Looking at the Date

I just glanced at the date. Of course I know what day it is. But it’s not always on my mind.

I was looking at the weather. It’s snowing here. It’s going down to 18 tonight and I have DBT group.

I’ve put a shit ton of money into fixing my car in recent months so I am not going to chance slipping and sliding in the ice.  That money came from a savings account that was to go toward moving out of the shit hole we presently live in.

So much for that.

But it was while looking at a weather website to gauge whether I should venture out tonight, when the date registered.

It’s my mother’s birthday.


I Do Not Understand

*Seriously harsh language.

How is it that psychopaths and sociopaths get away with making lives of people they don’t know so damn miserable???

The fucking jack off who lives next door pulls into the fucking parking lot next door with his music blaring and sometimes he keeps it on while he fiddles once again with the fucking speakers in his car.

Last Saturday he was out there from 5pm til about 10pm with just a tone coming through the speakers.

This bullshit started in October after living in this shit hole for a little over a year. I complained about it one day, to the asshole landlady, thinking she might care about her tenants quality of life in the apartment she rents out.

That’s the biggest un-funny joke ever.

She texted back that she hadn’t even noticed it, that she can’t do anything about it even if she had and then advised me to go talk to him if it was bothering me.

You know, fuck you Nasty! I don’t  need the mommy advice. I’m a big girl who already thought of that. Duh. And in fact did that.

He did seem to calm down for some weeks, only pulling in with the music blasting, maybe listening for 5 minutes and then going inside. But it didn’t last. Even that was intrusive and disturbing but it was better than it had been and what it has/had become.

I’m not sure what it will continue as because this fuck-head is unpredictable as fuck.

At 11:03 tonight I heard and felt the blast, which let me know he was home. It continued for a little while and I think he is gone now. But who the fuck knows, he could be back.

His presence and this problem takes a lot of my energy. My mind and body are in constant anticipation for it now. It’s a really shitty way to live. He can be out there with it blasting for various amounts of time and the times are always different.  I was ready to actually leave tonight when he pulled in. The plan was to go to Whole Foods but then when it continued to be ‘quiet’, I just stuck around.

One night a few weeks ago, I saw him out in his car, fucking with his speakers, after it had been fairly peaceful for a few weeks. The next day is when the super vibration started.  And then he was out there again last night, readjusting yet again. (Video below.)

I have a feeling he may now be making a point to blast his shit, to get “back at” a woman in his building (which is next door to us). There was one Sunday that he was working on those fucking speakers and the music was up and down and when the volume was up, so was the bass. It shook our apartment over here.

What the actual fuck??? How is the landlord over there letting this piece of trash do this shit??? Never mind, don’t answer that. I’ve had enough landloads to know they don’t give one fuck about their tenants peace and enjoyment. I had a slumlord once who allowed a sick and loud ass alcoholic live in his building. This asshole would be up at all hours with his stereo blaring and then he’d pound on the walls and the floor…all this at 3 am. I worked and went to school when I lived there. My apt was in front of his And there was a young woman with a toddler, who lived next to him. And the scumbag landlord let this trash live there.

I swear I attract this shit. And in that situation it was kind of the same because I’d been living there for a while before that sick fuck moved in and started disturbing the peace. And same thing happened here.

Anyway, back to present day shit hole and that aforementioned Sunday… I heard a woman’s voice yell out a window to that piece of shit, “Turn it down!”

And like a punk, he whined, “I am.” Like a little boy whose mother just told him to stop doing something he still wanted to do.

The woman is in a second floor apartment over there and that apartment is right across from ours. She lives there with her child so, how do you imagine she feels when this fuck-wad pulls in at 11pm blaring music not giving one shit about anyone else.

My feeling is that he has it in for her. Because I doubt that was the only time she said something to him. She has a kid, so…

I don’t know, maybe she complained. Maybe she called the cops. But he pulls up right under her window now each night and has been parking there pretty regularly. And when he does, I’ve noticed and heard him give the volume knob one big turn (you know like, for good measure) and then turn it down and off.

I mean it could be me he’s after too. I approached and said something to him face to face one night while he was out there being a nuisance. But  it was fairly peaceful. I mean I was visibly bothered by it, but I kept my cool and there was no yelling by either side.

But he knows I live here and it’s just really convenient for him because where he parks is right between the two of us women who dared speak up and call him out on his fucked up behavior.

How the fuck is it that shit always works out for the worst people on the planet?

This was last night and there’s a shit ton of traffic on our road. Yet another thing that works in his favor because if I take these videos to the cops they won’t hear his shitty music and how loud it actually is.

A Lonely Prison

Below is a post I wrote and set in DRAFT last week sometime. I am trapped in a hell right now. In the past I have pushed for things from people who time and time again prove that is not who they are or what they are willing to give me. And I’ve been in what I simply refer to as “a situation” with someone now where my needs aren’t met.

When I say that I’m not talking physically/sexually. Albeit it would be nice to have someone who offered a comforting hug when I needed one, but he’d have to sense that in the first place and I have never seen that as a trait in him.

What I’m talking about though is validation, communication, some sign of fucking life.  And in so pushing for that, I have become someone I can’t even stand to look at in the mirror anymore. I make myself sick. Oh, I resent him, but I hate myself more.

I have wasted so much time trying to control and twist someone else to what I want and need that I’ve now become old, tired, exhausted, without any satisfaction in life.

I can’t deny my anger toward him, and others. But my anger is mostly with myself. Maybe I didn’t know any different or better. Maybe I thought all this time that’s what I was supposed to do…struggle to get my what I needed and wanted from the people who were actually available to me, instead of kicking them to the curb when I realized they’d never fit into what I had hoped for myself.

More waking up to more painful things.

It’s only been crumbs for me. I was brainwashed into believing that’s all I was supposed to get. Otherwise it was selfish to even think I should have more.

So I fight…mostly with myself.  I push them away, knowing I’m not satisfied. But I’m lonely so I pull them back in…if they’re willing.

In therapy this week we talked about B’s lack of ability to care about pretty much anything. I blame myself for a portion of that. But my blame also lies in the fact that I didn’t see everything I needed to see. I didn’t accept what was right in front of my eyes, time and time again. Not just with B but with just about every person I chose to attempt a close relationship with.

I also never really liked myself much so the idea of letting someone stay or get close was too scary. So although I was never much of a catch in my mind, I also settled for people in my life who didn’t treat me the way I needed because I didn’t (still don’t) think I deserved to be treated in any way but shitty. Which is why I sabotaged every relationship with a significant other and some friendships.

I’m now at the point where everything PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF!  I’m  a big fat fucking mess myself though. I want to blame everyone I know for the beat down I’ve received from every one of them. But where is that gonna get me?

OK they are blamed. Now what? I feel hate, I feel anger, frustration and rage. Now what?

Will any of them care, will any of them come to my rescue? Will any of them say, “Oh, ST, I’m really sorry what I put you through? Will B suddenly open up and tell me what he’s thinking and feeling? Will he suddenly become the validating man I need in my life?

No! Every answer is a big resounding NO!

So what’s left? Sit around and scowl, blame and rage? Eat my emotions by stuffing my face with all the junk food that I know is almost as detrimental to me as a drug habit?

Do I smoke and drink myself to death?

Because I can tell you this. If I don’t utilize these very difficult emotions, if I don’t find a way to see this toxic (becoming more toxic by the minute) situation as an opportunity instead of a prison, my life will certainly end in tragedy.

I’ve missed a lot of opportunities. I squandered many.

I think about a guy I dated a couple times in high school. A guy who noticed me before I even knew who he was. A guy who had many friends, felt comfortable around people, a popular guy, but also a really nice guy. I’d bet many needs would be met if things worked out.

If I’d taken a certain career path instead of making excuses that kept me from possible success, I’d have never met B. If I continued along that path, I would be well enough off right now to likely retire and not NEED anyone for financial help.

It’s like this parallel reality I didn’t get to experience.  Anyway, below is the post I had in DRAFT.

Last night while I laid awake in bed, having a difficult time sleeping, for reasons I’m aware of, I noticed the tree outside my window. It wasn’t the first time I noticed the tree itself of course. I have loved that tree since we’ve moved in here.

I can’t remember exactly when, but within the year and a half we’ve been here, a tree cutting company came and cut a lot of the big branches at the top of the tree. There’s actually a whole row of trees along the front of the property next door. The one I can see outside my window, is just one of them.

You can see in my photos how the tree grew back small branches. What I noticed though for the first time, as I laid in bed looking out at the tree, is that these branches form what looks like bars for a cage. Even the imperfection and different directions they go in depicts perfectly how I’ve been feeling. Tangled and chaotic.

In this one (above) the branch coming upward from the bottom looks to me like an open wound. It represents th emotional open wounds I can still feel inside of me. The little branches seem to be growing out of that open sore, that keeps trying to heal, while at the same time those little branches also look like they could be going in the other direction, like poking sticks into the open wound. Those branches still form bars to a cage though, either way you look at it.

I was going to edit out the upper right corner where I caught a part of the window, but I changed my mind because it’s a good representation of the darkness I feel much of the time and even when I’m not engulfed by it, it is always looming. That clump at the top of that large branch looks like an old nest.  And the word “nest” tends to have negative connotations for me much of the time. Because of where I come from the word is associated in my mind with narcissists and hornets. And the branches (bars) are ever present.

Here I see another open wound, even worse than the other one. In comparison it looks like the other one is trying to heal.  This one looks rotted, under and behind an entanglement of branches. It has turned black. The damage that has been done, runs deep and is infected. But it stays put among the chaos.

I have a habit of saying to myself, “I don’t care” when I actually do care. When I’m angry, when I feel trapped and when I’m disgusted with myself and others around me, I say out loud in my mind, “I don’t care.” But it’s only a passive aggressive reaction. It’s a defense. It’s a way to somehow try to trick myself into feeling OK with a shitty situation.

Well, I’m breaking that habit because I do fucking care.

I care that I hate my living situation.

I do care that the carpet stinks in this place and the land lady didn’t even have it professionally cleaned before we moved in.

I do care that I have to put up with a shitty inconsiderate cock sucker of a neighbor who blares his music outside from his car with no consideration for others.

I do care that no one can or will do anything about it.

I do care that I live with a guy who doesn’t know how to take care of a woman.
Yep, I said it. And just to be clear I’m not talking about sex.

I do care that I am dependent on someone else.

I do care that I feel dead inside and becoming deader as the days turn into weeks, turn into months, turn into years.

I do care that my parents didn’t prepare me for the real world.

I do care that my entire family is so narcissistic that they scapegoated me and made me their trash dump and door mat.

I do care that I am floundering ever deeper into poverty.

I do care that I (and B) wasted the opportunity we had to save and prep for a better future while living in a decent house, in a decent neighborhood for more than reasonable rent.

I do care that I am chronically angry.

I do care that I lack the empathy much of the time when the cat is demanding something from me.

I do care that I’ve gotten fat.

I do care about what I look like.

I do care that I look and feel ten years older than I actually am.

I do care that I have not taken care of myself, because I look like I don’t actually care.

I do care that I continue to hide and shrink myself.

I do care that I feel the need to do so because I’m forever comparing myself.

I do care that I keep trying to fit into the boxes that other people seem to think I belong in.

Does anyone think it’s strange to be angry the next day?

I told my therapist one session that I had gone to bed angry one night and then woke up still angry.

She turned to me and said, “Really?!?”

I found it strange that she didn’t understand this and she told me it’s unusual. Well, it’s not unusual for me. If I went to bed angry, it’s pretty likely that I’ll be angry when I wake up too.

Noise Nuisance Neighbor

Just as I begin to adjust to this place, this happens:  I apologize for the bouncy camera work. It was a quick grab of the camera to record this noise.  The big bang sounds you hear at about the 1:05 mark, that is the bass vibrating from his speakers.

This guy is a freak about his sound system. He spent hours on perfecting the sound back in the autumn. One night last week, I saw him out there fiddling around yet again, tools strewn all over the inside of the car. (I could see from my vantage point, which is my living room window, and where he was parked that particular night. He is pretty much in the same spot he is in, in this video but I am taking this video from my bedroom window. And I just so happened to zoom in on his license plate.

Unfortunately, capturing this on a camera mic doesn’t really translate all that well. But it’s what I’ve got. I am also competing with the traffic on the road in front of my building (which is the back of his building). It’s a main road. Not a highway but pretty heavily traveled, especially at the rush hours.

I recorded again last night (this was two nights ago) and while recording, called 911 (because that’s our only option here) and when I played back the recording, I could hear his stereo in the back ground really loud. I wonder if the guy I spoke to at 911 could hear it as I spoke to him.

If the cops came, I didn’t see them. If they came, he was likely gone by the time they showed up.

I can’t seem to get away from those who display anti-social and sociopathic behavior. I’m like a fucking magnet to such horrible neighbors.

Those with super sonic ears, could you tell me what is whispered at the end of the video please?
Just after he sings the last verse (out of synch I may add) I whisper something. I think it might be: “I guess he thinks he can sing” but I want to be sure.

I also am thinking about sharing this on FB since it’s a local thing.  I’m not sure that having his license plate displayed though would be OK.

6 Painful Core Issues for ACONs

I came across this video a while ago. I watched some of it and then had to stop because it was so hard to listen to that particular day. He hit the proverbial nail right where it counts with this information. It hits home for sure.

I was able to start it over today and I am apparently in a much better place emotionally now, since I was able to make it through all of what he said.

One thing that makes it tough to get through, is that it’s intellectual info. Most I know, but I have no problem listening again or hearing the info presented in different ways. Also, it is helpful knowing it intellectually. That’s where the healing starts. But I very much adhere to the fact that just because you know what’s wrong cognitively, that does not mean you can just be and do differently.

I’ve understood the fucked up nature of my family for decades now and just knowing that, and knowing and learning how I’m a product of that, has yet to make a difference in my programming.

This is an informational video and that’s good. But he is also self-promoting…which is OK too. I think it’s a good idea for therapists who know how to help ACONs let themselves be known. However, it’s frustrating knowing that there are therapists out there who actually finally get it and understand the ACON struggle and not be able to financially utilize that help.

Despite the negatives I point out, I’m still posting it. I would like to refer back to it and it could help others too with some more insight. Besides, sometimes, we can find our own answers and therapize ourselves when we know what it is that’s wrong or toxic.

Seeing My Mother

I was in some building. I think I was interviewing for a job where all the women… and they were all women, wore suits. Even the meeting room, which contained big tall fir trees in pots, wore colorful tree size women’s suits.

It was a not so clear message and I was out of place. The meeting room filled with one by one with women in suits.  I didn’t dress anything like them. I was in a skirt at least, not something you normally find me wearing. It was a dark teal(ish) skirt and blouse set, made of a rayon type material. Even in that I didn’t feel comfortable. I remember thinking how ugly some of those suits were and dreaded the idea that I’d have to wear a suit too if I were to work there.

After the meeting, I was in the large, spacious and vast lobby, getting my belongings together and putting them into a back pack. A young woman, with dark straight hair, which she wore in a pony tail, walked in and recognized me. She said hi from near the door while I was a few yards away from her at a table. I said hi back, but I had confusion on my face.

I asked her if I knew her and she reminded me of who she was. (I don’t remember what she said about that.) She approached me and said, “We might as well talk while I wait for your mom.”

“Oh,” I said, “Then I’m leaving now.”

This woman didn’t know the situation between my mother and me and although I feel shame and don’t openly talk about it (except for here and in therapy), in that moment and in this dream, I didn’t care if she knew.

She asked me why and I told her, “Because I don’t speak to my mother anymore.”
With that, I put my back pack over my shoulders and walked to the door.
Just as I went for the door knob, the door opened from the outside and there I stood face to face with my mother.

I brushed past her and bounced down the front steps of the building and walked down the walkway leading to the sidewalk and rounded the corner a few feet down the sidewalk. My mother then asked me a question:”Did you hear ___________? (I’m not clear now what she asked, but it was about a mysterious sound.

I turned to face her from the sidewalk, standing by the grass that belonged to the bldg I just left. I answered her, she didn’t hear me, so I cut across the grass to get closer to answer her again.  I also felt the hope that this would turn into more of a meaningful conversation.

I answered, “No, I had not heard them.”

She turned and walked through the door.

I turned and started down the sidewalk toward home.

No More Salads for Me (At Least for Now)

I know this is way off topic of my blog but I just felt compelled to write this.

The last three salads I’ve made myself and eaten have not agreed with me at all. I’ve had some not so nice digestive reactions and it doesn’t feel good at all.

My salads consist of a had of romaine hearts as the base, then I just add a few other vegetables. Lately it’s been cucumber, which I left off tonight. I wanted to test and see if that alone was the culprit. Nope. I still had to run to the bathroom.

I must be a glutton for punishment.

Tonight was minimal for the fixins. I had some olives and I used a pickle, something I never put on my salads. I used up the cheese I had and the dressing was my homemade mayo. I also added a tiny bit of hot sauce and some pickle juice to make it a bit more interesting.

I have never used hot sauce, pickles or pickle juice on a salad before, so those things are not necessarily what is making me sick. In fact I used the hot sauce on a pasta dish I heated up the last couple nights, left over from B’s Christmas with his family and I was fine. So it’s not the hot sauce. I have also eaten quite a few of the pickles I used for the salad tonight too and have had no problems. As is the same with the cheese. I have also used my homemade mayo with burgers and have had no issues, so I’m sure it’s not that either.

I pretty much only eat the olives on salads so they could be the problem. But I think the main culprit is the lettuce.

So I will be taking a vacation from lettuce for a while. And what better time than in the winter time when the temps have been in the teens. I need to be eating warm, cooked foods anyway.

Ugh, I feel pretty gross right now.