“I never asked you to earn me. I want only that you should need me. Your path is not one of merit. Bring the recurring desires of your mind to me, every time they emerge. They cannot shock me, for I willed them! Bring me your confusion, your fear, your craving, your anxiety, your inability to love the world, your hesitation to serve, your jealousy, all the deficiencies that defy your spiritual disciplines.”

- Sri Sathya Sai Baba


Tuesday June 16, 2009

I'm sitting in bed writing this. I made this picture. Do you like it? Do you know what it is? If so, send me your guess, I'm curious to know who got it.

Tonight I have been struggling with depression, with pain. I feel okay for a few minutes then feel miserable for the next few. Days like this I have no idea what's around the corner. I just know I'm confused and those things I know and believe to be true most deeply in my hart had no place in the real world. Blah, that was a terrible sentence--I'm sitting here being so tired that closing my eye will probably result in me fallin immediately to the floor!

My memory hasn't been so hot lately.


Sunday June 14th, 2009

In a high am working as my you know what I am or your joy might the and I I it is a Sunday morning working to thousand 91 I hear that I actually know their laptop was so terrible that my voice to the I'm heading outside earned smokiness and I thought what the hell maybe I'll try to make an audio podcast outside the of the quietly the neighbor so much Wilsey August be allowed I'm going to let the other hand past I have people talk on the phone last night was one of his usual silly it was pretty later didn't realize until much later was 10 or 11 o'clock so surprised by that I can hear the noise around me just getting something out of the fridge am that the door now on the back porch now one thing and getting was a not seem them as well voice recorders people to get to classes and stuff like that class because people learn better by hearing something instead of writing down notes where the opposite note must remain am just heard that okay am sorry that in I just realized close of this program automatically stopped and my voice don't am not too surprisingly like some plans lately do a lot of whatever personal effort and realized it several little take this and that's important for attempt to replicate last 20 minutes that'll settle the government has on their and very OxyContin feeling fit smoking that on them think GameSpot documentary, than watching the documentary old treatment called up against of .came from behind 800 and that whole photography sensual photography look and fortunately unlike other books that typically cost $50 plus in that form part from an my then fiancée can talk class in college class this nascent wanted to spend money but recently said that Churchill' against spurge thought it slowly creeping up on investment prospects for once really have just punched pictures think it's in a natural put technically from where I don't really know that much never tried that but it's and mistimed lecithin focus on for no other reason than have some part of my life where I'm outside workouts of programming norm actually focusing on something positive on the other thing that's something some sort am not necessarily taking Schlichting's school photo of thinking more along point just whatever consistent personal picture want to keep people from unlike professional fighting our picture in need of pictures taken with this ridiculous pilot for thoughtful speeches given on hearing Jordan's half on so you something about I have talked about that part will come in that feeling in our time careerwise my dream job for 10 more years they need something outside of devote more money and also in something of filling in your something' nice and sparkly that's programming can't times in this escrow fee do with a collective unconscious not something interesting or creative from there was project started on my own home and have this feature and stability software business case time do it something something big event my best friend X5 listen upon sheets getting into photography and practicing specifically she's been putting advertisements of multiple practice portraiture shoot just fixes that gets people for different reasons one girl but she got more comfortable cameras challenge for her for another woman should run for think danced together something like that I want some professional pictures for portfolio of sending the time of while some hope sending Morse and she is a stellar photographer just amazing photographs she wouldn't space of which humble for a good supplement -- look at this face is just gorgeous chasing photographs up their ability to capture their faces stabbings distort their time and life will hard time judging quality pictures as something that will help second set was getting suggestions of long conversations about that pictures on something useful this me since meaning anyway since a friend of physics do that have a lot of special people rare Chicagoans apologizes like she's using a lifetime of my file continue to get this stuff forklifts on earth reelecting it does helped me practice being critical without being this past real skill in both critique them something they've done and productive way that helps them something that important to me for various reasons I'm not my last romantic relationship and friendship drilling for many fields do that especially difficult situations or with aspects relationship for personnel and I was having difficulty with this always wanted to be able discuss the way and make her feel on the stack segment so hard that there is with photography personal interaction that would put it there and talk to anyone but something that might potentially come across as very very critical and judgmental toward their Rockaway the next wonderful appreciate him time and the effort whatever it is that you got the word term care so yet but plan to do that well hardest way to do that for me it's nothing personal right that on paper of record just want this to my tendency to let people take that wrong the you see last the fourth of didn't get on here Sunday going down somewhere and dictation from don't look forward that will supplant the stop smoking for good and for checksummed poppycock gave poppycock sure more stupid semifictional now but I'm bumping about taking medications taken him coming down not smoking doesn't really bother me as much effect on respected smoke that's business to do one then not, drugs and withdrawing from them think all possible me feel better is if it doesn't at all his friends that he that's healthier but don't feel some money stuffings always been a friend of should have a friend from the hardest thing that friend on handle at this time things are said I need that smoke that one thing feeling some of it (I'm having withdrawals more of the other wanted to sue for power inside the OxyContin withdrawal of the volume there are 212.5 did get withdrawals did not think land have to do with that it's stand that all-day someone well being through it that's fine I guess this means another weekend summoning and spent most like to visit a hand over his good will upon feeling overwhelmed life this time quitting just regular reasons the reason personal to me I don't want to hear its private something that we do not are part of a single member of the day set aside the smoke that lets you do this not there this day not just virtual book store and income homeowner stuff on all that was on my mind this going to do this thing with a new wouldn't make me feel any better whatsoever but just kind of the ritual makes me feel somewhat okay worst part is like last weekend. Saturday night at work the first time in 15 years shared civic center and that was easy was pretty scary that had been there for 15 years myself space optical smoke thickened this promise on behalf of can contract the art so I became a that she is going, and some people suggested therapy substantive often told that my lowest don't need that you get a friend in the sport friend needs a mantra of stranger thing about all your problems that the doesn't make sense from a psychological standpoint but in the evolution hurt the fault concept family tried friends of their skewed the last thing is the support for means to me calling and stranger things just as good as time but it would just shut me up feeling empty don't have always been people for sexual close in the third they for some of their money is gratifying interest unfair' before I feel the same way and a further stranger to act like they care about rented this one of file they should people for granted like the singer was pretty bad place and anxious thinking about and pick out my films and cigarettes is a rates and script appears to say here and talk on mineral automatically publish see the and documenting this experienced depression see at the last moment because we needed this and thought about the fund shouldst the worlds merge something from MarketWatch that surprised them in this yeah how I got through it somehow meant just that impulsive movie must millionth time shipping the expert in every town on anyway this smoke shuts down Bush goodnight penetrative internals something repression and doing it up on a whole bunch but I'm enjoying doing it for the much cited the more and join my voice still tried to take the time script for

Saturday June 13th, 2009

I'm sitting in bed. It's 10:02pm, Saturday June 13th, 2009. I've spent the entire day in bed, except when getting up to get something to eat, the hour I spend in the art room on the computer, or the brief walk to Albertson's to pick up cat food and make an attempt at feeling human for a short time.

I'm forcing myself to write. I don't feel a strong urge to, although truth is I don't feel a strong urge to do anything. I only woke up around 1pm after a series of nightmares that made sleep an unavailable sanctuary; it wasn't sleeping in by any stretch as I'd been unable to sleep until 5 or 6am. I didn't get out of bed until a half our later or so, just laid there in pain like a trout that had been reeled in then slapped head first into the ground. Finally, after some effort, I got out of bed and spend the next two hours in a daze, as if I didn't have enough oxygen going to my brain. I picked some clothes off the floor and put them on, what I'd worn yesterday. I probably smell, but I don't care.

Not caring is not, as you might think, a negative emotion. It's not like I think "I don't care about picking the clothes and doing the laundry," as if that's something I hate, dread, or have other negative emotions towards. Not caring, in this context, is the complete and absolute lack of emotion. It's a blank page in the middle of a book where you'd think words should be. It's an empty section of the book shelf where that book and others in the series should go. It's an analogy without meaning. It is as much as it isn't and it's something I feel almost every hour of every day and every week, Sundays, workdays, and holidays. I have to remind myself what order to put my clothes on and remind myself to keep dressing lest I fall back into bed half dressed and not caring.

I've been watching more World War II documentaries. I never thought much of the smiling faces of the American soldier as they were going into or just had just survived the terrors of war. And I wonder what that's like.

I've sometimes compared to Depression to being a soldier in a psychological war but I'd always remember to note that it's preferable to being wet, cold, hungry, and afraid, in a fox hole like those brave men of the 101st Airborne who fought in the famous Battle of the Bulge. They were, in some respects, forced by their commanding officers to hunker down in the forest outside Bastogne and risk their lives and their sanity to defeat the Nazis. Depression just can't compare to that, at least not in intensity and damage to the psyche and spirit, can it? If not, then why are all these fellows always smiling?

I've now forgotten the last smile to cross my face. Was it several weekends ago when my parents visited? No, I don't even recall ever smiling when they were here. Maybe some day at work between then and now? I don't recall; indeed, I spent most of my day hunkered down in a small cube staring intently at three monitors. What about when I interact with people at the store? I doubt it. I hardly respond to attempts at conversation anymore. Nobody really cares about my day so when they ask I just shrug and say, "Okay." It's what I feel is expected of me. I've even tried to watch and read things that might normally be funny, but even those comedian's I might normally laugh at seem like they're just making noises and I end up spacing out on thoughts like the psychology of laughter, like some sort of space alien who's plopped down onto earth to study the emotions of a species who's thoughts and emotions are completely foreign to my world.

When soldiers found themselves in such a place during WWI, the "Great" War, the "war to end all wars", it was called Shell Shock. With every war since it's been called something else, most likely out of our need to somehow transform it by renaming it (a personally annoying behavior I feel humans stumble into generation after generation). Today it is called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. With one exception I like this term.

I'll get my dislike out of the way first and it's regarding the word "disorder". Two things. First, since this is term coined and used by the psychological community, a group that claims to be based in science, it's simply inappropriate. The term "disorder" is a statement of judgment describing a state that is different from "normal" (whatever the hell that is). Worse, it has been used over the last century to isolate small sections of undesirable people; I have never observed a positive effect of the social label on any person or group. Second, the very term disorder, when broken down into its root elements, "dis" and "order", suggests something isn't going the way that it should. Is that true? If you get a flat while driving a work would you say your car has a disorder or would when you find the nail piercing the rubber would you recognize this as a cause-effect relationship that's lead you to be 20 minutes late to an important meeting at work. It's annoying, not a disorder. If you dropped a coffee mug and it broke you wouldn't look at it and expect it to be anything other than a broken mug. Sure, you might be upset because it was your favourite, but you wouldn't expect it to be in any other state than "broken". It's no longer a mug and we'd look at someone funny if they expected it to be. When we use "disorder" to describe someone's mental or emotional state we're projecting the same thing, that we expect them to somehow be different, but that's just an inaccurate view of reality. A woman who has been raped, for instance, may carry a sense of distrust in men and fear of walking alone in the dark for the rest of her life. That's not a disorder, that's to be expected and anyone to say any different needs their head lights adjusted.

What I like about the term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is that it is one, descriptive, and two, applicable to any person, military or not, who experiences stress of some sort in the present due to stress of some sort in the past. No longer relegated to those who have experienced war of one man trying to kill another, it's now applicable to anyone of any age, colour, race, or creed. And why not? Our brains do not distinguish between a plane flying down to strafe bullets to our right and to our left and an x-spouse who tries to take our children. I'm sure some will disagree with this point of view and for those few veterans who might stumble onto this page with anger because I will never know the experiences of battle, you are right, I probably never will, but you'll probably never know Depression and social isolation either: we all do our best to understand each other's experience and it's only through language, dialog, sharing, and empathy, that we'll ever manage to do that.

Social isolation, unfortunately, is not just a "post trauma" but a present one that a lot of Depressed people struggle with. Some might say Aslynn, just go out there and meet people. You can't make friends or build support systems unless you try. And there's truth to that. But there's also truth to the fact that some don't have the social skills to quickly or efficiently build social support networks. I don't. Then again, I do have more social skills than many but the kind of people I want to connect with are few and far between. And my last excuse? It's that I'm utterly terrified of one, people (hurting me, taking advantage of me, slandering me, using me, the list goes on), and two, I lack the simple emotional energy to sustain a conversation with another human being for more than a minute or two without falling back into silence and focus, something that I can tell you from experience doesn't elicit warm arms and understanding, but discomfort from others usually resulting in things like, "Well, I've gotta get going to XYZ, but it was really good meeting you!"

Anyway, I've lost the desire to explain myself so I'll just simply say I'd rather be in a war than going through whatever this is. A soldier at least can point to a calendar and say, "If I survive until August 1st I'm going home!" A soldier's enemy is usually easily defined. A soldier has the support, friendship, and comradery, of his "comrades". A soldier has been trained and is (generally) provided with the tools necessary to come out victorious. A soldier is (generally) recognized for his or her sacrifice and contribution. A soldier gets paid (though I think we could all agree: not nearly enough). And most importantly a soldier can physically leave the battlefield.

I cannot point to a calendar and say, "If I survive until August 1st I'll be happy again!" I do not know if it will be weeks, months, years, or decades until I feel okay. I may even experience severe Depression for the rest of my life, even if I follow every suggestion I've ever gotten to emerge victorious.

I do not have a clear enemy. Sometimes, sure, I can point to a certain person and say, "Her choices are directly responsible for the significant portion of my Depression," at other times it seems like the world is against me, and at times I wonder if God himself thinks I'm his play toy. I'd love to have a single, well defined enemy, I'd fucking punch him in the face and break his damn nose!!!

Here's the catch-22. Depressed people are often Depressed as a result of being alone, feeling unwanted, and needing the social support (like just one or two friends and family) that most people take for granted. To overcome Depression Depressed people need to not feel alone, to be wanted, and to have social support. See the problem???

No one grows up learning how to survive Depression. Indeed we're taught to dream big, taught we can do anything we put our minds to, and in this culture it's generally believed that if we fail it's because we weren't trying hard enough (a belief generally held by the more conservative of those in our culture, a belief I believe to be generally ignorant and worse, the cause of enormous suffering both by those who have "failed" as well as those who blame them for those "failures"). Those of us who survive learn to do so on our own with few to no real support systems and usually no one who really understands and sadly there are groups out there, such as the more radical religious institutions, that are all too happy to take advantage of those suffering from intense experiences such as Depression instead of just providing their support, which is the ethical and HUMAN thing to do.

Nearly no one is ever recognized for surviving Depression. There are no rewards, no medals. Our reward is generally our life and if we do share the struggles we've survived with someone they don't generally understand the full reality of what we're saying. Do you understand this: I would not be writing this today if I had not survived. The Temple WOULD NOT exist. Get it? Do you really get that?

I don't get paid and unless I enter some psychological study of chronically Depressed losers I never will. On the other hand, and I can tell you this from experience, Depression is financially, emotionally, psychologically, socially, and spiritually expensive (my god is it expensive!!!).

The one thing I wish I could do, the one ability a soldier has, is to leave the battle field. Sure, I could get up at a decent time tomorrow, head to church, then get in the car and drive to Ohio to see my best friend, but I'd still be horribly Depressed. The battlefield, like it or not, is in my mind. That's something Buddha understood thousands of years before the first psychologist was even born! And even though I know that in theory, it's easier said than done bringing happiness into my life, I can't simply flip a switch and be happy or feel a sense of meaning in my life.

And that's the biggest difficulty. We all find meaning in certain things. Work. God. Art. Social connections. Sex. I think one of the things that makes the world so beautiful is that there are so many ways people find meaning in their lives. Snow flakes. I've had my own, things that have given me meaning since my first memory. Friendship was one. A belief in and connection to a higher power was another. Making a positive contribution to others' lives was yet another. I could probably count all the things that are truly important, that make life worth living, on both my hands...but almost none of them have been ingredients in my life since 2008...and in the last few months the last few of those were gently removed or violently ripped from my fingertips.

One area of meaning, one that I share with all other human beings, is that of friendship, relationship, and family. In the past three months I have received a record number of letters I refer to simply as "Dear John" letters. These letters have a similar form:
1. An introduction including some nicely worded description of the respect and love they have for me and that the decision to write the letter was not an easy one.
2. The body of the letter is a long and detailed list of explanations or excuses (however one might choose to look at it) for their decision.
3. That they've decided to end whatever relationship they have with me.
4. The letter always ends with a litany of compliments and reassurances that I will find happiness (somewhere else and with someone else).
At last count I have at least six Dear John letters, and that just in the last few months. Definitely an all time record in my life. It's ironic and shocking to me in a way. When I was suicidally depressed, when I lashed out at people in anger, loneliness, and frustration, I rarely received such a letter. Sure, I've been pretty down this year, but overall I've kept my head on straight and tried to treat people respectfully even when I'm at my lowest, and no, I've not always been successful in that endeavor, but comparatively I've been able to show a strength and a resolve easily surpassing my past as well as most others in similar situations and yet...

That brings me to another need I also believe all people have, the need for the universe to make sense. Throw a ball up in the air and it will surely come down. Similarly when we smile at someone we expect them to generally smile back. What happens to the psyche when it seems nothing one does, no matter how thoughtfully decided, no matter how much energy put into it, no matter...fuck, I've just come to believe my efforts will always come to naught. It is an absolutely helpless feeling which I would immediately fail in any and all attempts to explain. Unless you've gone through something similar I fear you will not understand my meaning.

Then there's the need for spiritual meaning. When I was young, and I'm talking ten and younger, that was accomplished through a community life in Our Savior's Lutheran Church in Prineville, Oregon. When I was less young (ten to fifteen) it was because I was beginning to establish my own thoughts, feelings, and beliefs, about the universe. When I was in my late teens it was due to a personal relationship with my personal lord and savior Jesus Christ. And then it was the exploration of myself as a non-Christian. And finally, for the last ten years or so, it's been a deeper understanding I could hardly describe that includes a belief in the supernatural including but not limited to psychic abilities.

I am a psychic. There, I said it. Funny. Until now I've always said, "I'm psychic," meaning I have some psychic abilities. This is the first time I have ever written or said that I am "a" psychic. Still, while I've had so many hundreds upon hundreds of experiences to prove to myself (and a few others) that this is true, I find myself cringing at it. Just one more reason I'm different, just one more reason for people to look at me funny, just one more reason to not fit in unless I join the community of psychics who read tarot or talk to the dead for money--and frankly that's just not a group I'd feel comfortable including myself in if for no other reason than the complete lack of critical thinking within the community.

Over the last year I've noticed my psychic abilities go into overdrive and it's not something I would have expected. Most professional psychics will tell you that the more balanced your life is, the more clear your head, the stronger your sixth sense will be. Think about it this way, suppose each of our senses has a volume control setting and for those of us without perceptual impediments the volume control for each is at 7 (on a scale of 1 to 10) while our sixth sense is set, for most of us at least, at 2. Do you think you'll be able to hear it unless you learn to turn the others down and it up?

Why has this happened? I absolutely have no clue. It just is as surely as the air I breath. And it's been frustrating. Generally I pick up either one, things I don't feel ready to for (i.e. overwhelming), bee, things that serve no purpose but to upset me, or lastly, things that seem to serve absolutely no (fucking) purpose at all. Oh yeah, and things that help others but not me--which seems to bloody well be everything--what I'd give to pick up things that help me.


One: Knowing that someone is in the process of writing a Dear John letter and seeing the contents of it before getting it. The only positive I feel about this is I'm not shocked by yet another kick to the balls goodbye.

Bee: Knowing that although things seem quiet at work that at least three high priority escalations will hit by 3pm and force me to work late from home that evening (sure, I could better prepare, but the knowledge usually just ends up making me anxious and worsening my overall fatigue).

Lastly: Why the hell do I care that the person scanning my groceries today is going to say, word for word, "Hi there, how are you today? . . . I'm off in ten minutes, I can't wait! . . . I hope you have a super afternoon, hun. Bye bye!"? What purpose does that serve me in knowing that piece of absolutely irrelevant information but to be slightly more prepared for a conversation that simply doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

Oh Yeah: Messages from someone who's passed to a good friend. This is something I've only been learning to pick up on recently, i.e. in the past few years, and is admittedly my weakest ability, but when it comes through it comes through loud and clear (though randomly: I can't do it on a whim). I'm fine passing along the messages, but there isn't anything in it for me as no one I'm close to has passed in the last twenty or so years (besides my grandmothers, who I wasn't close to in the end and they'd been going for awhile by their passing--yes, I loved them both, though!!!).

Anyway...so that's that.

Right now It's 12:16am. I'll probably be up all night. Not tired. I'm eating some peas and corn. Just heated it up. They were frozen. I don't care. It's food.

There are three piles of cat vomit downstairs. One under the couch, another just inside the front door, and another by the door to the downstairs bathroom. I haven't done a thing about them in days besides memorizing where they are so I don't step in them (again). Besides, it'll probably be June 30th before the next person visits my house (i.e. my parents), no real reason to do anything about it if no one's ever going to visit. I just don't care.

I've made another You Tube film which you can view at the 2009 Videos page. I'm calling it A Day in the Life of a Chronically Depressed American. This is exactly what my weekends look like and what they've looked like for months now. Sure, I do other things, force myself to get out, do this, do that, and what have you, but this is what it looks like when I'm at my worst. Before you judge just recognize that it's better than getting in the tub and slitting my wrists; before you judge it's a lot worse than it appears to be.

The battle field is on the inside, buddy.

The picture on this page is a self portrait I just took. I haven't looked in the mirror to see what I look like. Didn't shave or comb my hair. Haven't modified my facial expression to get the best one. Haven't taken ten pictures so I could choose the one that makes me look best. This is an objective record and snap shot in time of A Day in the Life of a Chronically Depressed American.

Finally I am going to record my second audio podcast journal tonight. In fact, sometime tomorrow I'm going to attempt and convert the video so it can be downloaded as a podcast instead of forcing you to watch it through a web page or YouTube (I don't like being tied to either, though the first retains the look & feel of The Temple). I don't know why I started the audio podcast as I'm not a terribly verbal person: I feel more comfortable behind a keyboard. Maybe I was trying to challenge myself. Maybe I wanted to do something new. Maybe I wanted to hear what my voice sounded like. Maybe I didn't like the ten minute limitation of YouTube or maybe I didn't like the way I looked. Maybe I thought video blogs are too bloody boring, visually speaking, and thought an audio version would solve that problem. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

If you're new to podcast visit my podcasting help page. I haven't gone into complete detail but I will describe how to use a few podcasting aggregators, iTunes and ZENCast Organizer, to subscribe to Aslynn's Audio Journal which will allow you to automatically download, copy it to your MP3 player (if applicable), and listen to it whenever it's new.

So that's it, folks, today you get all four, this written journal, the audio journal, the video journal, AND the self-portrait, all yours for this single one time low price of $19.95! Visa, Mastercard, Discover, and Debit, all accepted. And for a limited time you'll also get free access into my every waking thought, feeling, and belief.

Order now.

Friday June 12th, 2009

My daughter recently opened a Yahoo! chat client account. Since Yahoo! is one of the Instant Messenging programs I use we've been able to chat much more often. It's been nice.

If you hold the mouse over her Avatar it says: "Weed + skating + crazy friends = one H@$$ of a day!"

I love my daughter so seeing things like that worries me. And why shouldn't it? She's fourteen years old and in the past year, since moving from my house, has been having more and more panic attacks, has been to the ER once for them, and is now on some heavy duty and addictive psychotropic drugs. Most if not all of her friends smoke pot and shoplift. When I ask her about this she says, "I don't fit in with any other group. Beside, they're fun", "fun" being the operative word. And then today when I picked her up I was nearly shocked to see that she's nearly doubled her body weight in the last year. It's disheartening and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Last but not least she dropped out of school--though they'll tell you she did this educational computer program to make up for it, but she admitted she gave up on that and went down to about an hour of studies a day.

I don't have a lot of power in my "daughters" life. I haven't for a very long time. Her mother makes a decision and all I can do is sit back and watch my daughter crash even further. It's been saddening to watch. And so, in what little time I've been given to see her, I talk with her about the problems in her life, bring up similar problems I have or had, and try to discuss solutions. And contrary to popular opinion I'm not a jerk about it, I don't say, "Hey you're fat, get moving!" Instead I asked, "How's your diet going?" and "Are you getting enough fruit in?" She might say well I'm excercising so I might say, "How much and what are you doing?" She might tell me she drinks energy drinks every day and I tell her, "Do you know that caffiene is one of the worst things you can drink if you're prone to having panic attacks? You really need to give that up, k?" (What frightens me now is that she says it'll be fine, she's using her prescription drugs to level out her moods so she doesn't have to change her lifestyle). Anyway, from what I hear me asking about her life and helping her make better choices is a form of emotional abuse whereas allowing a 14 year old to hang out with dope heads actively engaging in unprotected sex is just sound parenting.

I am such an idiot not to have recognized that! Must not have been included in Positive Discipline for your Teen. Pooh!

Maybe if I just bought her a new cell phone, iPod, or laptop, we wouldn't be in this situation. What situation, you ask? Well, slowly over the last year and a half her mom has been looking for reasons to slowly pull her away from me. She tells her that it's because I'm emotionally abusive, but what sane parent would let their child spend any time around an emotionally abusive adult? Such statements are either lies, irrational, or completely insane. Anyway, after she permanently moved out of my home I had to fight just to see her on my birthday and Christmas, and even then only for a few hours. It was pretty rediculous. And this year trying to get together has been like pulling teeth, and then once we do she continually gets text messages from her mom. "Come home @ 8" one says. Ten minutes later it's "Come home @ 6:30" followed by "Come home @ 5". When that happened today I just gave up. My time is valuable too, but of course that's not something someone who soaked up $60k over six or seven years would ever consider or the fact that healthy families don't ostrasize family members suffering from depression, they show their compassion, support, and love.

You know the worst of all this? Her mother forced her to write this Dear John letter to me. That's what she told me anyway. I'm not sure what I think yet, I just feel hurt, like I'm living in a surreal world where you can sacrifice years of your life, thousands of dollars of your money, and even your emotional stability, only to be blamed for everything under the sun. Well, I suppose one good thing will come of all this. Now that I'm permanently out of the picture (and lets be real, her mother has no interest in allowing me to be an active participant in her life now that she's finally found a sufficiently believable reason to split us up) they can't blame me anymore. I mean, the last six months it's been pretty rediculous, what with me only seeing my daughter maybe 3 hours a month, but after this it'll be pretty clear. Besides, I'm tired of being blamed by people without integrity; it gets old after awhile.

Up until now I've done what I could. I spent my time trying to encourage my daughter, talk with her about the difficulties in her life, examine issues and possible solutions from every angle, and begin learning how to make wise decisions but maybe I should have realized that was a waste of time and energy sooner. It's like she said today, "I don't always have to take your advice" (it came up because I said, "I don't feel like you ever take my advice or find it useful."). And then there's this, something I read on her YouTube page:

"Me? well I like to hang out with freinds, I also love skate boarding , and partying, I also ,like geting in lots of trouble and FUCK adults they just screw things up they all need to fuck the hell off. also FUCK school skool is only for findin friends and meeting hot guys... So well ya..."

So well yeah, though I'm in shock I've been expecting this for two years now and like so many others in my past the easy target was Depression. You know what makes Depressed people? Those who judge, mistreat, and take advantage of their condition. Do you know what's caused 2/3rds of my depression this year? The hate filled actions of the mother of this child and the effects of that on both of us. Now the damage is complete and as predicted she has her daughter thinking it was in her best interest to do so.

I'm sorry, healthy families, healthy people, just don't do things like that.

P.S. Question: If you were limited as a parent to communicating with your child over text messages, instant messaging, and e-mail, would you feel able to parent?

Tuesday June 9th, 2009

(The following must be viewed in Windows Explorer to diplay correctly. It will not work in any other browsers--but you can download the text. In my defense I did this out of a sense of play and wanted to hand write today's journal.)