Dave is Dead

About a week ago, I found a magnet on my door.  Some fuck nut had put a magnet on my door (private entrance), and it fucked up my security system.  So, all morning, I was on the phone with personal calls and then to the security company.  Well, I didn’t have the proper information.  My father was here when it was installed, because I was probably in the hospital.  Anyways, there was A LOT of information I needed to get clearance that I did not even know I needed.  Communication is weak in my family.  Very weak.  So, my dad is up North watching my 100 year old grandmother.  He’s being a smart ass- cuz, naturally, I thought it was Dave fucking with me.  So, my father blows me off.  Which hurt and caused old wounds to open up- you don’t care, you never protected me, blah x 3.  Then, he calls me back and tries to tell me what to do, he wasn’t hearing what I was saying.  So, we yell and he hangs up on me.  K.  Dee.  (His father)

So, then I call Dave’s old Parole Officer to see where to send the PPO.  The PO calls me back and leaves me a message: “Dave is Dead. He died last week.  Dave is dead.  You don’t have to worry about him bothering you anymore.  Dave’s Dead…”  WTF!!!!!!!

So, after I inhaled, I started to sob.  Belly aching, heart breaking sobs.  I mean, like, the full body sobs?  I’m a mess.  He was a monster.  And why he was a monster and how he became a monster, I’m not 100% sure, but I know some aspects and those are private.  Some things are best left unknown.  Even he deserves some peace. He always tried to seek God.  He tried to be a monk, he tried to go to church.  He tried everything.  Well, God is love as one of my friends told me tonight.  And, as a medium, he did make it to the other side- the light side.

His PO has no idea what he died from, we guess physical problems- HIV, HEP C, Diabetes, IDU Meth Addict.  I think he overdosed on meth as a suicide run.  That’s my bet.  AS his PO said, “doesn’t really matter, we all wind up the same.”  A freaking men.  A freaking men.

So, after I gained my composure, I called the security system company.  Apparently, my system has been in test mode for some time and I have a faulty device.  Really?  Just so happens, the beginning of the year, my neighbors stole my WIFI and changed my password.  I had to change it to something they would never guess.  Then, the magnet on the door, and something else.

And now that Dave is gone and no one knows?  Mm mm.  I gotcha.

SO, now that Dave has passed away, how do I feel?  Torn.  Really torn.  But really glad he’s not in pain and tormented anymore.  Neither are we.  We’re all free.  I think that means I have forgiven him and now I can heal.  Really heal.  Cuz I was never able to heal or grieve constantly looking over my shoulder since 2012. Jesus, what a shitty year that was. Christ!  Lost F Dog, lost Chris, Lost Button, found out I was a SRA survivor, Interferon and Dave’s trial.  Fuck that year.  If I was ever going to drink, that would have been the year.

So, I can’t sleep. I’m starving and all I have is a turkey Lean Cuisine.  Every time I get  up, I get out of breath and my chest hurts.  I don’t know wtf that is about.  I’m tired.  Just tired.  And I got a four year old coming tomorrow morning.  Er, this morning.  Jesus.  I can’t do it.  I can’t do…everyday is a battle.  With PTSD, DID, HIV, alcoholism squirrel brain, war with God, neighbors, no friends, no men, I’ve been sick with a bacterial infection for two weeks.  I was so sick last Friday, I was hallucinating.  Fuct up.  I just can’t do it.  At least, right now, I don’t feel I can do it.  I just feel like I’m almost at the top of the mountain.  Just a little further and I’ll be there, but I’m so fucking tired.

I cut a bunch of fuckers out of my facebook account.  I cut out some really long term friends who have just not been there for me and I haven’t been there for them, insensitivity, circumstances, life.  Just trimming the fat.  Plus, if they don’t give a damn about me when the shit hits the fan in my life, when I’m there for them when the shit hits the fan in their life, wtf am I hanging around for?  Or, I never hear from them?  What’s the fucking point?  None.  Just noisy fuckers.  Fuck em where they eat their eggs.

So, it’s 2:37 am here on the EST.  Usually they’d be coming home, waking me up.  I’m thinking about a food run.  It’d be fast food, but it would be something in my gut.  I need to take care of myself really hard core especially now.  No lip service, action only.

Well, I hope you are all doing well.  Life’s a bitch.  Get a helmet.  Thanks Denis Leary.

Sanctuary! Sanctuary!!!

So, I’m lonely.  HIV, DID, and being overweight leads you- oh yeah, along with low self esteem-drops you right at the feet of being lonely.  So, I got on Tindr.  Wanted to see if I could get my, uh, needs met.  Also, to see what all the hubub was about.  Well, I swiped right, and so did Anthony.

Anthony and I talked for four hours the first night.  He came over and we talked for for four more. One small problem- Anthony would be homeless by today and had a SCRAM bracelet on and had just been let out of his halfway house into renting a room.  Now, here’s an interesting fact:  Ever since I started to have memories and flashbacks way back in 99/2000-2001, I have been madly attracted to Sociopaths.  Can’t shake em.

Cliff, Scott, Dave and Magic, and now Anthony.  So, I offer for him to stay here.  WTF?!  He had read me so well, I was hooked.  Sociopaths do that.  They can read a mark so well, know exactly what to say, and get under your skin.  So, Anthony grew up on the East side of Detroit. 7-8 mile near Gratiot, on the streets, “because nobody wanted” him.  He was a car thief, and at 12, was in Maxey by Ann Arbor.  So, I knew he had some shit.  And it wasn’t just an attachment disorder.  Three days.

I offered him up the chance to come correct with me. No way can they do that.  He told me he had a Domestic- a misdemeanor.  I laughed. Went to OTIS- 6 years for intimate Assault and Battery, which being his third time in- automatic habitual offender.  Dropped him like a bad habit.

So, Tuesday, I go to my therapist- that’s when I dropped him.  We talked.  We’re going to do a workbook- Mindfulness for Prolonged Grief.  And work on my cognitive errors. My story ended Sunday.  I need to begin a new life/story.  I need to return to the program.  I need, I need…I need to do.

The reason I finally didn’t act impulsively, was that I- my house is my sanctuary. It’s where my healing happens, for the most part.  I have a part system to keep safe.  If I don’t act like a responsible adult, my system will not trust me, and will take over.  Can’t have that.  I had to protect not only myself, but my system- which are one in the same.  That was the whole purpose of this blog.  If you want to heal from your trauma and integrate, you gotta act like a protective adult. The parents wee never had, the ones that were supposed to protect us and soothe us and love us.  If we don’t step up and take steps to protect ourselves, which includes our systems, we’re never going to heal.  We’ll never integrate.  Letting yet another Sociopath into my home and my life- I’d be dead within two weeks.  Whether by his fists, or my drinking- he was a drinker too- real winner. One of my mom’s coworkers told her- she’s not going to bring home an accountant.  Wouldn’t it be a hoot if I did?  I’d invite her to the wedding to just be a bitch.

But, I’ve been dope sick.  Quit the Norco.  Had a cold/stomach flu on top of the dope sickness.  That’ll teach me.  That’ll learn me, as I really like to say.  I had a dream about an Octopus.  Octopus medicine is very powerful and very fitting-clearly, or the Octopus would not have come to me- for what I am about to embark on.

You ready?

I am.