Sanitization and Positivity – The World is on Fire at the End of the Road

I decided that now that I finally, finally have a real job, that I would go back and start trying to sanitize my online persona, and I thought I would start with LiveJournal, since that is the oldest thing out there, of which I am aware, that still exists.

My first entry was on May 15, 2001. Life was horrible back then. I was about to start my senior year in college, but since I was majoring in music, I was on the 5 year plan. I was thinking about grad school, but I hadn’t picked a program. I was engaged to Mike, working at ITS, driving a 1989 Ford Taurus, and living with my parents for the last time. There was little hope for my future. I was as fat then as I am today. I was always exhausted, and I rarely got to do anything I truly wanted to do.

My writing skills were poor, poorer than they are now, surprisingly. I was just so unhappy.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately of how much college sucked. Grad school too, although grad school has some shining points, the intellectual stimulation, the great people I met, the insane experiences I had, but there never was a more fucked up time in my life. Back to that later.

Janie was the one who got me sucked in. I never talk to Janie anymore. The Academy, the Forum, are like tumbleweeds blowing around my Facebook. I don’t know if anyone uses IRC anymore, but I haven’t logged on since I had a hard drive failure in 2008, and lost my login.

Last night, I got put on standby for care and shelter workers. The Bald fire is, last I heard, 8 miles southeast of Fall River Mills. They opened a shelter in Paleo Credo last night, but called me 18 minutes before it was set to open. I was still in my swimsuit, and it takes 18 minutes to drive there, so even if my bug out bag had been in my car, and I’d been sitting in my car with my key in the ignition, I would not have made it in time. People don’t do that when they are on call for fires. Still, I feel guilty, like I missed some key piece of communication. I always assume when something goes wrong, I am the one at fault. I also tend to see things as “wrong” when they are actually irrelevant. I just got a call confirming that I am on standby, indefinitely. It’s a bit difficult to really relax when you are on call for emergency response.

Michelle invited me to her baby shower, in Pestigo, Wisconsin. I am mad that she chose to become pregnant again when she still has custody of Teagan. I am mad that I feel that it is not safe for me to allow her to have my contact information, because she is still psychotic, toxic, and manipulative. Sure, say what you want about me, but that relationship was truly a mirror for me to see what an awful person I was. She claims now that Teagan is autistic. I find this difficult to believe, and can easily see it as another manipulation tactic to emotionally abuse Teagan, and assure that he is never able to emancipate himself from her control. I feel that I really have to cut off contact with them all, permanently. There’s no hope for Michelle in my mind, and little hope for Teagan since he is under her control. Liz and Taylor have made, what seem from my perspective, to be great strides in personal development, but Michelle has reverted to what her mother taught her to be, a demonically-possessed, mastermind manipulator.

I feel like I don’t really deserve my master’s degrees, because I had disability accommodations: such as extended deadlines and taking exams in separate rooms. I feel like I don’t really have bipolar disorder and that ADD is just a genetic variation that is totally normal. I feel like the issues were poor parenting, lack of social support, poverty, and malnutrition. Even though the accommodations seem reasonable for someone that cannot function in the world, why was I even pursuing higher education, and who is to say that I wasn’t treated differently because of being labeled as “disabled” or “bi-polar”? Or because I was a “lesbian” or “polyamorist,” or the fact that I was in a relationship with a convicted rapist? My so-called advisor for my archives concentration sure seemed to have an issue with me, and it’s not good when your advisor for half your program is creeped out by you, but does the bare minimum because she is scared of your “minority” status.

I definitely think the psychiatric medication and psychotherapy caused a great deal of harm, but I do not know if there was any other way through. The anthropology masters got me out of Wisconsin and to California. If I were not here, I would not have a partner that’s not a dickhead, that’s gainfully employed and owns a home.

Teal Swan’s video yesterday went through an exercise about why we keep attracting shithead partners.

In thinking of the most negative aspects of my childhood home, here’s what I come up with:





uncared for


falling apart

fend for yourself

At this point in time, it’s very difficult for me to identify any past relationships as “love,” or “in love with.”  Certainly not! How horrible! I truly believe that no one ever cared for me that way until now, and that I was just addicted to the ideal of love because I’d been left so empty from my neglectful, immature parents who should have just not had children.

One thing I can definitely identify as a common negative quality among my past relationships was that none of them had decent jobs, even if they were working, even if they were working full-time, it was a job without benefits, not a real job, or working two part-time jobs. They were all always broke, and I was subsidizing them half the time (or more). There were a few that were homeless. I also seem to attract people with addiction problems: alcoholics, drug addicts, sex addicts… And people with mental illness, low self-esteem, and bad childhoods, some with truly horrific pasts of abuse.

Alex told me once, that even if you are mentally ill, if you are still functional, then it’s not a problem. The road to recovery is ugly. It may be that only yourself and God are able to forgive you, but I oftentimes feel like, all the horrible things I’ve done were as a service to others, a contractual teaching obligation.

Here’s where the true crazy comes in, when that galactic portal, star gate, or whatever it was that I was part of the key to, was opened or shifted in 2009, all those contracts began to be terminated. Bub-bye motherfuckers, bub-bye. Anyone can only remain in my reality through mutual freewill. Yes, we have reached the point where we can go no further, and now we can be anything we chose. Only we define ourselves, and if we want to burn every goddamn bridge, it is a good thing, a wonderful thing. The universe is listening and new friends come, slowly, freely, in perfect love and perfect trust.




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