May 22

 Up at 6am today to get to the first in the morning MRI appointment.

Iffy. I am unwell at the best of times. Forcing me to hit early morning or weird times is a bit of a coin flip. I may end up writing myself off.

As it was I did my best. Was very sensible. Made sure I was in bed by 8pm winding down. Sleeping somewhere around 10pm. And I did ok.

For the first time in a while I went to sleep without chest pains or waking up with a feeling of someone sitting on my chest. Then again. I've stopped taking my mental meds for the last few days, which, as a side effect, increase the burden on your cardio and up your blood pressure. Vasco constrictors.

Got to the appointment in good time. No rush. No fuss. Felt not too bad, getting up was meh, but, fine. Had the scan no problem. Weirdly. 20 minutes in the MRI destroyed my back. I could hardly get up from the bed. Lower back was killing me.

I groaned home, and by the time I got back I was crashing hard. Super hard. I slept. For for hours and woke up groggy. And with a slightly wet ass. It remains to be seen if they find anything, but, I am still getting a damp butt. As a side note, I wonder if a poor cardio can lead you to leaking fluid out your butt. Typically you get fluid build up in places like your ankles when you're up, and your chest when you lay down. The heart can't pump enough, and so liquid pools. I wonder if it can pool around your colon and effectively osmosis out. Who knows.

Since my forced best case scenario end of my blog last time. I have been in a better mood. The forced optimism has... surprisingly... seemed to have done me some good. And I am sanguine about it all. And looking on the bright side. Then again. It could also be the bounce you get coming off of mental meds, your mood gets the clamp taken off it, and you're allowed to be happier ( and sadder ) than you were. Again. Who knows.

I was idly pondering today how I got to where I am. Another rehash and repeated conversation with myself about the building blocks as to where I am and why. Over time it becomes more and more clear. Or perhaps. Over time I just rationalise it harder into a pattern that fits, discard the messy edges, and come up with a pure nugget of something that is true, but also, perhaps, not entirely accurate. I think, this is the experience of life itself. Of being human. Building a narrative. Some hew closer to the truth. Some spin off into fantasy lands. But ultimately none of them are the objective truth.

In any case.

Like a few people in my life I know. I realise that I am hyper vigilant. Incredibly sensitive to other peoples body language, mood et al. For a long time I didn't really know how to put that into words. Just that I was good with people. Uncanny. I used to be able to read people. Tell when they were lying. Infamously so at my gaming group. People would refuse to look at me. I guess I am just good at reading people. Uh huh. Hyper vigilant. And in particular. I am good at reading negative things in people. Not the positive. Which is typical..... if you've grown up in an environment where you have to watch your parents moods. Watch and adapt to them suddenly erupting into anger. Or moods. Having to predict and be wary of complicated shifts in temperament, the negative side of things, the arguments, fights, anger, rage, all of that. It makes you grow up fast. It makes you aware of shifts in people. How to read people. And gives you a compulsion to soothe those moods. Fix those problems. Take care of the upsets.

Which is why. Just as the classic diagnosis says. In a room of people I can sense those in immediate suffering. And am pulled towards them.

Conversely.

I cannot deal with positive emotions. Someone that loves me. Or praises me. Or otherwise is fond of me. I struggle to deal with it. I am better now than I was. But still. It raises a freeze response in me where I do not know what to say or do or how to feel. And often it can push me instantly into a state of emotional distress. If you push. It will absolutely cause me to break down into tears.

Again, because I never got that growing up. Never received love or praise or the like. So. You don't experience dealing with it. Or what that feels like. You grow up in a cold world where you just get on with shit. And you need to be hyper aware of what the adults in a room are doing and likely to swing your way.

It makes an adult that is compelled to help others, whilst incapable of feeling good about what they are or what they are doing.

For me it means I cannot identify people that genuinely like me. A lot or a little. I kinda know when people like my company. But it's vague. But I absolutely can tell you to a pin drop when someone is off with me.

For me, and other ways in which I was brought up, it creates an adult that is compelled to fix things. And do things. Take on the burden. Help others. Take nothing for yourself. And keep on going. Never stop. Even when you burn down to the ground. That's the way it is you are taught. You keep going. Until you disappear.

This is totally a combination of both my mom and my dads influences. A horrible harmony of zero love, nihilistic effort, and abusive response.

It does, make for a capable child. A capable adult. It does also make for a nihilistic existence. Where happiness does not figure into it. And you do, until you cannot. Then you're useless.

Stepping back from it. It's a terrible thing to do to someone. Turning you into a suffering helper robot.

It's not just me that has this. My siblings also have it. We share a bunch of core dysfunctions. But we are varied. We have each been treated differently at different points of our upbringing. And it shows. I received the bulk of the nihilistic no joy in my life. My brother and sister also suffered, but escaped the worst of the no joy. But we are all of us absolutely compelled to Do The Thing. All the things we do in life follow the same pattern. You do it properly. You do it better. You end up running the bloody thing.

In my case I have developed much more touchy feely. Doubled down on the programmed development of having to monitor peoples slightest twitches into a psychological monster with horribly overdeveloped empathy for negativity. This is different to my siblings.

I realise much of where I am lies very very strongly rooted in the upbringing I had. And some of those bindings on me I absolutely cannot break. Even knowing them. And at the age I am, I am unlikely to ever do so.

I am very sure my parents never intended to do me, well, quite that much harm. That that intended me or my siblings harm at times is undeniable. That's just how it was. But. Unknowingly they did a lot of harm. They refused to address their own issues. Dysfunctions. The support they had to do so was limited. The language they had couldn't express it. But they also made choices. About taking it out on your kids. My mom especially. I was her repeated favourite beating stick at times - psychologically. And when times were wrong also physically. Now I look back at it I realise that much of her distress and anger and yada at her life, her situation, her inability to deal with my dad and blah was taken out on me. The rage. The unreasonableness. The fights. The arguments. Because I was an easy target. Someone she could do that too and get away with it. Who would stop her ? Who would know ?

And my dad steeped me in the art of hopelessness and nihilism. Everything was shit. And then you die.

Even as of a few years ago. This was the only advice he had for me. "Advice". Life will kick you. And you'll go down. And then it will kick you again he said. And keep on kicking you.

No hope. Just pain.

Thank you dad.

Ho hum.

There are a bunch of other traits and things in there that explain where I am and who I am. Some of the later ones are developed in spite of my parents. The contrary pushback. No I will not be like you. I will do the opposite. IE trust people. Don't be a shit with money. Be generous. Be above all kind. Kindess was the opposite of everything my parents stood for. They never used the word. They never hinted at the concept. Everything was a knife fight. No compassion. Fuck you. But this was also able to develop because this did not go against the unintended education they had given me about how to deal with people and be attentive to their needs. Having to tiptoe around my mom in particular to not set her off like a land mine. Being kind to someone is a natural extension of that. Despite it being the opposite example of what was set by my parents. So again. Perhaps. Despite being contrary. It's just another facet of my upbringing.

Does it matter in the end ?

Yes. Massively.

It has impacted the kind of person I am. My siblings are. It has impacted all of our capabilities to find supportive loving environments. For me personally it has impacted my ability to see the better things. To feel appreciated and loved. It has hollowed me out and left me at one level switched off, and at another so desperate for any sense of kindness back, that I cannot handle it when I get it, and I break down in tears. And decades of having that forced upon me rushes out. A misery of suffering that stretches all the way back to my childhood and never being loved or appreciated or encouraged. Just kicked.

Which.

Is then no surprise when my mom could no longer function properly. My dads response was to kick her too.

Ho hum.

As a person. I miss my mom. Despite all that. Despite knowing how much damage she has done to me. And in a very real way set me up for a lifetime of shit. I miss talking to her. In her later years she was a different person. All the damage had already been done. Our boundaries had finally been properly set. And she could no longer hurt me. And we got on well. As one adult to another. And I miss hearing her voice.

I don't know what the lesson is here. It's more an observation of facts than a learning moment. Or something that I can correct at this point.

If anything. It makes me realise how important kindness is. That there are some things that are very important in life.

Be kind.

Don't lash out at others.

Try hard not to let your storms project onto others - do not kick and punch them. Appreciate them if they are helpful. Or trying.

And we should all help each other.

My parents pattern is horrible. They muddled through. A goal of enough money to retire being their only end game. Which they achieved in surplus. Only to realise they then had too much. Couldn't enjoy it. But the time lost had already gone. Mistakes made.

And even their life plan of stand on your own two feet and make money was in the end, pretty hollow.

It was always about the people.

But they missed it until the very end.

And it has taken until my mom has died for my dad to start realising that might be actually what it's about.

He said to my brother recently about giving away his money. After all, we are family.

The first time I've ever heard him say that. 

And he has lost all pretence with his money now.

He doesn't want it.

It has turned to ashes in his hands. Even as short as 4 years ago he guarded it with jealousy. The be all and end all. Accused everyone of being after his money. Begrudging my mom money.

And after all is said and done. And no one was interested in his money. And it has made him more isolated.

He has realised it was never the thing after all.

And his massive chip on his shoulder he has carried all his life. Against his brothers. His mom. His dad. His thieving cousins. Has poisoned him to the end. Beyond 80 years old, 85 this year, and only now. Just now. Beginning to get an inkling. That his way of being is fucked up. But he is old. And somethings will never change. He still blames his family. His cousins. And not himself for carrying grudges forever. For always looking for the worst.

His eldest brother died trying in vain to get him to see the brighter happier side. My dad never did. Never has. Stubborn beyond all measure. Stubborn he can do for days. It is his nihilistic way. He would rather die than submit. Indeed he would be delighted to die rather than submit. A gleeful embrace of the self destructive.

That too has rubbed off on me. Not for the better.

Ho hum.

What a clusterfuck of primitive drives and dysfunctions we all are as a species.

Barely intelligent. Riddled with flaws. A monkey with a trick.

Ah well.

Let it all go.

Let it float away.

Kick back.

Flick on a movie.

And disappear into another world.