THE MOUTH OF A 1000 WRONGS💗
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HELP! - I guess I meant, HELLO! Oh, oh, oh, (no!)-Welcome & Welcome back, I am so very glad to chat to my Chasers💗 today..xoxox
Dear Whoever
I am not writing from a burning building (as per my own writing prompt that I could not even complete) due to being in a seasonal, situational, some kind of soulsearching slump with everything. In fact I am only slightly animated over one thing right now and that’s getting a new and improved newsletter schedule worked out for my The Daily Chase! Newsletter & Podcast hit subscribe if you like but as it stands its still under construction (and probably will be updated more times than my phone’s built in Radio App which I never fucking use and I find it hard to believe that anyone does) it seems to be updating every other day! Same.
Not writing from a burning building - I am that burning building. The hotter I get from the inside, the more passionate I am about myself or life or loved ones or all of the above the more disintegrating I become. The wreckage begins. What if I don’t want to take him with me into 2024 and my fear of being alone is the only real thing that is holding me back.
I like that he is comfortable and secure enough in our relationship to be himself to open up so much. I just wish it wasn’t the flesh of my foundations that he was slicing with his razor tongue. I wish it wasn’t my soul that was being torn with jagged fangs and chewed up in the mouth of a thousand wrongs.
I think that is the only introspective question that right now, this moment in time, I can answer wholeheartedly accurately and concise… I am not ready to leave my soulmate behind. I love him and I love him more than myself and I never want to love anyone else less that myself. I want to take care of my business and nourish my soul and love is too strong a hold, coming from my side… I don’t want to love myself - i couldn’t handle such pressure.
There’s a fine line between insular and regression and I just made that line up to rhyme. He says I am a narcissist and I had to oblige that he might have been right at an earlier stage of my life. I mean when I lived alone, isolated and suffered from suicidality (before the suffering too hold and manifested into something the doctors called schizophrenia,back in the days when that was the major umbrella diagnoses),
I had no one, not a single soul to connect with. So i turned inward and outwardly would consult mirrors and my reflection was a bitch who I didn’t negate my emotions with. I couldn’t recognised that cunt as being who I was. I looked good don’t get me wrong, I was attractive back then - thank fuck - I would smoke weed in the mirror whilst doing my make up..
Then contemplate the make up of who I was. I blew smoke rings in front of the smoked glass table top. I spat soap and water back at the slag shining back with big black eyes through the back of the showerhead. I cleaned windows so that I didn’t have to stare into them and see my own soul shrinking before my eyes. I cried a thousand times and laughed at my tears and bloodshot stoned eyes. I told my friend how I describe them after upset. My eyelids resemble Mr Miyagi at sunrise after plucking his bonsai tree collection in a shed for hours through the night.
I ugly cry. I don’t elicit the same sympathy that most people might should any other human being see. Good job there was only me looking. I don’t respond well to emotion in others.. I freeze. I act on silence and I’m shit at comforting. Whatever I am doing when someone starts balling in front of me and I really really care and hate to see what’s happening. I employ the 5xS method and it suits nobody fine, works none of the time but it’s all I can do when it matters the most.
Stop
Stand
Stare
Silence
Stroke*
and *Stroke I did, with whatever it is I have in my hand or nearby or neither (just never my hands) why? I don’t fucking know. Like if I am cooking, the poor soul who is crying and waiting for my reaction forthcoming, I panic tap them on the back trying to be comforting until they look up and laugh because I’m dripping ‘spag bol’ on their top and almost burning them with the still hot ladle. Worse than that they get poked in the leg with a pen or pencil as I give my very best puppy dog eyes with full respect, but I’ll never forget when I found out my Nana was dead and my Dad lost his head - I was his rock and came to his rescue with a the end of a mop!
That’s only half false. I actually told him when he approached me open armed for a hug, that I “don’t do hugs - oh go on then!” at the wake of our matriarch. I can’t comfort in the regular ways that people often comfort me. So, back to the story of me in the mirror trying to comfort myself with utter disdain. I did eventually go insane but in those lonely months prior to the main event that took place. I build up the longest, hardest, deepest, most sadistic relationship with myself. I often went days without a single human voice in my ear. My eyes hadn’t gazed on any other face than my own, I often came down with really sore throats because of lack of use on my vocal chords. I didn’t have one phone number in my phone to dial and say “Hello” to a human I might know. The phone numbers I did have were taxi’s and takeaways.
I made a nuisance of myself for so long by roaming alone in the street at night asking random strangers for a cig or a light or the time. Most of the time I was swerved. I was so sad that I looked forward to payday so I could go to the shops and interact with the staff occasionally. I once went to a gaming shop when to buy HALO for the Xbox and felt a little flirtation from the guy who took my cash. I invited him back to mine asking if he ‘fancied a shag!’ He came back to mine, we fucked and before he left after giving me thrush (I found out later) he asked me “where’s your console” I replied, if you mean my xbox, I haven’t got one but if its any consolation prize you fucked me so good my fanny is on fire! It was a shit ride but I was kidding myself. This 5 minute chat was the best part of the task. Mission accomplished not only am I lonely, unwanted, going crazy, hated, facial dysmorphic but I am now going to be known as a bike of a slag.
Loneliness does weird things to you. The more people you meet (under these strange circumstances) the more instant gratification doesn’t tend to you human connection needs any more frequent that going for a pee in the bookies and coming out with wet feet and the memory of a freak peeping in at you from a stainless steel scratched to perfection toilet seat… knowing it was you again. You’re still there. Everywhere. I need somebody anybody to take me away from my fucking self. Get me back into the world to experience life how it is supposed to feel without rolling this boulder up and down and up and down this hill..The rock being this ego, this self, this dickhead, this hell this horrible mutation that is me, myself.
The worst part of loneliness is that no matter who you are or how you feel or what you think.. when it hits you it makes you hate your own fucking company.
Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.
It’s probably just me but the more effort that I attempt to put into trying to have a nice festive period, the more depressing it seems to become.
“I never trust anyone who is calm and not on meds”, I read on an Instagram reel the other day. I thought yup that sounds about right and then I felt quite guilty that I have the luxury of medication and calmness comes as standard, yet I am still struggling.
It’s definitely situational and this time I won’t take all the credit for putting myself into this rotten funk, I will openly admit that I let my emotions, mood and happiness be determined and altered by external energies and forces beyond my control. Even when I know it wasn’t my fault. I blame myself for letting other people’s actions towards me have this deep seated effect. It shouldn’t be so bad. We have a new member of the family with us who has been holding my attention 98% of the time - it would be 100% but unfortunately I need to pee sometimes (I leave the door open still) I can’t help doing it because I worry too much.
She is so cute when she is sitting waiting patiently just across the hall and even cuter curled up in a ball under the fluffy stuff with me. I love this little bundle of love (and trouble! Bless her) and given that my partner has conveniently developed a man flu (no disrespect by pointing out the man part. It is only to emphasise the high level of pain and discomfort that the poor thing must be feeling in his sudden sickness) I have been enjoying the opportunity of getting to know her and look after her needs completely by myself. It’s been so stressful dealing with a self-pitying demanding man who doesn’t respond well to being comforted with a nod and a wink or a hoover or plate or food or a hammer… hahah just joking!
It’s nice because she is relatively well behaved considering she stressed my siter-in-law’s small family home out a bit too much before she came to us, I find that even her little puppy decisions don’t really need much corrective input from me. It has been much more time consuming than anything, but again, I really love the time spent on her, as opposed to being overwhelming me already at only four and half months young. This little lady has stolen our hearts. I feel quite exhausted and calmly content in a ‘moody’ subdued way. A good mood is always tinged with some sort of melancholy for me especially when I am feeling a temporary disconnect from my relationship. I am withdrawing my love from him and I think that he knows this and is punishing me because of it.
The pressure he has put on me threatening to send our puppy back if I don’t listen to what he is telling me on how we are going to train her, when he sits back and leaves the running around to me (not complaining) except he bosses me about and makes high demands, corrects me, puts me down, shouts, interferes with what I am doing vocally, makes unrealistic requests (he’d have me teaching her to play the fucking piano if he could or advise me to sing in a choir.. ) I’m tone deaf and the only instrument he really needs me playing is his tiny violin… In theory he isn’t trying to train Lola he is making a point of training me. He has also been very jealous of her. Using her as a weapon against me and this is just me sounding off but I believe it has ruined my experience of having this ‘baby’ with us at this usually depressing (still sort of depressing!) time of year. I bottle shit up and I hate to type when I feel so low. That’s what I mean by burning inside. I just had to write when I thought I felt my optimum best and this was the right time to write.
Yours Sincerely, Chasey ..x (I’m tired now so will leave you with an EXIT SONG) Thank you x
