Part Five – Negative Ownership (Explicit Content)

I wrapped up my last post by saying that I need to take ownership for where I am at, and how I feel about things.  So, that’s what I am going to do.  Before I begin, I need to express my reservations about doing this.  The obvious one is that this is most likely not going to be pleasant because I’ll be naming and outing the monsters and demons that I carry around inside me day in and day out.  Realistically, it does need to be done, I am probably procrastinating while I psyche myself up to do this, so that it’s probably a moot point.  I guess the main reservation I do have is that this post will end up being more like a list of my negativity, but restricting myself will defeat the purpose.  With that in mind, I want to say this before I crack on.

Placing restrictions on yourself while you’re trying to get better actually interferes with the process.  I firmly believe that people do not understand this when trying to help someone dealing with mental illness.  Right now, I need to shine a light into the darkness and see what happens.

I apologise in advance to those of you who will read this.  I will be swearing.  I will be swearing a lot!  I will also be painting things in the worst way possible, mainly because it needs to go somewhere.

Enough f**k-arsing around, here goes…

I’m not well, and I haven’t been well for a very long time.  More to the point, I don’t think that I have ever been well, ever.  This is not about getting better again.  This is about getting better AT ALL.  I am cynical, I am so f**king cynical.  I am negative, I always manage to paint things in the worst way possible.  I hate people, I f**king hate people, I hate them so f**king much!  I hate them because they’re weak-minded and weak-willed.  I hate them because they’re selfish and self-serving.  I hate them because they’re arrogant and self-righteous c**ts!  As much as I hate people in a general way, I find that I hate women even more.  I hate women so f**king much.  I hate them with everything that I’ve got, and then I hate them some more.  But that isn’t enough.  I want to hate them so much that it destroys me, and then keep going.  I hate them so much that I want them to be as miserable as I am, but it isn’t enough, it will never be enough.  I don’t think I can physically, mentally, or emotionally generate enough energy to hate them as much as I do, I hate them that much.  I hate them because they’re fake and insincere.  I hate them because they’re arrogant and controlling, and that they seem to enjoy being arrogant and controlling with me.  I hate them in every way humanly possible, I can’t even find the words.  I hate the feminist movement, not for the core of what they stand for, but for their empty words and hollow f**king rhetoric.  I hate that they’re not actually interested in equality, just being in control.  I’m struggling to keep going on the women front, there is just too much anger, rage, hurt, and pain.  I hate women because of all the anger, rage, hurt, and pain on both sides, I don’t pretend that I haven’t played my part over the years, including being violent, which I am not proud of, I still beat myself up over it.  I hate that I don’t feel like I can ultimately deal with women with anything other than anger and violence, in extreme circumstances.  I hate that I have been violent, and I hate that I can’t forgive myself and move on from it.  I hate that I don’t feel like I have any control at all when dealing with women, and that they want me on a leash.  I hate that anything even close to mutual respect with women isn’t even possible.  I hate that they hold me to a higher standard, a standard that they aren’t even f**king capable of themselves, while they can behave how they see fit.  I hate that women are hypocritical c**ts.  I hate that I can never truly express how much I hate women, because I can’t carry this burden any longer.

I hate myself.  I hate myself so f**king much!  Words escape me.  I hate that my best efforts don’t yield the same results that others get.  I hate that I am held to a standard that other people are not even remotely capable of f**king achieving.  I hate being miserable, but I also hate that part of me almost revels in my own misery.  I hate that my negativity and anger has become so systemic, such a part of me, like the blood in my veins, that I don’t even know if I can even get rid of it.  I hate that I don’t feel as though I will get better or improve.  I hate that I don’t want to improve or get better.  I hate that people have repeatedly tried to help me, and failed.

I don’t think there is an end to how angry and hateful I am, it certainly doesn’t feel as though there is an end.  It feels like a bottomless pit, that can never truly be comprehended.  I know that part of healing and getting better is about embracing and accepting all of who you are, the light and the dark, the good and the bad.  But how can I do that when this is what I am sitting on.  I didn’t keep going because it felt like a journey without an end, my anger and rage feels like an insatiable fire that can never truly be sated.

I feel lost, and I feel like most things have ZERO value or purpose.  I struggle to maintain the few friendships I have left.  I can’t see myself in them, I feel as though having friends is something that will swallow me whole and leave no trace.

I have struggled with my identity for a very long time, being honest it is f**king hard to develop and find an identity when all you have to work with is anger and blind rage.  I don’t know, I don’t think that I want to even have friends anymore.  But for some reason, I can’t completely disconnect, I think that it’s out of some f**ked up sense of obligation.

It’s so f**king frustrating that this post hasn’t panned out the way I had hoped…I was really hoping for some catharsis, or release, but it hasn’t really come.  It’s safe to say that having expectations about how things are going to pan out while dealing with mental illness is unrealistic.

It doesn’t change how frustrating it is.

To wrap things up, I need to include a belated disclaimer.  In spite of the hate-filled bile that took up a large portion of this post I don’t condone any form of violence towards, or abuse of women.  I bottle this s**t up because I don’t want to be another statistic, or contribute to another statistic.  I haven’t forgiven myself for how I’ve treated women over the years, or have been able to move past how I feel like I have been treated by them.  I know that sounds like a justification, maybe it is, I don’t have any answers on that front at this time.

As for the rest of this post, I decided to let the monsters and demons out of their cages for a few reasons.  Keeping them locked up is soul-destroying, but without good options to let this s**t out safely, there is little I can do about it, accept posting it on here.  It is still about raising awareness in a small way about what people with mental illness might be tackling day in, day out.  What I wrote IS how I feel.  It IS where I am at.  This is something that I can’t readily talk about with people that are important to me.  In addition, I have limited access to my counsellor, quite often by the time my next appointment rolls around I’ve either managed to get it back under control, forgotten about it, or have something more pressing at the time.

To wrap up I will say this.  I actually made myself stop in many ways, partly because I was concerned that this post would devolve into incoherent, bile-filled ranting that may not achieve anything.  But the more important reason is that I am scared of actually looking at this s**t properly, there is just so much there, it feels endless.

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