and always felt like I’d disappoint him in comparison to what I could’ve done with this time instead. I’d really like to write him after getting into the army, I think that would make him proud. I really love and appreciate that man, he is another person who saved my life when I was a kid.

On that note, that is what I want to do with my life. I want to be there for others. Acts of service, expecting nothing in return. There’s been these pivotal figures in my life over the years, a real rare few, that I want to be like when I grow up. Mr Snook, Mr Mitchell, Hany, Jacob, Ms Jen, my mom. These fucking people, that I’ve never done a single fucking thing worth a damn for, yet would give me the clothes off their back, just because it’s who they are. That’s what I want to do with my life.

My dream as a kid was to be Indiana Jones, live in Alaska or Montana, have get married young have a daughter. It’s ebbed and flowed throughout the years, but that’s like my secret and pure ambition in life. I think it’s still all on the table.

I think you are capable of whatever you set your mind to, and that we are our primary limiters in life. David Goggins talks about the 40% rule; where the point where you feel like giving up, is actually when you’ve given about 40% of what you have in the tank. I am an adamant believer in that rule. I think successful people, like Steve Jobs, Kanye West, Elon Musk, Tom Cruise, whoever the fuck you want to pick, didn’t just get lucky, or have a lucky spawn, or whatever excuse you’d want to use to explain away their success. I think luck does have a part to play in it, but you have to put yourself out there in situations to get lucky in the first place. The people I listed are (or were, with Jobs) workaholics. I don’t think you can deny they fucking work.

I’m pulling this out of my ass with no statistical backing, but there are plenty of people with good spawns who do nothing with their life, and plenty of people who bad spawns who do manage to do something with it. The only person who gives a fuck about bettering your life, the only person who’s capable of doing it, is you.

I see so much shit about people romanticizing their own melancholic solitude, it pisses me off. You’re not Prometheus chained to that mountain for eternity, you’re not Sisyphus pushing the boulder. Stop being a fucking victim in your life. Maybe you just need to address your fucking problems and stop being a bitch.

“Everybody’s going through shit. So when people get this mentality of, like, you don’t understand me – you can throw a fucking rock to someone that can understand you, if you’re willing to break yourself down and stop hiding”.

I came out swinging and started preaching, maybe even projecting. But it’s my soapbox I’ve been wanting to talk about on here. Not gonna apologize.

Couldn’t tell you when I’m going to post next. I’m not going to advertise my blog or this post like I said would in the last one, just due to the nature of it, but I promise I will with the next one.

I used to do a bit with a daily song, I’d like to bring it back, but due to my infrequent posting, I decided to do a playlist. Bye