Posts tagged childhood trauma
I don’t like to depend on “luck” as we call it, or think we know it. I live in Las Vegas, and I don’t really enjoy or feel compelled to gamble. It’s really ironic to move nearly 2000 miles from Louisiana to Las Vegas and not want to gamble.
I blame it on my cheapness, and my weak but solid knowledge of math, statistics, and odds. I make one assumption when I walk into one of those massive super store type casinos. The odds are in the house’s favor. Beyond that, I realize that any money lost would be a natural consequence for betting against that house.
The cheapskate trait that I have noticed most of my life comes in when I realize all the things I could do with money rather than gamble it away through some lottery or machine. I also make subtle calculations on how much money I would lose over time if I continued with a regular gambling habit that seemed small.
As cheap as I am, and as aware of odds as I am, I still smoked cigarettes for a few decades on and off. I had managed to quit before, for over a year, but something would eventually trigger me into going back to it. I’m only at day 17 and I’m acting like I have beat smoking already, but I am used to using patches and now there is the “emergency e-cig” too.
After just a few weeks, I’m already having dreams about smoking, but instead of fulfilling a fantasy of wanting to smoke in those dreams, they are more like nightmares, because of the feeling of disappointment after taking that first drag on the “dream cigarette”.
I have been in some kind of inner conflict for the longest about if luck is something that really exists, or if an old cliche’ is true about the more you work towards a goal, the more luck you happen to run into. I don’t test my luck in a casino because just like the psychics like to say “it doesn’t work that way.”
When I consider where I am right now, and how things are going, I am forced to remember what it was like when things were so different, and I was so different. My “growth” was hindered by the abuse of just one drug, alcohol, for months at a time, and I didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation I was placing myself in.
Now, I have only taken a baby step towards being somewhat “fixed” in quitting smoking. That is just one little habit in a long line of impulsive behavior I have to gain control over. In quitting smoking, I have given myself another level of confidence in what I can achieve when I put my mind to it.
The truth is, I was merely procrastinating from quitting smoking because the withdrawal is such a bitch. I would have done it long ago, as I have a few times before, but I just didn’t feel like the hassle of a few weeks in first world misery. Once I started using expressions like “first world” more often, I started to realize the arrogance of this concern over such a minor inconvenience.
I was only so “lucky” to get to smoke in the first place because I had the extra income to blow nearly $200 a month on the drug that would probably end up killing me eventually. It seems so simple, when you think of the assumed logical equation of smoking = death. Maybe people who smoke have a death wish. Maybe people who eat themselves up to nearly or over 500lbs also have a similar wish, but it has been modified to abuse a substance that provides life. Food.
I don’t usually post music videos, but I had to give credit to what I chose to listen to while I attempt to finish this blob post without hitting 5000 words, but then again, there is no way I can predict where my stream of consciousness writing will go.
I’m only 2 weeks into quitting smoking, but I already know I will be successful, because I have been reminded in what could be called a “nightmare” that I have to quit, “right now” apparently. There is some sense of synchronicity in this realization, because Candy experiences such breathing difficulty that she is on 2 different medications now.
I never smoked inside after Candy quit smoking, I started smoking outside before Candy ever quit actually. I made it a habit, because I always knew I would quit smoking, and I didn’t want my apartment and everything in it to be polluted with that horrible smell after I quit.
After I quit for just a week, i started to experience my true sense of smell again as well. Now I can taste better, and I can detect so many things in the air around me with a sense that had been dulled for years by this dreadful habit.
I can detect a female that is heavily “scented” from quite a distance. I can also detect when someone is smoking a cigarette in a very wide area. I can smell someone close to me and know if they are an alcoholic, or a smoker, or a pot smoker, or a crackhead.
With that realization alone, I am motivated to stay far away from inhaling burning matter on purpose, except for weed of course. I went to the trouble of getting a card at the DMV from the state of Nevada to get legal permission to smoke fucking weed. What a rigmarole.
I might be “lucky” to have quit smoking when I did, or in the long timeline, it’s already too late and the real tragedy is that I don’t even know it. Either way, I’ll take a higher quality of life while it is granted to this old, abused body. I am still trying to become more “enlightened” even though I realize that because of my age and my old ways, it will be much more difficult than a much younger version of me.
There was really no way to break through to younger me though, as it is, I didn’t become a full fledged alcoholic until after hitting 40, and I am already backtracking at 46. When I gain control over alcohol though, I won’t need to abstain, I will just use it sparingly when the desire arises to reconnect with this aggravating part of myself.
I have had access to more pharmaceuticals than I can pronounce, and I don’t abuse those at all. I know where that road goes, I chose to start using alcohol when I already knew how fucking serious it was and dangerous that particular compulsion can be to people like myself who have issues with impulse control and procrastination and anxiety and depression.
I lost so much while I chose to experiment with alcohol. Candy didn’t even know the full extent of her ability to emotionally disconnect and withdraw when exposed to a “typical alcoholic”. She had family issues going way back with alcoholism, and me being “that guy” brought her back to a family situation that she fled from as a mere child. There was no way she would tolerate that behavior from me.
I don’t think it’s too late for me though, I started reading “Be Here Now” and it gave me an insight and perception that I had not thought of or realized for a very long time. It was like reading that first Dianetics book and realizing that there were a lot of statements in there that I “knew already but never thought of in that way.”
I realized as I was reading Be Here Now by Ram Dass how similar his ability to recall things everyone already kind of knows in a different way is to L Ron Hubbard. The severe difference is that L Ron Hubbard doesn’t write from the perspective of someone who has done LSD.
Ram Dass also traveled India extensively and met with many gurus who made a profound impact on his perception of this reality. The influence of being on LSD a lot of the time could have impacted or biased that experience, but when you think about it, it would bias it in exactly the direction he was meant to go.
Be here now is all about figuring out the simple truth that you are exactly where you are supposed to be at any given time, given your desire to either find enlightenment or hide from it.
Everyone is on a path, and some people ride that path with blinders on, protecting them from seeing the potential branches that they could take which would change their lives for the better, forever.
I have used “drugs” to open my perception beyond what my bias and upbringing and limited education would allow. I have expanded the very experience of my reality by opening my mind up to alternate states of consciousness.
People who are all like “drugs, ew” are so “white and uptight” that it kills me. I can easily see why so many Caucasians will reject the race that they happened to be assigned at birth in favor of one that isn’t so fucking uptight!
I have spent a great deal of time in waiting rooms, getting the much needed and neglected medical attention for myself and “The Candy” simply because the opportunity was provided by this thing “Obamacare” that so many “fake conservatives” are all worked up over. I dread another “republican in name only” getting into office to destroy any chance I have to get medical care while at the same time creating a moral panic over “obscenity” to appeal to the religious right. 🙁
I have read a great deal of spiritual material in those waiting rooms, and I feel that I am very very far from total enlightenment, but even the very first step towards it is enthralling, exhilarating, and beautiful.
I have realized that no matter who I was, or have been, there is room in my heart for change, for the better.
I know that no matter what beliefs I have stubbornly held onto in the past, I can see the “big picture” just a little clearer now. I know that my dependence on any substance has been some kind of false idol that I worship and make sacrifice to in order to maintain my personal status quo of procrastination.
If the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem. I passed that little nugget of self awareness months, if not years ago. I just needed a reason to grow emotionally. I needed to find hope and salvation in the potential of a future I really wanted in order to make myself prepared and available for that future to occur in this reality.
Now, as I take the baby step of quitting smoking, I realize that there is something in my distant future that requires and demands that little positive change in order to allow a chain of events to occur. I am thinking of time a little differently now. Instead of thinking of time on a straight line, I can see how the present intersects with the future due to consequence in ways that I could not see or did not want to see before.
The simple act of quitting smoking has caused me to begin to realize a whole set of new future realities, that never would have occurred to me without having had the experiences I have had, good and bad.
If I had not gone through so much bad shit, I would not have had the motivation or inspiration to continue to get better, and continue to grow spiritually. When I say grow spiritually, do not confuse that with the whole fucked up and contradictory phenomenon known as “religion”.
They are not the same, and can’t be, because current mainstream eastern religion inhibits personal growth by keeping women down and restricting sexual behavior. It will always seem back woods and “redneck”. Just look at any given argument against “same sex marriage”.
I have to laugh when I see what bigoted fools the highly reverent and religious are making of themselves to this current, slightly more enlightened generation.
Maybe I am so lucky, because while in one of my altered states of consciousness, I had this crazy idea of leaving everything I knew so well to travel west and land in allegedly fabulous Las Vegas. I followed some sense of what I know will happen in the future. I know that Louisiana will be one of the very last hold outs to legalizing marijuana.
I know that as voters turn down medical marijuana in the deep southern state of Florida, voters in Nevada approved medical marijuana over a decade ago, but the state of Nevada is pussyfooting around because they are so scared of being hassled over “gaming”. Dicks.
I think that I realize just how lucky I am, to have moved to where I did, just when I did, and follow a highly disciplined regimen of living on next to nothing for over 3 years. It sounds totally crazy, even to me, but I seem to know what’s coming, and I am planning every step of the way before I even realize what I am planning for.
Everything just happens as it is supposed to. I take limited risks in tiny micro social environments, and I create an outcome that I really want. I am faced with a challenge larger than I have ever attempted in all my life in the future. I have to make everything exactly the way I want it, in a way that is even more perfect than I have set it up in the present. The scary part is, I know I am capable of doing it, and it will be done.
I am just that lucky. 🙂
I got an impulse to write a note here, after months, and after abusing anything resembling “writing skills” by making a nuisance of myself to a few people online.
I have recognized a behavior, that has taken place over the past couple of months, that was simply a progression of an embedded behavior that started years ago, with my experiment in addiction transfer.
It is probably obvious what I transferred to, and I think that there is a blog post here from the distant past that goes into very specific detail about the process. I have to check that, because if I wasted it on facebook I am a dumb ass.
I may have written it in a long, drawn out, mostly skimmed over or completely unread email, to someone who could not take me seriously because I was making the observation while intoxicated.
Over the past few weeks, I made a serious effort to break out of the loop I had created and neatly inserted myself into. I created a series of “personal ads” on any and every site that would allow for contact before having to pay a membership.
In the process, I came across someone very unique. She had an hour glass shape, but she had a career that prevented any kind of sexual content from being created involving her. I got to know her well enough to respect her career enough to tell her never to let me or anyone else ever take nude photos of her.
Over the course of just days, some of the emails got pretty intense. I got to know things about this woman that she told me most of her closest friends didn’t know. Before I knew it, I was talking to a person instead of a body.
It had been a long time, since I had serious, in depth, mutually beneficial contact with the outside world. Over just a few days of talking to her, the energy I expelled was so great that I was distracted from drinking. After a few weeks of heavy drinking to knock back the stress of taxes and a malfunctioning health insurance exchange, I had started to cause a progression of the drinking that was draining me, and draining Candy as well.
While talking to this one individual, I was granted with a temptation to keep my facilities in tact instead of blowing them away partially with 8-10 Milwaukee’s Best Ice. I only realized after a few days how easy it was for me to pour myself into my interests rather than kill interest in anything with the abuse of alcohol.
I broke down the exact mechanism by which I was using alcohol to wipe out anxiety, but I needed that anxiety in order to maintain order. The more I allowed myself to escape a familiar, inspirational form of anxiety, the further behind I got on everything, and everyone.
Candy hadn’t gotten to the point where she was threatening to leave. She was patient, and somehow tolerating my behavior, occasionally reminding me that it was hurting her, and occasionally blowing up in such a way that made it very difficult to restrain myself from escalating, especially while intoxicated.
Just a few days of some kind of deep, intimate, intellectual contact with another human being helped me to see from her perspective what I was doing to Candy. She had her own issues to work out, and I was trying to help her with them, because I let her know how grateful I was that she helped me to see things from just one outside perspective.
I had been isolating myself for so very long, based on many contributing factors. First, there is Candy’s social anxiety. I would feel guilty to go out every weekend partying with the fabulous people of Las Vegas while she sat at home, exploring a virtual world of “second life”.
While she would not show any signs of missing out to me, I am sure she would feel some kind of disappointment or envy if I casually walked out of the apartment to meet groups of people, while she sat confined by her own anxiety.
Just the thought of what she might feel caused me to start isolating myself. I removed myself from local groups on facebook, and I made absolutely no attempts to socialize locally. Every once in a while, I would get really loaded and write some weird 5000 word rant to someone in email, because I was having distress about my first world problems.
That wasn’t interaction, that was a one sided psychic barrage of negative energy, that the recipient didn’t need to deal with. I would be tempted to attempt an apology to each and every person I have ranted to like this, but I probably apologized at the end of it, knowing that I was in psycho drunk mode.
Talking to that one human being, that I never met, made me want to be a better person for Candy, because from her perspective. I could see more in depth how my behavior was hurting her, and more importantly, hurting myself. I knew I was letting myself get behind, I knew I was letting myself and everything I care about slip by as I literally walked right outside of time and space itself, creating a whole reality that only I could see.
That’s the biggest problem with alcohol. It’s a beautiful drug, with a potentially wonderful high, but once an individual is under it’s spell, it is way too tempting to pass way beyond any reasonable or acceptable limit. Once the limit is passed, one part of me is sleeping, and a very obnoxious, negative, pessimistic, condescending, arrogant, asshole comes out.
I would watch the television show “Cops” and laugh at the topless drunk guys trying to fight four or five police at once. I know exactly what is going through that guys mind, and it is depressing to me. The ride up to that point is fun, thrilling, and mind altering. The problem comes in when the mind has been altered to a point beyond reason and the ability to see consequence.
The woman I talked to for days eventually burned out, exactly like I told her she would. I made a comparison to her with a high wattage light bulb, that burns out so much faster than a lower wattage one. I told her this just days before she freaked out and could not handle the restraint it took to stop being a slut and make a few real friends for once.
I knew it got too deep, too fast, and she was developing feelings for me because I was the first guy who resisted her advances in order to get to know her as a person. It was not easy. She has a wonderful hour glass shape, much like the Venus of Willendorf I love to rant about so much. I told her about this, and of course, she had seen one of those statues a long time ago and remarked how much her body resembled it.
I told her that as a “fat woman”, she had an appeal that remarkably few “fat women” have. I have this whole obsession with the way that those Venus statues have that shape for a reason. That shape is extremely powerful, visually stimulating, and highly distracting. Even guys who don’t think they have any interest in “fat chicks” could easily get tripped up while under the spell of the “involuntary stare reflex”. The sight of such proportions has to be visually stimulating to more people than most people think, because I knew that the first woman I found with this shape would be noticed instantly once she had a web site.
It would appear that my new found friend had suffered the kind of sex drive that one might imagine could come with such a powerful figure. She never could figure out why she thought of herself as ugly because she was “too big”, yet guys hit on her mercilessly. She had impulse control issues, so she would give in, and then feel shame and guilt over it later. Once I got to know that much about her, it was easy to resist her occasional sexual comment out of respect to her as a person, and the trouble she had gone through with such a condition.
We helped each other somehow, and neither one of us got what our fantasies really would have wanted from the situation. I know that both of us really wanted to fuck each other badly, and in the back of my mind, I would involuntarily be working out a way for that to potentially happen “one day”.
One day could not come soon enough though, because the second the woman talked to Candy, she started to kind of hit on her as if she was a guy. Candy is no stranger to that kind of attention, and she resisted any sexual response. That actually offended the woman, because she had not hit on a woman in over a decade, and now she was rejected.
It’s sad, that the one time that Candy got her hopes up to meet someone that could be a new friend since October of last year, and the woman starts acting like a guy that wants to “hit that”. Candy could forgive this, but because the woman allegedly felt so ashamed, she had to call off a meeting that would have been planned just days later. She deleted her email account and her personal ad, but within 24 hours I found her replacement, visited it, and she was already writing me back.
I was disappointed, because here I was, sobering up so that I could focus and concentrate hard enough to “make something happen” after almost a decade of self isolation. The first visit would have been set up with no expectations of any physical contact at all. We were all trying to act like responsible adults, and meet as friends, get to know each other, and see what happens over time. It would have been awesome for a first visit to be completely non sexual, for the sake of Candy getting to know a fraction about this woman that I already learned.
Part of the reason I was so fascinated with getting these two women together was because of their personalities, not because I wanted to see them awkwardly attempt some kind of super sized lesbian encounter. I really wanted to see the energy exchanged between two women who held the same power, and suffered from some of the exact same consequences, over some periods of time that are literally just a few years off in age from each other.
They had the same trauma, the same issues, and the same heightened sexuality as a result of being stimulated for the first time in a highly inappropriate situation at an age that would create conflicting feelings about an event that should never have happened to them. I called it “sexually advanced”, because even though it was a result of trauma and abuse, it still happened to them, maybe because they held this power of attraction their whole lives, and a few weak souls who were wrongly given opportunity took advantage of it in the worst way possible. They would also be conflicted about their abuse, because at times, thoughts of it would feel just as stimulating and erotic to them as it felt wrong and traumatic.
Because I spent so much brain power figuring this woman out, and predicting exactly what was going to happen, I was finally inspired in two ways. First, to break the cycle that I placed myself in with alcohol. I didn’t really want to see it as a loop, because when you are in one, it is very difficult to WANT to see you are in one. If an individual is escaping reality to begin with, time is unfortunately a part of that very reality. Second, because of her insight, I could see myself from Candy’s eyes, as I tried not to get drunk so I could type properly to her.
The loop is easily established because humans are creatures of habit. We want regularity, schedule, and self discipline. Alcohol can over-ride the impulse to create order, and the anxiety that is in place to keep us on our toes in a very brutal reality. While alcohol seems wonderful and magical in wiping out anxiety, it seems to work a little too well on people with my specific condition, so far undiagnosed professionally.
While alcohol is kicking ass on anxiety, it is also taking away ambition, drive, motivation, inspiration, dedication, devotion, discipline, control, and vision. It takes away the ability to see what it is doing to yourself. I am very skilled at abusing things, because I got to the point where I could drink the cheapest and nastiest beer I can find at room temp, to avoid making trips to the fridge that Candy could hear, each one bringing her deeper into a level of potential conflict.
Maybe I needed to “sneak around”, and because I devoted myself to Candy, beer was the last great frontier of taboo behavior. I don’t crave the substance itself, I crave the altered head space. I enjoy the personality that comes out in the early phases of alcohol intoxication, but that is already an alter ego, who will gladly break all limitations that sober me put on myself.
I kept trying to fool myself into thinking that I could get a 12 pack, and not wipe more than half of it out. I thought I could stop at 6, saving another 6 for another day, and not even the very next day. That got fucked up though. I started getting a 12 pack, almost finishing it, feeling like crap the next day. Then, I might not drink that day, or, I might finish off the 2 or 3 left, get a little buzz, and get way too tempted to get another 12 pack and start over. That was progression. I wanted to keep using it so badly that I was fooling myself into believing that I was trying to control intake, when the drug was controlling me.
All this started because I placed a few personal ads, not because I thought the grass was greener, but quite the opposite. I created the ads to return to a mind space where Candy was gone for those 8 months. I could probably feel her disappointment and resentment over my losing control of the beer, when she only came back because I agreed to give up vodka.
From the moment I created the first ad, I could see the exact same patterns in the women that would appear available in my age group. It appeared that the few I would be attracted to went to a great deal of trouble to explain how unavailable they were, which meant they had baggage, which meant they were self conflicted, which meant they could be highly sexual.
Yeah, I am way beyond the “fat chicks are easy” thing. I know better. Fat chicks are actually harder, unless you know how to pick them. 🙂
I spent so much time wondering if I was conflicted about my real agenda in creating the personal ads, because obviously I have a very active imagination, which is something else the alcohol was killing. It was also pulling my sex drive down just a little bit. Not too much though, because even though Candy doesn’t want to have sex with a drunk guy, the drunk guy has literally worn her pussy out.
I have to point out, that I was compelled almost involuntarily to write here, after months of no activity. That gap in time between now and the last blog post is probably the length of time that I was falling down the alcohol spiral of non motivation, and I just allowed it to continue.
Maybe it was actually painful for me to use my brain for a while. When I am sober, I can tell I will be one of those hyper thinking former alcoholic types, because the abuse of alcohol was partially attributed to racing thoughts and high mental energy.
The effort I invested in getting to know this woman on a deeper level than just a few random fucks behind someone else’s back was invaluable. The perspective is something I could not obtain from a shrink I could not afford. Even though she dumped me, technically, even as just “friends”, I could only be disappointed for a little while because she granted me with something that I never would have had if I had not virtually met her online.
So few women have such a sexy shape, and even fewer have the intuition to show it off in full length body photos instead of hiding it away out of frame in endless face photos.
She was naturally going to get an avalanche of response, because that’s what she needed to build her confidence, because of a non existent, failing movement known as “size acceptance”.
Right here in Las Vegas, where there is “bbw shit” going on every other week, there are literally tons of beautiful, sexy, intelligent, amazing fat women who will never even know about it, much less have a desire to expose themselves to the kind of social pecking order that must exist in those types of environments.
Candy isolated herself once she hit a certain size because she was smaller herself once, and she always felt sorry for women that look like she does now. She can’t go out, even with a group of allegedly like minded “fellow fatties”, because she will project the judgement and shame of her size on every person she meets, even if that was the last thing on their minds.
She is embarrassed and humiliated, to the point where she imagines that some repeated invitations to meet out at some bar with some group were just to ridicule how fat she had gotten. Yes, if you were not aware, fat women do ridicule other fat women because of their size differences. 🙁 THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SIZE ACCEPTANCE. It costs the diet industry TOO MUCH FUCKING MONEY. It is much better to make fat people hate themselves, because you can make more money on drugs, surgery, and “treatment centers” that shoot people up with God knows what.
Because Candy hasn’t wanted to go out to bars to meet entire groups of strangers all at once, she has felt a sense of rejection that all attention directed to her seems to have something to do with enticing her into doing exactly what she doesn’t want to do. These strange people have no idea of how humiliating it is to her to be asked to go somewhere, and when she declines, that’s pretty much the end of interest in her. We have been in Las Vegas for almost 2 years, and no model has ever appeared with Candy Godiva in that time.
It’s no skin off my teeth, I am perfectly grateful and content just to work with her and only her for the rest of my life. I just thought it was very ironic that in a city that is allegedly buzzing with bbw activity, there is at least one SSBBW who did get left behind.
I guess I drifted just a little, which means I have to wrap this up, because I have shit to do, and now I have to re-read all of this! It is easy to see why alcohol has been so tempting for me. My mind really works like this. I think like this. It is sometimes difficult for me to stay on track with just one subject, because I see connections that always lead so very far away. I am still trying to figure out how to exploit this talent to my advantage, and it’s not even about money, because obviously I am not too concerned with that. What irony, I live in Vegas, where everybody is trying to screw everybody else over, and I don’t give a fuck about money anymore.
Wow, what an observation. I am not on alcohol either. I have often said on facebook that I think I get even weirder off of alcohol, because there is some part of me that I have pushed down for so very long that I have to get used to being that person all over again.
Part of the person I used to be, was a model recruiter. Even if I don’t give two shits if I find a single model in this awful, God forsaken place, I will at least try. It has helped me to overcome another compulsion that was hurting me and my relationship. The grass is not greener. Another good reason for creating personal ads was to see all of the trauma and human debris that has been discarded for decades, sometimes for very good reason.
I wanted to see the horror and disappointment I would be faced with, having such a specific preference, being so very old, and knowing that I am actually “picky” even though I am attracted to the type of women most guys claim they could never be attracted to, but jerk off to secretly, thanks to me, and my super morbidly obese porn.
Yeah, it is going to take some getting used to, this part of me that I was literally drowning in ice beer. It is only just coming to the surface, and I have placed personal ads at ok cupid, fet life, plenty of fish, saucydates, connectingsingles, myfreepersonals, and datehookup. I have openly admitted to being in a relationship (where they even allow), and my only ambition there is to make new friends.
I may have fantasies, and one day a few of them may actually come true. They don’t rule me though, and I am living with an ultimate fantasy that I never thought I would see again when she left the last time. I was driving her away again, because I wanted to escape my isolation into a secondary alcohol induced isolation.
I believe that I wanted to take control of my decision to isolate myself, as painful as it may have been, by sinking into a state where I had to isolate myself from Candy for the periods of time that I was drinking too heavily. That probably makes absolutely no sense.
By creating all of this attempt to be social (and no, facebook isn’t social, it’s fucking fake social), I was able to find just one person who actually read most of my ranting instead of ignoring it. Unfortunately, I did not mean to create feelings in her that would have caused her to need to reject the friendship, but I hope I was able to teach her that she can find a guy that is just as interested in what’s in her head as he is about her massive, ginormous cup size…
I had my own fantasies of course, and Candy had to know it, as I awkwardly attempted to lure the sexiest woman I found locally on ok cupid right into the apartment to meet with us as purely friends with no expectations.
If I was so fumbling and awkward this time, I have learned. Candy knows that I will not be isolated any longer, and she also knows that as I set a better example for her by not drinking at all, I expect more out of her in facing her fears too.
I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to, but just for a few days, Candy wanted to meet this fucking woman. The one thing that kind of pisses me off is that this woman hurt Candy more than me, because Candy never even saw this shit coming. She is talking to a woman about meeting up on sunday just to talk at first. Then she is being told that she is too sexy and she will cause this woman to embarrass herself if she makes a move that she allegedly could not help herself from making, because she wanted to fuck both of us that bad, and she could not be patient… 🙁
I wasn’t even trying to fuck the woman from the first damn visit, but in my extreme self examination with her, she got pulled into something that was way too deep for her to handle. It would surprise you to know that she has a career in a field where she has to work with people.
I know it’s in the back of Candy’s mind, that some day, maybe… As long as I am not the horny, pushy, sleazy guy who is pushing hard or forcing her into it. No, I am making new friends… What happens from there is up to her. If i get a raging boner I do have 2 wonderful holes and a multitude of fat creases to use to relieve that condition, that happened to be owned by a woman I really never thought I would still be with, much less living in Las Vegas with, and defeating alcoholism with.
I did slip just the other day, when this woman broke up with “us” before ever meeting “us”. I was disappointed that I caused Candy disappointment, because I knew I was never going to be smooth enough to pull off what I probably was trying to pull off in the back of my mind.
I hate to say that there is an equal exchange thing going on, but Candy hated drunk me. She knows that drunk me is a manifestation of my issues with abandonment, anxiety, insecurity, and isolation. She knows I can’t isolate myself, which is why she actively participates in my attempts to make new friends, even if she has serious anxiety about it, because she knows what I am capable of when I am not drinking…
I know I will probably still drink occasionally, but I will see it as a “slip” and not a “habit”. By habituating the regular use of beer, I was making it a part of a loop that caused me to allow everything I care about to decay and atrophy. I know that Candy is aware that there is a great energy shift going on, because if I even raise my voice while talking to her at this point, she has to say “energy!”, to remind me that I am psychically impacting her.
Oh, that’s another thing. I had totally been downplaying the psychic thing because it’s something I like to think about, and fantasize about having, but I am endlessly frustrated by the way it always happens in a way that looks like coincidence instead of intuition. I like to imagine that I use calculation to determine the future from using data of the past and present. I have to imagine that occasionally, there is a calculation that is just too close to call, so maybe there is actually something to the small nudge that some kind of inner intuition can create.
Alcohol was also destroying intuition, because it interfered with an ability to calculate probability, and visualize consequence. Visualization was also highly distorted. All of this shit feels really awesome when you are “drunk”, but if I get drunk as often as every other day, the residual effects that alcohol has will still continue to influence me even when I appear to be sober. Damn my studies in neurology! I have to go!