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Teros

Teros Level ... 50

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You know I've been absent for a while and only on off and on but I'm so happy to see you still around. It sounds like you have learned a lot of things about yourself that some people never figure out. 

 

8 hours ago, T2sarahconnor said:

I am so proud of you for typing that sentence.

 

I second this! 

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On 1/9/2019 at 6:13 PM, Tanktimus the Encourager said:

That was a hard lesson for me to learn.

It's something I don't want to admit.  I've told JJ this before and it lead to us splitting but then we got back together.  I need to split again.

 

On 1/9/2019 at 6:57 PM, T2sarahconnor said:

I am so proud of you for typing that sentence.

 

i miss Ravnos.  I am all RPG nostalgic

Thanks.  And yes, I do as well.  He was a pretty cool dude when we met.

 

On 1/10/2019 at 1:51 AM, Thom Ulfhedinn said:

I am learning the being happy on my own lesson myself at moment.

For me, it feels like there is a void. Maybe it's because of my mental condition but it seems to hit me extremely hard to not have that comfort, even if it's overall bad for me.

 

On 1/10/2019 at 2:49 AM, Tateman said:

I had to stay up to read your thread. I had a few of those instances with my Mom. Hearing her talk about how she hates all men, Men are pigs, etc. Right when I was becoming a "man"  Shit can fuck with your head. I know the reasoning why my Mom had felt this way. She was getting cheated on. Plus She was in therapy and having to relive some really bad moments in her past. It made me see Therapy in a bad light. I probably should see someone myself.  There is other things I can relate to in your past too. 

 

I am glad to see you have been here and stuck with it all this time. I had left for a bit, but have stuck with it last year. 

 

It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago when we were all discussing ambassador duties, and trying to split up groups of people to check in on daily. :) I also use to think it was the coolest fucking thing to be using a sledge hammer to work out with. I looked at trying to find a tire to use, but never could get one.

Yeah, it can fuck with your head.  It feels like the hatred and anger was directed at me and it might have felt the same way in your position.

 

Oh yup, I remember the spreadsheets for checkins, Man of Tate.  Time flies.  Could always look into finding a tire again.

 

On 1/10/2019 at 2:58 AM, Jonesy said:

You know I've been absent for a while and only on off and on but I'm so happy to see you still around. It sounds like you have learned a lot of things about yourself that some people never figure out. 

The whole reason I got into this profession is to understand myself and to help others that were in my position.  Those that were abused, treated like shit, felt lost, hopeless, and alone.  I think that with my internship, my prior one, my time with private PMs, some people on OKC, and on facebook; that I've done that and made people feel like they don't have to walk alone.

 

Challenge #5:

 This challenge I wanted to make Teros feel alive.  As in, I wanted my online persona to be more realistic.  I created my own character sheet and my passion for NF and these challenges was noticed.

TerosXLevel5.png

  

On 11/4/2013 at 10:14 PM, rogaecia said:

You're such an overachiever- I love it!

 

Becoming closer friends with a few people such as   @GingaNinja who used to go by KingLeeroy I believe, as well as @Loopus@Red1263 and @lilbichy (Lil KittyMuffin I still text once in a while.  She's great).  I remade the RPG Fanatics, yet I can't seem to find a tab for that challenge (number 30 in the list of previous challenges).  I made Jackie in this challenge, which is the name of my jack-o-lantern kettlebell.  I found that it's the perfect weight and shape for a 25 pound kettlebell. 

jackie.png +

+

Midriorbe.png

 

There's so many people, like Peach, Rouge, AverageJoe, TennisGeek, Scout.  I miss a lot of people that were there in the hayday of me starting this journey of NF.

 

Also, enjoy a post of Pepe before it became an 'issue'.

On 11/20/2013 at 6:29 PM, Teros said:

So I just tested my kettelbells out and I think they're totally dry.  I wanted to wait a couple extra days before I used them. I used more water than I was supposed to and I don't need to start doing overhead presses and having chunks of cement cracking my head open.

 

I just did a few curls with Jackie (the 25 pound one) and I picked up and moved aroung Midoribe (the 45 pound one) and I gotta say,

 

artworks-000015520538-uc1h3b-original.pn

 

My posts are becoming more about my g/f at the time, and how her insistence on my breaking whole30s was a reason for getting into fights...

 

 

Who I am Entry #5:

 

11th grade was more of the same.  I had continued to gain weight.  Although not bullied, the damage to who I am was already done.  This grade was around the time that I started having out of body experiences.

 

It's really hard to explain what an out of body experience *feels* like, but I'll try:  Imagine you are thinking and minding your business when you start to feel no emotions whatsoever.  You aren't happy, mad, depressed, angry, etc.  Whatever you were thinking about, be it laundry or an argument earlier, sort of disappears.  This would all sound like a good thing.  It sounds like you're in a state of contentment and zen. However, that's not what this is.  Shortly after the emotions and the thoughts seem to be erased from your brain, a sense of panic starts to set in.  It would feel like my consciousness was about 3 feet behind the rest of my body, almost like my soul was lagging behind.  It felt like I was watching a movie through another person's body and I wasn't in control of the legs, eye movement, or the direction being gone.  I was somehow a passenger within my own body - tethered to it but simultaneously so far away.  Imagine sitting in a movie theature and simply watching what's happening - that's sort of what it is like.  But this realization that you *should* be in the movie seeps in.  This isn't a movie - this is you.  Your body, your mind, and for some reason it's not owned by you.  There's this....what I can only describe as an inner coldness within my body in the pit of my stomach.  In the same way that a person might be antsy and need to run away from having 'cabin fever', the opposite happens.  Instead of, "I gotta get out of here" the antsy and cold thought is, "I gotta get back to me".  And within a few moments, suddenly I snap back to reality, fully in control of the fact my hand is on the doorknob.  I had walked the length of the hallway, maybe about 12 seconds, with this bizarre out of body experience.

 

Although I had been dealing with depression for as long as I could remember, it started getting more risky.  I would stand at the top of the stairs and look down them and wonder how I could throw myself down them at such an angle that would snap my neck.  I would do this more than I care to admit but...it was a lot.  I would envision my lifeless body in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, being able to see my own lifeless eyes looking back at me.  I think that the amount of time I thought about suicide, projected/envisioned my corpse on the stairs and the out of body experiences were related to what was going on in my head.  I hated myself and I came extremely close to self-harm.  I would hold up a steak knife to my stomach and tried to figure how best to stab myself and give myself liposuction.  I was worried if I cut myself, that I would bleed everywhere and because of this, I decided to find some thread and a needle, as well as snag a bunch of those alcohol prep wipes that you get swabbed before blood is taken at the doctor's office.  My plan was to make a small incision near the belly button and then squeeze my fat roll like is was a gigantic pimple or something.  I hoped that fat would ooze out, but I didn't know what to do if I lost too much blood while doing this.  I started to panic with how I could actually do this plan.  I never went through it, but I had prepared and figured logistics out a myriad of times.

 

About this time in high school was when my sister got a new kitty.  An all black long hair cat.  I told her that the name Alexis fit and that ended up being her name.  My cat, Frisky, was older and whiny.  She didn't like this new kitty being around.  It was fine by me: I gave Frisky attention because Frisky felt like she was *mine*, and Alexis felt more like a family cat.  Also, I found out that a had an allergy to long-haired cats so I tended to leave Alexis alone for the most part.  My mom and a coworker of hers got this "great" idea to start a vending machine company.  Why? Fuck if I know.  I thought it was stupid and it ended up making the whole household worse.  We would buy gigantic packages of candy and store them in the hallway.  What ended up happening was every time most of us walked across the hall, we would grab candy.  This is like alcoholics having the great idea of opening up a bar and keeping all the jugs of liquor about 4 feet from their living room.  Weight gain and self-loathing abound.

 

This year or maybe 10th grade is when I also started helping me bro-in-law with his DJing service.  He didn't know how to play clubs, mix music, scratch records, or really anything: he knew how to by cds and then play them after setting up some cheesy lights.  I would help with the set up and break down, as well as take requests.  There were a lot of grade-school dances, which means I was only 3-5 years older than these kids.  Yet they all assumed I was 33 when my bro-in-law asked them one day.  I started growing facial hair at a really young age and having a light beard meant I had less horrific face.  Those DJ gigs were when I felt at my loneliest.  I can remember hearing Brian McKnight's 'Back at One' every single time we had these DJ dances, or Seal's 'Kiss by a Rose'.  I know these songs and plenty of others from this era by heart because of these dances and I utterly loathe them.  Flipping the light switch to '4' which was the blue-tinted lights and seeing all these kids a couple years younger than me partnering up and slow dancing made me feel really bitter.  I remember quite a few times wanting to tear up and instead just looking at my list of requested songs (Like BloodHound Gang's - The Bad Touch) and reading the mover and over instead of focusing on how badly I wanted to just be hugged and held.

 

 

This year was the year that I reconnected with my bestie, Jay.  He had gone to the same public school but we weren't in any classes together.  We had drifted a bit apart about 6/7th grade, but still talked once in a while.  He had become the class clown: he was a tall, skinny, loudmouth, extrovert.  He was extremely popular, especially with the ladies.  Why he was, I don't know - I don't understand his appeal.  I found a lot of his jokes that he made to be very self-depreciating.  Regardless, I had stopped learning French and picked up Spanish so him and I were in the same Spanish class.  He sat in the front row and busted balls with the teacher who had a ridiculous amount of patience.  I stayed in the back row (I sort of freak out when people are behind me - probably a deep-seeded issue I have...) and made a couple friends.  Sheena was done and over with.  I was still friends with Larry, though.  During this class, Tamara would sit diagonally in front of me.  I thought she was pretty amazing.  She was the first girl that seemed to know how to do make-up without being heavy-handed.  I also realized just how much I have a thing for the Egyptian winged look.

 

Related image

 

She was very white.  Slender.  Black or deep red lipstick and that black eyeliner.  Pin-straight dark brown-black hair.  She was a little bit taller than me.  No one in class ever seemed to pay attention to her.  I remember how there was this tall goofy chucklefuck named Rob who sat front-diagonal from her that she would try to talk to and seduce and he seemed mildly interested.  Why he didn't find her attractive, I don't know.  I noticed that she doodled a lot in her notebook, never paying that much attention.  We had talked about her drawings before.  She also was able to sing really well - sometimes coming in early and sing-humming to herself before class officially got started.  I liked her and I didn't understand the, erm, sexual way that I liked her.  I remember one time she purposely arched her back a bit and her pants slipped down and exposed underwear, then turned back to look at me with those piercing Egyptian eyes.  She would chuckle to herself because I know for a fact I turned beet red and didn't make eye contact.  She was very comfortable with being sexual - something that at 16/17 I didn't even understand.  At this age, people were having sex with each other and I didn't even know what jerking off was.  I chalk it up to good ole' Catholic shame, guilt, and repression.  My thoughts of her (and Sheena) were never about sex or nudity or any of that: for me, I wanted cuddles.  I wanted her nicely manicured black polished nails to run through my hair and to feel cared for, to feel safe and feel like I mattered.  I had a weird duality: I saw the most perverse and extreme porn but I didn't know how a woman's anatomy worked until I looked it up in a textbook.  The guys that I made friends with would always talk about doing things, also called:

Image result for rick grimes thangs

 

and I was completely in the dark about it all.  I remember one of my friends Rob who told me about some of his experiences with a dominatrix and how he had welts and the sex was great but he didn't like all the pain.  I didn't know what to think of it.  We were in a gym class and this girl Danielle would talk to the two of us because we were very buddy-buddy for a brief time.  We had tennis class outside and I remember we were smacking each other with tennis rackets and I ended up smacking Danielle's ass with a tennis racket.  She seemed to enjoy it and wanted me to keep doing it.  That was the closest I had gotten to doing anything that was remotely touching in any manner.  There was also this girl in study period named Melissa that had those extra vampire teeth.  She was little (maybe 5'1) and I thought she was cute.  We talked during the study period.  I remember the last day of class, she saw me outside as I was watching people throw shaving cream at each other and flying flags and she hugged me for a very. long. time.  I thought back to her about 10 years later and I realized that she probably liked me, but I was too much of a dipshit for it to register.

 

12th grade was more of the same ole same ole - feeling crappy and being socially awkward, not having a clique to fit into but also not really ostracized.  I was an island - I was sort of in existence with random people.  For instance, there was a collection of a few thai kids and I knew Souk San and Souk Dow and I recall clapping with them while walking down the hall singing Gin and Juice.....laaaaaid baaaaack.

 

The start of 12th grade had picture day.  Every new senior student had to go to the lake and get their picture taken for the yearbook.  I didn't want to go.  I really really really hated myself.  I sound like a broken record but it can't be stated enough.  My mom kept insisting that I needed to get this picture taken but I was so disgusted by my own looks that it made me feel sick.  We were driving to the lake for picture day and I was panicking.  What happened with that day when I went black and beat up Quinn started to happen.  I remember after the fact that I had started screaming and saying, "NO ONE CAN SEE ME! I HATE IT! NO PICTURES!" and I repeatedly started punching my thighs as hard as I possibly could.  My mom swerved off the road and was yelling at me to stop hurting myself.  A moment later, my mom had started driving us back home.  My picture is not in my yearbook.

 

I remember a particular day when I was walking down the hall after lunch had ended.  There weren't many kids left and I saw the principal sitting on a desk, just watching the kids disperse.  He called me over and when I got close enough, he grabbed my hand and put it on his upper thigh, then put both of his hands on top of my hand, pinning it there.  He held me like this and told me about how the gym coach noticed that I was 'built like a linebacker' and that I had really broad shoulder and, quote, 'tree trunk legs'.  The principal thought that I would be great for the football team.  The entire time he was telling me this, he continued to make me rub my hand up his thigh near his crotch.  Because he was sitting on the desk, my hand wasn't super low- it was the, I guess, 'right' height for what he was making me do.  I remember swallowing hard and trying to not think about what was happening in broad fucking daylight.  That's how invisible I was: the principal was able to make me touch him in the hallway and no one even noticed this was happening.  He continued to press on, "So what do you think?  Do you want to be part of the football team?  The coach is right - you have really muscular tree trunk thighs."  I was stammering and I didn't want to make eye contact with him - his beady little eyes behind his square glasses.  I told him I would need to talk to my mom - that was the only thing I could come up with.  He took a really long deep breath, held it, looked up at the ceiling, continued this...hand thing...and then exhaled slowly and looked at me.  He said I could "go now" and I pulled my hand back as fast as possible and went down the hall before the bell rung.  I didn't know what had happened, I just knew I could never say anything...until today.  A lot of these things that I've been writing are things that I've never told a single soul.  Things I never even wrote about in a journal entry.  That's now Lenny having touched me and the principal having held me and forced me to do that shit with him.  I....I didn't realize how uncomfortable and scared I actually was - my brain didn't process it.

 

I need to shift gears.  I'm sort of just sitting here and feeling off.

 

During the year, the few people that I made (kinda) friends with in school knew that I was a good student.  I was relatively smart and always did my homework.  A running joke in 11th grade and up until graduating was my nickname.  No, not Teros.  The online world knew about that person when I was playing Diablo 2 and all sorts of other games.  No, I'm talking about the nickname I got in history class.  You see, this little runt of a kid named Mark would always get into arguments with another kid named David.  I didn't know David but I sort of hated him because he was a freckle-faced fuckhead and reminded me of my old bully Quinn.  Both of them were forced to sit in the front row.  Anyways, the teacher, Miss Titon, who was about a thousand years old, told Mark to knock it off.  Mark said, "It wasn't me" even though it blatantly was him who threw a goddamn pencil at David.  Miss Titon entertained the stupidity and said, "Oh really, Mark?  Well then who did it?"  Mark pointed to the back of the class and said, "Michael Baker".  Everyone laughed.  I was like, "wait, what?"  Miss Titon gave the best face.  Closest picture I can find is:

 

Image result for did I just fart

 

When Miss Titon asked what the hell that meant, Mark continued with, "you gotta watch out for that kid.  He's a wiley one.  That's Mikey Baykahh the Trouble Maykahh" (Said in a very Australian accent).  Apparently *I* had somehow thrown the pencil from the back row over to David.  It was so fucking absurdly stupid that it became a meme where anything even remotely negative that happened wasn't the person, it was somehow me teleporting and doing it with my magical wiley ways.  Yes, I became a goddamn meme at the school about 18 years before memes became a thing in culture.  Mikey Baka the Trouble Maka.  Clint who was sitting next to me started calling me that.  Then Adam.  Mark of course.  The list started growing as people would do terrible fake Australian accents and call me the Trouble Maker.  Keep in mind that by this point, I've told people about my dipshit man-child bro-in-law and Mark and the funky bunch would do, what were dubbed, 'Roland Runs'.  The premise is simple:

 

1) Get in your car.

2) Come to my street.

3) Back all the way up to the end (it's a short dead-end street, 4 houses long).

4) Lay on the car horn.

5) Scream, "ROLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!" out the window while the horn is held the entire time up while speeding up the street.

6) Do at random intervals and days until neighbors threaten us that they are going to call the cops.

 

Other things that would happen would be stepping on people's shoes, namely the Hispanic kid named Robin.  Mark would say, "Somebody's lookin' for a shoe-scuffin'" and then quickly step on Robin's shoes.  This became a common thing: saying 'shoe scuffin' and then dirtying people's shoes.  This was also, somehow, linked to me.  I was scuffing everyone's shoes.

 

See, this was done in a lighthearted way but it's also incredibly odd how 'Blame this kid for everything because he's wrong' somehow happened again in my life back from 1st grade with having detention constantly.

 

There's not much left of high school before I get to the Toxic Years.  I, at the very least, had a couple of people I called friends.  Though I was bitter about Sheena, nothing came of Tamara's flirting, and me being oblivious to Melissa's intentions, I was social during school hours.  As in, I didn't go out anywhere and make friends outside of school.  However, I did spend some time with Orlando.  One such time was when I tried D&D.  The DM was a guy named Mike Costa.  He was a year older.  So was Roberto.  Jay knew people older than him so these kids had graduated but still they hung out.  The other people at this D&D campaign was me, Costa's girlfriend, and Tom.  Tom was the classic nerd: the parted hair, awful striped clothes, thick black-rimmed glasses, and his overall mousy demeanor.  He actually had a crush on Sonya, one of those 24 people I went to school with back in public school.  I had talked to her a couple of times but we never became actual friends.  Anyways, the campaign was no crunch - all fluff.  We would roll dice and do some really basic math but there were no data sheets of things.  Rob wanted to be a werewolf.  Then Jay did.  Then everyone wanted to be one for some reason.  We were allowed to be half-werewolves.  Costa's girlfriend was sitting on his lap the entire evening.  The conversation came about that Tom had never seen naked breasts in real life: only on the magical internet.  Costa's girlfriend said, "Well here ya go!" and lifted up her shirt, her boobs falling out of the bra.  I was sitting next to Tom and even though I also had not seen them in real life, I just nodded once.  Tom was a different story.  Tom literally fainted and melted and fell off the couch.  He made a 'Heeeeuughhhhh!' noise and slumped back onto the couch, then every bone in his body (except probably one...) turned to jelly as I slumped off the couch and thudded onto the floor.  I had to kick him a little bit before he came to his senses.

 

The last thing that had happened in senior year, and what changed the course of my life, was who I met towards the start of the year.  In gym class, people were getting their school IDs and I saw a little chubby girl who was sitting on the bench.  I decided to make small talk.  What inkling I had to do this, I don't even know.  I got her name and then got her AOL Instant Messenger name.  We had english class and physics class together so we ended up sitting next to each other.  We talked on AOL messenger a few times.  One day, her online boyfriend who lived in Mississippi and her were getting into a fight.  In a different window, she was talking to me.  I said that she didn't deserve to be treated like that.  She brought up that she was crying and didn't know what to do.  I asked her for his AOL name.  I added him and then sent him a message.  After a couple messages he said, "You want her?  Fine.  She's s a fucking psycho.  Take her."  I copy/pasted the info to her.  She asked, "So does that mean we're boyfriend and girlfriend now?"  After a hesitant second, "I guess".  And so started a 12-year toxic enmeshed relationship that ruined my self-esteem and psyche as much as my first grade punishments, my beatings, my years of bullying in private school, and being touched by two men.

 

In December of that year, my new girlfriend's mom was going to run away from tax collectors and live in North Carolina with a friend she met on Pogo (a shitty free game website).  My g/f didn't want to go, saying she needed to finish the senior year.  I talked to my mom about this, and my girlfriend who I went out ON ONLY TWO DATES ended up moving in with the family.

 

God, if I wasn't dreading writing about this other stuff, this upcoming beast of a relationship isn't going to be easier.

 

Currently #5:

 

My first client that I started working with at my internship has left.  He left the program 2 weeks early.  It wasn't because he relapsed or because he messed up at all: he was able to find a place to live and had a stable job.  Although I know I can't take all the credit - he obviously busted his ass; I feel proud and feel our sessions where we talked about life purpose, rejection, motivations for change, and more, were all a catalyst to helping him move forward.  My supervisor and the head of the men's house were talking about how proud they were of what a huge success story my client was.

 

Also, the Goatee debacle happened.

 

Not sure where to start with this.  Goatee is a client that I do NOT work with.  I noticed a few weeks back that he got into a little argument with one of the staff.  I noticed in recent weeks that he hasn't shared in the groups and has been non-verbally defensive by wearing his glasses inside, not looking at people who are talking, giving short answers, and having his arms crossed.  Well he comes into the intern office and talks to the other intern early in the morning.  I finish with the group and go downstairs to see the Head of the men's house, my supervisor, and the other intern all gently poking Goatee a bit and shaking his arm, asking if he was ok.  He was completely non-responsive.  I ask if Goatee is ok as well.  They tell Goatee that they are going to call an ambulance if he doesn't respond and he continues to not move.  They make the call.  I sit down next to the other intern.  My supervisor asks if we can just keep an eye on him.

 

I notice something suspicious: when I sit down, Goatee opens his eye a tiny bit and looks over to see me and then closes his eye again.  I get this vibe that maybe he's faking the non-responsiveness.  As my supervisor is shutting the door, she says silently, "Faking".  My suspicions are correct.  I have to be honest, I'm proud of how this plays out.  I know going into this, that Goatee does not feel supported or helped by the staff.  He was getting increasingly antagonistic with them during groups.  I know in the few words he spoke to me, he said he needed 'Guidance'.  I know that he didn't get much out of the anger management group either.  I devise a strategy.  I want to make him know that I "get it".  I decide to ask the other intern how he's doing and we have a pleasant conversation.  I bring up how I'm getting tired of the agency and that I don't understand why there isn't any curriculum for the group meetings.  The intern agrees, thinking that we are having a regular conversation, completely unaware of my plan.

 

I continue by saying how if I was running the group, I would talk about how anger is an umbrella that other emotions are linked to, like lonlieness, depression, not feeling good enough, and more.  I would teach how the pre-frontal cortex makes decisions and how it is linked to the amygdala and the fight-or-flight response.  I would explain in these groups that lots of people do not feel like they are getting help.  That there are people who do not feel like they are getting any guidance.  They feel like they are lost in all of this.

 

I'm using Goatee's very words in my speech when talking to the other intern.  I know Goatee is listening to me.  He goes from having his forehead on his knees to sitting up more and pretending to be groggy.  Then sitting up more, and more, and then sitting up straight.  Finally, he starts acting normal and I shift the conversation from the intern to *him* instead.  Because ultimately, that's what I was doing: I was having a conversation and letting Goatee eavesdrop on it so that way he would learn that I understand what's going on with him, without even talking directly to him.  Seriously, I thought of it off the cuff and it worked.  In my head:

 

 

The other intern realizes that he's the third wheel of the conversation and excuses himself, leaving me and Goatee to speak alone.  I'm digging into what he wants guidance for, what would help facilitate things because he realizes that he's scared because he's spent 70-ish days in the program and doesn't have a plan for when he leaves soon.  We're right at the perfect point to talk about goals and how each of them can be attained within the time he has left when the ambulance techs come in with the head of the men's house.  In this tiny office is now Me, Goatee, Men's House Manager, and 2 EMT.  The house manager asks what the hell is going on: last time he was here 7 minutes ago, Goatee was slumped over and non-responsive.  Goatee says that he's sorry and doesn't need the EMTs and says that he's fine now.  Men's house manager then starts to get into an argument with Goatee, telling him that he has to go.  Goatee than brings up that he has a conflict of interest with the house manager and doesn't want to work with him.  The house manager says that he's kicked out of the program and gone.  My supervisor and him agree that he's done being here.  He also brings up that he's nervous about the future.  In the end, the EMTs leave and the house manager brings Goatee to a mental health facility/hospital down the road for an evaluation.  Before Goatee leaves, I tell him that if he wants to call the agency after the hospital trip is over, whether he gets evicted or not, then we can talk and shoot the shit together.  He thanked me a lot before leaving.  

 

By the end of the day, he admitted that he was terrified and wasn't sure what to do, he was able to stay the last couple of weeks at the agency, and the plan moving forward (between the intern, my supervisor, and the house manager) is for me to talk to Goatee and bridge the gap because of what I did.

 

My supervisor told me how wonderful and amazing I am, as well and thanked me.  Once we left for the day, the other intern had a heart-to-heart with me and honestly, a lot of it made me blush internally.

 

The other intern is 3 years younger than me.  He said that he has been working in this field for about 8 years but what I've done so far and what I'm capable of doing is amazing.  He said that people like me are rare, especially in this field.  I take initiative.  I'm able to think critically and process what is happening and develop a strategy in the moment.  I'm dynamic with how I'm able to handle and assess a situation.  He said that any agency would be lucky to have me, because I bring so much passion to this field that everyone is going to want to hire me on the spot.  He said that I speak like a veteran, in that I'm able to see larger problems and how they have a broader effect on other things.  That I speak knowledgeably about dual relationship, about self-care, and hit to the heart with a lot of issues that he has with social work.  I even have helped him out and make him reflect on his choices with how I was able to point out pitfalls in his thinking as well.

 

I was...stunned.  What am I supposed to say to all of that? He didn't repeat himself as he was listing things about me for well over 10 minutes.  After that day, I couldn't go home and write.  I needed some time to just think which is why I didn't post yesterday.  I'm still going strong with the whole30.  I went for a walk today after I got out of work.  I had a protein shake and some tomato-sauced chicken.  I'm going to eat some tuna fish with tomatoes, black olives, and sweet potato chips for dinner in a couple of minutes.  Oh, I also did that strength workout that I posted in the last post with the sledgehammer.

 

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I've found that the longer the break I take, the harder it is to get back into the groove.  I haven't missed 2 days in a row yet and that's my intention.

 

 

 

Who I am entry #6:

 

So here I am: age 17.  After an awkward AIM conversation and 2 dates, my new girlfriend moves in with me and my family.  I get through high-school with the above shit that happened in the previous post.  Also my second bestie, Israel, completely shuts me out of his life.  I find out much much much later that he was gay and was experimenting and he cut all ties with people and changed his name.  What's weird about the upcoming 7 years is that years and years later, I reflected that it was a good relationship that gradually went sour.  However, in my 30s I found notes and journal entries that stated the contrary.  I guess the past always seems not as....grimey and awful the more removed you are from it.  The first year that I was with my g/f was rocky.  According to my writings, I didn't understand why she would shoot herself in the foot with taking care of herself and I didn't understand the dynamic that she had with her mom and dad.  She talked about how fucking great her mom was and how awful her dad was, yet she didn't seem to...like....care about her mom.  It seemed like what she said and what she did wasn't matching up.  My outlook on sex is a complete mess.  For one, despite being 18 I had never done the one-handed dirty deed.  I had never kissed someone until my g/f at age 17.  I didn't think that I deserved sex because I hated myself so much.  I didn't like being nude for the same self-loathing reasons.  The only porn I had watched was stuff that didn't involve showing dongs so it was usually tied up and covered guys as slaves in BDSM porn.  Heap on good ole Catholic guilt and a ton of complete ignorance and you have the recipe for a teenage boy that didn't know what the fuck he wanted, what he deserved, or what he was capable of.  I barely even understood male/female anatomy, having to resort to PHYSICAL TEXTBOOKS at the time.  Keep in mind this was right before Wikipedia was even created.  My girlfriend wanted to have sex right away.  That long-distance guy had used some Pert Plus shampoo as lube the one time he visited her, and also liked to shoot on her chest.  She was sort of aggressive.  I didn't feel comfortable with really *any* of what was going on physically.  I was terrified because of the lies I was told while getting my catholic confirmation, like how condoms were 4% effective at preventing pregnancy and STDs.  I told my girlfriend that I felt all this guilt and like I was a dirty and bad person for doing this, as well as my (misinformed) thoughts on pregnancy.  Eventually, I explained that I hated myself and that losing weight would help.  My girlfriend brought up sex only 3 or 4 times before she didn't say it again.  It was clear, upon retrospect, that there was a standstill: I needed both of us to lose weight to gain some sense of self-confidence.  At the very least, I needed to.  I thought she was hot and it was never a problem with getting turned on.  Her dancing was the reason I even *attempted* 1-handing it when I was 18.

 

I was still alone but trying to keep the friends I had.  I consider them 'Fringe Friends' because they sort of stayed on the fringe of my life.  I didn't meet up with 'the guys' every week like some people did.  All of my time was spent with my new girlfriend...doing nothing.  She didn't want to go anywhere or do anything.  Her life consisted of going to work at the supermarket, having me pick her up (because I drove and she didn't), bitching about how everyone there was worthless and an asshole, and then sitting at home and watching her shows while eating junk food.  Originally, we would sit and watch tv and eat together, but very quickly it became 2 human beings that were in the same room, but not really *there*.  She was zoned out while eating cookies and watching Scrubs or Buffy or whatever other crap was on tv.  I retreated more and more into videogames.  More specifically, Diablo II.

 

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The impact Diablo II had on me can't be unstated.  This game was everything to me, on and off, for close to a decade.  While I had played single player by myself for a while, once I started multiplayer through Battle.net, the game became a totally different beast.  I had loved Diablo I and (without understanding *why* as a boy) had an obsession with hunting down and killing Succubi.

 

Naked women with giant bat wings and thongs that made THOSE noises when dying.  Looking back, it kind of makes sense why I like dominatrix stuff.

 

Diablo II allowed me to run rampant with my imagination.  There was so much itemization, so many skills, so many builds.  It felt new all over again.  I would pour honestly close to a million hours total into this single game.  The expansion pack, runes, new act and classes only furthered my game obsession.  So while I wanted to spend time and be close to my girlfriend, she seemed to want nothing to do with me; forcing me to delve deeper and deeper into videogames as escapism.  There wasn't a time the tv wasn't on and she wasn't watching something.  We would get into arguments about the tv and eventually I backed off and left her alone.  I instead would wear earphones and play my games in my own little world while she would blare her crappy tv.  We sat on opposite sides of the couch as well.  We weren't a couple: we were roommates.

 

The times that I *did* end up spending time with fringe friends kind of was a dual-edged sword: it was fun but I also got shit from my girlfriend before and after spending time with them.  I would hear, "Well you can go have fun....I'll just stay home and being miserable and alone."  This type of guilt-tripping happened on a weekly basis.  Some of the things I did with fringe friends:

 

Larry and some buddies were driving around and Larry opened up an Altoids tin and it was full of bright green weed.  I had never smoked before.  The smell that wafted from this tin made my head hurt.  About 20 minutes after Larry opened the tin, showed me, and closed it, I was getting nauseous and dizzy.  I remember being ravenous and my eyes hurt.  No one understood why this happened, including myself, until a couple days later.  Whatever potency that had, it was enough to get me sort of fucked up without smoking it.  Oh also, my big toe was run over by a car.  There was also the time that I was driving around with Larry and his buddies wanted to steal lawn ornaments.  Larry was big into paintball and wore a ghillie suit and would do drive-by paintballing while drinking.  None of this rubbed off on me.  Weed was ugh and so was drinking, as well stealing lawn stuff and shooting people's windows with neon-orange paint.  One of the guys that was part of Larry's group was John, who Larry told me years later had sex with a girl who was drunk and passed out.

 

One of the times that I ended up ignoring my girlfriend's guilt-trips was a few years into the relationship, when Larry was with a girl named Jess.  She was working on getting her nursing license, while Larry did odd-jobs and painting.  He wanted to fuck around and spend shit, while Jess seemed to be more mature and had a goal.  I found her very sweet and interesting and enjoyed talking to her.  Truth be told, I felt that Jess could have done better than him.  I didn't want to be with her, but I admired her motivation.  Larry had invited me and some other guy over, and Jess invited her friend Penny.  It was the 5 of us (plus Larry and Jess had a baby) hanging out at their place.  Larry wanted to play drinking game: we played halo and if you died, you had to drink.  I don't like drinking.  I don't like the taste, the smell, the feeling foozy and not in control.  All of it sucks.  While Jess needed to study for a nursing test and was scarce, Guy and Penny were busy doing tequila shots on the couch after a bit.  This meant is was only Larry and I playing this game.  I don't like Halo.  It's not like Goldeneye, Perfect Dark, or Quake III Arena.  Larry kept killing me and then yelling at me that I had to drink some rum and coke (which was gross).  He kept drinking too, so the game was pretty pointless.  The more I had sips of booze, the angrier I became.  I remember him yelling, 'YOU DIED YOU GOTTA YOU FUCKING GOTTTTAAAAAAAAAH!' and me snapping back at him that I hate this shit and I had a cup already so I wanted to be left alone.  Guy and Penny were drunk on the couch, lying on each other.  Jess had a little booze but not much.  I recall Larry's yelling waking up the baby and crying.  Jess came out and started to get into a fight with Larry.  This turned into a problem with Jess not doing the laundry and him screaming and flailing about.  Jess eventually locked herself in the bathroom and Larry was drunkenly slamming his fists on the door, calling her all sorts of names.  I remember him telling me how fat she was because of how much cellulite she had on her thighs.  She wasn't fat... she wasn't even thick.  She was skinny and on top of that, gave birth to a baby less than a year ago at the time.  I was thinking about what an asshole Larry was.  His drunken insults ended up making Jess cry in the bathroom while the baby wailed away.  I was sitting in this broken recliner chair and thinking, "This is why I never want to drink."  Hours later, after Jess had gotten out of the bathroom, taken care of the baby, and cried herself to sleep; and Penny and Guy were in a heap on the couch, Larry was slurring his words and wanted me to go in his computer room.  He slouches onto the swivel chair and pulls some papers out of a drawer.  He starts telling me how Jess and Penny always make him feel like an asshole, and he starts telling me about all the money she was spending and he started crying.  He kept saying, "I'm not the bad guy...I'm not the bad guy" with his head in his hands; a drunken mess.  It was 2am but it was snowing and we got 2 feet and no plows were coming until morning so I was stuck there.  Larry eventually made his way to bed and I sat in the swivel chair.  I was wide awake.  I thought to myself that if this is what alcohol does to people, I want nothing to do with it.  Who cares if the next day they think they had fun, if it leads to being a mean asshole and saying things you can't take back and hurting people you love?  I ended up playing Starcraft that night - the game that Larry and I bonded over back in high school some 8 or 9 years ago (at this point).

 

Drinking seemed to be the only things the fringe friends were interested in back in my 20s.  I recall when we were all at Alex's house when there was a stomping that could be heard on the stairs.  I go over there and Shorty was wrapped head-to-toe in clear packaging tape.  He was hopping down the stairs drunk.  I call Josh over and then Shorty says that he's Houdini and is going to 'do a magic trick' and cut himself out of the tape.  He was jumping downstairs with a pair of scissors.  Josh sprinted up the stairs and grabbed the scissors.  Shorty hopped down the last couple of stairs and Josh screamed at him that he could have died.  That was also the same night that it was supposed to be 'Festivus' and I was supposed to wrestle Bryan but I declined because that seemed stupid - besides the fact that I would have won instantly.  The guy had zero strength and I was even fatter by this point.

 

I didn't know what the hell I was doing with my life or what I wanted.  I had that 'New Crew' videogame company pipedream and I knew that I loved videogames.  My thought was that since I always created, then maybe I should learn *how* to and become a video game creator.  My mom was forcing me to decide on something even though I felt I needed more time.  Eventually, Katherine Gibbs College was something that I found just to shut my mom up.  We went on a tour and the recruiter said that even though I was looking into C++ computer programming, Katherine Gibbs had A+ which was the same thing.  With my mom pressuring me and making me feel guilty for needing more time, I ended up enrolled into this college that I knew next to nothing about.  A couple weeks into the program and I realize that A+ is NOTHING like C++ computer programming.  I had taken a Visual Basic class in high school and what I was learning were hardware components for how to build computers.  I wanted to learn coding, NOT how to flash a bios or install a floppy disk drive.  Those things aren't even close.  However, in the fine print at Gibbs, you needed to leave the program within a couple of days or else they would take 1/3 of your tuition if you left.  Now I'm basically fucked and getting a degree I hate, in nothing I'm interested in, just because I wanted to be left alone by my mom.

 

The program is a year long and at the end, I'm connected to a temp agency that finds people work in the field.  Fine.  Whatever.  I'm so fucking miserable at this point:  I've been gaining weight with reckless abandon, my girlfriend acts like she hates me and doesn't want to be around me and we aren't intimate, my fringe friends are all fucking losers, I don't have a job, and I'm getting a degree in assembling computers and building computer networks for businesses instead of my actual interest in creating art and monsters.  I feel desperate and alone.  I feel defeated and worthless.

 

Then, it's come time: my girlfriend is going to move.  This entire time, my g/f and her mom have been keeping in touch all the time and her mom wants her to North Carolina.  My mom also seems to be tired of my girlfriend as well.  My girlfriend and I don't want to split so we think about doing long-distance for short-term to see how it goes.  Despite how I get nothing out of the relationship, I'm also terrified of abandonment.  Also, in a sick way, I don't know what a healthy relationship is: I've spent my entire life being made to feel like I'm bad and wrong, so maybe that's what I should continue to need from my girlfriend.

 

The plan is to take a train together down to North Carolina and to stay for a week, then for me to take the train back up to Rhode Island alone.  The week in North Carolina is fucking awful.  She lives in the woods, like there's no street lights, a single-lane-sized road, and forest literally 30 steps away from this shitty little trailer.  After the week, I get a call at home that I have a job at CVS Pharmacy, answering calls.  I need to get back home.

 

That morning was horrible.  I couldn't sleep.  The separation anxiety I had was so bad that I was vomiting at 4am and crying.  Eventually, I'm ready to go and my girlfriend's mom's car isn't working.  Despite her saying 'come hell or high water, I'll get you to the train station on time" she failed and my mom had to wire money down and then pay for a cab to drive for almost an HOUR to get to the train station.  The cab driver also got lost.

 

So there I am, at the train station at 6am, ready to make the trek homeward.  Being on the train in the middle of the summer in North Carolina meant that I was crammed.  There was this 400+ pound dude that sat next to me and was wearing a wife-beater.  The stench coming from his pits was horrendous.  There was also this teenage kid with an afro that was combing his hair and weird dust particles were poofing off of it.  A special needs kid was a couple seats in front, laying sprawled diagonally and screaming every couple of minutes.  Everything was hot and horrible.  There are less trains in the south and some train tracks had to be used for multiple trains going in opposite directions.  We were told after about 4 hours of this torture that we were going to have to stay put because the single line had a train coming head-first towards us if we didn't stop.  There was a split in the tracks so it would go where it needed to go: we just had to not move.  The problem for me, was that we were on a single line of train tracks that was about a half a mile above a river.  We were on a fucking bridge in the middle of nowhere for over an hour while people were sweating and some were panicking. 

 

After the hour, the train continued on its way and finally arrived in DC.  Once at DC, I had a 6 hour layover.  So keep in mind that I've been up since 4am, been on the train for close to 6 hours, and now had to wait another 6 hours.  It was dark out and around 9 or 10pm by the time my train was called.  I was fighting to not fall asleep at the train station.  I remember buying a Yoohoo to drink from the vending machine and it being warm.  I haven't had Yoohoo since then because of how disgusted I was with it.  I had packed food - these things called 'Uncrustables', which are small pb+j sandwiches.  Those to, I have never eaten after this train experience.  Finally, it's time to ride the train from DC back to Rhode Island.  It was going to get there around 7am.  I couldn't fall asleep.  My eyes were burning from crying that morning and not sleeping.  At one point, there were only 4 or 5 people on the midnight train car.  I overhead a couple of people behind me talking shit to each other and getting into a fight.  Someone pulled a knife and there was swearing.  I was so miserable that I didn't even turn around to see if someone was going to be murdered literally a few feet away from me.  I felt empty.

 

Something to note on this night train ride: the train car door would spontaneously open and close for a few seconds without warning.  There was some mechanism that was broken that would make the doors fling open and shut.  It stopped startling me after a while.  I had finally gotten to around Boston around 5am.  Dawn was just breaking through so I had been up for exactly 24 hours at this point.  That train ride up, I prayed.  I kept praying for the same thing.  I would ask that whatever mental, emotional, and physical pain that my girlfriend was going through, that the burden be put on me.  I felt I could bear it and I didn't want her to suffer through this experience.

 

With dawn breaking that morning, I said that I didn't pray or believe in any of it anymore.  I asked God directly for something.  I said, 'If you heard what I was asking for, then give me a sign'.  As soon as I finished that thought, the train doors started spazzing and opening and slamming shut.

 

The rage I felt is impossible to describe.  I knew that all the times people asked for 'a sign' it was always something generic and almost inconsequential. Now here I am, asking to see if my prayer was heard and this fucking door starts acting up, like it had been doing all night.  I was furious.  I stared at the door as it opened and slammed and opened and slammed and I said under my breath that I don't want to be one of those people.  I need something that is tangible, something that had not been happening this entire time.  I needed something besides mere coincidental timing.  I was pissed.  I said, "If that's the best I'm going to get then fucking forget it."

 

The doors slammed and didn't open up again the rest of the train ride.  I stared daggers at that train door for the longest time, seething with anger.

 

A couple hours later, I had finally gotten home.  A couple days later, I was working at CVS.  I started to try Atkins again to lose weight.  I was walking more.  I would play Diablo II after work and made friends online.  I would talk to my g/f as well and sometimes she would play Diablo II as well. 

 

I felt lonely and so I started texting someone that I was friends with back in high-school (we never stopped really, but it was really sporadic): Katie.  Katie lived only a couple minutes away.  She had been a mutual friend of my g/f and I during the last year of high-school.  I thought Katie was adorable: she was a quiet-spoken book nerd who had a bunny, light brown hair, and a bunch of freckles.  Our emails (back in the NetScape Days) and AIM conversations had turned into wanting to hang out.   Katie really wanted to see the movie Ladder 49 in theaters.  I didn't know what it was about, but I didn't care: I wanted someone to spend time with.  While I was enjoying talking to Katie more as a friend, I started getting the feeling that I didn't NEED my girlfriend.  I almost felt like losing her wasn't the end of everything, and I started to work on myself.  My girlfriend would tell me daily how much she hated being in North Carolina and wanted to come back.  She had a younger brother who was autistic and she had to baby-sit him while her mom worked as a lunch lady.  She was always so mean to him.  I never understood why.  That kid....fucking loved me.  I didn't judge him.  I didn't tell him to shut up like his mom and big sister.  I didn't talk down to him or ignore him.  I would listen to him ramblings about pokemon when I met him and we played games together and I would make jokes.  He would hug me really tight and was always happy to see me.  That kid was going through a lot.  His mom didn't want to deal with him - that was obvious.  Same with his father and sister.  He was on a cocktail of meds, maybe 12 or so per day.  Lithium made him go into a homicidal rage, but he also had really bad a.d.d. and some other things.  The meds gave him all sorts of weird side effects, like facial ticks and his hands were always outretched and curling, like he couldn't stop moving his fingers.  Imagine playing a guitar or piano, but having your arms by your side and forearms up like a t-rex kind of pose: that was his normal self. 

 

Anyways, I had a crap job but whatever. I had a long-distance girlfriend but whatever.  I was working on myself and enjoying talking to Katie so things were shitty but not super bad.  Then shit got ugly.  I was still playing videogames with Larry and it turned out that Jess knew the friend group that Katie was in.  I had told Larry about how I really like this girl and want to spend time with her.  Larry then tells Jess about this.  Jess tells some other friend, and this other friend tells Katie.  This then gets around to my girlfriend.  Katie messages my girlfriend, paranoid, and says that she just likes talking to me and isn't trying to *do* anything with me.  My girlfriend then gets jealous and freaked out over this.  I explain that yeah, I like talking to Katie and I'm not doing anything.  Well, this won't do.  I try to talk to Katie about it but she cuts me out completely, scared that she ruined my (shitty) relationship.

 

My girlfriend hated everything down in North Carolina (just like she hated everything up here. Wonder what the difference was) and desperately wanted to come back.  I missed her as well (although not as much as time went on) and there were some ground rules: my girlfriend had to get a job and contribute to the family as well as go to school.  I also think there might have been a stipulation for my g/f to get a therapist but I'm not entirely sure.  After 9ish months of long-distance, the jealous g/f moved back up here with me and my family.  Katie was never spoken to again.

 

My g/f and I meeting again felt weird.  We were sitting in my car and saying that we felt distant from each other.  We kissed and it didn't feel quite the same, but then kept doing it.  Shortly after, I had been let go from my crap job at the temp agency/CVS.  It was time to go back to school only this time for what *I* wanted to do.  My g/f and I both enrolled at CCRI, the community college, since the classes were cheap as hell.  The plan was to get a generic degree and see what was interesting.  I hated computer with a passion by this point and wanted nothing to do with them.  Nothing 'tech-ish' was going to be in my future.  I thought that teaching was interesting and I was always interested in understanding people, so psychology was another route.  My g/f and I ended up taking the same exact classes.  She also got a job at a market and shortly after, I did as well.  We were now waking up at the same time, I was driving us both to work at the same time, I would get out sometimes a little earlier than her and then be back in an hour, and then we would go to the same classes and go to bed at the same time.  We also would alternate showers while the other would sit on the toilet and talk.  There was literally NO single hour that went by without us being next to each other.  It was unhealthy and negative before, but it became so so much worse by this time.

 

I had tried to lose weight by drinking Slimfast.  Protip: Slimfast fucking sucks.  I ended up gaining weight while following their program.  The weight that I had started to lose while in a long-term relationship quickly ballooned back up.  I was in the 300s by this point with my g/f.  I was quickly approaching 25 years old and over 300 pounds.  I was talking to my g/f one day while I was using a beard trimmer to buzz my head into a crew cut.  I always snap the plastic length setter off, clean off the hair, then snap it back on.  She distracted me and I never put the length trimmer on and I shaved a streak along the side of my head.  I tried to conceal it for a couple of weeks but my hair was not growing fast enough.  I ended up biting the bullet and shaving my head bald.  It stayed like this for years, sometimes even using a razor to be completely smooth bald.

 

It was around this time that my grandfather passed.  I was never very close to him.  He fought in WWII and apparently after he got back from the war, he was never the same.  He told a war story to my mom years ago about how a grenade hit his car and he flew up in the air and fell into really wet mud.  It was pitch black and his legs went numb but because he was buried under mud, he splashed around and thought that his legs had blown off and was going to die.  He also said how he was there was storming a concentration camp and was able to carry 7 Jews over his shoulders because of how they were skin and bones.  When a supply vehicle came by with apples to feed them, their stomach ruptured because they had been starved for so long that their stomachs couldn't even fit 1 apple.  I know that he earned a purple heart for his service but besides these war stories, I knew nothing about him.  He never talked to me.  Never shared anything.  He seemed completely devoid of emotions and that's all I knew growing up.  My mom had 6 brothers/sisters and one of my uncles had lived with my grandpa his entire life.  There was no will set in place so two aunts decided that they should sell my grandpa's house, kick out my uncle, and then divide the money evenly 7 ways.  This fight over money eventually fractured the originally very big family that I had.  Everyone was older, married, had kids, and some of them even had kids - there was probably 30-40 people within my extended family.  Now, all of them gone.  The family that I knew was my mom, sister, bro-in-law, and the uncle that was kicked out of the house.  He ping-ponged around and at one point, ended up living with us and I utterly hated it.

 

With my uncle now living with us, my sister and bro-in-law were back to their money-spending.  They used to spend a bunch of money but started living WAY beyond their means.  My mom had amassed a fortune by working 2 jobs as a nurse, with one of them being a night shift.  What should have been over a quarter-million dollars inheritance for me ended up dwindling into nothing as my sister/bro-in-law ended up being bailed out by my mom so they wouldn't have to declare bankruptcy.  After this, my mom always talked about money and how everyone needed to save, save, save.  She was always frugal but after wiping out that much for life savings, it became constant reminders.  Fast-forward a bit and one christmas, my mom tells me that she can't afford gifts but she wants to get people stuff for christmas.  She asks me what I wanted.  I tell her that I just want practical stuff, like a gift card and some Dove soap.  My mom ends up giving me that gift card and soap, but it's the wrong soap  She gets me the one that makes me break out in a rash.  That same christmas, she decides to buy the other 6 shares of my grandmother's ring (it was in a lockbox because a ring can't be split up 7 ways for the aunts/uncles) and gives that to my sister.  It was over $15,000+ to do that. 

 

Now, at 7 years into the relationship and roughly age 25/26, The Black Kiss happened.

 

My g/f and I had been fighting more and more.  It was always about the same things: her not wanting to talk, weight loss, lack of intimacy, and no motivation or drive to go anywhere or do anything.  She had no friends. I barely had my fringe friends.  We were working at the market together, finished up school together, and did nothing.  I wanted to go out.  I didn't care where.  The mall.  Drive somewhere a little new.  A park.  Pool.  Bowling.  Cafe.  Anything.  She didn't want to.  I was nervous about getting lost since she STILL had not learned how to drive at this age, and there was no smartphone/gps that I was aware of, but I was still willing to explore a little bit.  She only wanted to bitch about how much she hated her job and watch tv.  All day.  Every day.  Nothing ever different.  I was starved for attention.  We fought in the morning or in the evening.  Daily arguments about how she wouldn't open up with me, wouldn't talk to me, that it seemed like she hated me.  One day, we have a fight in the morning, a fight midday, and a fight in the evening.  My girlfriend tells me that she doesn't want to go to bed angry and wants a kiss goodnight.  I kiss her....and I feel nothing.  This is what I refer to as the Black Kiss.  Every time before this, I at least felt a rush of something positive.  There was a little bit of good feelings, a little bit of excitement.  That kiss was repulsive and I felt empty after it.  I didn't know what to do.  She went to bed, thinking everything was fine.  I, on the other hand, was a fucking disaster.  I was laying on my side, staring out the bedroom door and at the little nightlight that I had (I never grew out of being afraid of the dark but my kitty Frisky was on my sister's side of the house with even more cats: Frisky, Alexis, Timmy the cross-eyed stray, and Rufus) and I started crying.  I couldn't make too much noise because then my girlfriend would wake up and ask what was going on and I wasn't even sure what to make of it myself.  I just laid there, crying in silence and soaking my pillow, wondering what the fuck just happened.

 

Currently #6:

 

I waited a day because I got into a weird headspace after therapy.  I had therapy yesterday around noon and I ended up going over to JJ's and doing my batch cooking while I was there.  I needed some time to reflect.  I've spent the past few weeks recapping my life with the therapist and it's made me more aware of other things.  I never forgot any of the shit that's happened to me, but reflecting on it all at once, in a chronological order, seems to be building a narrative that I'm able to emotionally process better.  I said that I processed the stuff that happened to me and I have, but emotionally processing it seems to be different.  I'm currently up to age 31 with my therapist and I feel that because I'm writing almost every day, that I'll be ahead in my writing.  I'm trying to have 3 timelines converge:

 

1) The history of who I am in written form

2) The history of who I am in verbal/therapist form

3) The history of my NF experience in challenge recaps form

 

Eventually, all three of these are going to link together.  I'm thinking that at this rate, I'll finish my 20s tomorrow and then Wednesday, I'll almost be caught up to when I started NF.  Then I can put a little history bit in my NF and I won't have these massive posts because I'm basically recapping 1-2 months when I write about my challenge.  This upcoming Friday, I meet with my therapist and then I'll cover age 31->Currently.  This means by the end of the week, I'll have a medium-sized 'Challenge recap' + small 'Currently', instead of a small 'challenge recap' + massive 'who i am entry' + medium 'currently'.  With me starting the new job this week, that's a definite good thing.

 

This past session, I brought up a lot of NF-related stuff and the dichotomy of Mike vs Teros.  It was weird hearing a therapist, as he put it, "wrap my mind around this idea".  I think that he doesn't want me polarizing and hating myself and always looking up to an ideal, but the thing is; Teros is the best version of myself.  If I don't have a role model/hero/someone to look up to, then I have no inspiration.  I have no reason to move forward because then I don't know wtf forward movement even IS.  I understand where he's coming from, and I ended up spending a lot of time in this past session trying to explain that as I've been going through life, I've been doing things that I would deem as more and more 'Teros-like'.  Being assertive, standing up for myself, facing my fears, being active in creating art, expanding my horizons, working on my health and mental well-being, going through with school, learning things.  All of this I would have fall under the umbrella of 'being Teros'.  My idealized self is doing all of those things.  So when I do something like sign up for a Paint-Night, or I decide to message a woman on OKC and go bowling with her, or I put my foot down with not eating junk food; I'm being less like old mike/dark passenger, and more like Teros.  While I don't think you can put things as black and white, or good and evil 100%, I do think that there are fundamentally better things.  All the traits I just listed I think fit with something that every person could benefit from.  I think everyone could benefit from having some sort of artistic expression, having boundaries, working on their health, etc.   The therapist even drew a diagram on his dry-erase board.  It was so odd seeing a giant M and a long line and a giant T and him looping around.  He said that me explaining all of this gave him a huge insight to how I operate and think.

 

I decided that I know I need to get space from JJ and that next week, I'm going to talk about the rest of my 30s and the following week, what to do about JJ and finally confront her.  The time I spend with her is a constant fight to not eat junk food.  No, I don't want a khalua mudslide.  I don't want mcdonalds tonight.  I don't want ice cream.  I don't want cheese spread with crackers.  I don't want chips ahoy cookies.  My brain is screaming at me to eat these things and a beautiful woman holding them and saying she'll make me whatever I want and make the trip to get said garbage food is so fucking hard to fight back with.  It's an addiction: I've come to accept that's what this is.  While some people can eat some candy and feel fine, others like myself will never be able to have that sort of limit.  Just like some people can drink socially and then be fine and others end up getting shitfaced no matter what they try and do.  I don't have a limit: I can and will fuck up royally if I let myself be like that.  JJ's involvement in my life can't continue.  I might see her tomorrow night but then I won't for the next few days.  I posted it before but it bears repeating...my schedule is going to be:

 

Monday: Market Job + School

Tuesday: Internship + School

Wednesday: Market Job + New Job

Thursday: Internship + School

Friday: Market Job + New Job

 

The Monday and Thursday classes don't always meet so there's some random free nights there.  Besides that, I only have the weekend to spend any time with anyone.  I've prepared myself for distancing myself from JJ.  I'm going to be doing homework on Saturdays (whether or not I have anything due).  I will spend time with other people or I will read/paint/self-care.  This makes it so the most time I can possibly spend with JJ in a given week is twice:  Sunday + Whatever non-school evening.  Now, if I tell her that I want to go out and do something on the free evening, that means the most temptation I will have for junk food is on Sunday.  AND, she does family dinner every other Sunday, which means that I only really have to 'stay strong' with my healthy eating on that one day.  I think that if I batch cook on Sunday at her place, that will make it even easier.  Also, by having my schedule like this, it makes it so I have a couple hours in between on monday/wednesday/friday that I can work out, post on here, etc.  Having the middle of the day free is better for me: I tend to want to eat garbage the later it gets in the day.  Tuesday classes don't end until after 8pm so I'll go home and watch tv for an hour and go to bed.  Wednesday I don't get out of work until midnight so i'll pass out right after.  Thursday class doesn't get out until around 8pm so I'll watch tv and go to bed.  Friday I won't get out of work until midnight so I'll pass out.  This means that ultimately, the only possible times that I can feel antsy and bored at night and want junk food is Monday night and the weekends.  I can do this.

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1 hour ago, Teros said:

I can do this.

You can do this...look how far you've come already 

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You are doing this.

By the way I see nothing wrong with the Mike/Teros dichotomy. You have visualised your ideal self and are now working towards becoming that ideal self. I remember a pocast that talks about doing exactly that. I will see if I can track it down for you.

Sent from my CPH1725 using Tapatalk

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11 hours ago, Teros said:

This past session, I brought up a lot of NF-related stuff and the dichotomy of Mike vs Teros.  It was weird hearing a therapist, as he put it, "wrap my mind around this idea".  I think that he doesn't want me polarizing and hating myself and always looking up to an ideal, but the thing is; Teros is the best version of myself.  If I don't have a role model/hero/someone to look up to, then I have no inspiration.  I have no reason to move forward because then I don't know wtf forward movement even IS.  I understand where he's coming from, and I ended up spending a lot of time in this past session trying to explain that as I've been going through life, I've been doing things that I would deem as more and more 'Teros-like'.  Being assertive, standing up for myself, facing my fears, being active in creating art, expanding my horizons, working on my health and mental well-being, going through with school, learning things.  All of this I would have fall under the umbrella of 'being Teros'.  

 

When I first read about your Teros/Mike dichotomy a couple years ago, I, like your therapist, didn't think the polarity of it looked healthy. But, over time, getting to see your methodology a little more,  it doesn't seem to be too harmful and your seem to net positive from it most the time. At the end of the day it isn't really all that much different than the way most people look at themselves vs. what they want to be. You have just defined it a little further and given each side a name. It is unorthodox, but seems to work for you.

 

I would think your therapist's greater concern is that you hate the part that you associate as you and that even as "Mike" has become more "Teros-like", you haven't shown much of a history of hating "Mike" less. I think it is perfectly fine to have an ideal self to work towards, but I think hating the person you are for NOT being that ideal self can be a dangerous game. It results in countless hours of counterproductive self-loathing, which often leads to shooting yourself in the foot, which ultimately makes it harder, and take longer, to reach that ideal self. Which, in turn, results in making you feel worse, which encourages more self-loathing and counterproductive thoughts and actions, and the cycle continues. I think THAT is more what your therapist is concerned about than the polarity or this concept of an "ideal self".

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Took some time, but I found you. These walls of text will be one hell of a challenge to catch up with, but I know it's worth the effort. Keep on truckin'...

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Oy Vey, it's 6pm.  I had to write two other things before I started this.  I'm hoping I bang this out tonight.  Ok ready - it's time to close the gap with this post *cracks knuckles*.  I'll reply to the comments in the next post.  I read them but these posts are a massive time sink and this should be the last huge one.

 

I had left off with The Black Kiss.  After this experience, I tried to keep kissing my g/f for a couple of weeks to see if maybe this was a fluke.  It wasn't.  I started to resign myself.  I thought that maybe this is how relationships work:  you feel something when you kiss the person you're with, then things go sour and get worse and worse and eventually that feeling just fucking dies and you're left with a "frenemy" that lives with you.  Lord knows I didn't think I could do any better.  What woman would want me?  Over the next couple of years until almost 30, I go up and up until I hit the 360 mark.  I still remember weighing myself and saying, "I weigh an Xbox" chuckling to myself, and then tearing up.

 

However, before I get to that 360 mark, I try WeightWatchers with my g/f.  Her cousin who lives only about a mile away wants to try it as well.  We each lose a few pounds but quickly stagnate.  The problem is that the WWPoints calculator was supremely fucked because of how fat I was.  I remember it was around like 70 points I was supposed to eat in a day.  Since I'm trying to eat healthy food and that's less points, I end up eating ALL THE FUCKING TIME.  So a 'light' yogurt would be less points so I end up eating two of those, instead of a full-fat regular yogurt.  I ended up saving up all of my points and then wasting them all at the end of the day by having tons of WW desserts.  Those little ice cream bars that are only 3 points?  Let's have 6 of them.  Those tiny brownie bite squares? Let's have 4 of those.  I end up eating tons of what I call 'diet junk food'.  As I lose weight, the number of points I have barely drops.  I still feel like I'm overeating so I have to make my own point limit and try to stick with that.  Something told me that I shouldn't be eating 5 desserts even though it was within my WW Points range.

 

After losing a few pounds, my g/f sees that I'm losing weight faster than her.  She gets discouraged.  Starts not bothering.  Then starts actively sabotaging us.  Yeah, I *can* have pizza within my points but should I?  My g/f's cousin also stops bothering and I feel awkward going by myself to the weekly meetings.  Things sort of trail off as the old habits return:  g/f has a bad day, buys a ton of junk food, and then gives it to me so we can pig out together.  I had told her multiple times in the relationship that if she wants some junk food then that's ok I guess, but if I'm working on myself then at least get shit that she loves but I hate, like Salt&Vinegar chips or things with peanuts and almonds in them.  I was a picky eater and I wouldn't be tempted by her bakery 6-pack of brownies if they had walnuts mixed in, or any sort of tangy chip, or chocolate and mocha/coffee stuff.  There were tons of things that she loved that I was repulsed by.  However, after a couple days of that, she would revert back to buying something that she knew I loved.  Oh, she'll buy salt&vinegar chips, but she'll also by oreos and chocolate-fudge poptarts which I could eat an entire box of in one sitting.

 

The relationship got worse and worse. I would binge eat because I hated myself and my life.  Much in the same manner that someone cuts to control their pain, I would eat so much that it would feel like my stomach was ripping apart.  Whole rolls of cookies dough, large pizzas, trays of brownies, whole bags of m&ms and kit-kats.  "Family Size" anything meant it would be "barely enough for me" size.  Velveeta shells and cheese family size shells&cheese, pounds of meat.  It was insane.  I could have been a competitive eater with how much I was stretching and ruining my goddamn stomach.  Days were filled with loveless loneliness sitting in front of a computer screen, eating until I was in so much pain that I couldn't get off the couch, playing games for countless hours until my eyes were bloodshot.  I didn't sleep well at all.  I felt suicidal daily.  I would go into work and count down when I could go home and eat and play games.

 

Being this alone, I started looking elsewhere for friends.  I ended up on a little site called /b.  While there, I found I never laughed so much and also lost my faith in humanity at the same time.  I felt depraved and awful as I went on there.  I guess a way to describe it would be like looking at a train wreck: It's horrible but you can't look away.  Eventually I became a regular and understood the concept of trolls trolling trolls.  I more often than not would browse the threads and not say a whole lot.  Usually someone already said the 'appropriate' meme response before I was able to get to it.  I thought that I saw some sick bdsm stuff back in my teenage years.... that did not compare to the horrors on the site.  I remember seeing uncensored footage of mutilations, or 'gore porn'.  I still very vividly remember seeing a camera recording a guy screaming in russian, a black boot on his temple, and as he was screaming, someone with a serrated knife sawed his throat.  The blood-pooled screams were horrifying.  The years, yes, YEARS that I spent on this side jaded me to a lot of things.  I became jaded to humor: only the sickest and absurdist things would make me laugh.  Unlike a lot of the usual viewers, I did *not* end up liking loli or becoming a furry.  I found out all sorts of anarchist things, like how to make colored smoke bombs, gas masks, and illegal work.  I understood the idea of being 'behind 7 proxies'.  I clicked a link for what I thought was a picture of some concept art because that's what the thumbnail was and when enlarging the photo, there was child porn within that picture: an adult woman sucking off an 8 year old.  It seems that's how they were able to spread the info without arousing suspicion from the FBI.  Very...shady stuff.  The site prided itself on being the 'asshole of the internet' and for years, I had this sick tether to it; unable to stop going back to see whatever insane fucked-up shit there was.  I considered myself part of that depraved lot, so much so that interacting with what would be called 'Normies' was really difficult.  It was like a sub-culture: complete with it's own lingo, words, pictures, and more.  This was years before the word 'meme' was even known in pop culture, as things like Itty Bitty Baby Itty Bitty Boat were and still are unknown.  Today, people think memes are shitty TikTok compilations.  To this day, I have a hard time understanding why pop culture is funny in any way: like an episode of Friends.  It's so watered down and non-offensive and predictable that I utterly loathed it.

 

While I was in that cesspool, I ended up talking to a girl in the florist department named Annette.  She was heavy-set, wore all black, had black hair, piercings, tattoos.  That sort of goth-girl vibe that I had gotten from Tamara about a decade ago.  Something about that always attracts me.  She had walked by me while I worked a couple of times and each time, we struck up conversations.  She was fun to talk to.  She was always bored in the florist so she would tell me to come to 'her side of the store' and talk so that's what I did.  After the whole Katie thing, I didn't want to be open with this and have my g/f take it the wrong way.  I would talk to Annette if my g/f was not working at the service desk, but instead working in the cash office.  The service desk was within eye-sight of the florist desk.  We talked about videogames (Zelda, Ocarina of Time being one of the greats we would hum together).  She had a boyfriend - some skinny dude who looked like he stumbled out of a Hot Topic.  Makes sense for them to pair up.  Annette started telling me about private stuff.  When no one was around, she confided to me about how she tried to kill herself before, and how she was hanging in her room with a homemade noose but she was grabbed and lifted up by her current b/f.  And then, a few months later, her b/f wasn't her b/f anymore...

 

She started telling me about this stalker that she had named Eric, who had feeling for her for about 7 years.  However, he had an anger problem and would follow her outside of the house.  I started to really like Annette, because of course I'm a fucking idiot and drama is exactly what I needed in my life.  Annette and I became more personal.  I eventually got her cell phone number and we texted a bunch.  It felt weird, like I had to hide it from my g/f since I knew she would think that I'm trying to get with Annette although that wasn't the case.  It wasn't the case with Katie either years before: I was desperately alone and I liked having the company.  I liked talking to someone who wanted to talk to me, unlike the woman who sat on the far end of the couch who I became increasingly more certain secretly hated me and was using the relationship as a way to stay in RI instead of being shipped back off to her mom in NC.  As my friendship with Annette got closer, she told me that she decided to try being with Eric.  I didn't understand: why the hell would you stay with a stalker?  One day, I went to the florist and she held up her left hand and her face was so miserable.  There was a ring on it because Eric had proposed.  She said she was confused and didn't know what she was doing.  She was hurt from the split with Brian (her now ex b/f) and felt alone.  I said I felt alone too, and maybe we should hang out sometime.  I felt like the relationship with my g/f was fucking dead and honestly, it was even before the Black Kiss.  I didn't know what I should do anymore.

 

Then Larry died.

 

It was in February.  Larry was a plumber by this point and he did not secure all his tools and spare pieces of pipe in his work van.  He hit a patch of black ice and rolled multiple times.  He also wasn't wearing his seatbelt, so he basically was beaten to death with his unsecured tools.  His brain swelled and they needed to cut a hole in his skull but it didn't matter: he was gone within a few hours.  The death of Larry sent shockwaves through my life.  As much as I thought he was a dude-bro kind of douche, he was still one of my closer friends and my oldest friend next to Jay.  He was my gamer friend.  We talked about how great Diablo 3 was going to be whenever it came out.  When going to his funeral, I was a mess.  My face was beet red.  I hugged Jess - they had 2 kids by the time this happened and Jess was now a nurse.  Larry's mom was doing the worst.  I knew she was fucked up on some sort of meds and drunk as she slurred and hugged and held me.  She told me that Larry's playing paintball up in heaven with God.  I remember Jess telling me about how there was a time when Larry and I were playing games and he asked me if he was a bad person and I told him I never thought that.  She said that he cried when I told him that.  There were times when we played games that we got into philosophical discussions and I recall asking Larry if I was insane.  I remember exactly what he said, "No dude, you're the only sane person I know".

 

The death of Larry made me reevaluate my life.  I shouldn't accept being miserable.  I needed to lose weight and get my shit together.  I wrote a letter to Annette, telling her that I was going to start going to the gym and she said tons of times that she wanted to work out so I sort of formally asked her if she wanted to be my gym-buddy.  It sure as hell wasn't happening with my g/f.  Shortly after this, Annette tells me that we can't be friends.  I ask why.  It turns out that Eric was nosy and jealous.  He thought that she was cheating on him with me (despite us never having hung out outside of work).  The situation escalated more and more as Eric one time punched and broke those little fans inside the car, as well as threw a phone against a wall.  I didn't want Annette to stay in this situation.  She had a kid - being around someone that flipped out like that might hurt her or her child.  She kept telling me that it was ok but things got worse.  Eventually, Eric wanted to *deal with me* and talk to me.  If this meant all this drama would go away then fine - whatever.  By this point, my g/f knew about Annette and I being friends and was seething with jealousy.  It was fucking bad for all 4 of us: me, g/f, Annette, Eric.  He called me and my g/f wanted him on speakerphone.  He yelled and started berating me, saying that 'your bitch should keep you satisfied so you won't come fucking around here!' to which my g/f now was furious that I told people about 'us'.  What the hell - Annette and I talked about literally everything.  I knew *her* intimacy issues as well: I just wasn't an asshole who threw them into a conversation because of a phantom insecurity.  After that blowup, a couple months later and Annette transferred stores and I had lost another connection that I wished I had in my life.  Things with my g/f got even fucking worse.

 

About this time, Frisky passed.  There were 4 cats on my sister's side of the house: Frisky, Alexis, Timmy, and Rufus.  There was also Winnie on my side of the house.  Frisky had gone blind years ago and was in a lot of pain.  She would wander the house trying to find food or the litter box and the other cats would smack her in the face.  She eventually lived on the couch and peed there, so we started putting pee-pads on the right side of the couch for her to stay.  That morning was so difficult for me.  Frisky, my kitty, was suffering and was going to be put down in the middle of the day.  Before I went to work, I knelt on the floor, foreheads touching as I kept petting her and telling her how much I loved her.  I couldn't stop crying.  I knew when I came back home, she would be gone.  I also felt that she would be the one and only kitty that I ever had.  It still rings true these years later: I have never wanted to deal with a cat after that.  My sister told me a few months later that she heard me in the living room with Frisky and she couldn't stop crying in bed when she heard me crying.  Frisky was cremated and I felt even worse.  My kitty that protected me from the dark was gone.

 

Then, to round things out, my g/f's dad died as well.  She took it pretty well.  She hated him, but had this sort of warped guilt.  As in, she felt bad that she didn't feel bad that he was dead.  She leaned on me a lot during this time, but it eventually became the same conversation over and over.  After 2 months of this, I told her that I'm being supportive but I think she needs professional help as well.  I started bringing her to Betty The Therapist.

 

I decided I should try therapy too, but the cost was way too high so I found a therapist that was paid under the table, who had been in the business for 40-some years.  His name was Rick.  I had Rick, my g/f had Betty.  Rick....didn't last long.  After a couple of months, it was just us sitting in silence.  I wanted answers on how to fix shit in my life.  He offered no guidance whatsoever.  His only bit of advice was to leave my g/f if I was truly this miserable with her.  Nothing of real significance was explored - I remember hearing the loud clock ticking as he would repeat some of the stuff I had just said.  In the business, that's called 'reframing' or, trying to speak in the same language/words as your client.  It didn't do jack shit for me because his parroting had no weight or value to it.  Eventually, I didn't bother.  I didn't get a sense that he understood me or even gave a shit.

 

By now, my g/f and I had started going back to school.  At CCRI, we both liked psychology and we both felt that maybe opening up a couple counseling practice could work: I would work with the guy, she would work with the woman, and then we could have all 4 people in on a session.  At URI, I met Professor Wrobel who had a cool story I want to share.  He said that he worked with patients that had traumatic brain injuries.  One woman had a thin mesh over a hole in her skull.  He had gotten really close to this woman and she had him touch the mesh.  When he did that, he felt a static shock and felt a hum of electricity.  He was able to literally *feel* her thoughts.  I thought that was the coolest shit in the world.

 

I still was trying to make 'us' work.  We still worked at the supermarket, went to school together, did homework together, fell asleep at the same time.  It was spending 16 hours a day with someone that you hated but you thought you were 'supposed' to love.  It was this maddening cognitive dissonance.  Our fights were stale.  I felt more and more empty as time went on.  I can remember how hollow I felt inside, how devoid of anything even remotely good or happy in my brain.  We got into a fight and she had her hands balled into fists.  I screamed at her to hit me, because then maybe I would feel something.  Maybe then, at least, she would show me some sort of fucking attention.  I was in a really bad place.  Things were beyond toxic.

 

It had been a few months since my kitty died, and my sister knew that I liked pugs.  So, she talked to a friend of a friend who had a middle-aged pug.  The woman was moving to a retirement home and wasn't able to take the pug so my sister wanted to see if she could nab it.  The plan fell through and I was glad: I wasn't ready for another animal.  I needed to finish grieving.  I needed time away from any animals before I felt I could be ready to bond with another one.  Well, what I wanted didn't fucking matter.  One day, my sister tells me that we needed to go on a trip because she 'needed help' with something.  An hour later and we're at a dog place and they have 4 pugs available.  There is a black one, a fawn one, a spotted one, and another fawn-brownish one.  I tell my sister that I'm not ready.  I'm not ok with this.  My sister brushes it off and makes me go inside.  I feel antsy.  She gets pushy and tells me that we "HAVE" to get a dog today.  I'm uncomfortable.  My g/f knew about the middle-aged pug and wanted one really bad after that whole situation fell apart.  Here I am, being pressured by my sister and my g/f who hates me to get a dog that I don't want yet.  There is another family there that is also looking at dogs.  I see that the fawn pug does not give a flying fuck about the people in the room.  The other kids there squealing and pointing and saying, "LOOK A DOG!"  Yeah, no shit, idiot.  There's dogs everywhere.  Meanwhile the fawn one is getting into mischief, smushing himself near a shelf because he smelled treats.  This aloof dog that is mellow as fuck would be the dog I would choose since I'm forced to take care of an animal now.  I pick the fawn one and I think that's it.  But then the black pug comes out and he's peppy and annoying.  He reminds me of the dog equivalent of that way-too-excited-to-be-here personal trainer that screams motivational quotes at people and thinks working out is 'super fun yeah!'  My sister likes that one.  I don't.  I tell my sister that I'm not ok with getting a dog but I like the fawn one.  My sister goes, "But he needs a playmate! Get this one too!"  So now I went from not wanting any dog, to taking TWO fucking dogs.  We drive back home and the black one threw up on himself while in the dog crate.  I decided to look up dog-training for litterboxes.  It could be done.  However, with inconsistency, it became a problem.  With no one home and them being so young, the pugs were shit-machines.  It was daily cleaning up of piss and liquid shit everywhere.  They whined a lot as well, making sleep difficult for me since I'm a light sleeper.  Oh, and my g/f lost interest in taking care of them after about 3 months; so it became something now I had to do.  I tried dividing up chores with her, you know, like a normal fucking adult in a relationship based on compromise would do; but anything, literally ANYTHING that she had to do, she pissed and moaned about.  "Oh god I need to go take the dogs out agaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.  I'm so fucking tiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred.  UGH."  Half of her vocabulary was pissy scoffing noises.  Do you know how goddamn annoying that became?  She bitched about everything. Bitched about work.  Bitched about food.  Bitched about the dogs.  Bitched about school.  Bitched about tv.  Bitched about her mom the second she hung up the phone.  Bitched about people in her general vicinity.  Fought with me.  It was a constant loop of misery coming from her.

 

I had tried yet again to get my life under control.  This time, I tried Nutrisystem.  It was a grueling couple of weeks.  Nutrisystem is fucking awful, ok?  They make terrible garbage-quality food, but then they sprinkle in about 50 grams of protein in every single item.  The plan is for you to feel full by eating literally any item in existence.  The problem, besides the muffins tasting like cardboard and the spaghetti tasting like terrible protein powder; was how much I had to eat.  Like with WeightWatchers, Nutrisystem thinks that fat people are fat because they are hungry 24 hours a day.  You see, when I eat a whole pizza, cinnasticks, doritos, and box of twinkies, it's because I'm so hungry and want a whole pizza.  It's not AT ALL because I fucking hate myself, hate my loveless toxic relationship, hate my life, am tired of schoolwork, dog diarrhea, get no sleep, and eating pizza until I'm in extreme stomach pain is the only deterrent from my uncontrollable existence.  Yeah, I'm just hungry, Nutrisystem, you fucking assholes.  I just need to eat 400 grams of protein a day.  Gotcha.  Eating Nutrisystem and the amount of protein they had did something really fucked up: I was abnormally full of rage. Normally I'm pissed, but I was eating and then had the urge to hulk out- like I wanted to punch a goddamn hole in the wall multiple times a day.  Also I was beyond horny.  All I wanted to do was fuck and kill and fuck and kill, while I'm eating these cardboard muffins and that weird tuna pouch that was ice cold even though it was the middle of the summer.  It messed with my brain chemistry.  I was also never hungry but was forced to eat.  Because of my size, I needed to eat protein breakfast: these corn flakes that tasted like protein.  Then I had to have a snack: these bars that tasted like protein.  Then I had to have lunch: a salad with this protein tunafish squeeze pouch.  Then I needed to have another snack: some frito-like chips that tasted like protein.  Then I needed dinner: a microwave pasta dish that tasted like protein with a salad.  Oh and I needed to eat dessert: these cinnamon cheeto things that tasted like protein.  Did I mention all I was doing all day was eating, it all tasted like protein, and I was in a blood-lust constant rage?  NEVER AGAIN, Nutrisystem.  Take your stupid commercials with those assholes dancing around because they lost 12 pounds and fuck yourself.

 

After the Nutrisystem debacle and it getting late in my 20s, my g/f started saying some weird stuff.  She would tell me that I needed to not be 'controlling'.  What the hell was she talking about?  I wasn't the one that was using passive-aggressive and over-exaggerated sighs to get my way, or complaining about everything and starting fights because things didn't go as I wanted them.  If there was anyone that was controlling, it was her.  Some of her other comments were bizarre as well.  Finally I asked her to give examples of these false accusations. She didn't have any.  She never had any evidence when we got into arguments.  Pushing things further, I wanted to know why she's saying this *now* of all times.  What the hell have I done differently recently?  According to her therapist, Betty (the one that she was talking to since her dad died about a year and a half ago), I am being a control freak and not listening to my g/f.

 

 

 

I ask if it's ok if I sit in with Betty next time because I don't quite *get* what is going on.  My g/f is ok with that.  I meet Betty and I ask what's going on.  Dear readers, the narrative that my g/f weaved over the past year and a half was bat. shit. crazy.  Every other minute I asked Betty, "What do you mean?"  and my g/f would say her half of the story.  I would say MY half of the story and Betty's expression would change, like what I was saying didn't make sense.  My g/f would backpedal and give another example to which I replied my portion of the argument.  One by one, these stories that my g/f had been creating became what they really were: Lies.  No, I wasn't a control freak that demanded things of her: I asked her to do her chores and I would do mine.  No, I didn't yell at her about food; she never made a decision and after years of this, I started asking her less.  No, I wasn't invalidating how she felt: she refused to talk to me when we had an argument.  Instead she would go in the bedroom, close the door and watch tv for a couple of hours, and then not want to talk about it ever again.  No, I didn't do this.  No, I didn't do that.  No, why would you think I did this?  On and on and on.

 

The dynamic changed: Betty was now a couple's therapist.  Within the next 3 months or so, our meetings became me correcting the blatant lies that my g/f had been saying about me and even my family.  She would get flustered and want to yell.  I would sit back and say that I was fine with talking about it.  I was fine with hearing her perspective.  I was totally ok with her expressing herself because I had spent years trying to have her do that and she refused.  Parts in my g/f's story didn't add up.  Betty would then question my g/f.  "But you said_____ happened and now you're saying it didn't happen?"  The sessions turned into me talking for 2-3 minutes.  Betty asking my g/f follow-up questions, and my g/f spending 10-15 minutes circling back around and not making any sense.  Then I would interject with a, "That's why I did ______, because you said ______ over and over.  What did you want me to do?"  My g/f's responses became confused, "I don't know!  I don't know!"  She would never admit that she was wrong until Betty started saying, "Do you think that was fair to do to Mike?"   After 3 months of this, my ex refused to go.  She said she was done with therapy.  I asked why: I felt like for the first time in the goddamn relationship that I was being vindicated.  For once, a neutral third party was seeing how batshit crazy and manipulative she was.  My g/f thought Betty and I were 'ganging up on her'.  And didn't want to deal with it any more.

 

During the Betty couple therapy came the most hurtful memory I have of the relationship.  It wasn't the fact she was a bratty teen stuck in a 20-something's body.  It wasn't that sighs and huffing off.  It wasn't the bitching about having to do anything within the relationship.  The most hurtful memory was when we had talked to Betty and I explained that I felt rejected physically and I knew that wanting to get off daily was asking for too much, but maybe once or twice a week I think would be doable.  My g/f agreed that was 'fine'.  However, I could never bring it up.  If I never said anything, then nothing with us happened.  If I said something, she felt 'pressured' and then got angry at me.  The amount of times per week to do anything intimate was dropped down to once a week.  Just making out.  A handjob.  Fucking anything, please.  That didn't even happen.  Then one night, I told her that I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to piss her off but I felt really detached from her.  She goes in the bedroom and I'm standing in the doorway.  She is crawling on the bed on her hands and knees and looks back at me and says, "C'mon, let's get this over with."

 

My heart sank.  She was repulsed by me.  She wanted nothing to do with me.  Let's get this over with?  Like spending any time with me was a horrible chore.  Like I was wasting her time that she could spend eating and watching tv and being miserable.  I didn't know how to respond.  I felt so incredibly defeated.  I looked at the ground and then up at her and said, "Nah, uh...ehhh...I uhm, I think I'm ok...."  She made it even worse by saying, "Are you sure?  I don't want to hear you bitching about this tomorrow if we don't do something now."   Stammering, I tell her, "N-no...I'm done.  I don't want to..."  The final nail in the coffin is when she replied, "Alright fine, but just to be sure, you aren't going to bitch about this tomorrow?  This is it."   I shuffled off to the living room with a, "Yeah...I'm sure."

 

Never in my life have I felt so disgusting, so insignificant, and so horrendously ugly as I did that night.

 

I had a year of being beaten daily and punished in school.  Years of torture by another bully.  I was self-loathing and suicidal.  I saw my dead body at the bottom of the stairs.  I had been felt up by a classmate and made to grope a teacher.  I hadn't kissed anyone throughout highschool.  I gained weight with reckless abandon.  I resorted to junk food and videogames as escapism and binge eating as a way to rip my stomach apart so I could control that level of pain.  I had a long-term enmeshed toxic relationship with a woman that despised me and lied about me.  I was ostracized by fringe friends.  I was so desperately alone that the few women I did click with turned into an explosion of drama.  I felt I deserved nothing but bad and horrible things, coming close to using a steak knife on my stomach, and punching myself so I didn't have to get a picture taken.  I wished daily when I went to the bathroom that the world would burn and everyone would die.  Those moments were the times that I felt myself smile.  I had been to the depths of the internet and seen the worst of people.  I was jaded to life before I was even a teen.  I had a warped and broken sense of intimacy and relationships.  I had depression, anxiety, fear and loss of abandonment with frantic attempts to keep anyone near me, even if they treated me like shit.  I had an unstable sense of who I was and had out of body experiences where I felt like my soul was ripped from my body.  I was fueled by anger and when I wasn't angry and depressed, I felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness- like there was a void inside me like a black hole.  I was paranoid and dissociative, thinking the world was out to get me because I felt the world and everyone in it thought I was worthless and bad.  I was 360 pounds, hopeless, heartless, and directionless....

 

...Then I found NF and for the first time in my life, I felt like I found home...

 

 

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I haven't commented here yet, but I have been following along.  I am impressed that even though we had vastly different upbringings and experiences, they way you write makes it very relate-able, and I have been able to think back on my own life and identify some of the key actions, thoughts or situations that have influenced me either for good or bad.  

 

I think you communicate very well.

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I’m all caught up.
You’re stories reminded me of binging podcasts like “S-town” and “dirty John.” Not that you acted like either main character in them. Just that your telling was done very well and it had a beginning, middle, and end. I’m glad to hear that you are benefitting from getting your stories in order.
Do what you gotta do to stay sane. We’re always here rooting for you 100% of the way.

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On 1/11/2019 at 10:52 PM, Tanktimus the Encourager said:

I'm proud of you for opening up about those past traumatic experiences. Well done also on helping goatee.

 

Thanks.  I wish I was able to do more.  I talked to the other intern about the issue I had and he noticed the same thing that I did: the supervisor was getting more heated by talking to him and dismissing him which is what was escalating things later on.

 

On 1/12/2019 at 7:05 AM, Thom Stépan said:

Dude, you are amazing. I am proud to know you hammer brother.

 

 

 

On 1/13/2019 at 8:54 PM, Tanktimus the Encourager said:

You're doing a lot of good, hard work, keep it up. The more and more I hear about the Mike/Teros Dichotomy the more I think of the Star Trek (Original Series) episode "The Enemy Within."

 

Never watched Star Trek.  What was the episode like?

 

On 1/13/2019 at 9:09 PM, RES said:

You can do this...look how far you've come already 

 

:love_heart: Thanks

 

 

On 1/14/2019 at 7:02 AM, Thom Stépan said:

Found it. It was on the Tony Robbins Podcast.

 

Listening to it right now (as the Bludgeon Brothers theme ends lol).

 

"We use it to get out of our own way" -podcast.  EXACTLY.  I end up thinking themself into inaction.  Teros as an alter-ego is assertive and confident and when I channel and act that way, it has ALWAYS HELPED.  Not once in a while it was a good idea.  Not half the time.  Literally EVERY-SINGLE-TIME that I've felt I turned into the alter-ego version of myself. 

 

"How are you hiding in your field of play?"  - This resonated as well.  I am a wallflower but when I channel that 'other' as he puts it, I come out of hiding.  I'll explain more in my *Currently* post at the bottom.

 

"Eventually you don't need the alter ego, you embody it." - And I see this as eventually being *only* Teros.

 

On 1/14/2019 at 8:13 AM, Nova Aquarii said:

You have just defined it a little further and given each side a name. It is unorthodox, but seems to work for you.

 

I would think your therapist's greater concern is that you hate the part that you associate as you and that even as "Mike" has become more "Teros-like", you haven't shown much of a history of hating "Mike" less. I think it is perfectly fine to have an ideal self to work towards, but I think hating the person you are for NOT being that ideal self can be a dangerous game. It results in countless hours of counterproductive self-loathing, which often leads to shooting yourself in the foot, which ultimately makes it harder, and take longer, to reach that ideal self. Which, in turn, results in making you feel worse, which encourages more self-loathing and counterproductive thoughts and actions, and the cycle continues. I think THAT is more what your therapist is concerned about than the polarity or this concept of an "ideal self".

 

And doesn't defining it give it more weight and make it easier to explain?  It makes it more concrete when talking about more.

 

True, hating the non-ideal self can be dangerous but what the hell else am I supposed to think about those traits that I don't like?  It sort of ebbs and flows a bit.  old mike/dark passenger can be labeled as my borderline personality disorder, my depression, anxiety, weakness, insecurity, and more.  There's nothing to like about anxiety.  Nothing to like about depression: those are horrible things to feel.  HOWEVER, I think that being able to *appreciate* the value of those as motivators or as ways to connect to other people is an important distinction.

 

On 1/14/2019 at 10:52 AM, DarK_RaideR said:

Took some time, but I found you. These walls of text will be one hell of a challenge to catch up with, but I know it's worth the effort. Keep on truckin'...

 

Thanks man.

 

Currently #7:

 

I did the math and I should be able to cut down my internship hours almost 2 months before classes end.  According to my rough estimate, after this week I will be at 304 hours at my internship.  Over the summer, I did 130 hours.  Which means that my total is 434 (I didn't include staying late a few times or the time I went to the other shelter yet).  I need to do 600 hours by mid-May.  That means I only need 166 hours, which at 16 hours per week, means I'm done in 10 weeks.  That's the last week of March...

 

Since I need to finish on that week in May and extra hours don't count, I'm going to cut down the hours and do only 8 hours per week.

 

With the upcoming job, I wanted to address people in the morning Uplift.  I wrote a letter that I was going read this morning.  I didn't know how people would react. Here's what I read this morning to a group of 40 people, as I nervously gripped my paper:

 

I felt that with a big change, I wanted to say a couple of words.  Normally, I don't say much of anything here because I feel like this is the place for other people to express themselves: I'm just along for the ride.  However, I'm going to be joining the Amos House family as one of the House Managers for the men on Wednesday and Friday nights, as well as still interning on Tuesday and Thursday during the day.  I didn't take the job for the money, since honestly I could just do hours at a supermarket for the pay.  I took it because I want to help, and I truly believe in everyone that comes through these doors, even though I tend to be a wallflower and I'm not that good with names.  

 

I used to be friends with people that looked down on this community.  I remember someone telling me that they thought it should be legal to hit any homeless person with their car and not get in trouble.  He...is an ex-friend now.  I know how society looks down, like people here are less than people.  But when I look here, I see people that have courage, people that are hurt and want to be understood and change their lives for the better.  I don't click with people at my school, with their problems being about how their supervisor might not like them.  Meanwhile there is so much expression here that is raw and difficult.  There is a lot of emotions and pain to process through.  I don't think anyone that got here has had an easy road.

 

I guess I just wanted to say that I'm proud of all of the people here.  Even saying this stuff makes me nervous, so being able to share in any capacity I think is a huge deal, and I'm glad to be a part of this.  Also, I think maybe I need a different intro since I can't say I'm 'just interning here' anymore.  I hope everyone has a great day.

 

 

The response I got....

 

Related image

 

The entire room was clapping and cheering.  One of the guys said that he was glad there were people like me in the world.  Another guy got out of his chair and hugged me.  A woman came up to me after and told me that she was crying and thanked me.  The other staff person that was running the group said that he never saw the whole group so united and what I said was 'really powerful'.

 

I also handed the receptionist a letter answering a question she had last week: 'what is love?'  I typed up a 3-page note and put it in an envelope and gave it to her.  I'll see what her reaction is on Thursday.

 

I feel good.  i did a good job today. I'm making Jamaican riblets and ranch cauliflower for dinner tonight, all whole30.  I'll do some challenge recaps tomorrow after work.

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9 minutes ago, Teros said:

 

Never watched Star Trek.  What was the episode like?

Here's a link to a wikipedia style entry about the episode:

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/The_Enemy_Within_(episode)

 

TLDR: A transporter accident splits Kirk into his "good" and "evil" halves. As the show progresses, "Good" Kirk realizes all his command abilities and confidence are with the "Evil" self. The "evil" self can fake being good and take command but has very little impulse control and can't think straight. The episode is about how we need both halves of ourselves to function.

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Loved the tune bro.

I thought that podcast would help you understand the alter-ego process. Maybe refer your therapist to it as well. It might help them to understand what you are trying to accomplish.

Even more, how you stood up and spoke in front of your colleagues and clients. That took all kinds of awesome.

Sent from my CPH1725 using Tapatalk

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On 1/15/2019 at 6:30 PM, Teros said:

True, hating the non-ideal self can be dangerous but what the hell else am I supposed to think about those traits that I don't like?  It sort of ebbs and flows a bit.  old mike/dark passenger can be labeled as my borderline personality disorder, my depression, anxiety, weakness, insecurity, and more.  There's nothing to like about anxiety.  Nothing to like about depression: those are horrible things to feel.  HOWEVER, I think that being able to *appreciate* the value of those as motivators or as ways to connect to other people is an important distinction.

 

Hmm, let's think about it this way. Say you have a client that walks in and has an addiction, anxiety, depression, BPD, insecurities, and/or weaknesses. He may have some of them, he may have all of them, it doesn't matter. When this guy walks in, do you hate him? Do you berate him and tell him he is weak and pathetic because he is struggling with these mental and emotional issues? Do you tell him that he is worthless because of his current situation? What is the likelihood that treating this guy with hatred and disdain would actually help anything? Probably not very high, right? And I am sure you would never treat a client like that, so why treat yourself like that expecting different results?

 

I get it, depression and anxiety suck. Food addiction, or really an addiction of any kind, suck. Feeling weak, scared, and insecure, sucks. There is nothing wrong with being frustrated with those struggles and feelings. The dangerous part is when you hate the person that experiences them, that breaks under them, that survives them. "Mike" is not "Depression" or "Anxiety" or "Insecurity." Those each have their own conditions/emotions, they have their own names and are experienced universally by millions of people. "Mike" is the guy that suffers from/experiences them. "Mike" is the guy who has experienced bullying, parental abuse, emotional abuse, and a lot of other shit, and did what it took to survive. Hate the conditions if you want, but don't hate a part of yourself simply because you had to live through them. 

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Challenge 6, and Currently #8 combined

 

By this time, I was starting to treat my challenges as LiveJournals rather than 'update on food and exercise' logs like a bunch of people were doing.  I wrote things like:

On 12/13/2013 at 9:56 AM, Teros said:

Why do we keep things? 

 

If we keep stuff for memory's sake, then we'll open up those memories, whether it's a scrap book, an old container, a shoebox with stuff in it... And it won't matter.

 

There's 2 things that'll happen. Either 1) You look at the stuff and go, "oh god, I remember this" and then put it back away. or 2) "Who's kelly and why do I have a love letter to her from jason?  Idk who either of these people are!" And then put it back away, thinking maybe you'll remember later.

 

We've already LEARNED from our past, hence that's why it's in our memory (1), and we're not going to ever really care about dredging up other stuff (2), so then why do we keep things EVER?  Seriously.  Remember that time when you took a trip to chicago?  Yes?  Well then why have pictures of street corners in a box, in a bag, in a tub, stuffed under a staircase.  You're going to look at that trip to chicago maybe 20 times in your life and then die. Why hoard?  It's even worse if you spend your time DURING the memory, making sure you can remember the memory LATER.  Please just think of this twisted logic. Instead of watching the ball drop in Time's Square and experience the moment, you instead hold up your little crappy cell phone 2 inches from your face and record it, so that way you can post it on facebook so other ppl can see a grainy ball drop.  WHY?  Why would you sacrficice the present- in order to keep the past?  Now all you'll remember on your grainy video is "oh yeah, i never watched the ball drop, I just stared at my f*cking phone just like the 5000 people around me did. good times"

The seeds of an NF-based Spartan race were already kicking around:

On 12/18/2013 at 12:42 AM, Peach said:

Well I am in York, Maine. Hello, neighbors! We should all (local folks) do the spring Spartan together as a team and help each other. That's really the Spartan spirit. Also, it will help us stick with the program for the next six months. What do you think?

 

When I talked about my challenges, I explained how goddamn hard it was while I was trying my first W30:

On 12/24/2013 at 6:38 AM, Teros said:

1) I ended my whole 30 a couple days early because of cookie day.  I tried to stay strong during the xmas season, but holy damn, there's just so much junk.  It doesn't matter that my sister, brother-in-law, uncle, and mom are diabetic and on meds, and that me and my g/f still need 100 pounds to lose- there is STILL crap food EVERYWHERE.  50+ cookies near me right now? yep. 3 bags of oreos? yup. twix, milkyways, sweenors milk chocolate bars stuffed in stockings? yup. 2 overflowing candy bowls and 3 fridges filled with take-out? yup.

 

Despite all of this, I'm trying to eat normal-ish but this is like an alcoholic living in a bar right now.  So since I had to end my w30 early and I've had some junk food, I'm going to keep the strength points, but cut the constitition points. Total score: +3 strength

 

Also at the end of Challenge #5, I posted pictures about my first HOBO CHRISTMAS, which was later turned into KRAMPUS TIME.

 

hoboxmas1.png 

 

hoboxmas2.png 

 

With Challenge #6 and accountability group, it was now the new year (2014).

 

+

 

And I was friends with the people previously mentioned, as well as @Clarys, @ChristArtist and @Chris-Tien Jinn  The storyboard idea was kicking around a little bit with this challenge. Also, I'm a Chaotic Neutral Human Wizard:

On 1/19/2014 at 12:14 PM, Teros said:

Chaotic Neutral Human Wizard (3rd Level)

 

Chaotic Neutral Human Wizard (3rd Level)

Ability Scores:

Strength- 13

Dexterity- 11

Constitution- 11

Intelligence- 17

Wisdom- 16

Charisma- 11

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral-

 

My homegym at this time:

HomeGym2014.png

 

Also seeing as how she's not around anymore, I don't think; there were some challenge videos that Kim Taura hosted and I though she was SUPER adorable.  With her being the veteran on NF, it was nice hearing:

On 1/3/2014 at 8:36 AM, Kim Taura said:

Great goals. You don't have to challenge yourself on every single goal,so the reading goal can just be habit forming or light reading.

To be honest, you remind me a little of Joe- NF super dude.

(Can you come cook for me? Cause that would be awesome)

My challenges and accountability group were getting 15-20ish pages each challenge.  To be honest, I felt really popular and like I mattered a lot on this forum.

 

I ended up talking to @T2sarahconnor, @Terinatum and @AshPS and @Jill Beat .  It felt by this time that I had a group of friends that I could talk to a lot.  While this is going on with my challenge, my girlfriend was getting more and more angry with me.  The topic of *her* wasn't around much.  I was focused on connecting with people here and doing another whole30 since the prior one went to damn well.  My g/f had no intention of doing another whole30 with me and was eating her normal garbage food and buying surplus crap food to try to shovel onto me.  I stayed away from her more.  But, as I've said before - we were in an enmeshed toxic relationship that went to school together, went to work together, and spent all day with each other.  I would write about how I was trying my best with the weightloss.  I remember posting this video quite a bit and it being something everyone seemed to post on threads as well.  It was almost a NF meme:

 

This time my mom tried a whole30 as well.  She kept giving excuse after excuse and then finally decided to try one with me.  What I don't understand is her lack of learning when it comes to whole30.  She never wanted to admit just how much it helped her:

On 1/7/2014 at 2:32 PM, Teros said:

My mom just hit the tired phase of the whole 30.  She keeps doubting everything I've said and then it bites her on the ass.

 

When we're food shopping - "Oh, I won't eat that much meat" (4 days later- "I NEED DOUBLE THIS RIGHT NOW! Why am I so hungry?!")

 

"I'm usually tired a bit. I shouldn't get that tired" (5 days later- "I jus...I just can't think. I'm so tired. I don't know what's up with me...")

 

"I don't think my sugar will go that low as long as I have fruit" (5 days later- does a finger stick and has 3 glasses of oj and a handful of dates. "why is my sugar so LOW?")

I recall her having gout in her right hand and part of her leg.  It was so bad that she wouldn't even unflex her hand, keeping it close to her chest like a little t-rex arm.  She was like that for 8 months.  Read that:  EIGHT MONTHS.  And within 2 weeks of whole30, her arm is better and gout-less and she kept telling me about it.  When I told her it was because of the whole30, she didn't believe me, despite whole30 stories about not having inflammation and various other ailments being cured over the course of a whole30.

 

On 1/14/2014 at 4:12 PM, Teros said:

Alright, so it's time to do a write-up.  The argument that I had with my g/f was because tempers were flaring back and forth.  She does this teenager 'mumbles under her breath' and swears instead of actually confronting me with an actual problem.  So I have to act like a PARENT instead of a PARTNER and try to dig at the problem.  I got nowhere and decided to take a shower.  After, I told her we were going out and I brought us to an old baseball field.  It's always dead there, so I figured it was a good spot to talk.

 

We talked for about 3 hours.  We both vented the problems with food, some problems with intimacy, and just general stuff.  We have a plan now and we're both feeling a lot better.  There was a mutual conclusion about something- once a week, we have a 'vent trip'.  It's just some time to go hang out and talk about dumb shit that is bothering us.  Neither one of us are going to be angry, so there's no flare-ups.

  I write little bits here and there about stuff with my g/f and I at this stage.  I don't remember this 'vent trip' happening ever again by the way.

 

When I've talked about the Teros/Dark Passenger, I've tried a multitude of ways to explain it and here's another example of just how this works in my own head:

On 1/15/2014 at 7:08 PM, Teros said:
I was just organizing baby food and sorting out stuff when I started thinking about my old friend Larry.  He died about 3 years ago in a car crash. I remember being a mess at his funeral.  The more I thought about it, the worse I was feeling at work.  For about 10-15 minutes I was just going over stuff in my mind.  And the worse I felt, the more I wanted junk food.  Then a thought popped in my head, "This hasn't bothered you in a while? It's sad, but why are you almost crying right now?"
 
Then it hit me.
 
 
BRAIN!  Stop making me feel sad so I cave in and eat the fresh made cakes!  I could smell the bakery making something good.  And my brain.... my fucking brain... is trying to sabotage me.  I swear to god, my brain wanted that junk food so bad, that it GUILT TRIPPED ME into getting depressed and wanting to eat it.
 
Now here's the kicker.
 
I said out loud, "That's not going to work on me....ME.  I'm doing this and making me feel like shit to weaken me won't work"
 
You know what happened?  3 minutes later I was singing to the store radio.  My brain SERIOUSLY gave up trying to make me sad.  It's like there is an actual demon in me.

 

Something I realized way back then in challenge #6 and still rings true today is this:

On 1/9/2014 at 1:06 PM, Teros said:

I can't take a break with my eating setup or my workouts. EVER

Every time I have fallen off the bandwagon, I am royally fucked.  The pattern has been:

 

1-Get frustrated.  Hate self.  Try and fail multiple times to start eating better.

 

2-Suddenly it takes hold.  By pure luck, chance, or bizarre lack of cravings, I end up getting a foothold of 3 or 4 solid days of eating right.

 

3-As I start gaining momentum, my eating 'tightens up'.  What I mean by this is I might excuse a glass of milk or a bite of junk here or there in those first couple days but then those little sidetracks become less and less.  I end up relying more on fruit than on sneaking a bite of garbage food.

 

4-Tiger Blood: I have a couple weeks under my belt and I feel fucking fantastic!  I have lots of energy and it's spread throughout the day, instead of having sleepy lulls in the day and evening.  I start sleeping better.  Body aches seem to decrease.  I feel like I'm finally feeling healthy.  My depression is almost completely gone.  Headaches stop happening.  I tighten things up even more by cutting back on the fruit and adding water to my apple juice.  The little bit of fruits start to taste even better.  The healthy food that I'm eating has a more vibrant taste.

 

5-Excuse/Slack:  A holiday comes up or a group friend thingy or something.  I am terrified that if I derail a little bit, I will end up binging and regretting it.  I debate on not having any of the 'excuse/slack'.  I decide against my better judgement that I will be fine and I cave in and have an item.

 

6-Day after: I feel sick and I tell myself that I was a complete fucking idiot for going off the rails even a little bit. See what happens when I don't listen to myself and let peer pressure get the better of me?  I end up regretting it.  I feel shitty physically and emotionally: sometimes feeling extremely depressed and wanting to cry.

 

7-Slacking: I tell myself that I need to 'get back on track' and I do...kind of.  I have a few other little slacks/treats as I try to scratch the itch in my brain that it screaming for more garbage food.

 

8-Off the rails:  I fuck up royally and get chinese food, or pizza, or something else and I eat a lot.  I feel horrible.  My depression and anxiety come back.  I have no self-confidence.  I have no self-worth.  I tell myself that 'I'll do better tomorrow' but I end up saying that EVERY SINGLE DAY.  I've begun to not give a shit.  I feel suicidal and I want to stop feeling awful.  While I know logically that getting back on track 100% will fix this and in like 2 weeks I'll be back to loving life and being fucking awesome, the more immediate solution is to have more junk food.  The serotonin spike makes me feel good, even if it's only for a couple of hours.  I start chasing sugar like a junkie chases drugs: I need my fix and it needs to be stronger and stronger, as well as more and more often.

 

9-Fucked:  I end up eating junk when  I wake up, during lunch, at dinner, and probably right before bed.  I'm back to snacking to cure boredom.  I get delivery every other day.  I end up raiding my sister's side of the house and grabbing fistfuls of candy and devouring them within minutes.  I can eat upwards of 50+ pieces of candy in a single sitting.  I feel slightly better but also feel incredibly horrible.  I start to feel weak.  My sleeping sucks.  I'm always tired. I need junk food to get through the day.  My depression is back in full force and I chastize myself and belittle myself.  I feel suicidal.  I can't focus; being in a sugar-induced haze.  I can't concentrate on homework or even tv.  I end up mindlessly playing videogames because it's the only thing that my brain can handle.  This leads to a dual-addiction where I play games for 5, 6, 10 hours in a day, stay up late, and eat junk while I do so.  I'm antisocial.  I hate people.  I hate myself.  I have nightmares.  I start imagining killing other people and myself.  I think a lot about the whole human race dying off.  By this point, My Dark Passenger has me.  This whole dynamic and living is old mike thinking.  Old mike acting.  I feel like I can't escape.  I don't even have the energy to cook anything healthy, nevermind do a workout.  I feel like my muscles atrophy and I become extremely weak physically and mentally.  I try in desperation to muster up some energy to go for a couple blocks walk, or to even talk myself into doing a couple weight lifts.  I also try (usually in vain) to cook a healthy meal and eat that.  After many many failed false starts, some times there is a day here or there where I don't feel, act, think, and do complete shit.  Those attempts become more frequent as I get desperate.  If I don't get my shit together, I think I'm going to kill myself.  Eventually it stick a few times, to start this process all over at step 1.

 

This was true when I was a kid.  This was true when I was with my g/f/ex.  This is still true TODAY.  I've tried to change my 'relationship with food'.  It's not happening.  I'm sorry.  I've tried.  I can't in all good conscious say that there is some nutritional value in oreos, mcdonalds, or twizzlers.  Those are bad.  They are bad today.  They are bad tomorrow.  They are bad forever and NOTHING and NO ONE can convince me otherwise of this belief because I'm a 30+ year living proof that these things have felt like they ruined who I am as a person.  Is a regular white potato ok but not as nutritionally dense as a sweet potato? Yeah.  I'm not going to say 'potatoes are bad'.  But when I say 'junk' or 'crap food' or any other negative connotation to food, THAT is the junk I'm talking about.  I'm talking about chips ahoy.  I'm talking about dove chocolate.  I'm talking about crunch bars.  I'm talking about cookies, chips, taco bell, and dominos.  I'm talking about brownies and raw cookie dough. THAT IS ALL GARBAGE FOOD AND IT'S A LIE TO SAY IT ISN'T.  There is no such thing as 'too greasy' or 'too cheesy' or 'too sweet' when I'm talking about garbage food.  There is no such thing as 'a piece of' or 'just one item' when I'm talking about garbage food.  It is the worst of the worst.  The phrase, "One is too many and a thousand is not enough" is how drug users refer to their drug of choice, whether it be alcohol, weed, heroin, crack, etc.  That is exactly how my brain works as well.  So when someone tells me that I shouldn't classify things as such, it comes off as not knowing what an addict truly is.  Yeah, it would be great and pretty fucking easy if I could walk up, take a single cookie that is 2 bites, walk away, and then think that a second cookie is 'too much' or 'too sweet'.  That's not how my or an addict's mind works.  There is no limit. There is no extreme.  Therefore, the only option is abstinence.  No single drink.  No line of coke.  No goddamn cookies.  I don't care if that doesn't seem like a 'healthy relationship with food'.  Over the course of my challenges, quite a few people have tried to sell me on changing my stance about this and saying that I need to live with 'moderation'.  There is no moderation with an addict and I'm honestly sick of debating it.  There is a gradient of nutritionally dense food, like I stated with the white potato/sweet potato comparison.  Corn isn't as good as other options. Blank is a little better or worse than other blank.  That's fine and I'm not discussing that.  BAD food is fucking BAD food.  Sorry.

 

This comes at a very crucial time for me right now since this past weekend, I went to JJ's and I had a couple of pilsbury biscuits with some garlic butter.  Now, is 'pilsbury biscuit' a 'bad' food?  To me, yes.  Yes it is.  I'm not getting vitamins and nutrients from this item.  It's like eating cardboard.  Is there worse things I could have had?  Of course.  But that doesn't somehow make a pilsbury biscuit a 'good' thing simply because it's not classified as 'the worst'.

 

That technically puts me at step 6/7. I refuse to go this route.  Whole30 today.

On 2/19/2014 at 4:21 PM, Teros said:

I'm DONE being afraid of failure. I'm going to punch Failure in the BALLS until it cries.

 

This right here is a good example of how things were starting to change in my psyche:

On 1/17/2014 at 8:20 AM, Teros said:
On 1/16/2014 at 4:56 PM, Terinatum said:

 

3. You are an amazing role model, you're generous with your time for self and others, and pretty funny from what I've read.

Damn you, I have a tear in my eye. Just dust, just dust...

+

On 1/18/2014 at 4:43 PM, Laureleye said:

Whew!  Finally caught up on your doings for this challenge.  I see you're struggling a little, but being a super hero, you're not letting a little difficulty stop you.  Keep swinging the hammer.

Something else notable was this:

On 1/28/2014 at 5:53 AM, Teros said:

We're waiting about a response from school. We both got emails saying 'Your application is currently under review'.  I'm terrified of getting rejected and having to wait another YEAR to try and get into this program. I just want to go- finish it- get a job in the field- and be able to live on my own.  I feel like my entire LIFE is on hold because of this.

And here is a taste of things to come with me using this song:

On 2/6/2014 at 2:54 PM, Teros said:

Caught up some more. I'm making a menu currently and posting it here so I don't forget- I'll be doing food shopping tonight. 

 

Playing this while making it:

 

 

 

 

and me writing this was the start of the explosion here on the forums:

 

On 2/13/2014 at 1:21 PM, Teros said:

So I have a question for everyone.  With this challenge wrapping up, I was wondering if you guys and gals wanted to go on an actual adventure?  There's isn't anything in terms of lore for NF, so I drafted up a map and dungeon crawl with a story.  I didn't know how many of you would be up for an ACTUAL short story that was based in the 6 week challenge next time.  I also have 6 mini-quests as well, which would be average/easy in difficulty, but everyone would need to work AS A TEAM to get it done.

 

What do all of you say?  Do you want to take down a demon king?

 

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A theme I've noticed, more in your current posts than in your past, is you giving therapy to yourself. One suggestion I'd like to make is for Teros to treat Mike like a client at work or the Internship. How would Teros take care of Mike if they were physically two different people? 

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A theme I've noticed, more in your current posts than in your past, is you giving therapy to yourself. One suggestion I'd like to make is for Teros to treat Mike like a client at work or the Internship. How would Teros take care of Mike if they were physically two different people? 
A good way to look at things.

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