Or The biggest cut in my wound.
It’s off my chest I’m free now. You got to get the toxic garbage out trust me on that. You can’t live with their nonsense inside of you. Not really. You can live a muted version of life. But you ain’t going to have a real and fulfilling life until you let go of all the toxic bullshit. And when I say all of it, I mean all of it. And I can now tell you this from experience.
I can’t believe how open and forthright I’ve been on this blog. Never in 1 million years would I have thought that I would have the capacity to write whatever I’ve written. But I can tell you this, it’s been necessary. I hope it’s helped others and at this point I know that it has. That’s not surprising or even in anyway personal to me. I know this kind of thing helps, because that’s exactly how I lived through this. It was only by other people’s stories and the validation that comes with that, that allowed me to hang onto my sanity. And I can tell you, it’s a tremendous relief to let all this garbage go. I can actually feel it physically. I’m lighter. there’s room to breath. As I post, the story gets more clear and more obvious to anyone reading along, that what I’m saying is the way things went down. No one could make up what I’ve written, nobody. Nobody could study NPD to this level because they’re making up being attacked by people with NPD. Who would do that? Nobody.
But I didn’t have the strength to break free until they made me. I’m not ashamed of that, however I will say that the rage is real when I think back to how I’ve been fucked with.
But on the other side of all this, (and I know I’ve gone in hard on these twisted souls) I doubt they will ever forgive me. I mean they get upset when they think there’s been a criticism and there hasn’t. So you can only imagine writing the things I’ve written , that if you didn’t believe they wanted me dead before, you can believe it now. I mean that’s not my paranoia. That’s just research into this is, coupled with their actions which disturbing as fuck. And you can also believe that they won’t ever forgive me. But they never really did anyway. They didn’t forgive me just for being who I was. The interesting thing to me is, even as I wrote earlier posts. Somewhere I still didn’t believe that they really wished me Harm. But once I open the story up both to myself and to the world, the facts speak for themselves. And I’m still only just at the very beginning of the story. The story itself is one of their motives. Can you see that? I can now.
Just underneath the surface of me was always this story. The closer I got to it, as with ‘The Family’ , the harsher they became, and the more diabolical. But I was living in La La land. I got myself into a pretty significant drug habit. I was fucking up all over the place. And fucking too much and too many. In short I practically begged for them to take their best shot. And that’s what they did.
The thing about it is this, you make concessions to keep peace. But it’s like walking into a room, you take one step which at first it’s hard to take. A step deeper into their mind and further out of yours. but then the next step is easier to take and the one after that easier still. it’s a process which finally robs you of you. They communicate through patterns like the spirit world. They don’t brainwash you all in one foul swoop. They do it slowly over time. Because that is their main project their main objective to fuck with people. It’s a fun game for them, And one they enjoy taking their time with.
The writing of this blog is intense. Some of it is aggressive and ugly and I’m sorry about that. I’m not an aggressive or ugly person inside. I’ve been provoked to a point where the word “provoked” doesn’t really cut it. More like tortured into it. Cause you know what else is aggressive and ugly. Having to decide between losing your entire family and some lifelong friends or subjugating yourself to further tortures and control. Which invariably will kill you. That’s a rather ugly crossroads to find yourself at.
So far I think this blog has been beyond an appropriate response to all that.
You put anyone in that position and see how cool they look on the other side. If I’ve been less than cool, well, so be it. They ended my life as I knew it. They took a lot away from me. The love of my nephews , easily the biggest cut in my wound.
But now I’m camping ⛺️
It’s my first time ever doing it.
Why is that significant? Cause that’s the benefit of recovering. The world blossoms for you at the same time it’s burning itself down. Like a flower made of fire.
Narc abuse makes us stuck.
Life becomes this boring routine, and the excitement, newness and magic bleed out. Until depression caves in on you and your unable to leave whatever rut you’re in.
I can’t believe you can camp in a way.
And how I didn’t try this before I’ve got no idea.
It was so simple.
I sold a painting in Ann Arbor. Met a guy at my gig, he was there with his daughter and her friend. But he didn’t have the cash so we met the day after in town. Had a great conversation about sobriety and meditation. He mentioned that buying the painting reminded of his dope dealing days as he handed over the cash. An older gent , but added that when he got sober 18 years ago, my music helped quite a lot. I felt great about that.
We shook hands and parted ways and I wondered thru the town in no real hurry to go anywhere. Got some time off now.
There was a shop for camping supplies and it had been in my mind to give it a try based Buddhist teachings where by you need to pay attention to the elements. For instance if you wish to be more grounded then you should acquaint yourself with the earth more directly. “Of course”I thought when I learned that. That makes sense and then the idea for camping was born. That was months ago. But today I had a big ole wad of cash from the sale and I walked into a new reality straight away.
Had fun with the kids who worked at the shop and they set me up with all you need.
“So I’ll just be able to goto a camp site and set this up and that’s it? I asked like an alien who just arrived on planet earth.
“That’s it” they said. “Wow” I thought. And it was that easy. Got a bad ass tent. An air pad. A nice sleeping bag. A head lamp
A hammock and a chair. All of which can fit easily in a backpack.
And boom I’m a camper.
The tent and all of it, easy as hell to set up. And if the weather is as it is, I can’t imagine why I’d pay for a room anywhere. This is so much better. So much freer. Both literally and spiritually
How is it significant?
Because without the toxic avengers bleeding your will to live. Your spirit can blossom
Mine really did when I took up boxing. Another brave thing I did as a result of recovery. Which dramatically improved my life.
From boxing, camping is easy.
These two early gifts of recovery, and I mention them, because with these two gifts I’ve given myself entire new worlds. I love being out here alone. All I need is a space to type words. It doesn’t require much. I set up my tent around 8. And got in and started writing. It’s now 116 am.
Feels like five minutes.
Time moves strangely in recovery. Sometimes it slows down but usually it goes faster than I think. When I’m not writing I can just be. I don’t have to do anything. That’s new as well. That’s freedom. I don’t have to be home anytime soon. I imagine I’ll camp for a few nights and keep writing in my tent, and instead of hurrying home to lay in that apartment. I’ll lay out in the cosmos, in a forest and take my sweet time. That’s freedom.