Attention Defecit and Hyperactive Disorder is being diagnosed a lot more these days.  I would say “It’s about damn time!” but man, I’ve been dealing with it for a long time without taking Ritalin and a lot of other drugs that kept it in check.  I needed that impulsive, crazy streak in me to be … well … Me.

     Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, on the other hand, has become the “new” diagnosis for a lot of things.  I had a lot of bad stuff happen as a child — and adult, even every more recently — and, ya know, I’m actually starting to realize, “Yeah, too much of that stuff does stick with ya.”  Crap, I never realized how much, actually. 

     I’ve always said, “You can’t be a slave to your past.”

     I’ve always judged a lot of people, too.  “Get over your shit, and get on with your life.”

     Funny how things have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass, isn’t it?

     The unknown …

     You can either take a chance or never make a decision.

     I figure it this way.  Back in the Garden of Eden, there was a forbidden fruit.  Eve chose to eat it.  Adam chose to eat it.  They got punished for it.  And God kinda said, “Hey, now you guys know right from wrong.  You make your own circumstances.  Deal with it.”
     That’s about where the religious part of it ends, tho.  I mean, hey, I pray.  I pray to be able to deal with what’s going on.  I very rarely pray for much else.

     I’m dealing with my as best I can.  I got a new notebook today, because, well, mine were both trashed.  I had a dead screen on one, and the other won’t work when it’s plugged in.

     What I’m saying is, I’m getting there.

     Might be slowly, but when I think it’s only been a few weeks, too, hey …

     The Unknown …

     I miss my Wildcat.  I need her encouragement.  I never needed that from anyone before — I just did what I did, and didn’t give a damn about anything else.

     And maybe, just maybe, she’ll end up feeling that way … and we can grow a garden.

      I love you, baby.

     Remember this one?

The patient says, “Doctor, it hurts when I do this.”

The doctor says, “Then don’t do that.”

     An old joke that we’ve all heard a billion times, and proof that Henny Youngman will never die.

     But seriously …

     When I try and deal with certain problems, it does nothing but create a Hell-storm.

     Yesterday, in order to try and move forward with my life, and hopefully help her to do the same, I dug around a little too much and actually managed to locate a woman who is, through some fault of her own and some fault of mine, making our lives a living Hell.  As usual, she just ripped me a new one, reminded me of every single thing I ever did wrong, and got me all worked up and depressed again.
     I honestly can’t handle it, can’t handle dealing with her at all, and simply haven’t since earlier last year.  That was probably the wrong thing to do on my part.
     For me, the pain caused by it all is one thing: I couldn’t keep the promises I made to her.  It was impossible, because by the end, I was so depressed, I just wanted to stop living.
     It’s been two years, trying to get the situation resolved and keep us out of each others’ hair forever.  Yet, every single attempt to do so has led to failure.  Every time I deal with her, it puts me right back there again, where I feel completely and totally hopeless.

     So Henny Youngman’s immortal joke comes to mind again…

The patient says, “Doctor, it hurts when I do this.”

The doctor says, “Then don’t do that.”

     But in the meantime, neither of us can move on until it gets resolved.

     I can’t deal with it any more.  She can’t deal with it any more.

     And if the two of us are honest, and truly think about everything we’ve lost, we should know that we don’t owe each other anything except:

     …to have the chance to go forward and move on.

     I swear, that’s all I wanna do, and I’ll wish her well, leave it and be done with it, because the hate and accusations and bullshit and ridiculous requests have been are too much to deal with.  Neither of us are happy, and we deserve little happiness.

     Maybe, after thinking about it, she’ll come around.

     I hope she does.

     Today’s Asshat comes to us from a magical place where there there was never slavery, no judgmentalism, and is completely devoid of religious and political extremism.

     Yes, of course I’m joking.

     He’s from north-central South Carolina.

     I can only assume this is some ridiculous retort to yesterday’s post where I said, “I’m a lot more than just the sum of my experiences…”  But I wonder why he didn’t leave it in the comments, in that context, instead of giving me such impressive ammunition for an Asshat of the Day post?

     Via the Contact form, this so-called Doctor of Psychology writes:

From: Dr. H.T.B., Psy.D
Date: July 31st 2007, 9:34AM

It is wrong to think that you are more than the sum of your experiences.

It is even worse to combine it under religion.
Your deep faith commits you to slavery of a false ideal.
You are subservient to other masters.
You have righteous indignation.
The worse you feel the more you believe.
Your free will disappears.
It is an arrogant philopshopy of exclusion that breeds hatred.

You are the sum of your experiences and nothing more.
Your are flirting with disaster to think otherwise.

     I’m impressed with your amazing powers of observation, dude!  You must have been wearing your tinfoil hat to have such keen insight into all of the secret messages in the post.  *snicker*
     If you got all of that from a blog post, you’re more f$&*ed up than a football bat.  

     Where did you come up with the idea that I had “deep faith?”  Where did you come up with the idea that people who spiritual or religious are a bunch of exclusionary, hateful bastards?
     While I can agree with this viewpoint in certain cases (i.e. followers of former Asshat Award recipient, Fred Phelps), it’s certainly no reason to condemn every one of them.

     Doc, you apparently think anyone who mentions a Maker is a religious zealot, who’s a slave to false ideals and just out there to screw with people.  People like you, perhaps?  Did you have a bad experience with someone who was deeply religious?

     Seriously, I think you might need to try some of the advice you’re so quick to dole out.  Maybe you should take one of those pills…
     You know…
     The ones with a small risk of sexual side effects, but they are rare?
     Of course, both taking the pill and noticing any sexual side effects would require removing your head from your ass… You’re flirting with disaster to think otherwise.

     It’s a little disturbing that someone who claims to be a Doctor of Psychology doesn’t remember the basic tenets of his practice.  Perhaps some remedial study is in order…
     We are all the sum of our experiences, but it’s the way that we deal with them that defines who we are.  We can succumb to bad experiences and reflect them into our every day lives and be unhappy, or learn from them and move on in order to better ourselves and become well-adjusted.
     Me, I’ll take the latter.

     Inspiration:  I talked to a friend earlier.  Burned out on work, having my life turned upside down by loving someone I probably shouldn’t.  Like a lot of my close friends, he’s in his late 60’s.  And a Minister.

     I just said, “Look, I fucked up.  I’m sorry.  I feel horrible.”
     He said, “Look, we all go through it.  I can’t answer anything for ya.”
     “That’s what I keep telling people…”
     He looked at me, dead in the eyes, and said, “Yeah, that’s why we’ve always been able to hang out.  You get it.”

     Look, here it is, all laid out and simple.

     I’ll probably miss a few subjects … But it’s pretty much the same.

     Abuse:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Anger:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Hate:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Stress:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Empathy:  Deal with it, or don’t.  Nobody else will.

     Oh, I don’t mean to sound cold … but really …  

     Being an empath sucks.  I can put up with a lot of shit, take on other people’s stress, and pretty much ruin myself trying to help ‘em out … but most of all, I can listen.  I can offer a few words here and there, but as a general rule, I don’t bother.

     My difference is, from other people, is that I don’t give advice.  I ask questions. 
     “Is that what you want?”
     “Are you happy with that?”
     “So that’s your decision?”
     “Are you being true to yourself?”
     They’re not hard questions, really.

     But when you’re an empath, and you’re trying — sometimes, trying your damndest — to care, you can only do so much for a person as they’ll let you.  Sometimes, they’re not honest about their problems, telling you one thing, and feeling something totally different.
     Other times … it’s time to either let go, or don’t.  

     The end.

     Thinking about that, in my way, makes me realize …

     Me, I haven’t been very “faithful” to several people who are integral in my life.  I’ve kept a lot of things to my self.  I’ve said, “Hey, I’ll handle it,” when I very obviously needed counsel.  I needed a pep talk, and never asked for one.
     To those people … Those friends … Family … Mentors … and other people who rely on me … 
     I’ve been a shit.  And I sincerely apologize.
     And when I haven’t told you anything … you’re still right here?
     That’s some pretty damn serious devotion.

     Sometimes, I just need certain those around me to know that I’m right here.  I get it, or will, and … *shrug*  Sometimes, I need someone to listen to me, too.

     Once you surround yourself with those people — those people that you care about, and they care about you — everything falls into place.

     You can’t love without trust.

     And vice versa.

     It does take a leap of faith.

     Some people get that … and some people don’t.

     Pet me!  Pet me!  Stop petting me!

     [ It digs its teeth into my hand ]

     “NO!  Stop it!  Damn cat!”

     Don’t yell at me!

     [ It runs and hides. ]

     “Bloody cat!”

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!  Stop petting me!

     [ It smacks at my hand, wraps all four paws around my arm, and cuts nice and deep. ]

     “NO!”

     Don’t yell at me!

     [ It runs and hides. ]

     [ I wash it out, and bandage it as best I can ... jagged little scars. ]

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     “No.  You bite.  You scratch.  Go away.”

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     “No.  Go away.”

     [ I ignore the cat ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     [ It forces itself in my lap.  Everything's good. ]

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     [ It growls and hisses, forewarning of yet another bite or scratch. ]

     “Get off me!”

     [ It won't budge, and continues to growl and hiss. ]

     [ It bites ... ]

     “F$*%ing cat!”

     [ It runs and hides. ]

     [ Minutes pass. ]

     Pet me!  Pet me!

     [ I ignore it, and walk out the door. ]

     [ Its terms only. I wonder why I let it stay? ]

     It’s been a day for stupidity.  Ex’s from all over the globe have psychicly tuned into the fact that I don’t feel very good today.  Phone calls, e-mails, text messages have innundated me since 4AM.  I don’t drunk dial, so listening to the voicemails and reading messages this afternoon has been surprisingly humorous, in an ironic and futile sort of way.

     “You’ve got some serious mental issues,” came across the screen from someone who admittedly has so many issues, so much hurt and pain from past relationships, that she just can’t believe anyone might give a damn about her.  Amazing.

     The only things I’ve gotten, outta loving certain women more than anything else in the world, was a lot of abuse, ridiculous accusations of conspiracy and pain like nothing else.
     Oh, and a drinking problem while trying to deal with it all.

     Today has really made me take note of something I never noticed before.  That’s three women in my life who’ve meant more to me than anything else in world, and they’ve meant more and more each time.  There were no cataclysmic events to bring us together, no circumstances which made for inseperable bonds; they just happened.  They happened at times when I was complacent, together, content and independent.
     But as time drug on, each of them proved themselves to be little more than repressed, emotionally distant and abusive to a ridiculous degree.  Gives a whole new meaning to, “Nice guys finish last.”

     Seriously, all the migraines, bullets, knives, skinheads, lawyers, quack doctors and random assholes in the world couldn’t take me down.  But three women could get through every damned defense I’d built up over the years, and tear fleshy chunks out of my heart as a sacrifice to their “independence.”

     The circle is now complete … The Unholy Trinity is formed … 
     The Mother, the Daughter-in-Law and the Unholy Anagram.
     I never had a good relationship with my mother.  It’s really making me think that maybe there is something to all that Freudian bullshit.  And maybe she was right … for all the love shown to the Unholy Trinity, maybe I really am the Antichrist, like she said.

     So maybe I do have some “serious mental issues” … now … now that I’ve been used, abused and discarded like a three-cycle dryer sheet … cuz I’ve certainly been through the wash a few times with all of them.

If women like to be beautiful and men like women to be beautiful, then  why in the world is vanity so expensive?  If everyone wants to appear elegant, good-looking and lets not forget… fashionable, why do we as a culture have to dish out so much of our hard earned cash, effort and time? 

Do we do it for a lack of entertainment?  That can’t be it since we live in a world of cable television, high-speed internet access and Macintosh computers.

Just a few days ago I was in store especially devoted to vanity with my lady friend and the total at the register came to over $100.00.  For Pete’s sake, there are starving children worldwide. Why in the heck does it cost so much to have mud and plants to cover yourself in?

We may never know, but at least I will stand against this price gouging. I vow personally not to wear any makeup, not buy a pair of pants that cost over $30.00, nor purchase a cell phone, which costs over $40.00 with the service plan. 

Now if I just do this and walk into a crowd of people, they may look at me and think “he’s freakin’ crazy.”  If two people do this and walk into a crowd of people they may think “they’re damn dirty hippies.”  But if three people, three people do it, then they’ll know it’s a movement. 

That’s what it is friends: the Zacque-a-roo Anti-Vanity Movement.  One more time, yah know, there’s over a hundred thousand of you out there.  I mean you gotta sing loud if you wanna stop war and stuff… 

     I post this against my better judgement… but I need to. 

     “All families are dysfunctional,” someone told me once.

     But in mine, everyone’s just waiting for the next crisis.  With baited breath, they look forward to the next time they can tear into someone at the drop of a hat, complete with neverending verbal onslaughts, pathetic lies and horrible slanders that would make even Jesus Christ Himself punch them in the mouth.
     Sometimes, those situations graduate from simple character assassination to theft, vandalism, burglary, and assault — on rare occasions, maybe even a vehicular assault or a shooting.

     You can’t defend yourself against it.  You’re automatically “a liar,” and there’s no way around it no matter what you do.
     They attack first, with righteous anger, and never ask a single question — or, at least, will never let you answer anything fully — ignoring the fact that there are two sides to every story.  Most of the time, if everyone would just shut up and think, they might realize maybe something wasn’t right about the situation to begin with.  Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Brothers, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins… All ready to jump on you and split you apart at the seams.  How could it be right?

     “I’ll never love you!”
     “You’re possessed / the Antichrist!”
     “You’ve gone too far this time!”
     “You’ve always been worthless!”
     “I’d hate to be you!”
     “I’ll spend $100,000 to handle you!”
     “I’ll break every bone in your body!”
     “I’ll burn it up with you in it!”

     Most of this is from people who’ve never even been around the situation, have no idea what’s going on, but they’re ready to throw me to the lions for doing one simple thing: I took legal action to relieve myself of one of the worst instigators.

     Like I was told today…
     “You’re selfish!  You never think about anyone but yourself!”
     That might’ve actually made me take pause, had the two of them not come into my home, threatening that I’d better “drop the charges” “or else” a few different things were going to happen.  There aren’t many things more selfish than trying to force someone to bend to your will…
     As for my being self-centered, it would be pretty difficult to find anyone who’d say I didn’t bend over backwards to help people.  Or that I didn’t listen when someone had something on their mind.  It’s hard to imagine I could be like that, and still be “selfish.”
     Besides … Pushing threats and ultimatums down someone’s throat is certainly no way to advance any situation towards resolution.

     Families should stand together, and attempt to resolve things with civility and dignity.  You’d certain expect it to be that way from a bunch of people who claim to be more righteous than the Pope.
     In situations where one person has been wholly unreasonable, attempts at resolution by a family can serve the purpose of quelling some of the insanity, and if not, at least give some insight as to where the problem lies…

     Instead, I have to deal with this blood-thirsty excuse for a family, and put up with the aftermath of a situation created by a person who isn’t taking any responsibility for any part of this situation…. a person who’s been running around to everyone in the family gaining support with a tear and a sob story.
     For my part, I’ve tried not to drop to that level.  It’s none of the family’s damn business, anyway.  The situation doesn’t concern them at all.  It’s just an excuse to do what they typical do: go on a Holy Crusade, and nail someone else to a cross.

     A family like that, who won’t even get my side of the story before they start ripping me apart in that old familiar way, that’s what I got. 

     I’ll tell ya one thing: I don’t need that in my life. 

     I have enough stress.

     It’s a wonder they never realized that maybe that was the reason I’ve moved all over the world and kept my distance from them…

     …and their “religion.”

     Do you ever meet people who will, at all costs, attempt to corner you and verbally attack you for no reason whatsoever?

     Most everyone tells me how easy I am to get along with, and feel that they talk to me about anything and everything because I actually listen.  They also tell me that I wear my heart on my sleeve a lot, and tend not to come asking a lot of questions when I appear to be stressed or shaken.
     I have two people in my life who go out of their way to ignore all of that.  Instead, they prefer to sit back and make verbal assaults, threaten me with violence and make sure to tell me that it’s all my fault that they are so angry.  It’s nonsense, and I have no time for it.

     Mind you, if I’m having lunch with one of them and that sort of thing starts, I’ll get up and walk out.  If they call me on the phone, I’ll hang up.  If I see them in public and wave to them and they glare at me and walk in the other direction, I’m certainly not going to chase them down.
     These actions, however, are mortal sins in their eyes.

     Two weeks ago, I was taken to lunch by one of them, and before I finished eating, the tirade started.  It was vicious, and completely one-sided.  I simply got up and walked out of the restaurant.
     This, of course, started a series of calls to my office phone and cellphone, complete with hateful, spiteful voicemails.  Apparently, getting up and walking away is “immature” and “weak,” and illustrative of what a “disgrace” I am.

     Later that night, after the walking-away-at-the-restaurant incident, she decided to physically corner me.  As I attempted to leave, she ran around me like a pack of rabid chihuahuas, spewing incessant, inflammatory ankle-biting.  The blood-lust in her eyes glowed in the dark, and the acidic venom coming from her mouth was enough to pierce my thick skin.
     Fight or flight kicked in.  I was cornered with nowhere to go, and I finally blew up and gave her the verbal bashing she needed.  Of course, that’s never the end of it, is it?  Instead, she attempted to hit me, throw things at me and scream bloody murder.
     Fortunately, while she was preoccupied trashing the place and finding something else to kick and throw, I took the opportunity to get the Hell out of there.
     I don’t need that.  Nobody needs that.

     Of course, that didn’t stop her from running and telling everyone what I said.  Nevermind the events leading up to it, or what happened after — the important thing is what I said, and nothing else matters.
     And thus, we come to party number two.  Three times in the last two weeks, he’s called and started screaming at me, prompting me to simply hang up.  I don’t have time for that, especially when I’m working.
     Yes, working, mind you.  Apparently, I’m expected to drop everything, listen to tirade after tirade of circular nonsense, one point of contention dependent on another, but when the first is debunked, the rest stand like a house of cards with the bottom level missing — something clearly impossible without zero gravity and some Elmer’s Glue.
     Hanging up, of course, meets with with an hour-long series of phone calls, complete with voice mails threatening violence, telling me how “childish” and “weak” I am… and that I’m a “disgrace.”

     I would submit that the more mature, and difficult, thing to do is to simply not give a damn what they think.
     Unfortunately, that sort of logic is lost on these two.

     The only “disgrace” is that they’re both family.
     Situations like that, you can’t win.  All you can do is walk away and hope for the best.  And somehow, I’m resigned to the fact that that’ll never happen.

The National Institute of Mental Health issued a press release on Monday (Feb 27th) about a study led by Eric Nestler, M.D., of The University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center. “Sustained hippocampal chromatin regulation in a mouse model of depression and antidepressant action” (Tsankova NM, Berton O, Renthal W, Kumar A, Neve R, Nestler EJ), shows that chronic stress and depression can cause a “molecular scar” in the brains of lab mice.

“The molecular scar induced by chronic stress in the hippocampus, and perhaps elsewhere in the brain, can’t be easily reversed,” said Nestler. “To really cure depression, we probably need to find new treatments that can remove the silencer molecules.”

While not only showing promise for future treatments of depression, it may also give some hints about about genetic predisposition to depression and antisocial behavior.