The Long Road Out

I've sent dozens of loopy, angry, critical, depressed, insulting, mean, hopeless and self-destructive messages to my ex-wife over the last three years while I've been battling PTSD and depression. They all share one thing, no matter their tone or degree of logic: she never replied. I would have apologized for all my nastiness. In fact I often have. The apologies all share one characteristic: my ex never replied. Join the club. This is classic narcissistic gaslighting. I've watched her do this to dozens of others. Mostly her parents.

I know a lot about this because I watched my first wife perform with honor and grace. I believe she thinks I do too. My second wife—slow motion automobile crash. If you want to leave a marriage with minimal damage, it has to be done on honest disclosure, and based on your own needs. These are basic principals of every relationship modality including non-violent communication which my 2nd wife studied but never mastered. That's because she saw so much to blame in the rest of us. Why have needs when your husband is an angry loser and your friends are all less intelligent than you are? Everyone got hurt and dozens of friendships were ruined, faster than a dominatrix (named Caroline) flips customers on Fetlife. Right, Ghost? I broke a plate 2 years after you left to fuck others. You broke the spirit of a lot of really wonderful friends. Most of them, and me too—need to be medicated because of the anvil you drop with gleeful recklessness. Share my passion my ass. ...

Many have been lost but it's hard to say which ones. It's hard to keep playing the game when so many of the pieces are missing. And a minimum of two players is required. Please don't hurt me because I no longer recall the rules. Did I ever know them? I suppose not. Holidays are hard. A time for games but others seem to have so much better toys and they seem to be able to keep them operative. I need to keep a low profile.  I’m cat sitting for a friend in September. That will be great.  My prime job!  I hope I do it well.  

A justification for today's violence in the West Bank is that, according to the NYT, Iran is "sending as many weapons as it can to support Hamas."   Last week the US sold $50 billion in new weapons into the conflict.   I do not think the United States or its media have the moral standing to report on Iran at this point.  Could we refrain from this kind of hypocrisy?  Or, since we love to sell weapons and dump tariffs on allies and competitors, could we move this commentary to the business section, and just discuss contract value?   My guess is the US has moved tens of thousands times more materiel into the Middle East than Iran has.  Does anyone know for sure, since our business is primarily covert?  Please let me know.  Maybe it's only thousands of times more death equipment from the US.     

It's been a long haul and I'm nowhere near the end…if ever. The last two nights I've had dreams with few anxiety elements. Significantly for me the dreams don't feel connected to the trauma of my failed marriage. A noteworthy hopeful first! Also, my endless self-critical monologue is quieter. This is making it a bit easier to focus on other tasks—reading, cooking, hitting a tennis ball, conversations. I specifically feel less anxious about the financial stress of paying out my divorce settlement. It will get done. Mina will receive her unearned loot (though I hugely appreciate all the childcare and cooking and housecleaning she did to support my wealth accumulation all those years. And the wonderful friends she shared when she liked them. And the fun option of supporting all her failed efforts at fame or whatever it was she aspired to between bouts of campaigning against me.) Easy to ignore her unregulated lawyers who she was too unskilled or hostile t...

I am the garbage that remains after a life of love. I am the words that were spoken when others began to scream. I am the observer that sees your fear. You can't afford gold dust because I already see your cracks. I am all the conversations you missed while you were absent for dinner. While your back was turned on your trash. While you entertain today's audience for the glory of your showing. Snaking across the floor like a broken toy.

As I noted yesterday, I'm feeling "halved" by the experience of losing my life partner.   And, the loss equates to "failure" since I'm wired for family constellations which please the central woman in my life (these would be mommy issues but it's so much more complicated and sophisticated than that). So it's complicated not only by the fact that my marriage failed over and over, but because my ex has only one response to those who doubt or disappoint her—ghosting.  She's been gone since 2012, though she reappeared for 10 more years because she had nowhere else to go and she felt  she'd been ripped off, shortchanged, and that I was not good enough for her. (Or is anyone else.  But don't disagree with the Ghost or you'll end up as roadkill like me.) I can feel the missing parts of me every slow step of my life, and every moment, even when I'm asleep.   I can feel it in the weakness of my muscles, and in the inability...

Good question. I've invested $140,000 in therapy and treatments to try to figure that out. I have some hypotheses but one problem with PTSD is that you no longer trust your ability to believe your own answers. So here's a hypothesis: my parents were an inseparable unit. My brother and I were part of a three element constellation…him, me, and our parents. I saw my ex similarly. In many ways I thought we were unitary. One common heart and a shared mind. Endless discussions about our daily shared experience. I lost sight of her, and definitely lost sight of myself as an individual. And that seemed like heaven and the way love was supposed to be. This, it turned out, had almost nothing to do with my ex-wife's perspective. We were so at odds that I honestly could not hear what I now understand was nearly constant dissatisfaction with me. Daily complaints and belittlement…none of which I noticed. I'm sorry for being such a complete dolt! Anyway, no...

I walked into a coffee shop this morning and the first person I saw, by herself and reading a hardcover novel (I can’t see the spine so I don’t know which one) is pictured here.  Omg. I miss my mother in law. I could only take her in 24 hour doses but her energy and her never ending smile. She was my family for a long time and I miss her.  I didn’t have a single chance to say goodbye before you embargoed your entire family.  Not as important to me as to my ex who lost her mom...but still a very long relationship that deserves to be honored in its own small way. Love to you Pam. You were a class act.   Meanwhile, back among the living, and to your missing family, not one of whom reached out to me after a lifetime of friendship--(your campaign of hate)--:    Save your breath so you can feel it inside your empty soul.  Share your passion with yourself. I dreamt I was late for a marathon last night.  I tried to take a shortcut through some sort of tra...

I haven't left the house today and I want to, but don't feel up to it.  I don't think that's a good indicator of progress against my depression.  But, it is what is is.   How on earth is my body holding up?  What a friend…each day I'm still "healthy" (I haven't seen a doctor in ages…I just mean that I don't have any pain or symptoms) surprises me.  I don't think I deserve it, and constantly worry that tomorrow will be the day that the final sign appears.   I've been thinking about my birthday in January.  I turn 70.  I think how much I want to spend that day completely alone, with no contact with anyone.  Just my cat who I love.  And me.  It's partially antisocial, but it's mostly because this is how I've been living for three years now, and I want to celebrate who I am.  Even having dinner with a single friend feels like a betrayal to me…David.    Also I think I should stop therapy.  Y...

I haven't left the house today and I want to, but don't feel up to it.  I don't think that's a good indicator of progress against my depression.  But, it is what is is.   How on earth is my body holding up?  What a friend…each day I'm still "healthy" (I haven't seen a doctor in ages…I just mean that I don't have any pain or symptoms) surprises me.  I don't think I deserve it, and constantly worry that tomorrow will be the day that the final sign appears.   I've been thinking about my birthday in January.  I turn 70.  I think how much I want to spend that day completely alone, with no contact with anyone.  Just my cat who I love.  And me.  It's partially antisocial, but it's mostly because this is how I've been living for three years now, and I want to celebrate who I am.  Even having dinner with a single friend feels like a betrayal to me…David Foster.    Also I think I should stop therapy.  Ya...

Absence. And I hope I come to accept that I was married to a woman who was never present. Lacking love, her opinion must not matter. I've already forgotten everything about her but her astounding narcissism. She was a performance and desired stardom. Failing, she became captured by being the star of her show. And stealing or degrading brighter talents. She was never on stage for anyone else's. She was never in the audience when others needed their monologue. Only her own lonely drama. She was present for herself, except to the degree she couldn't get enough others to praise her cleverness and beauty. Definitely not an ensemble player, this one! Love is not a performance. Neither is hatred. Absence is a package you create to isolate yourself from your own failure to know love. Absence looks like truth to the needy.

I can barely get off the couch any more—and I don't care whether or not I do—but I think I might run/walk the TMB next year. I've never been to Mount Blanc. I ran in an out of the Grand Canyon for my 60th. I had a companion then. This will be solo. I can drink coffee and not create anxiety, so that's a plus. Want to join me Mina? You'd be far ahead as usual so you wouldn't have to wait or care for me as you always did before. You might meet some new partners—I could just go on alone. It wouldn't be any different if you did, or didn't!

I'm familiar with a Canadian family that has at least three generations of common response when someone says "I disagree with you." The family response begins with condescension, moves to summary judgement, continues with public outcries that they know better, and ends with index fingers stuck in their ears and "whah whah whah" noises. You know who these people are. Some of them crept over the border. I know. I facilitated this. I apologize.

The most important people to me in my life…my parents, my brother, Melanie, John Marqusee, Lucretia, my ex…none of than the last have deserted me when I needed their help.   None other than the last have denied me to opportunity to help them when they were in trouble or made mistakes.   Glenn is complicated because of his mental illness, of course.  And now he's institutionalized and as scared about his future as I am about mine.  But we're talking and in touch, as much as that helps.  I'm sure it does, in ways I can't completely understand.   Melanie and I shook hands and agreed that we had done well together, so that was easy.  I still feel that way, and admire the woman I knew so well, so long ago.  I hope she recalls me in the same way.  I was not perfect but we had a great love, I believe?    John and my parents are gone.  We parted on beautiful terms I think.  If any one of the three of you need...

I'll live alone for the rest of my life but I can see already that I've lost the ability to care for myself. I don't have a doctor and I can't make medical appointments. It's too complicated and people don't respond. I don't exercise and can't make myself do that any more. Why? I feel achy all the time and getting up is often difficult. Getting dressed or shaving is starting to be too much. I avoid phone calls and interactions with others because I have nothing to talk about other than my own anxiety and depression. I'm embarrassed when I'm with others and don't believe that they like me…

I once had so much I wanted to bring to the world. Ideas, beauty, humor, love, empathy and care. Now I have no one who wants that from me, and no one who returns it to me. I am undesirable to the universe. And so depressed that I can't move any longer. I'm happy in bed. The sheets feel nice. It's 6:30 and I'll read a few sentences before I fall asleep. No one on the planet knows where I am, or thinks I may be suffering. This as absolute silence. No voices in, no voices out. I have this home where I'll end. Cut the phone lines…like my mother once did.

Hi…no such luck. I'll be here as evidence that you are a coward. That you have failed at everything you've done. That you are not a star nor the diva you imagine. That you have stabbed your family and friends in the back and gloated as they bled out. That you are pedestrian like me. I'm lonely and depressed and scared and weak. But I will always be a member of the club—those who know what a shallow fraud you are. I've been living with PTSD since 2010, when I first saw how powerfully you ignored the needs of others. Simple requests to stop small hurtful behaviors that you turned into epic public humiliations. Doron at a Toronto restaurant. Laughing in my face. Ignoring your mom. Your eternal backstabbing.  Your favorite, learned at an early age: bad manners and withholding acts of kindness, generosity, or understanding.  You do these performances to show those who challenge you are worthy of disdain.  No one deserves this childish treatment other than the ...

Now that the honeymoon never started and out whole history together has turned to rotten spoiled fruit, I wonder if my life was wasted. I had so many other points of happiness but I created them around a hub. That hub was my wife. Financial security, both together and after I died—I worked hard to provide that. Now that I know her penchant for non-disclosed financial transactions I know she took this as a threat…my success highlighted her endless failures perhaps so even though she alone managed our family checkbook, she felt cheated. I don't really know. What I do know is that if cash was left laying around, it disappeared. She resented the gratuities (and implied praise) I offered others, which she righteously believed was all hers. When she paid for schooling for her nieces and nephews, which I energetically enjoyed and supported, she furtively hid the payments, did not tell me—and I never got invited to a single college graduation we jointly paid for. I assume yo...

I'm the saddest man in the world.   I know this is preposterous.  Others are sadder…so many of you.  I reach out here in a bell-crisp voice to tell you I am with you now.  I know you are there, facing whatever terrors the world has delivered this moment.  It is mid-day here, but it may be darker or driven by sunspots or astrology where you are.   The anxieties about the future.  The ungrieved pain derived from the present and the past.   The unknowable depths, ultra-marine blues, depopulated of the living who see.   I cry with you now…and hope until I have no hope left to give that you find a moment of peace and gratitude for yourself.   You are acknowledged by me.  I am one of you.    I am among the mentally ill like my brother and your family members who have fallen by the side of the empty highway.   I am among the lonely who have not spoken to a friend in days, or months…or years. ...

Remember the New York City blackout in 2003?  Tomorrow is the anniversary.  I walked home to you.  Now you're long gone.   You were my family and my one love.  I don't believe I could build another, because I have no interest.  It feels like this reclusive condition, now over two years old, is permanent.  I know it's not, but I like statistics.  I'd say this is close to a low risk bet.    Sometimes I have a half glass of wine by myself before I go to bed.  I read for awhile and usually Ceci, my cat, joins me…she likes to push her butt against my side and fall asleep with that one point of warmth and contact.  I like that too.  I tell her I love her and that she's beautiful.  Both of those are true.   I loved you and thought you were beautiful.  You didn't seem that interested in listening to me, and anyway, your needs were far beyond my capacity to feed them.  I perceived you to be bor...

The Ukraine is apparently populated by spirited underdogs willing to fight back against a regional bully with nuclear capacity.   Palestine is terrorists hiding behind refugees.   This is not natural law, nor is a policy based on ethics anyone else on the planet can understand.  If we had a long history of observing treaties and International Law, perhaps we'd have some standing there.   Alas, no one trusts us to keep treaties (and many of our allies have had their treaties and business contracts wrecked by our random wars, it might also be noted…check with the French, for instance), and we're one of three nations on the planet that will not ratify the global treaties on Civil and Human Rights.    We are trapped by our daily disrespect for family, life, and our own abandoned ideals.    But half of us are armed to the teeth.  That's strength and power, right?  (Or maybe just a lot of very small penises?). Rule of...

Today I'm traveling with a sense that something I don't know about will hurt me. It's not paranoia…it doesn't feel like that. It's the sense that something is wrong and it's overloading the pressure gauges? It's more than the external system can hold, and it's more than my self can withstand… I has the anxiety elements ( tight chest, tiredness, uncertainty about what to focus on) that I'm now so familiar with. And it has the same depressive elements too…why pick up the mail, defenselessness, loneliness, purposelessness) that set the boundaries of everything I do. I'm on day 5 of Zoloft, but not home yet for my pill…so maybe early biochem mood swing is occurring? Maybe I feel guilt about seeing my brother last night and leaving my cat alone overnight—or being fearful of the grey fog that obscures my future…

Not only am I reclusive, but I'm back on the couch. I spent most of the middle third of 2023, and large parts of 2022, affixed to my sofa in New York City. Now it's in Truckee.  Different couch, but the magnetism and inertia combine and here I am, horizontal.  Ceci is worried and wants to go out but the door is too far away.  If she wanders I won't be able to chase her. A hummingbird came into the house last night...three hours before it exhausted itself and settle to the floor in my living room, its wings spread like its own wrapping.  Ceci walked up to it and turned to me with big eyes, as if to say "David, this beautiful thing is in trouble.  Can we do something to help?" I wrapped the tired bird in a dishtowel.  It didn't struggle or move.  Once outside on the dark driveway, I opened the cloth and the hummingbird launched straight away, flying directly toward the quarter moon.  I hope it returns to enliven my flowers. Sitting up is a...

I've documented my sense of the unfairness I was subjected to during the collapse of my marriage here.    Still, my ex was my best friend and my favorite companion.  Still is, though she hasn't spoken to me with civil tones in 2 ½ years, and she largely dismissed me for years before that.  The situation was toxic and I'm now poisoned by it.  She's embargoed me for ages so I don't even know if she's in the US or Canada.   Here's the rub:  when I'm with other people, I still compare them to her.    With new people, I'm not as interesting since I have no new experiences, I'm depressed, and the weight of money, my mentally ill brother, and loneliness keep me from connecting.   Also, I'd rather be with my ex.  I liked her more than any one I meet.   I'm stopping.  I've withdrawn from all my communities.  I center my life around my cat, who appears to appreciate me.    I'm celibate....

The bombing today may have killed a Hamas leader.   It created seven generations of Hamas leaders for 80 families.   On what planet is this a defense strategy?  Only on earth, our poor debauched planet.   10,000 eyes for an eye is not natural law.    

Kamala inspires me with this line. And her willingness to put trolls in their place with sentiments like "I've overcome guys like Trump my whole career." She correctly characterizes Trump and Vance as trite hackneyed cliches. As petty thugs. As people who say shit behind your back and put their fingers in their ears when you try to respond. Who pout and sulk and "fire" anyone who calls their bluff. Those who don't pay their lawyers or their taxes. I love that. It energizes me…the idea of public scrutiny of those who are empty vessels. Those who draw attention to themselves by dissing the success of others. Shining the light on false claims and puffery. I keep imagining my ex-wife hearing Kamala and recognizing that Kamala's referring to her. People who collapse the instant the spotlight shines on anyone else. The "I wrote a song about how hillbilly humble I am" or the one-person monologue fetishists. People who scheme...

Here I am. Trying again. I am terrified of you. I'm ashamed that you were my family for 28 years yet I did not understand anything about who you are. I could not possibly have met your needs because I don't think I accurately identified a single one. Do you know what they are? A higher gear on your next bike ride? Ii am angry with you, my family. To everyone else who knows me, I'm depressed. They haven't experienced the version of myself that you have. Most people don't judge the way you do, but they're very little help for the depressed for surprisingly long list of reasons. So, surprisingly or not, I believe that isolation, celibacy, and withdrawal are my best hopes. I have been so disappointed by what I hoped for from my family. This I could not imagine and I don't believe there's a single person on the planet who deserves the judgement you mete out as if you were holy. I am deeply worthy. I can't speak for you but you've g...

Trump and Vance are smarter than I thought.   Trump knows the difference between "Black" and "South Asian!"   Vance knows the difference between the National Guard and the other branches of the military.   Do either of them know that they were way slower to invent this crap, compared to "birthers" and "Swift Boating?"   Could either of them define the difference between voting rights and "I procreated and therefore I get to steal my childrens' human rights and vote for them without their consent?"   I continue to be disgusted by both of you morons.  I didn't ask you to have children.  I'm appalled if you think parents should dictate what their children do outside of the home…you don't own your children any more than you own your wife, dudes.   And I'm appalled that you have to rely on GW Bush to come up with your "duh…fuck you" version of campaigning.  The UK just did this in 5 w...

I just swallowed my first dose of Zoloft.  My mental health concerns are so preeminent now that the risk of losing interest in sex seems irrelevant.  I'm 69, single, depressed, and I don't find myself attractive in the least.  Giving up sex (a likely side effect of anti-depressants) is the least of my worries.  I'm not concerned about self-harm, btw.  This is not a plea for help…though wow would I love some right now.  From anyone.  Particularly my ex-wife who a wrongly counted on to be with me during the desperate years.   How about 15 minutes?  Could you try that, Mina?  After all the love I poured into our marriage?  10?   Not happening.  I'm on my own.   So, sex is over, at least as long as I need Zoloft.  Let's examine that startling fact…startling to me, since I loved and enjoyed and got great pleasure from a rich sex life.  I have so much gratitude for every one of my sexual partners, ...

All of the financial benefits of my labor for most of the rest of my working life will go to my ex-wife. She doesn't care that I'm damaged and in pain. She hasn't responded with kindness to me in a decade or more. She's bored with me and doesn't like my anger towards her, and I don't have any more money so there's no benefit. Sex with me bores her. You get the picture. Would someone please give me a high five or a smile every day I get out of bed, given this atrocious situation? I'd rather work for a private equity firm. As a female CEO friend said recently, at least you know where you stand. There's positive feedback when you perform according to unequivocal guidelines. Today I don't want to get out of bed. My stomach hurts. I'm groaning to the empty room, appealing for love and appreciation that won't come ever. I miss my cat who is at home across the country. If I was going back to her today I'd be happy. ...

I wish I didn't care about you so much that I overlook the stark evidence of your apology. And I wish I was more like your mom or Doron or Kelsey ( or the many others) who appeared to move on with their lives after you tired of them. Those people suffered and were afraid of you, but accepted that you were not capable of love or friendship, and built new lives. They never forgot what you stand for, but left. I stayed here. Where I am now. Angry and hurt and still believing that you care enough about others to come o my aid. That the labor and openness I always gave you would somehow be remembered and acknowledged, perhaps even in kind. Preposterous. You can't stop a cat from killing mice. I can't stop you from hurting others. I can't make you honest. I can't counteract your selfish disregard for screams of neediness from people who expected something—anything—in return for their warmth. You are an evil person sprung from very very bad see...

Returning to the theme of what the future will hold: You will insult me. You will lie about me. You will not respect my boundaries You will be as insecure about your beauty and your soul as you've always been, because they are flawed to everyone except me You will age faster than you need to You will pretend you're happy and sexual You will deny your sociopathy and rely on charm that faded by 2012 You will never experience shame, guilt, or true apology, so you will never grieve appropriately.  This will ultimately kill you, as it does to the inauthentic. Here's what you will never do:     You will never forget me.       Why? Because I will be in your face every day for the rest of your life.  Reminding you that I enabled, protected, supported, defended, gave power to, shared, loved, listened to...and believed in you. And you did nothing.  Except shit. You will not forget the gift I was to you...I will be there in your last breath...unblinking. ...

I had a winter full of ravens. Playful hopping ones. A small daytime coyote. A sleepy slovenly black bear—who was brown! Springtime birds. Eye contact with my hummingbird. Let the moment last forever friend. Uninteresting does and fawns. My cat Ceci. Always Ceci. The precious keeper. Diana's badger. Silent and still contemplating when to save my life. My horse Titan. Thankful to stop being ridden. My gift to a 24 year old quarter horse with stiff knees. And now I know why. I have the word. A name. The tarantula. I needed spirit animals to free me from my ex-wife. The Tarantula. With training wheels. Thank you.

I'm thinking about all my great sexual partners prior to 1994. When sex used to be fun. Playful. Erotic. Soooo pleasurable. Laughing so hard we both snorted. Surprised and happy and sweaty. "OMG…that's never happened before!" I dream of getting your pants off. "You cum first. Oh. Ok. Again." And then I shared my closet with my ex-wife. I hate sex. I hate myself. I don't think about it. I'm celibate and that's the only reason I ever feel safe any more.

Below average. Pedestrian. Devoid of passion. Sexist. A failure. Embarrassing Dishonest. Boring Uninteresting. A waste of time. Yawn-inducing. Painfully lonely for me. Love unreciprocated ever. I have nothing for my efforts at care, empathy, listening, financial support, creating a safe space. I lived with a tarantula for 28 years and now I'm dead.

Could you send me your fidelity info directly. You just cost me another 2400 and delayed getting your cash a week. Please? I know you want to make a point but you did that in 2012 already. I understand that I'm a dick and unpleasant and that I don't deserve help or affection. Blah blah blah. Broken record! If you send it to me I'll process within 24 hours. It's your money. The only reason you don't have your half (and also the cash from my half to pay down the Citi money I owe you) now is you. I have never defaulted on a debt. I have never been sued. As you know. But I am accustomed to dealing with business people. We botched everything so far but maybe you could help us both exit with minor dignity. And I have no cash left. A quarter of a million to you. A quarter of a million to Lois. 140k in mental health expenses. 74k in prepaid taxes. All in post-tax dollars to me. I'm still working and making about the same as I did year in and year ou...

Man, people have disappointed me so many times. I'm a kind person generally. Not spectacular. Not handsome necessarily. I never stand out in a crowd. Generally that means people ignore me or talk over me. I don't mind unless like my exwife they actively trash talk me or try to damage me. I don't take that well, and I have a contract with myself to not ever let anyone do what it did again. I'm shutting the door on a lot of people. I'm super lonely but I refuse to engage unless there's 50/50. Strong evidence of love, care, and sharing And for the first time someone who pays her share of the bills. Not a failure again. I gave her millions over 28 years and all she did was run off to fuck others who dumped her. Several of her lovers may have been shocked and scared when she showed up on their doorstep. It's not with them any more. It's a failure at one night stands. Not pretty enough? Obviously selfish and disinterested in w...

I have 10 years to get the entire divorce settlement to my ex-wife.  At the time she left (the most recent one in 2023) she was my sole family member.  My parents (both only children) have died, I have a brother who's institutionalized, and no one else except her.   She's been ghosting me again during the divorce process because I'm angry.  She doesn't like me sexually, and isn't interested in my mental health issues or anything else.   Not the best family on the planet, and actually, I could argue that it's the worst.  I have no heirs, or ancestors…it's me.  Into eternity.   Even the wiped out families in Gaza tend to have more than one survivor, and, like me, I imagine those destroyed family members still on this planet are raging mad about their situation.   I reach out to you from my business class seat as I fly across the country to NYC.   So, 10 years of ghosting.   Here's what I wrote to her: ...

"The last date in our settlement agreement is 10 years from now! Theoretically at least you could feel exactly the way about me you do now in 10 years. I'll be 79, sending you a final wire transfer, and you won't respond because it's all just about the cash and your fears and I broke a dish or whatever. I just put that date in outlook. 2034! What a waste. We did ok together despite our massive mutual shortcomings as human beings. Really. We were better than anyone would have predicted. Good for us."

Here's a description from a friend. One of my few left. Hard to read. Wish anti-depressants worked better and gave me a lift through some of these slides. "…you loved her and you thought she loved you, despite the fact that you had "small" issues in your day to day life. What's devastating is that you keep going over what you could have done, what you should have been for her not to be who she is. There was nothing you could have done. It continues to be hard to believe that you were with someone who can ACTUALLY live in her own reality without regard for her partner in life. But as long as Mina got what she wanted she could convince herself her life was okay. David, who you are, your values, your generosity, kindness, priorities, character don't need to change going forward in any other friendship or relationship! You unfortunately were married to a very creative narcissist! Willing to wait it out until the time was right to test what you would toler...

Also hypocritical if you ghost your family. But that's the only way some people can support their human narratives. Ghosting family allows people to justify their own rudeness and cruelty. And preserve their own myths. And avoid doing the work required of them to reduce conflict in their own small world. Ghosts can't put good energy into anything. They can't share their passion because their only passion is themselves. They always know better. Ghosting means they avoid accountability. They judge but are never called to court. Why would you choose ignorance? Name one situation where not talking or sharing made a community better. Why would you perpetuate your own sins? Obvious—because you are weak and frightened and you know you're a fraud. You are not better than others. And everyone knows it except you.

But then you behave like such a horse's ass so often. General you're the only one damaged by your bad decisions. But for whatever reason—perhaps because I show you how much your actions hurt—you've wrecked me. All that indifference from my family and best friend and life partner. It fucked me up. It gets worse with each passing season.

I friend sent me a post written by my ex-wife.   Apparently she's had another relationship end recently…she mentions that she's uncertain whether the new thing needed to end.  Or something unclear to me.  How do I feel about this?  I hope she's doing OK.  That will never end.  But, I wish she'd learn to behave in ways that don't hurt other people, and I have no information or reason to believe that the other party in this most recent breakup isn't doing way worse than my ex is. She and Trump.  Teflon those two. It would be different if we were still in touch.  I'd definitely try to offer comfort, since I would be privy to her side of the story.  My ex has never been wrong and I never heard her apologize or express shame or guilt. Typing here as I think about this, here's how I feel: Numb.     Caveat:  I'm medicated for depression and mood control, so it's not uncommon that I can't identify emotions around the end of m...

Impaired. Cruel. Stunted. Deformed A face without a mouth or ears and blind. Soaked in false colors. Mute. Global torturer. Sadist. Failure. Scourge of parents and their parents. Worthless. And sexless. No X. No Y. The professor will ignore your earnest raised hand eternally. He knows your fraud. So do I. Unadorned by sympathy because to receive would mean you had failed to be superior. You would fall among the bruised and the ugly and the dirty if you acknowledged love or were ever touched. Broken beyond recognition as an animal. Adrenal monster., harmed by dark sweetness. She made more than you this year. Earned by rape. Taxed only by fear. Ignorant that others die paying fines you ignore. Nurtured by theft and dishonesty. Stewed in inadequacy. Overcooked by resentment of what others have in abundance. If you smile it's a lie. I have to believe we have that in common or I could not continue. Ignored by all who...

I did an OK job with this life.    No complaints, at least until depression, loneliness, and anxiety took over at age 67.   I never anticipated life would hurt so much.  Or that country western cliches like "heavy heart" or "grey skies" or "me and my dog" would be true.  I'm heartsick.  My heart is broken.  I am a hollow man now.   One thing about depression, it's always there.  It's the ultimate default neural setting.  (I suppose death is even more ultimate?)   When I smile or laugh, which I still do, it's punching through a vitreous layer to put the emotion out into the world.   Most of the laughter and smiling never makes it through.  Some does, and I'm surprised.  Is that me laughing?  As if it's a blue shirt I wanted to put on in the morning…