Apr 14

Dark. This is not good for the soul. Or mental health. If you are some random stranger stumbling across this, you'd do well not to read it. Somethings are not meant to be read. Some screams are not meant to be heard, albeit the scream itself must happen.

Hazel has gone home.

I am more than glad she has gone.

For the umpteenth time my patience has run out with her. I think, this time, for good.

It's not only that she dips in and out of being a bully. An abuser. A snarling cornered animal. Even when she is in a normal state. She is by default, an asshole. You can tiptoe around her, not trigger her, remember all the rules, pitfalls and complexities. And maybe, maybe she will be ok. She holds court on everything. From what you're doing. What everyone else is doing. Should be doing. She is long on lecturing about people should try harder at their careers, or move house, or don't spend this. or tidy that up, or how terrible a driver that person is, or how little that person knows. All the while being one of the worlds greatest hypocrites. Doing exactly the things she brutally lambasts others for. There is no care or understanding there. Just brutality. But expects every forgiveness herself. Everyone is an asshole. She is the victim. And she is always right.

And I think I've reached my fill. A tiny tipping point.

A hundred micro aggressions. I shouldn't buy this. I shouldn't think that. How dare I buy a plate ( no joke  - I bought a pasta bowl from Sainsburys to replace one I broke. This was, of course, a terrible mistake in Hazels - unasked for - opinion. I didn't need it. Why was I buying it. Don't buy it. In the end I just repeated I was replacing one I broke. She went on. And on. I tuned her out. ). But of all the things to finally push me over the edge was her trying to tell me about AI. About programming. About IT. She has no experience. No skills. Has never used any of it. She has never risen about checkout girl at toolstation. And that she did only for a short while before flunking out of work for good. And yet. She tells me how things are. With confidence. Arrogance. Despite never once having lifted a finger

A step too far.

This is her pattern. She has in the past lambasted long about good driving. This is wrong. That is wrong. She has no licence. She cannot drive. When given a car to drive around the carpark many years ago, she stalled it out, chugged along. As learners are wont to do. No problem. The problem is then she believes herself to be the epitome of all knowledge on driving. Quick to criticise. Don't park like that. Don't park here. Don't make that turn. Today. Turn left here. No it's straight on I think. No. ITS LEFT. We went left. Oh. It's. The other left. The straight on one ? I know what she was thinking. We usually turn right. So anything except right was then left in her head. Which it wasn't. But this is also her all over. Confident. Arrogant. Bullying. And brutally speaking not enough brain power to back it up. She continually fucks up basic math. And when left to her own devices to cut her flooring having watched me do one, she fucked it up. Badly. Everyone elses fault. She is, and does know everything. She is the expert on everything. Knows better than everyone else.

She did that with the financial advisor. Two of them. That was their job. Their accreditations. And yet. Hazel knew better. Someone with zero experience. Zero training. Zero qualifications. Having to say to her at that point I was going to go with the advice from professionals over hers was difficult. She seethed. I had to confront the very real possibility of her having a meltdown. She barely held it in check.

From near to far. Lecturing forth on how men should dress. Of all things, they were wearing the wrong underwear. Their dicks in the wrong position - I am not joking. And she wasn't joking. Anything. And everything. An expert.

It is tiresome, at the very least. But you roll with it. You just let her rattle on. Being an asshole. 

Perhaps then the final straw. Trying to tell me how I should think about IT. Me. An IT junkie. 40 years under my belt. Versus Hazel. Zero. Fuck all. Not even a smart amateur. Never lifted a finger to do anything. Beyond play a few games.

I had started to bring her up her continual bullshittery. Hazel. Expert at everything. She just rolled on through. Happy to give her arrogant - ignorant - opinion on everything. And woe betide you disagree. Or point out the facts.

She will treat you like shit.

And then hold her hand out for gratuities. She is one of the most ungrateful people I've met. The most lazy. The most toxic.

I know that this fact is not lost on many people in my circle that interact with her. And I always stick with it. Because it is, if nothing else, a test of patience. To be better. Despite the kicks.

She is, of course. Borderline. But. I think it's more than that. She has succumbed to just being an asshole. All her relationships go tits up. She is told to her face she is an asshole after behaving like an asshole. But she warps the world around her to fit herself as a victim. Mental gymnastics to ensure she never has to face the obnoxious monster she is. She doesn't have to work on herself. Her behaviour. Can just ride forth with bile and anger.

All about the anger. And lashing out. She has become the abused abuser. Full circle. As things can tend to do.

And I've had enough of it. I have tried. Very hard with her. I have killed her with kindness for many years.

Time to draw a line under it.

I think some people will always be lost. Some are beyond help.

It is an awful thing to leave someone in the dark that cannot escape from it. And that doesn't sit well with me for anyone.

But when that person generates their own darkness. Is the very spirit of that darkness and embraces it.

At some point it feeds on itself. Evil begets evil. The path is set. And that person is lost. It is one thing to be lost to despair. It is another to engage in acts of obnoxious behaviour. To become a purposeful engine of misery to others. Spite.

So today Hazel went home. 

Despite being an asshole she still needed help. Favours. Stuff. I helped her pickup turf. Helped her lug a bunch of things to her flat. Fed her. Sent her home with groceries.

But I am done.

No more. 

I did my best with her.

I think if she does try popping up again I will just calmly, gently explain to her that I can no longer deal with her. That I need to concentrate on nursing my declining strength. And that's that. No recriminations. No accusations. Just a statement of fact. You are, basically, too draining. To put it politely. To not put it politely. I am done tolerating an abusive, bullying asshole in my life. Enough. 

My health has been pretty shit the last few days. Perhaps that's one reason why my patience was low in the first place. It's a struggle just existing, let alone having to tiptoe around a volatile asshole that does sweet fuck all. And when her moods are low, Poppy, never super at peace in her presence avoids her like the plague. Much to Hazels annoyance. Tellingly when we are in a room together, Poppy will stand directly behind me. Putting me between herself and Hazel. Not once. Or twice. Or occasionally. All the time.

Anyway. I digress.

My health is shit.

I am still off the bread. I am wondering if the gluten free bread is less of a trigger, but still a trigger. Or whether any of it is a trigger at all. Doubt. I don't know.

But shit is worse. All round. Harder. Deeper exhastion. Deeper issues.

There is a peace in me about it at the moment again.

That peace of the damned. It's ok. Just. Let go.

I don't find myself wanting company. Or really to talk to anyone at length. Or much of anything. Just. Leave me alone.

I have, of course, bouts of crippling sadness. I miss my babies every day. I miss my life. As miserable as I can be. I miss my life. Of going for walks. Of finding new lovely places to go and be in nature. Of watching my fur babies run around. Of nice restaurants. And peaceful experiences. And laughing at games. I miss it. I miss who I was. I miss the life I have lost. It makes me incredibly sad. But of all of it I miss my babies the most. I miss the reassuring confidence of Athena. I miss the loyal heft of Ares, always at my back. Anchors. In a tumultous sea. I loved them to bits. And they loved me to bits. And it was nice.

I miss going to see people. And visiting. And finding new people to talk to. In different places. Different bits of the world.

This evening. A small window of lesser shit health. Well enough to soak up a game. Disappear for a little while into its mechanisms. A blissfully quiet house, without the thundercloud of Hazel. Without the anxiety of wondering whether she will kick off, or sulk, or bully. Peace.

And just like that.

I thought of suicide. Not miserable. Not crashing out. Sad. But calm. End it. Just. End it.

I got up to make a cup of tea.

It still echoing with me down the stairs.

I would find the knife.

I know what knife. Exactly. What knife.

My steps slowed. The world became surreal. This was it. Everything slowed. Nothing mattered.

Where. Is the knife.

I opened the drawer. I watched myself do it. I think. Weirdly. A bit of your brain starts panicking. Wait. Wait wait wait wait. It starts looking for an exit. Desperately. Because it doesn't want to die. But it's not in control.

I couldn't find the knife. How ironic. Fixated on it. Just that one knife. That knife. The knife. 

It's fate ! The desperate bit of my brain shouted.

I found it.

The kettle clicked off in the background. Doesn't matter.

Calm. Quiet.

You are suffering.

This ends it.

Think of tomorrow. When the suffering will be worse again. Work to do. Stuff to do. Endless amounts of suffering and illness to be had.

This ends it.

Isn't that more peaceful ?

Haven't we struggled for long enough ?

It has been a small patch of calm this evening. Played a game. Less suffering. A relatively nice last moment.

I turned the knife over this way and that. Finger along the edge.

Just.

Push it into your wrist.

I poised the knife on my wrist.

See.

It doesn't hurt.

Push.

I pushed.

Are you sure ? Are you really sure ? What are you doing ?

I pushed harder.

Deeper.

The knife is blunt as fuck.

It started to bruise not cut.

Ironic.

I let the pressure off leaving a purple dent.

It's not sharp enough.

It's fine. You just have to push harder.

I tried again. And run the point up and down my wrist.

Blunt. But the skin started to part.

See.

Easy.

Keep going.

And go to the bathroom when it bleeds a lot. Sit in the bath. And close your eyes.

Wait.

Wait.

No.

You won't do this today.

Not now. Not right now. Not this minute.

Make a cup of tea.

Put the knife down.

Reality ebbed back in.

Just make a cup of tea. That's what we were doing. A cup of tea. Remember.

I put the knife carefully down. Slowly. I looked at it for a long time. I considered taking it to my bedroom with me. Just. Take it with us. And when it's worse in the middle of the night. It will be there. Ready. Again.

I opened the drawer and put it back.

I know where you are.

An overwhelming sadness came over me.

So very very sad.

For the moment I endure. Another day.

There is no point.

But here I still am.

I do not want anyone to save me. I do not want anyone to help me. I understand where I am. I would bet dollars to donuts I have a better grasp of life, of where I am than anyone else does. The truth will not save you. It will damn you. There is no logic in survival. There is no correctness in life. There is just what is. And it frequently does not align with a happy optimistic end point. Far from it.

I am going to withdraw harder.

I deleted so many of my shitty fb posts in the last couple of days. Removing myself. I left Athena and Ares. They should stay. They are beautiful and their presence in the world should be remembered. But me.  Let me go. Let me disappear. I removed my picture.

Let me sleep.

Let me die.

Let me be forgotten. One utterly insignificant idiot, on a planet full of idiots, all of which is on a short timer. Not if. But when.