Sylvanna Devlin

Apparently a few women (and only a few), didn’t get the memo that stigma isn’t going to fly anymore.

I’m mentally ill and you don’t know what that means – particularly in me.

Allow me to elucidate.

Bipolar I is categorized by long periods of depression or mania and, untreated is usually only dangerous to the pocket book! A bit like being too buzzed all the time. You are certainly more capable than average in a fight. And if you have the cranky pants kind, you’re just as likely as anyone else in a mood to get into fisticuffs. Just more likely to be in a mood.

What does more capable mean? If you’re manic your reflexes are faster, your overall movements quick too. And speed matters!

That’s without rage which also has pain suppression and the likelihood to hit as hard as fast.

I try to avoid mania like the plague, but am prone to more mixed episodes – which is harder to treat. While my mania was the lovey dovey kind, I am capable of depths of hell fury.

That I have to just sit with. I break something it’s broken. I make a mess I need to clean. I actually raise my voice and the building shakes.

Let’s not go there. Bone is fragile. Don’t be stupid. Leave the bipolar person with severe PTSD alone.

If you actually get violent? You have to attack and I’m ending it. Do not go there you foolish child.

What do the little cowgirls want? To double down that my posts objecting to abuse are personal to them?

Interesting

As a side note. Some of the brightest minds in academia are specifically bipolar. If you really are interested in learning “what I’m made of,” there’s a good book, “An Unquiet Mind” written by Kay Radfield Jamison – the psychologist and most successful author of books on bipolar.

I’m made of other all kinds of interesting academic resources. Read a book and learn consensual academic debate.

Otherwise, bipolar people are relatable. We have the same triggers and traits as anyone else could be expected to have. We just have reactions to a greater extreme.

Now, as much as I want to grumble on your decision for willful ignorance when it comes to human decency and reasonable behavior.

I am in the unfortunate position of being aware that the average Oregonian isn’t exposed to information on mental illness so you might not know there is anything to learn. So perhaps your position is less willful and more uninformed.

Please fix that.

For the sake of all that’s decent.

Please educate yourself instead of trying to eliminate me. You don’t understand me. You don’t know me despite your invasive surveillance. You must not be able to comprehend what you see as you would know I’m no danger to you by merely existing.

Do not test the bipolar former martial artist with severe PTSD. You say you see everything? Then you should know better.

Now stop spying on me.

Thanks.

At least until dawn.

No not winter solstice – though that would have been appropriate.

And not the Easter vigil

But it felt like it.

But truth will out and now, no one knows what. So some of us are up late wondering “what the fuck?” And this particular individual is exhausted after constantly checking my vitals and witnessing extremely high numbers for blood pressure.

186/127!high. I didn’t realize how high the diastolic number could get that high. And the 170-180 systolic range stayed about there for two and a half hours.

I didn’t write down the initial result of 200/156 as I was pretty sure that had to be a mistake.

But while any sensible person would have packed up her cat and called an ambulance. I was far too pissed off to be sensible.

I was going to be uncomfortable and impatient and too annoyed to be around another human. I would likely have been admitted for medical observation and a psychiatrist would have wanted to talk to me to.

Yeah I’ve been so depressed I wanted out. But right now I’m too mad to die about it. So I’m up late with a body that turned to gelatin, slightly wishing I hadn’t decided sugar was out right now.

I felt like I had been psychologically crucified, tried killing myself, and then another go was made on killing me.

Over stigma

Compounded by doubling down that I had to be a monster because you were beginning to feel a tad uncomfortable with the situation.

You (the individuals who were assholes to me, not everyone) didn’t want me to have success. You didn’t want my well written books to be written by me. You didn’t want me to be pretty and with my body intact.

You didn’t view me as apex – as complained about. You viewed me as lesser. As went understood by everyone else.

I’m neither thank you.

I’ve been lied to by almost everyone. Gaslighted, corralled, mocked, and driven to either an existence of filth, oblivion, or suicide.

No on wanted to be the one to reveal just how lied to and abused I had been – as if I didn’t notice. The lies and lies and lies, told by others made me paranoid. As did everyone who knew the truth but couldn’t admit it.

Abuse is noticeable too by the way.

My neighbor is so rude as to be reading this aloud right now. And another rude arsehole tried to suggest what I wrote, while another rude arsehole tried to warn me what not to say before I was fucking finished.

I’d like to swear less and tone down my understandable verbal vitriol. But things like that make me second guess second guessing myself.

I’ll try to be nicer, but you’re all still behaving like arseholes.

Surveillance the government needs hacked into by entitled what-nots who don’t understand how the NSA – and their brainy computers – can have my permission but not you.

Really? Or do you just not to admit to being part of the largest nonsensical security leak one can imagine.

Over stigma.

I’m trying to settle down after a heart attack here. Thank you. My muscles need potassium because they gave up on tension. I’m fucking done.

So should that AI be.

So should people being rude arseholes by hacking into my private journal – then commenting.

I had planned to make this an entry just to blow off steam. But the continued harassment and attempts to control me changed my mind

Over stigma.

Do you not understand what stigma means?

Or do you not care?

Let it go.

Let me go.

Let go of my work.

And worry over yourselves, your growth, work and development.

You’re going to be nosy so I’m going to need to level up a bit. But shut the fuck up while intruding on my life.

Do you not understand boundaries? Do you need a fucking map? The golden rule isn’t good enough for you?

I won’t hold my breath you’ll so mind your business so well you learn not to nag and giggle. Comment and (sometimes incorrectly) correct.

Mind yourselves.

Do it into a pillow or something.

So we’ll start with baby steps.

No

More

Fucking

Gaslighting

Okay?

You don’t have my permission, I’m just not stupid. Stay active enough to help the NSA secure the leaks. I don’t want you to. But it’s your embarrassment come due.

Just, let’s all start with stopped lying.

It’s the least you could do.

TLDR

Some individual seemed to incorrectly be summarizing and some asshole thinks mental illness means she can boss me around. Other than that. Fucking read the whole post before reacting. Once published.

Things have changed since I wrote this. But I can’t be bothered to edit it. This was the situation this afternoon.

From what I can tell, the character assassination, mutilation of my genitalia, theft of my work, interference with my career, the hacking and harassment were all to leave me lying paranoid and in filth out of…

There’s no reason good enough.

And you almost succeeded in killing me.

Again,

Why? To make me less attractive? I need the dentist now. Are you going to harass and harangue me every time I go in for a filling?

Steal my things so I never leave the room again?

Manipulate and control everyone around you so people I’ve never met hold hatred for me?

“Hehe. Why give her some fucking privacy. We hate her.”

Do you even know why?

How about the constitutional right to privacy. Is being an American enough for you to behave like your ideals matter?

The constitution is administrable. Americans were respected and saved lives. Now the perception is that they’re stupid and ignorant. Do you want to contribute to that? Or rise above it?

Fucking born in America and think you’ll always be more American than some immigrant?

Fucking act like it. Respect your constitution.

Maybe it is your entire lack of respect for me as a human being has left me frothing.

You’ve told so many lies the creature of wrath you said existed did indeed come to fruition. Though I never act upon it, your reactive abuse is near tenable in the way it physically harms me.

My heart isn’t the same,

I have lost hair.

My weight loss keeps getting interrupted.

My motivation for exercise waning.

My self esteem tattered.

And my soul is ruined.

You make fun of a beginner! Delight in every mistake. And mock the very idea of learning.

I want to work but can’t yet so so still need the pittance from the federal government and you say you plan to complain to them.

And I believe you.

I have skills I need to learn and writing I need to do to have any kind of career but the ongoing compounding of my PTSD scuppers all hope to escape financially. But you resent taxes you are not paying going to support me.

Really it’s just a way to fuck me over.

Why again?

Yeah. I have your Jealousy. Your need for Power. And your need for Control compounded by Fear as your only motives.

I want out and need to become capable of working more than six weeks at a time. Part time! (If that). You claw me to death each attempt to learn.

You try to micromanage me to my end like PTSD and bipolar are an invitation to attempt to run and ruin a life.

They’re not, since you need that boundary pointed out specifically.

Mental illness is not mental incapacity and PTSD is altered mental strength but not capacity. Range of ability yes, but each symptom and need for aide and accommodation is personal to the individual. And up to the individual to decide.

I’m struggling because of people like you. But it doesn’t mean I require someone inviting herself into my life to “direct me”.

Is your lust for power so intense?

To be more succinct. I need disability right now. But being disabled doesn’t mean I need you as the boss of me.

Are you so ignorant that the mere words mental illness summon up the mental image of fictional psychopaths vs actual examples like the famous mathematician John Nash?

Your only way to feel secure is not to address your lack of education, but attempt to corral and control me?

Is that what’s going on?

Stigma?

You think mental illness impedes intelligence?

It was a long time ago that I was last tested. I’ve been melted down and recovered a few times since. But my IQ is probably a lot higher than yours. To the point no one is on my level so I value other qualities.

Which would be nice if you displayed.

But teaching myself the basics of set theory isn’t valued by you because all you think of is Ven diagrams. So you don’t even recognize absent-from-the-present intellect

Again, being mentally ill doesn’t make me stupid you fucking assholes.

Mental illness and PTSD don’t make me the bogeyman either. But if I’m not already, you will use reactive abuse to make me seem it?

You think my mental illness means you should get to boss me around like a child? Though I worry on that front,

It does seem likely your ignorance really is the problem.

But you’ll gaslight motives into being to disguise plain old fashioned fear. Invent boyfriends I would have liked to be informed I have. They probably would too!

I hate living with you as much as you hate me and I’m trying to let go of such poison.

You object to my objections! Every post I have tries to acknowledge that not everyone is so narrow minded. So I doubt it’s the average individual who takes umbrage. Rather those behaving with uneducated ignorance because of stigma.

Again, I don’t even know who you are. But if you take this personally? It is.

My cat already has to come everywhere with me. She’s afraid to be alone and afraid to be without me.

You keep threatening her too!

But point out all you did to fuck me over? And apparently I’m abusive.

I can’t ever be happy again – you’ll just turn up the pressure to destroy me. I can’t trust again, so many of you have lied to my face,

Has everyone read every scrap I wrote.? Even while trying to figure things out? You mutilated my copies while who knows what you did with yours. I don’t know. You’re so busy lying and stealing from me it’s barely worth it to write again.

Oh wait, is some little fuckwit summarizing without being literate enough to comprehend what the fuck is actually being said? Or the truth is that inconvenient to her lies?

Do you use AI for TLDR and that AI sucks?

God I hope it’s that simple.

I want to feel pretty on the inside now, you fucking assholes. But it’s hard when everyone shits on you so heavily there’s no point to being alive.

Leave me alone.

“Could the psycho in the middle leave the other psycho alone so the other, other psycho can get some sleep?”

He meant it kindly, but was fed up as fuck! I miss that neighborhood!

On the cutie patootie front. I tried pulling out resistance bands to at least consider working out.

My cat became very interested!

I might have to rethink this.

As an addendum: maybe the bathroom isn’t the best place to try to communicate. All I could hear was complaints you think I’m “a baby”. For objecting to abuse! What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a better reason than stigma that isn’t a pack of lies?

This post got loo-room commentary before it came out. Like somehow everyone knew of a system to invade my privacy and peace of mind.

If I don’t care what you call me will you stop? Sure. I’m a baby for not wanting to be abused. Whatever.

Again

Seriously

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Are we all done now? I’ve said my bit and you whined about it before it was even publicly available. Can you now settle the fuck down?

God I hope so.

So here we go.

It’s been stigma the entire time

I got hacked into a digital prison to avoid what might happen if I learned what happened to my writing.

You read everything.

You shat on everything.

You stole my ideas – even character names.

You programmed an AI to write like me because I’m that fucking good.

And you don’t want me to have been the real author. To have real success as a writer. To admit how much you shat on me

You even tried to steal my cat.

Because I’m mentally ill and the truth is inconvenient to you.

Portland WTF is wrong with you?

I mean I know this isn’t all of Portland but what the hell?

People here are up in arms because I objected to them being abusive.

They’re on the warpath.

Time to lie to management and make up evidence.

Time to harass the police and paramedics with false reports.

Time to bring in other people from other places to harass me.

Time to interfere with my deliveries

Time to IDK what, but do you think you could grow up and let it fucking go?

I objected to abuse.

Publicly. Yes. But it was about abusive bitches. If you took it personally it was indeed you.

Like the fuck?

Who are you? Your herd feels so threatened that me being here is an affront? The fuck is wrong with you?

One of you is going to have to drop the high school games because I’m fucking 47 and was too old for this (and thankfully in college) thirty years ago. Yes when I was 17.

Like seriously, do I really have to find some way to get you to grow up and get a life? Leave me the fuck alone.

I’m done swearing at you with the same names and phrases you use to harass me. As that didn’t work. And it makes me unhappy. So if that’s the problem? It’s fucking over.

Let it go.

Ahhh Oregon. You wild, wild, west you.

This is about certain assholes, since it’s getting missed that most of the building probably wants to avoid coming to notice – and indeed have been quite nice.

Just not everyone

And for no fucking reason other than taking no shit.

Heinous!

Anyway…

All the martial arts training in the world doesn’t prepare you for threats and bullying from the safety of the other side of the door.

Mine was a long time ago admittedly. Mostly off record, and with personal attention. But I have age and speed and some bitch has bravado.

“You write another post like that and we’ll come to blows.”

Oh we will? Do you promise? Because now I’m in a mood.

Go ahead, break down the door. Go to jail. I can defend myself just fine you stupid bitch.

Since I’m the one with the least to lose, I’m the one to fear the most. And I’d like to avoid breaking bone if I counter strike.

Thank you.

I’m trying to figure out if I can ever be happy again.

So far the vote is no. Not around the hen house of “bitches and cunts”. (Originally intended to say the whole building isn’t like that. But the truth doesn’t give as much moaning material.)

My soul will never heal. I will never return to the light. No one cares anyway so fuck it.

But apparently, according to my very loud neighbor, “The real Sylvanna? Abusive.”

That’s what abusive bitches now do, expecting us to shy away from rebuking them for fear of being accused of that which is destroying us.

It’s looking pretty likely my death is preferable to everyone. But I’m in a mood.

Blows over blog posts?

The fuck is wrong with you?

Fucking don’t like it, don’t read it.

Do you all imagine you’re some cowboys in a film about stopping a book before your shitty power tactics are exposed? Can I leave your film please?

Come back to reality, you stupid bitches.

This is the 21st. Century but apparently women here handle criticism form another woman like stoning to death is an option.

Actually that might be preferable to listening to my neighbor complain about me again. Loud enough so I can hear. But she fusses to management if I cry too loudly. And if I drop something she says I’m throwing things.

And god please help her avoid banging on the fucking wall then telling management it was me. I can’t reach my wall. My fingers are too fragile and I’m fucking fed up.

Just… I don’t know. Learn to behave like civilized adults.

The rest of the building probably thinks we all lost our damn minds. I know I’m going crazy.

Now if you don’t mind I need to pray for your poison to be eradicated from my body never to return to me.

It’s the only recourse I have left.

,

P.S according to the peanut gallery, “none of us like you anymore.”

Really? Who the fuck are you? Do you take this personally?

Then it’s about you, and you can fuck right off you fucking child!

And

“I’m going to make sure amazon doesn’t deliver to her anymore”

About

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What the fuck is wrong with you?

The toxic dormitory style living continues wherein everyone listens in on my private conversations and comments on them afterwards.

Earlier I went into the no-win scenario and have an even better example.

I was literally lying down, my thoughts my own. No muttering. No ASL. No studying. Just trying to sort my feelings silently.

Oh no even that is not good enough.

Some asshole had to weigh in with her opinion on me and my attempts at a career. I hadn’t done or said a fucking thing.

This time of peace and repentance had a rocky start. I had settled down. The situation had (for now) settled down. But it was possible it was because I was already too miserable to function.

I feared never being able to be happy again because I would always be wondering what the next bitch would side swipe me with.

The cunt brigade, the bitch battalion, and the sanctimonious assholes who object to me objecting. I swear too much. I get too frustrated. My soul is ugly now.

Yeah sure, it matches my mutilated genitalia. That alone makes me feel like off this planet, thank you. In whose reality do bitches and cunts behave this way?

Theirs apparently.

They keep saying come back to reality but if they are in it, no fucking way.

I’m smart, I’m pretty, I’m talented, and I hide out away from the world because any of these puts a bullseye on my back all three means they think I should be target practice.

I’m too busy for your bullshit. I don’t care if I’m just trying to meditate and visualize. I am permanently too busy. Okay?

Every opportunity I have to get better is clawed into.

I’m harassed and harangued the night before psychiatric appointments so I can barely stay awake enough to communicate.

Medical appointments have to be rescheduled because the cunt brigade harasses me into being too tired to go.

They say they’re trying to kill me. I say they’re trying to kill me. But it would take my corpse before consequences came to them.

I can’t get better like this. And they don’t want me to.

Lies, gaslighting, 24/7 harassment and every achievement shat on, they want me to what? Never succeed? They’re such failures this is the only power they have?

Oh.

Some of us are here because of a disability, running from an abusive ex. Some have tried and collapsed so many times they’ve lost count. This isn’t a reference to bombing out. But I really think fuckery on this level is a failure of moral character at least.

Can’t escape so can’t let me.

It’s purely about power and control. And I’ll climb out of the pit this one last time. But they sink their talons in and I’m out.

It’s not an ultimatum, it’s a warning.

I can’t survive another attempt to improve undermined by the bitch battalion.

We’ll see if they’re too stupid to understand that.

P.S. Too stupid is the vote. If I complain again, apparently we’ll come to blows.

I don’t think that’s a good idea.

I have reached the point with my laundry that I am now wearing gym clothes. And as I have a few exercise skirts left I have still put it off!

I fell asleep clothed again and when changing did the sniff test. The skirt was fine but another day would make it pretty darn ripe!

Into the hamper it went, and I’m one step closer to needing to wear my one evening outfit to do laundry.

*giggle, giggle*

“Sylvanna does the sniff test.”

Of course I do. What the fuck is wrong with them that they don’t. But it doesn’t matter because it could have gone straight in and it would have been “about time.”

It’s a no win situation that requires maybe strict obedience if you want to avoid constant micro-criticism more likely to turn you into a nervous wreck than anything else.

I had thought it was a kind of nastiness intended to wound and cause a fight. The no-win critical situation seems designed just to piss someone off.

Leaving aside they shouldn’t know in the first place, they certainly shouldn’t comment. And have something nasty and mean spirited to say no matter what. But I finally believe they really are just that awful.

I muttered “Giggle, giggle, stupid bitch” under my breath. But because I get no privacy – even on the commode – they had a comment on that too. Genuinely surprised and insulted I didn’t take well to their bullshit.

Look these women might be otherwise nice. But they are behaving so badly by nature of the culture they’re in, no one fucking cares what they think of themselves. They’re stupid bitches.

I had a friendship go sour when someone became manipulative and controlling and I didn’t take well to it.

She was also surprised. She viewed herself as kind, thoughtful, and generous. And I viewed myself as those things too. But she tried to posses me and I didn’t really want to be treated like that.

She might have actually, such commentary aside, been nice, kind, generous, even thoughtful. I suppose I should have yet again looked past bad behavior.

Yet again.

No wonder I ended up with abusive men.

I don’t mind a cranky pants – though I may need to resist giggling. But being a bit on the grumpy side is different than criticism and control and is usually a lack of patience.

One easily resolved by a smile and a kiss. Some people are just that easily annoyed but not deeply so.

However it can mask behavior that makes me almost want to tease “is it that time of the month?”

(Incidentally the last time someone asked that about me, it was because I couldn’t get comfortable. And it was)

I had forgotten that my ex got cranky and miserable without sexual anything for three days in a row. But he wasn’t interested in sex with me anymore – and it was our first year as a married couple. We should have been like bunnies!

Some have argued that it’s a myth. People don’t get moody over at least not masturbating.

Oh yes they do.

I feel like Dr. Ruth who believes some people are just that repressed and in need of a good orgasm!

But “has it been a while?” While sometimes true is about as annoying to hear as “is it that time of the month.”

These are legitimate reasons to be on the cranky side. I’m a firm believer that sex as a way of communicating love and intimacy is also necessary for good health.

And I’ve been single most of my life because only assholes talk to me so I’ve either been dating a jerk or recovering from dating a jerk.

Seriously, I needed to get over being too shy to approach someone a long time ago. Now everyone is married and I’m a single middle aged women with compatible fantasies and general kindness but am very single.

The end all be all of one’s life and identity isn’t a relationship, however. And while one would be nice I’m not holding my breath I will be dating anytime soon.

Probably because men are expecting bitches and I’m just not one. But independent enough it would take a strong personality to be with me. Not necessarily unable to be gentle. But a level of acceptance for the weird and if not self acceptance, being open to being accepted by me.

Really I don’t need machismo. While I like men, I really like genderqueer individuals. So one can be softer and still strong of internal nature. Indeed this culture isn’t really ready for male bodied genderqueer individuals so it takes great personal strength to be comfortable.

Though I’ve wandered from my topic a bit. But how much is there to say about women who don’t seem to be happy no matter what. That they don’t seem to know to mind their own business. And aren’t good at regulating poor behavior. Some potentially otherwise nice. But controlling as fuck.

That does seem to be a problem I have with a lot of people. If they don’t want to own or manipulate me, they’re so unpleasant I’d rather not. Thank you.

Which is probably why I’m alone and isolated.

I’m not the only woman sick of women like that. But they tend to keep their head down and try to avoid notice. While I seem to be noticeable without even leaving my room!

I don’t know what can be done. This culture needs a wake up call. But until then I have to learn such independence and expertise with emotional tai chi that I can ignore bitches being bitches as soon as I open my eyes.

Though I reserve the right to make fun of them on my blog.

Come on, your form of entertainment is someone’s laundry habits? Get a life.

What is it about American culture that makes abuse so prevalent it’s normalized and goes unrecognized?

Individuals snipe and prod but escape by saying “I’m just playing”. Yeah like a cat batting a mouse around before killing it.

Wit, teasing, banter and flirting seem to have fallen out of favor and sardonic baiting is all that’s replaced it. No one is happy with the situation and no one seems to have noticed why.

Look you foolish fellow mortals. No one likes having to be “en guarde” at all times. You carry words as weapons and strike the unwitting for fun.

Then fuck around endlessly if pushed back. Suddenly your abuse goes under the radar and their response is all anyone pays attention to.

As I dozed today I got the impression that some women around here want to view me as a frothing mess – a state I have indeed been driven to by 72 hours awake while being harassed the whole time. About 3 times.

I reached full oblivion twice.

But that’s been a small part of my existence and the other women are just trying to avoid the drama queens.

God heals all ugliness of the soul. So I am confident the damage to me internally is not permanent. Anger and hate do indeed rip into your essence like it is made of fragile petals.

But it can be protected if my theories of emotional tai chi hold. Perhaps we can heal the ugliness in American culture.

Americans band together for protection in herds and regard others as a threat. Separately from if they are, any individual from another herd is considered potentially dangerous.

The situation is cyclical however because you need the support of a group to weather the abuse of the society. So becoming a herd is natural.

That (and abusive parents) molds abusive people into being. Then everyone feels justified for being an asshole because everyone is an asshole.

I hope it’s changing, the more sensitive generations have been mocked by abusive asses while I have been delighted.

I’m particularly vulnerable to tears when it comes to the atrocities of World War II, so a (probably well written) book was avoided when I was a freshman in high school. At my parent’s insistence. I was too young to cope with such vivid content.

By reports a classmate lost her breakfast.

Yet younger generations are mocked and hassled for at least wanting content notifications on books with difficult subjects. I’ve been waiting for these kids all my life – maybe to teach, certainly to encourage.

The lies told about me prevent me from ever doing so again. And is a great grievance I have with certain American women and their prima Donna control techniques of lying, gaslighting, and cumulative reactive abuse.

I can’t comment on male toxicity here – I’m not one and most men have been welcoming of my company and did not expect me to have machismo!

But the kind of toxicity you get here is potentially fatal. This mean girls crap has got to go.

Abuse is the fastest way to attack and try to control “an outsider”. And the herds, banding together for protection, all go on attack mode if an “alien” being approaches. Not an immigrant – though many are assholes to them too – but any perceived threat.

To their power, to their control, and perhaps the dating pool. I’m not sure on the latter.

Those of us used to going from group to group and getting along with everyone are told to “Step in Line” by a woman who wants to be the queen of queens.

They don’t have anything other than the position to exert social pressure. But boy do they have that and their lies do spread. Ruining those who value independence over conformity.

They’ll all say they value independence. But it’s independence from the greater culture – as a group. Within their sphere of power you are required to conform or suffer.

What this means for me I don’t know. I refuse to bow before pettiness but it is breaking me. I need to protect my soul while sleeping the hostility and micro critiquing are so intense.

Perhaps God can grant me protection to pray. And if I do so, find the fortitude to continue with grace not a grievance a minute.

Grace.

Now there is a good goal for the year.

I’m still struggling with the motivation to care about my life. But should I find that magic perspective I promise to share!

Perhaps looking for it will keep me going.

If we understand all abuse is about control- including reality abuse. And gaslighting is about disguising abuse – so a sign someone wants control, how do we maintain kindness and gentle behavior without having to be a punching bag.

I need to know. I’m close to giving up entirely. My cat came and reminded me she loves me. And to be taken from me would break her heart. The death of the person a support animal is looking after is a pain they don’t recover from.

I am in contact with my family again. I can’t let my mum spend these years grieving her daughter. Nor my dad. My sister and brother in law have enough difficulties.

My brother would feel a loss that is near tangible. We don’t talk much but he needs me to be alive in the world.

And I don’t really want to be.

But the surgeon who saved me put so much effort into an experimental procedure, I can’t let them down.

And I don’t know who made me promise to do everything I could to get better – I was unconscious at the time. But I agreed and also promised to god I would.

And the assholes around here are taking advantage of that need to protect them. There are no consequences and this society is so abusive, their bullshit isn’t even noticed.

How do I protect my soul from hate and anger? How do I avoid letting those surface. This is the time to seek redemption. I must somehow learn to be the sweet heart I want to be – not their definition which is a pawn and a patsy.

But simply immune to the abuse society hurls and remain nice in the face of scapegoating, gaslighting, torment, maybe torture, and cumulative abuse from an entire herd.

I have no desire to be a spiritual leader but to light the path towards one. My books are to communicate and for some inspire. And I hope my insights useful at least.

But I make a very good second in command.

I hate being in charge but want my support recognized and respected. Sans a leader I write. But it’s either being taken as I spell or has been stolen and the books used to lie and manipulate.

How am I to survive this?

Well I’ve come up with the methodology and posted such. But knowing what to do helps no one if I would rather die than be in this position anymore.

That’s the main issue. I had my books to write and keep me alive. And now I don’t. My family keeps me attached to this world by a thin thread. I have no other reason to live.

And I don’t want to, personally I want out.

Sure I have survival techniques now. But I don’t want to use them. I want out.

My environment is chaos and I decided tidying and cleaning counts as self care, so am marginally motivated to fix it. If I can decide to care for myself there’s always the one thing a day technique.

Just one thing turns to 30 things in a month and is certainly more than nothing. Maybe one thing a day will cheer me up.

But that’s still personal. I have the footsteps ahead to get better and pursue mathematics again. All the micro movements and necessities. Yet my environment is so toxic it takes all my energy just to live.

And I don’t know what to do.