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I remember reading the true story of the Clintons in the lending library of the Straight White Men's Cultural Center of Baltimore some time ago. I was particularly interested in the part where Bill and Hillary line up interns every evening to choose them for sex and how degrading that was for the interns. Bill would finger the ladies and tell them, "Nice and tight" or "What's going on down HERE?" Such a turn on.

Well, there was a setback. As the hairless ass weasel was tunneling through the mountain, the Dutch boys and friend Behr (who is me) were arrested and taken to a police station in Munich. There we were questioned and they asked if I needed medical attention for my severely blackened and distended belly. This was an odd offer, since I am being charged in the murders of seven doctors at a Munich hospital. I am completely innocent of these charges and there is no evidence to the contrary. Regardless, I gave them the card that my friend Angela gave me. After thirty seconds on the phone with her, they released the Dutch boys and me. She obviously is who I suspected she was, the Fuhrer's wife and the whole thing with the children was a trick to get the Dutch to think they were going to destroy me when they were really going to unite me with the Fuhrer. There is some kind of poetic justice in this as she is getting them back for resisting when we rightfully took over their country some time ago. Serves them right.

So, I am now back at base camp playing chess with the fat kid while the hairless ass weasel and the wimpy kid have some surreal kind of conversation that I have trouble following because I am more higher intelligence than them. I got my smarts the hard way, in a special government school in Germany during the 1930s and 1940s where animals were shoved up my bum. Lessons were learned and learned well, so smart is Behr. You have a smart friend. For I am your friend and you are thou friendest friend that friend can be. Loyalty. Means a lot.

How are things going back home? Did President Trump get the wall we need desperately built yet or is construction just begun? Really looking forward to seeing that. I have a great love for walls. As you know, I grew up in a house attached to the Berlin Wall on the side you aren't thinking about right now because of me saying that (it puts a mental image in your mind). You can handle it. Further information will not be given. I live by a code. It is unbreakable because of the nature of the container it is in. I am opposed to "child-safe lids" on medications. If your kid is stupid enough to take a bunch of pills like that then fuck 'em. Death will teach them life's final lesson. No tolerance for mistakes will be America's policy in the 2030s and beyond. Get ready, liberal fucktards.

It seems the closer I get to uniting with the Fuhrer, the more my mind tends to get excitable. I think I am going through some life changes.

Let me tell you about the America I want to live in. Imagine a place where you work in a businessman office helping salespeople make sales (ONLY type of business allowed in America - sales which is my strong point, also people skills). Imagine someone in your office puts something in the wrong file (I intend to bring back filing cabinets and PUT THEM WHERE THEY BELONG IN OFFICES). The boss comes out with a screwdriver, as is his duty and right in Great America, shoves it into the mistake making employee's eye, moves it around in there, pokes at the brain and vital organs like the cerebellum and the liver, pushes him on the floor and starts kicking him all while the other employees watch and learn something important. That is the kind of America I want to live in and strive to create. Thy will be done.

There used to be this guy named Mel Brooks around that made movies and also a lady named Linda or Lynn or something. Shame they aren't around any longer, you know? They'll be missed.

Because it may take weeks for the hairless ass weasel to tunnel all the way up to the house, I have decided to teach at the University of Munich as a visting professor. Since I have spent years as a fully tenured professor of ethics back home in America, they jumped at the opportunity. Because I speak fluent German (I am native to the Fatherland) this is a perfect fit. I begin teaching on Monday. Very excited to have a new group of young and impressionable people under my thumb. They will be learning many valuable ethical lessons from me and my vast knowledge of things that a fully tenured professor of ethics knows.

It is good.

My friends.

Note: this talks about the call of the void, self-hatred, and suicidal thoughts. I am not suicidal, and haven't been in years. Still, if these things are upsetting, I suggest you not read this.

One of the more valuable things I figured out during my twenties is that self-hatred does not mean one's a good or particularly self-aware person. So far in this life, I've met a whole lot of people who also hate themselves, and are complete and utter assholes. There's a very Catholic sort of attitude around suffering equalling penance, and it's frustrating to see it from the inside and the outside.

Now that I've noticed this, I find it really hard to deal with in people close to me. I have a couple of friends whose reaction to fucking up, and realizing it, is to immediately call themselves horrible people. And... it doesn't do anything for me. Which leads me to suspect that me punishing myself as apology is equally as frustrating in the opposite direction.

The thing is, I still don't like myself very much. I've just learned to apologize by identifying:

  • The thing I did wrong/ that hurt
  • The steps I'm taking to not do it again

...and moving on. It's not the job of whoever's on the other side of that apology to make me feel less guilty, or to make the entire situation better. Self-hatred is not a virtue.

But this also doesn't do much for my own general dislike of myself. It's also equally frustrating to watch my friends be concerned for me, and so I've spent a fair amount of time with my depression reminding myself that if I work hard enough on the self care and anti-hermitry thing, I'll be less of a burden on the people around me... and that no, jerk brain, removal from the gene pool is not a valid reaction to feeling like shit.

I haven't been suicidal in years. But unfortunately, trauma leaves behind these ugly streak marks/ patterns in the brain. It's kinda akin to that urge to jerk the wheel of a car so one plunges off the highway, or that vague urge when standing on tall things. There's no actual want, just passive thought. I can have a purely happy day and still have intrusive thoughts.


The intrusive thoughts are absolutely a warning sign of depression, though. The denser the thoughts, the more I know I need to be careful with sleep, self-care, and my gym routine. And, just my luck: I spent September triaging the statements of rape victims and the ensuing community damage, October trying to figure out if I was going through a breakup, and the surrounding time dealing with my father being (yet again) in the hospital for (again) an infected leg. On top of that, work went sideways. I don't get to move to Oregon for quite a while, it seems.

It's been, shall we say, a difficult end to 2018. It's not surprising that I feel like shit more often recently. Depression, for me, has a linear recovery rate, but it's not a line without dips and spikes. While I've spent most of the last week or two more or less on an even keel, I've also spent it with my brain shrieking at me angrily about my latest relapse into love.

This isn't a situation I can precisely go apologize to the dark man for. To start with, it's not really his problem, for the second, we've more or less agreed (or rather, he's said) that long talks about the nature of friendship aren't on the table. In this friendship, we respect boundaries, so I'm doing my best to juggle the guilt of having feelings, the line of what's appropriate (and what's not), and the overwhelming joy of having the guy in my life.


I don't know where I'm going, or what hand basket I'm in, but I hope it leads out of depression, and to a place where I can live with myself for the compromises I've made for myself. If nothing else, the reaction of "this sucks, fuck this" propelling me towards doing useful things is promising.

Winter is always hard. This winter's just oddly more difficult than last winter. If not for the nascent March vacation I'm noodling with, I'd have nothing to look forwards to.

Guess I'd best put some time with the therapist on my calendar.

Yesterday my middle sister turned 40. To celebrate we went to one of those escape rooms. The day before had not been good, and that morning I checked the time and thought to myself, there is no way I am going to be able to meet up with the rest of my family. I ran out of water, and couldn't find any strength or energy to move until I dragged myself out of bed. I took a bath, I got dressed, moving slowly since my back was still incredibly sore. The other day at work I made a list of the things I could make at home. Then I left it there. I have a notebook at work. It isn't very large, but it's dear to me. I put an Apple sticker on the front, there's a stash of my pens in a cup that nobody else touches even though I wouldn't mind if they borrowed one. Take me down to the boat by the river. I'm great about sharing things when and where I can.

The day dragged by and thoughts ran through my head. About the future, the past, the present, my mind whirled while my body was still. I tried to picture what I would do if I was a character in one off my stories, then I thought, maybe a better idea would be to write about the way that I am now. Alone, afraid, not knowing what to say or do. I have a tendency to isolate and retreat. Action solves more of my problems, but avoidance is a preferred strategy. I received some good news that I hadn't been expecting and that helped. I prayed, I cried, I made the decision to go get some water. It was cold outside, but not as cold as it had been. I drove slowly, every time I needed to press on the brakes, my back hurt. Touching me gently. There was no way I was going to make it to the escape room party. I need to come down. Somehow the time passed, I have no idea how.

At first I didn't really care for the escape room. It had an ancient Egypt theme; I've historically had trouble with locks, keys, and that kind of thing. The room was small and there were a lot of us in there. I was useless, I had very little interest in solving any of the puzzles. My attitude was bad and I knew it. Action was the key. I opened a trunk and found a sheet of paper. My sister showed me a bowl of fruit that had numbers on it. Periodically we had to check the monitor in the room for clues. There was a secret passage and that was cool. My youngest sister left to get a breath of air, claustrophobia isn't a huge problem for people in my family, but we all like a lot of wide open spaces for some reason. Someone put a lot of thought into that room, and I'm guessing that there are others like it. I had fun, more than I thought that I would, I was even able to contribute a clue to a four letter word that ended up being the combination we needed to a lock. And I won't cry out anymore.

I think too much and act too little. So it's good that I've identified this as a problem, now I need to figure out a way to do something about it. Yesterday I slipped and fell on some ice. My ankle was sore, but I had no choice other than to stand up again. A friend called and I was so happy. Like the waves on the sand. There are times when I understand things that don't make sense and have trouble with what seems logical to others. My oldest sent me a text asking if I could give her a ride home from work. I told her I might be able to, but it would depend on the party and how long that lasted. It was an opportunity to see her again, even though she was reaching out because she needed help, it made me feel warmer inside to hear from her. I broke my own rule and bought a box of chocolate covered ice cream treats. It was far too cold to be eating them, but I wondered if she would be transported back in time to the days when I picked them up for an after school treat.

I will be okay. I would like to write more about Friday, but that's going to take some time. I've found that it takes me longer than I feel that it should to go back and process what happened during a turbulent time. I have no idea how I made it through that day. All roads lead to tranquility. Sitting here, it seems surreal, but it happened. I'm torn between wanting to change, needing to change, and both needing and wanting to more fully love and accept myself for who I am - the gift giver that buys and gives to the person others have described as selfish. If it feels good and right, more often than not I go ahead. Overthinking has been a bad habit of time for as long as I have been impulsive and carefree, a paradox that confuses others as well as myself. Either I think way too much, or not nearly enough, and I can never really decide which way is a better way of life for me. I have just come to the realization that I am illogical, irrational, and either very simplistic, or more complicated than others believe.

The assignment was to write about having a good day. The truth is that all of my days are good, even the ones that don't sound like they were any fun. Good is a state of mind, and I trust that God has good things in store for me, even when I leave church early in a fit of anxiety as I did today. I was late, another no-no of mine. I practically ran out of there this morning. The next time I go to therapy I will talk to my therapist to see if she can help me with these thoughts and feelings. Perhaps it is time for a new church. I'm proud of myself today. I did not want to go, it would have been so easy to pull the covers back up over my head and avoid having to see anyone else. Time stands still as I gaze in her waters. I'm so cold today. My fingers are frozen, the sunshine is bright without being warm. But there is so much to be thankful for, and I'm going to focus on that today.

Xoxo,

J

P.S. Maybe someday I will take all of the thoughts I have scribbled in my notebook and share them here.

j

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