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samadhiSheol

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  1. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from Tymothi for a blog entry, Emptiness has finally caught up   
    I have nothing to say anymore.

    “This clock shows only mythical hours
    These books show only fictional days
    One system is only as good as another

    I don't think you're listening
    I think I'll tell you again
    I just thought you'd like to know”
     
    Comsat Angels - Postcard
  2. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from Atra for a blog entry, Emptiness has finally caught up   
    I have nothing to say anymore.

    “This clock shows only mythical hours
    These books show only fictional days
    One system is only as good as another

    I don't think you're listening
    I think I'll tell you again
    I just thought you'd like to know”
     
    Comsat Angels - Postcard
  3. Like
    samadhiSheol reacted to Gisele for a blog entry, One Vigil and Another   
    It might be interesting, in years to come, to reflect on how we in Australia largely escaped the pandemic. That’s the good news. The less good news is school is to be going back and work is to be going back and, together, those two things mean our 10 week idyll will soon be dust. Things must return to normal, whatever the **** that means. I’m in no hurry.
    Return to normal is what they say. Re-open the economy is what they say louder still. They are of course less effusive about what that implies. But we know. It means they think an obscene death toll is a fair price to pay for your shit jobs in tourism and marketing and food service but don’t quite have the balls to say exactly that. Oh well, it will be over one-day and we will resume pretending getting other people to make shit and fighting each other to sell it is the hallmark of a fabulous and febrile civilisation. Oh the fun we collectively empower them to have.
    I would be being very dishonest if this didn’t all feel like the seven-second thrill of a super-nice dream. That is, if I can exclude the rest of the world and just reflect upon what it has meant to me and mine, which is easier than it might be because I mostly have. I’m more than just a little sad that the children are going back to school next week.
    They were meant to be going back to school this week but for one reason and another next Monday it will be. There will be staggered starts and probably regular drownings in the new holy water and twists and turns of anxiety to navigate, perhaps more than just my own but I will admit it is starting to feel something like the right time. They are certainly looking forward to it. Even Lucy, who is ever keen to remind me that learning everything, everywhere, except at her desk, has reasoned that her friends and after school things are worth gritting her teeth through school for. It’s part bluff anyway. Thanks to drones and live streaming, we watched the mass green turtle migration to the far north of the barrier reef and she was utterly enchanted and is turning that into a school project. She is also at her dad to build a fence around a large stand of natives near the house, to protect the impossibly cute possums that live in there and wants to turn that into her personal mission. I asked her if we might be inadvertently making them prisoners if we did that. Alas, I was not aware she had already applied her mind to this with some diligence.
    “Nooo, mum, there could be a wire to a tree outside the tree that no other animals can walk along,” she said, with quite some authority. Her dad watched all of this with a quiet pride and as much as that too was beautiful, it was also a tiny bit smug. I immediately thought better of asking how much fencing pocket money might buy because he has probably walked her through preparing a business case. Teach them everything, he says, and often. Can we just do it a little more slowly, I says.
    As it happens, I should have said something before her sister leapt in and filled the void. “Mum, there are fences around the horses and the sheep. Are they prisoners?” I think I nearly fainted at the coldness of her logic but managed to stay upright enough to surrender standing. Children never cease to amaze. They don’t hear anything but when they get half a sniff of the widening gulf between what they are wanting and what they are getting, they turn into the world’s best barristers. Because he fosters this, I whispered to my husband that many more fences and one in particular will be going up 😉
    I do love that my children will rarely argue with each other but will always argue for each other.  I find it utterly charming, as much as I might find myself on the wrong end of it. And it is hard not to be proud even if that inclines me to less than first-class parenting like the topical example of Ruby refusing to go back to school despite absolutely looking forward to it unless her sister was going to be going back too. That’s entirely fair, I thought, and let the school know there were no other demands 😉
     It is said all the time that a mother’s love is the strongest love of all and perhaps it is. The most rewarding love though, for me, is the love the girls have for each other. It might help me vicariously imagine what having a sister would have been like but that is only a tiny part of it. The bigger, better, delicate and precious part is that the burning light of it disarms doubt and tells me we’re doing something right.
    In the middle of that night I was thinking about this and asked him, not for the first time if he feels anything missing by not having a son. Or sons. I don’t know why I ask this when I know it isn’t a thing and when I probably deep-down know that all I am really doing is asking him to answer my own question for me, I think he knows and knows that I know so tends to make a joke of it. He must know because he has only ever been patient with that question.
    But he answered it differently this time, so differently that I can actually imagine that I might never ask again. He said that he had a moment of clarity in 2014, while he was waiting six days for me to wake up after crashing my car. He admitted it occurred to him that I might not be coming home and that meant he would be solely responsible for two daughters in what is lamentably still a man’s world. He went on to say that he decided then he wasn’t going to do what everyone else appeared to be doing and tell them they could be anything and do nothing but hope for the best, so he made sure he would give them the tools they needed to go and get whatever it is they ultimately want, for themselves, by themselves.
    It is a momentous thing when Neptune becomes Venus. It is a more momentous thing when a few short words wash the soap from your eyes and you see in brilliant focus what should have been apparent all along. I couldn’t tell if I was just utterly dim-witted or re-awakened with love. I wasn’t sure how well I would cope with either so I said to him “You’re not off the hook. When Lucy is 16 and 17 and leaves to go to Greenland or Timbuktu or ****ing Saturn just to see something or save something (because this is an outcome I can see more than any other) and when the last bits of my brain melt into my hands because of it, you are going to be handed the pain of that because you will be to blame” Or words to that effect.
    He said, “17? Oh well, there’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”
    I won’t repeat what I said.
    Since everyone else is finding familiar shoes, it is probably time I find my own way back to work. I’m still not sure what shape that is going to take but it will be gradual. The justice system isn’t famously adaptable at the best times and adapting to the electronic makeover has possibly been even less organic a transition than giving a 90-year-old a smart phone. It isn’t the only reason. I think I’m struggling with leaving this home for our city home and struggling with struggling about it because it is all a bit silly. I mean, who goes home knowing they will be homesick.
    I will not miss video-conferencing. Whether it is shitty broadband or kids competing for air time or camera-shy clients and colleagues, there is nothing good about it. The only time it was in any way rewarding was Zooming with my sister-in-law and getting equally drunk. Beyond that, people are just a diminished presence and I think I just tended to find that both distracting and irritating. Presence is very important and especially to my job.
    It is important because quite a few people that come to me don’t necessarily recognise their own best interests and often barely able to resist cultivating a truth that is not the best truth for them. It’s like 9 in 10 of the blogs I write; I want and need to say something but tend to wander off into saying anything else but that something. I really do miss the visceral things that help me evaluate someone and ask better questions.
    I will miss having to be only professionally presented from the waist up though. It’s awesome. As much as I love clothes, I have always loved equally not having to wear them so who wouldn’t work in their underwear from one profession to the next. Other than the one time when I got up in haste to get a document and gave someone a nice flash, everyone else was none the wiser.
    And I have decided that for all the developmental haste, the best invention in the 21st century is snippy tool. They could come up with vaccines for everything and lipstick that lasts all day and all night and the next morning and ray guns that only vaporise vicious, hateful people and ovens that do not burn shit but it would still be snippy tool that would win the award. I. Love. It.
    *
    All this self-isolation did push me off one particular cliff. I think I may have hinted at it here a very long time ago but it isn’t anything I ever talk about. Close to never, really. It is my hair. That alone tends to be dissuasive as it is never going to be a headline: Girl Somewhat Touchy About Her Hair.
    I might even start yawning too, if my sensitivity about this had been less harmful. It isn’t that it has to be kept perfect because it doesn’t. I’m fussy about preparing it, sure, when going out or for work but it endures more than its fair share of sweat and sea-water and mud and I don’t mind a bit if it is roughed up in the bedroom. What I am is hyper-hyper-sensitive about the length of it and have been since the cusp of sixteen which was when I should have died and which I won’t recount because the moment itself isn’t the shadow it used to be.
    Keeping it that length keeps the shadow small and as much I can read over that and know, intellectually, that it is not sane, I know that it also is. Perhaps I’m more fortunate than I have ever appreciated to know that anyone here that might be reading this has the best chance of truly understanding what that means.
    It used to be a hell of a lot worse. If I lost the vigil then I would see the blood in it. If I got really bent out of shape, then I would smell the blood in it. The sick, cruel thing about that is I never saw it when it actually was drenched in my own blood because I was barely alive. But I saw it every day for over a year afterward. It happens occasionally even now. So I keep up the vigil.
    I remember once – I don’t think I had yet turned 20 – when I moved house and walked into an unfamiliar hairdresser after many aborted dress-rehearsals, pointed wordlessly at one who I didn’t trust but felt like I could mistrust the least and said the lady taking bookings that I would book her. I think I saw her the day after and more or less, or exactly, said that this and that and this had to be done without any room for interpretation and would pay her double but if she ****ed it up I would burn down her house. She told me much later that she actually thought I meant it but did it anyway. And was paid what was promised. She was the only one to cut my hair for the next seven years.
    So, when the pandemic loomed and hair salons were among the first things to be shut-down, I immediately felt anxious. Then I didn’t. Then I did again, and each time slightly worse. I knew I had to do something about it. I just didn’t know what. The only options were myself (yeah, nah), the shearing shed up the road (****, maybe) and Alex (no, I just couldn’t).
    Well, I couldn’t until I was pacing around the kitchen thinking about it and heard him coming down the hall. So I said as casually as could, which was never, ever going to sound casual “Honey, I need you to cut my hair today.” He did not even break stride and I don’t know if he intended to at least make some coffee first but bailed on that (itself a  minor miracle) and went to go out through the patio doors with that much haste he forgot to open them first.
    “****, who locked this?” he asked apparently no-one, clearly distressed.
    “You did”
    “Nuh uh. Not doing it”
    “It will be fun,” I insisted but absolutely not really. I thought a vein was going to burst in my head.
    “Get Ruby to do it. She will be very precise.”
    “Do what?” she wondered from out of nowhere.
    So she trimmed a tiny bit off my hair. And my head did not explode. It was genuinely therapeutic.
    The question I have now is how Lucy, when she caught wind of this, just gaped at the gravity of it all, which is impossible because I have never, ever, exposed them to this. Ever.I know that I will not be able to walk away from the vigil, not if I live to 100, but it feels like a stunning success to know it doesn’t always keep it’s foot on my throat.
    *
    So there we are. Back to normaL. Whatever the **** that looks like now.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
  4. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from LeeBee for a blog entry, Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit   
    When is life not worth living?
    I seem to repeat myself on df. I am tired of myself. Tired being me, whatever that means, whoever “me” is.
    When life is alien to you, when nothing is authentic, you don’t feel real, what is the point?
    When you have asked yourself since  you were 11 or so, is anything I feel, see or think, real? When everything is empty and void of meaning. When the emptiness is all there is. When you enter your 50’s and still feel as if you are no one doing f uck all with your life? When life feels pointless?
    when a life examined still feels empty?
     
    I don’t think there is meaning to life. I don’t think life is worth the effort. My take on Nothingness.
  5. Like
    samadhiSheol reacted to RiverLight for a blog entry, Career Opportunity Arose!   
    I haven't been on here in a long time! I finally got the call for an interview regarding a Director level role in my field. I couldn't be more thrilled!!!!! The first interview is with HR, so that's just the initial screening before I can talk to the hiring managers. I had begun applying in January and received only one response that did not work out. This is the second response I've received in several months. AND, it's with a Web design company, just the type of company I've wanted to work for, so the role looks like a perfect fit!
    IF I can finally leave my company, I would be beyond ecstatic. My boss continues to undermine me at work because he fears I could take his job, so he's trying hard to keep me from rising in position by lying to the CEO about my achievements. I began documenting my achievements with HR as a result, but it's essentially a no-win situation. My CEO really likes me and wants to see my rise, but my boss hates me because I'm very good at what I do. And he's the one who will keep me from rising, so I have no choice but to leave. I am not disappointed though, and I am more than happy to leave this company. They run things a-s-s-back-wards, they have very poor leadership, and they place people in management positions who don't belong in those positions. I am more than happy to move on after two years of service. 
    So, I have to kick butt and get this job offer! This would also be a huge increase in salary, which I really want and need right about now. Yay!!! 

  6. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from chikai for a blog entry, Of Crap and Men   
    My blogs are crap.
    All I am doing is spewing out the malady, the emptiness and futility that are the basic elements of my very essence. Other than that there is nothing. 
    Moving on..
     
    I have no aspirations or dreams. I have no skill sets to put in to use. No interests to pursue. My attempts to study(they are legion and have amounted to absolutely nothing) have shown to me that I will never amount to much. I drift through life aimlessly.
    I have had anger issues most of my life, I have a negative outlook on life and I don't like myself. I probably have GAD (though I take all things DSM-5 or -x or whatever with a pinch of salt).
    I am over 50 and I see no change to any of this in the future. I have been called intelligent, but I beg to differ. I f I am, my "intelligence" has done sweet f uck all in improving myself or my life.
    Hope, you say? "you never know what tomorrow will bring".
    No I don't, but I can make an educated guess. More of the same or worse.. That is what life has taught me.
    Besides, I don't even know what to hope for. I am empty in this respect too. I don't know what hope feels like. I don't really know what happinesss feels like, at least the unreserved kind.
    Oh and I have been told I over-think everything. How does one "under-think"???? Or think "enough"? I could probably "under-think"  by drowning myself in alcohol, porn, social media or whatnot but that's unadvisable, isn't it? Anyhow I feel a crushing weight of guilt even on the best of days and if I do indulge, so to speak I feel like dying from remorse afterwards. Not because I feel "I have sinned", but because I was so effing WEAK to give in. More yetzer hara than Original Sin but I digress.
    I beat myself a lot, you know. In my view it's all justified.
    I could probably deal with all of this though, if I had a decent job (all my  jobs have been boring dead-end low-pay jobs), something that could pay my way AND be nice to do.
    Because lets face it, spending 8-10 hours five or six times a week on average of your life on something that doesn't satisfy you to the least and barely covers your costs, it will eat you from within. It has done that to me once and I am on route for a second major break down.
    I have all the symptoms of burnout and now with this virus bs, I feel more hopeless than ever. I thought that hopelssness was a fixed state.The absence of hope, pure and simple. I had no idea it could get even worse.
    The world Post-COVID-19 will be a world of more uncertainty, probable global economic depresson and more unrest, mass unemployment and countries will fold in onto themselves in fear of more outside threats...More nationalism and despotism...
    Rant.
    We all know the trope "money won't solve your problems", "or money won't make you happy". Of course money can't address the emptiness and meaninglessness of life but money can go a long way to make life easier so that you have the time and (lets face it folks, we need money for decent therapy) money to pay your bills without worrying about next month.
    .Not that money will make much difference if we fall into an economic depression like in the 1920'-30s...
    Sorry, ranting again.
    It all boils down to what one considers a life worth living.  I don't believe life has intrinsic value. That's our job to do, both on a personal or collective leve,l to give life meaning. I have failed at this too.
    My life is worth living if certain conditions are met. I must point out, I am speaking of myself, I am not entiltled to make these kinds of judgments about anyone else. No one is.
    But I can't understand how people survive stuff like holocausts, poverty, torture, wars, oppression. You see people, if that would happen to me, I would end my life immediately. Because life isn't worth living in conditions like that, imho.
    If there is sweet f.a you can do about it, "changing what you can" doesn't help one bit. Not from where I stand anyhow. COVID-19 might be turning point for me.
    Ok, this just me spewing crap, but this is how I have felt my entire life. Reading Viktor Frankl, for example(we are told to look into Frankl's "Man's search for meaning" if one is trying to figure out what the fff we are supposed to do on this sad planet) made no sense to me at all. In fact it just fortified my view I have had for a long time now.
    We are emphatically not the same, us humans. We think differently, we talk differently, we react differently. Our temperments also define in part as to how we react. People DID k ill themselves in death camps or Nazi Regime of WWII. Not everyone had hope to hang on.
    For some hope is an absolute not unlike the concept of god. For some, it is more of a question of critical mass. Give certain types of people enough hell in their lives, they will succumb to despair and lose the capability of hoping. 
    It's not that I haven't put in ther effort. I have tried to focus on the Now. I have taken care of myself, in the physical sense at least Amazingly, I am still in a relationship. Even though I hate my job, at least I HAVE a job.
    So yes, gratitude. I am grateful(at least I try to be) for what I have. But it doesn't change anything. I still hate my job, I am still wasting away, Becoming bitter and even more angry and hopeless about the future.
     
    I just think this party is over and I haven't really enjoyed it. And perhaps I can't stand parties at all and when they get crappy enough it's exit time.
     
     
     
     
     
     
  7. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from 20YearsandCounting for a blog entry, Of Crap and Men   
    My blogs are crap.
    All I am doing is spewing out the malady, the emptiness and futility that are the basic elements of my very essence. Other than that there is nothing. 
    Moving on..
     
    I have no aspirations or dreams. I have no skill sets to put in to use. No interests to pursue. My attempts to study(they are legion and have amounted to absolutely nothing) have shown to me that I will never amount to much. I drift through life aimlessly.
    I have had anger issues most of my life, I have a negative outlook on life and I don't like myself. I probably have GAD (though I take all things DSM-5 or -x or whatever with a pinch of salt).
    I am over 50 and I see no change to any of this in the future. I have been called intelligent, but I beg to differ. I f I am, my "intelligence" has done sweet f uck all in improving myself or my life.
    Hope, you say? "you never know what tomorrow will bring".
    No I don't, but I can make an educated guess. More of the same or worse.. That is what life has taught me.
    Besides, I don't even know what to hope for. I am empty in this respect too. I don't know what hope feels like. I don't really know what happinesss feels like, at least the unreserved kind.
    Oh and I have been told I over-think everything. How does one "under-think"???? Or think "enough"? I could probably "under-think"  by drowning myself in alcohol, porn, social media or whatnot but that's unadvisable, isn't it? Anyhow I feel a crushing weight of guilt even on the best of days and if I do indulge, so to speak I feel like dying from remorse afterwards. Not because I feel "I have sinned", but because I was so effing WEAK to give in. More yetzer hara than Original Sin but I digress.
    I beat myself a lot, you know. In my view it's all justified.
    I could probably deal with all of this though, if I had a decent job (all my  jobs have been boring dead-end low-pay jobs), something that could pay my way AND be nice to do.
    Because lets face it, spending 8-10 hours five or six times a week on average of your life on something that doesn't satisfy you to the least and barely covers your costs, it will eat you from within. It has done that to me once and I am on route for a second major break down.
    I have all the symptoms of burnout and now with this virus bs, I feel more hopeless than ever. I thought that hopelssness was a fixed state.The absence of hope, pure and simple. I had no idea it could get even worse.
    The world Post-COVID-19 will be a world of more uncertainty, probable global economic depresson and more unrest, mass unemployment and countries will fold in onto themselves in fear of more outside threats...More nationalism and despotism...
    Rant.
    We all know the trope "money won't solve your problems", "or money won't make you happy". Of course money can't address the emptiness and meaninglessness of life but money can go a long way to make life easier so that you have the time and (lets face it folks, we need money for decent therapy) money to pay your bills without worrying about next month.
    .Not that money will make much difference if we fall into an economic depression like in the 1920'-30s...
    Sorry, ranting again.
    It all boils down to what one considers a life worth living.  I don't believe life has intrinsic value. That's our job to do, both on a personal or collective leve,l to give life meaning. I have failed at this too.
    My life is worth living if certain conditions are met. I must point out, I am speaking of myself, I am not entiltled to make these kinds of judgments about anyone else. No one is.
    But I can't understand how people survive stuff like holocausts, poverty, torture, wars, oppression. You see people, if that would happen to me, I would end my life immediately. Because life isn't worth living in conditions like that, imho.
    If there is sweet f.a you can do about it, "changing what you can" doesn't help one bit. Not from where I stand anyhow. COVID-19 might be turning point for me.
    Ok, this just me spewing crap, but this is how I have felt my entire life. Reading Viktor Frankl, for example(we are told to look into Frankl's "Man's search for meaning" if one is trying to figure out what the fff we are supposed to do on this sad planet) made no sense to me at all. In fact it just fortified my view I have had for a long time now.
    We are emphatically not the same, us humans. We think differently, we talk differently, we react differently. Our temperments also define in part as to how we react. People DID k ill themselves in death camps or Nazi Regime of WWII. Not everyone had hope to hang on.
    For some hope is an absolute not unlike the concept of god. For some, it is more of a question of critical mass. Give certain types of people enough hell in their lives, they will succumb to despair and lose the capability of hoping. 
    It's not that I haven't put in ther effort. I have tried to focus on the Now. I have taken care of myself, in the physical sense at least Amazingly, I am still in a relationship. Even though I hate my job, at least I HAVE a job.
    So yes, gratitude. I am grateful(at least I try to be) for what I have. But it doesn't change anything. I still hate my job, I am still wasting away, Becoming bitter and even more angry and hopeless about the future.
     
    I just think this party is over and I haven't really enjoyed it. And perhaps I can't stand parties at all and when they get crappy enough it's exit time.
     
     
     
     
     
     
  8. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from watalife for a blog entry, Of Crap and Men   
    My blogs are crap.
    All I am doing is spewing out the malady, the emptiness and futility that are the basic elements of my very essence. Other than that there is nothing. 
    Moving on..
     
    I have no aspirations or dreams. I have no skill sets to put in to use. No interests to pursue. My attempts to study(they are legion and have amounted to absolutely nothing) have shown to me that I will never amount to much. I drift through life aimlessly.
    I have had anger issues most of my life, I have a negative outlook on life and I don't like myself. I probably have GAD (though I take all things DSM-5 or -x or whatever with a pinch of salt).
    I am over 50 and I see no change to any of this in the future. I have been called intelligent, but I beg to differ. I f I am, my "intelligence" has done sweet f uck all in improving myself or my life.
    Hope, you say? "you never know what tomorrow will bring".
    No I don't, but I can make an educated guess. More of the same or worse.. That is what life has taught me.
    Besides, I don't even know what to hope for. I am empty in this respect too. I don't know what hope feels like. I don't really know what happinesss feels like, at least the unreserved kind.
    Oh and I have been told I over-think everything. How does one "under-think"???? Or think "enough"? I could probably "under-think"  by drowning myself in alcohol, porn, social media or whatnot but that's unadvisable, isn't it? Anyhow I feel a crushing weight of guilt even on the best of days and if I do indulge, so to speak I feel like dying from remorse afterwards. Not because I feel "I have sinned", but because I was so effing WEAK to give in. More yetzer hara than Original Sin but I digress.
    I beat myself a lot, you know. In my view it's all justified.
    I could probably deal with all of this though, if I had a decent job (all my  jobs have been boring dead-end low-pay jobs), something that could pay my way AND be nice to do.
    Because lets face it, spending 8-10 hours five or six times a week on average of your life on something that doesn't satisfy you to the least and barely covers your costs, it will eat you from within. It has done that to me once and I am on route for a second major break down.
    I have all the symptoms of burnout and now with this virus bs, I feel more hopeless than ever. I thought that hopelssness was a fixed state.The absence of hope, pure and simple. I had no idea it could get even worse.
    The world Post-COVID-19 will be a world of more uncertainty, probable global economic depresson and more unrest, mass unemployment and countries will fold in onto themselves in fear of more outside threats...More nationalism and despotism...
    Rant.
    We all know the trope "money won't solve your problems", "or money won't make you happy". Of course money can't address the emptiness and meaninglessness of life but money can go a long way to make life easier so that you have the time and (lets face it folks, we need money for decent therapy) money to pay your bills without worrying about next month.
    .Not that money will make much difference if we fall into an economic depression like in the 1920'-30s...
    Sorry, ranting again.
    It all boils down to what one considers a life worth living.  I don't believe life has intrinsic value. That's our job to do, both on a personal or collective leve,l to give life meaning. I have failed at this too.
    My life is worth living if certain conditions are met. I must point out, I am speaking of myself, I am not entiltled to make these kinds of judgments about anyone else. No one is.
    But I can't understand how people survive stuff like holocausts, poverty, torture, wars, oppression. You see people, if that would happen to me, I would end my life immediately. Because life isn't worth living in conditions like that, imho.
    If there is sweet f.a you can do about it, "changing what you can" doesn't help one bit. Not from where I stand anyhow. COVID-19 might be turning point for me.
    Ok, this just me spewing crap, but this is how I have felt my entire life. Reading Viktor Frankl, for example(we are told to look into Frankl's "Man's search for meaning" if one is trying to figure out what the fff we are supposed to do on this sad planet) made no sense to me at all. In fact it just fortified my view I have had for a long time now.
    We are emphatically not the same, us humans. We think differently, we talk differently, we react differently. Our temperments also define in part as to how we react. People DID k ill themselves in death camps or Nazi Regime of WWII. Not everyone had hope to hang on.
    For some hope is an absolute not unlike the concept of god. For some, it is more of a question of critical mass. Give certain types of people enough hell in their lives, they will succumb to despair and lose the capability of hoping. 
    It's not that I haven't put in ther effort. I have tried to focus on the Now. I have taken care of myself, in the physical sense at least Amazingly, I am still in a relationship. Even though I hate my job, at least I HAVE a job.
    So yes, gratitude. I am grateful(at least I try to be) for what I have. But it doesn't change anything. I still hate my job, I am still wasting away, Becoming bitter and even more angry and hopeless about the future.
     
    I just think this party is over and I haven't really enjoyed it. And perhaps I can't stand parties at all and when they get crappy enough it's exit time.
     
     
     
     
     
     
  9. Like
    samadhiSheol reacted to Gisele for a blog entry, Behind the Urals   
    I think the crack that mattered might have appeared when I was reading the Worksafe directions for preparing my office for pandemic prevention. My office is less than three months old, employs two people other than me and, since I still don't know how well I'm going to fare at making a working life out of sailing my own ship, and because I cannot help myself, I decided to put a premium on office style. No substance? We'll soon see.but in the meantime at least enjoy my impeccable surrounds. 
    So it with some distress that I imagined dueling soap dispensers every 10 paces and effectively crime scene tape stuck to the tiled floor a strict 1.5 metres from the reception desk. **** me, is it a vanity to think we're not saving lives, only livelihoods, when suddenly the demand is to also save lives. It didn't help that the first person to walk in after the tape was laid stepped straight over it and leaned on the counter. I dearly wish I could pretend I didn't ask if he was ****ing stupid but, alas, I cannot. Even falling angel-sympathisers like me need a sabbath 😉
    No need to worry for about that anymore, not for the foreseeable future at least. The old cliche that the wheels of justice turn slowly has become a new cliche - the wheels have fallen right off. So we're closed. And I'm all but cartwheeling about it. Nothing non-urgent will happen in our justice system until June at the earliest. The two staff I am responsible for won't have to be exposed and that makes me happy. So they continue to not be exposed by queueing up anywhere for work or welfare.or whatever, I told them they will continue to be paid. To their eternal credit, they squirmed at this but I can promise anyone that the relief to know I maybe aren't as world-weary as i have been feeling is worth every single penny, whatever that amounts to be. It's a bigger relief to not think about this shit anymore, or at least once i have finished typing this. They say everyone that gets it will give it to 2-and-a-half people. Why not go for the opposite and make sure 2-and-a-half people don't get it. 
    We're getting the **** out of here. Going to the farm. To begin new vocations as school teachers. 
    I agree with my husband. He said we might all eventually succumb to this and the real horror is falling prey to it when everyone else is.
    It isn't lost on me that we have the means and few are so lucky. But **** me if it isn't time to make the most of this.
    See you on the other side
     
     
     
  10. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from sober4life for a blog entry, Hell   
    ..is when you realize life is empty and void of reason. When you fail time and time again to give any reason to your existence. And realize the effort, any effort, is pointless.
     
    ..is when you want to end your life but are too much of a pu ssy to do it.
     
  11. Thanks
    samadhiSheol reacted to Gisele for a blog entry, The Lunar Eclipse of Perspective   
    Hmmm....we're all ****ed, apparently.
    Or we're not. Big congrats to Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore for figuring this out. 
    As for me, everyone else can get all frothed up. I'm here in Positivity Land dwelling on the many, many, positive things. In no particular order then,
    1. There is a chance Peter Dutton  might die. I don't wish him ill but won't mind in the slightest if a virus has lined him up
    2. Possums, cats, horses, sheep and a goat can't get it. 
    3. I might die from it
    4. I might survive it
    5. We are reminded that ugly things, like toadfish and redback spiders and viruses are  deadly and not to eat them
    6. Just when we thought he had bottomed out, Trump looks even more of a d*ck. 
    7. If you're intolerant, the vote-winning likelihood of 6. will excite you
    8. Collingwood can't lose if they cannot play
    9. To avoid crowds and other abuses, democracy might begin to be practiced online, which would be so much more akin the sort of direct model the Greeks originally invented
    10. People could be buried like the pharaohs of old, entombed in ziggurats bricked with boxes of toilet paper and bonded with a makeshift poultice of flour and brown rice.
    11. The boil that is the gig economy will finally be lanced
    12. People who do useful things like save lives won't lose there jobs
    13. People that do useless things like manipulate search engines hopefully will
    14. Venus, Neptune and, dare i imagine it, Antarctica, will suddenly have more appeal as holiday destinations
    15. it is a timely reminder that when the kids are grown up, we can go live in the Kimberley region of Western Australia and be surrounded by no-one at all
    16. It means my family can eat better food, sourced by third parties, because I don;t have to just pretend there was nothing at the shops
    17. Like all crises, it has helped hone my sense of who I like and who i don't. 
    18. It reminds me that a world oblivious to the wasteland it is leaving its children but shits itself stupid over a cold really is full of *****
    19. It gives my youngest an opportunity to ponder actually missing school, in any sort of wistful sense if not the actual sense for the first time ever
    20. It gives my eldest an opportunity to do the opposite
    21. It gives me the opportunity to drench myself in a perfume that makes my husband sneeze in hopefully a restaurant
    22. And probably think that is funny
    23. And then reflect on how it probably wasn't
    As you were.
  12. Sad
    samadhiSheol reacted to Depressedgurl007 for a blog entry, Sigh   
    I haven't come to DF for quite some time. I don't know why I'm back. Maybe I'm feeling a little down and no one around me seems to understand me. I'm having my usual PMS depression. It sucks that I know that it's coming and yet I cannot prevent it. But I think this month is a lot worse cos my baby just turned 6 months and I've decided to stop nursing her and start to go back out there to find a job. But I'm feeling totally hopeless and no sense of direction at all. I had an offer but I rejected the offer cos my husband is a bit racist and I guess I do not have good vibes with the interviewer. It's wrong to be racist even though I shouldn't be generalizing races but I've had a few horrible experiences with them and if it triggers me, I'd rather not have to face them everyday. 
    Sigh that's not even what I wanted to say. A few things happened. My friend's mum passed away due to cancer yesterday. I guess it's expected but I happened to spend a long time at her place to be with her and ended up reaching home late around midnight and the house chores that I was supposed to do was not done. I was exhausted and didn't get enough sleep and this morning my husband and I argued and I'm really just sick of his arguments and nagging I told him I need to leave the house because I'm at my boiling point and he insisted that I need to finish all the house chores before I leave, including washing up the cups and plates and biscuits I ate for breakfast. Yes I was irresponsible for leaving things like that but when my emotions are all over the place, I can't think straight. He called me a name that was not very nice. I told him since he don't want to clean up and neither do I, we can just throw the cups and plates away and the place will be clean, so I took a plastic bag and threw in the rubbish and unopened biscuits and cup, and that's when he slapped me. I told him I had enough, I'm going to the police and I'm leaving him. I left to find my counselor who told me to apply for Personal Protection Order (PPO). My dad said it's risky cos the court order to adopt the 6 month baby girl I have been raising is still being processed. My dad doesn't want me and hubby to separate either. My dad said it's my fault I couldn't control my words and actions that triggered him to slap me. But I'm thinking I don't want the baby to be raised by a person who raises his hands against another person. So it shouldn't matter if I lose the baby. 
    What can I do. I don't even have the energy to go find a job. Why am I thinking those thoughts? Where is it taking me? Does it help me in any way? My husband forwarded me a link to a career in healthcare. So he wants me to change my career I guess. I need a more stable career since what I'm doing now is just job hopping. That's what the last interviewer said. He asked why am I job hopping. I'm bad t answering all these interview questions. Ends up with me feeling there's something wrong with me for job hopping. 
    How long can I stay feeling so down today. My counselor will call me again next week and will probably ask me if I had already applied for the PPO. What am I supposed to say then. It's not fair on the baby I keep telling myself. I shouldn't have adopted her. I shouldn't have gotten married. I should just leave him and let the baby go to the next couple on the adoption waiting list who is more deserving. Yet, just cause I don't want to lose her, I'm going back to that house like the idiot that I am, feeling used and depressed and worthless and pathetic for the rest of my life. I've actually spent the whole day doing nothing at my dad's place. I'm still very unhappy with my dad for not supporting me. I know I'm at fault. I'm always at fault. I don't know how to change. If I could, I would have done it a long time ago. Where can I go now. I feel like running away but I know I'll always come back. That's my stupidity. Why am I like this. Why bother to live. I put in my name to go to the healthcare career fair next Friday and I should go for it if I want to go back to society like a normal person. So I shouldn't run away. But god I want to so bad. 
  13. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from watalife for a blog entry, Futility and void   
    The meaning of (my) life or lack thereof.
    Every single answer seems to miss the point. Not that there really is answer to the "meaning of life". 
    NOTHING makes sense to me. Nothing seems real. Nothing speaks to me. Everything just begs for the additional question:"But Why????"
    The thing is, I need a reason. I need a why. Because without that, I might as well be dead. In fact I AM dead. 
    Life, just doesn't stand to any kind of scrutiny. 
    "So stop (over) thinking".
    You might as well say stop breathing. 
    All I am doing is contemplating the unrelenting void sucking whatever is left of whatever I am.  And that is all I am. This futility of a person.
    And this constant emptiness, the void and futility that is me, ladies and gentlemen, is pushing me beyond no return. 
  14. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from JD4010 for a blog entry, Zeit   
    Life..is meaningless. I am pointless.
    2020. Nothing has changed.
    I want to be
     
     
    Dead
     
     
  15. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from 20YearsandCounting for a blog entry, Boxhead   
    Out of nowhere I found myself thinking about events that occurred in my life nearly 40 years ago. 
    It happens time to time. Sometimes I dream of being in the classroom, wondering why am I still here??
    I hated my teens. I hated the awkwardness, the acne, the inner turmoil - the bullying. 

    As if the 80’s wasn’t bad enough. It was music that ultimately kept me alive, if one could call this living.. 
    One could argue that without the angst of Thatcherism and Reaganism and old Brezhnev on the other side of the Iron Curtain, all the Cold War politics and fear of nuclear annhilation,  mainstream fashion  and the sheer complacency of the status quo of western society of the late 70’s and early 80’s, there wouldn’t have been the cartharsis we know as punk, or later on the likes of PIL, Joy Division,, Bauhaus, Virgin Prunes.. but god I hated the 80’s regardless. 
    So don’t get me wrong. I was miserable and insecure before I was bullied. I couldn’t find a place to be me. Hell, I didn’t know who I was (not that I know now).  Funny really, as most of my peers seemed to love being themselves. I realize everyone had/has their respective issues, but for me it was more than that. The seed that is this current messspewing out this crassness on df was born then, I guess. I felt out of place where ever I was. I felt a fake even then. My reluctance to actually be part of any group and the insecurity I felt.  It was probably all this the bullies saw in me, making me an easy target.
    The fear, the uncertainty as to who I was. 
    I wasn’t even good at anything. Mediocre grades. I sucked at team sports, wasn’t good at athletics either. I had no interests. I wasn’t clever in any way. Though I am not “socially challenged” neither was I good at interacting withpeople, let alone the opposite sex. I also froze in the face of any kind of altercation. I just didn’t know what to do. I still don’t and I feel most people are a conundrum and in many cases just not worth the bother. So that would make me a snob too I guess. Haha.  But I digress.
    So being bullied hit me hard. It changed my paradigm completely. I saw the world as it really was. I realized that ultimately we are all alone. And I felt justified in thinking I was, in fact, second rate. 
    Sure, I could have told my parents, teachers, whatever. But the SHAME. It had happened, the damaged was done. Nothing would have taken the stigma away. The dirt, the leprosy I had contracted the moment I froze in fear and panic that first time. 
    So I just weathered the storm. My grades went down, I “was away sick” more often. I began planning my daily routes and indeed my life according to an “architecture of fear”, minimizing the risk of meeting my tormentors. 
    But I was also devious and cunning. I didn’t let ANYONE know. My grades went down, yes. But not enough for anyone to get worried. I was often sick, but as a kid I had been sick often enough-for real. I had an explanation  for everything.  On the outside I acted as if it was nothing, to anyone who witnessed my humiliation and depravity.  I still do that, as I have found that speaking out, telling people how fu cked up you feel..no one really gets it. It just isn’t worth the effort at the end of the day.
     I would have had to admit to the world I was defenseless against a few brain dead cu nts. Yes, even then I realized they had issues too and were damaged goods. But that didn’t let them off the hook, of course. I was ashamed of MY impotence. I was ashamed of the impact all that crap had on me. I was ashamed I didn’t make a stand and bashed their heads in, or something to the extent.
    Inside I felt myself dying, rotting, little by little. 
    I hated them. Despised them. Harbored (impotent) malice towards them. And you know what? I still do. Not  necessarily whoever they are now. No, the 16-17 year old little sh its of the 80’s. And I AM INCAPABLE OF FORGIVING OR LETTING GO.
    I don’t even know what forgiving or letting go means. 
    I didn’t really have a very high opinion of myself to start with.  But after the fact my self esteem went to depths I didn’t even know existed. 
    I am still there. Back in the fu kcing 80’s. I see my life as a failure. I am not where I should be in life. Hell, this life feels alien to me. And I still haven’t a clue where or who I should be. 
    It would be so easy to blame the bullying, my tormentors. But I don’t  believe I stood a chance from the start. Some of us will never learn to be street wise enough to live in this world. Some of us just don’t have the clout to make a life for themselves.
    I have posted these lyrics before on df, but they pretty much sum up how I feel.
     
    I can't wash this blood off my hands
    I can’t get the scum outta my soul
    I can't scrape this stain off my brain
    And I can't get this box off my head
     
    Foetus - Boxhead
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
  16. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from 20YearsandCounting for a blog entry, H. C. Andersen   
    I am a fake. Not real. What people see isn't me. There isn't a "me". 
    I don't deserve any thanks or gratification. None of my so called achievements(that have lead me absolutely nowhere with little if any sense of accomplishment) have any meaning or value. 
    I am always dissatisfied and empty. Nothing feels authentic. Only the anger I harbour is real. The hatred and frustration I feel. The hopelessness. That is authentic.
    Everything else is just a fairy tale.
     
  17. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from 20YearsandCounting for a blog entry, Zeit   
    Life..is meaningless. I am pointless.
    2020. Nothing has changed.
    I want to be
     
     
    Dead
     
     
  18. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from JD4010 for a blog entry, Futility and void   
    The meaning of (my) life or lack thereof.
    Every single answer seems to miss the point. Not that there really is answer to the "meaning of life". 
    NOTHING makes sense to me. Nothing seems real. Nothing speaks to me. Everything just begs for the additional question:"But Why????"
    The thing is, I need a reason. I need a why. Because without that, I might as well be dead. In fact I AM dead. 
    Life, just doesn't stand to any kind of scrutiny. 
    "So stop (over) thinking".
    You might as well say stop breathing. 
    All I am doing is contemplating the unrelenting void sucking whatever is left of whatever I am.  And that is all I am. This futility of a person.
    And this constant emptiness, the void and futility that is me, ladies and gentlemen, is pushing me beyond no return. 
  19. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from Depressedgurl007 for a blog entry, Futility and void   
    The meaning of (my) life or lack thereof.
    Every single answer seems to miss the point. Not that there really is answer to the "meaning of life". 
    NOTHING makes sense to me. Nothing seems real. Nothing speaks to me. Everything just begs for the additional question:"But Why????"
    The thing is, I need a reason. I need a why. Because without that, I might as well be dead. In fact I AM dead. 
    Life, just doesn't stand to any kind of scrutiny. 
    "So stop (over) thinking".
    You might as well say stop breathing. 
    All I am doing is contemplating the unrelenting void sucking whatever is left of whatever I am.  And that is all I am. This futility of a person.
    And this constant emptiness, the void and futility that is me, ladies and gentlemen, is pushing me beyond no return. 
  20. Thanks
    samadhiSheol reacted to Gisele for a blog entry, Engineered Empathy   
    Since it never hurts to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, it might be high time others were given an opportunity to walk in mine. More exactly, since it is usually me that goes a bit or a lot too far, it would only be fair and, let's not pretend, amusing to me if others were given the same encouragement
    So I'm going to host a party
    I do like a raucous party
    It is also my last ever day at work before the new venture on Wednesday so that makes two things in it for me
    About time, really. Hasn't been the best year ever
    Friday night is going to be stupid hot so that rules out fancy dress and a little bit of Marie Antoinette. Oh well, still lot's of mischief at a pool party
    Merry Christmas to all. Can be a  horrible occasion between the teeth of all those emotional challenges but that can't stop me from wishing it is all it can be and a little more for all of us
     
  21. Like
    samadhiSheol reacted to JD4010 for a blog entry, "You have to love yourself." What BS.   
    All of this pop psychology dogma says that I have to love myself. Am I the only one who thinks that's a massive load of bullsh!t? What's there to love about me? I suck grievously in a myriad of ways. I can't do anything right. The universe conspires to force everything I try to do right off the rails. I don't know why I even bother to try.
    I thought I had made this stupendous breakthrough at work today. I actually felt excited for a change. Yeah...well, no. It was just another false hope in an endless string of false hopes. As soon as I discovered my breakthrough was a mirage put forth to tease me once again, I fell back into my normal state of despair.
    The only function I have in this universe is to siphon off bad luck from other people so they can enjoy their lives more.
  22. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from JD4010 for a blog entry, Apollo 11 and other pipedreams   
    I have mentioned this before, I believe.
    One of my first memories was the Apollo 11 mission, Armstrong, Aldrin, Collins, June 1969. To be honest, I probably didn't see it live nor really remember it at the time.  But my first long standing "what do you want to be when you grow up" - dream was to be an astronaut. To see the stars "up there", perhaps the rings of Saturn too and a galaxy or three á la Star Trek, cause surely we would be there by 2001!!
    I would remember Aldrin or Armstrong moonwalking. The real deal not the Michael Jackson version. Haha. 
    "I'll be doing that someday".
    That was the thought I held onto until reality dashed my dreams into a million pieces when I was a teen. 
    I realized I hadn't the clout either mentally or physically to ever be even considered on a future moon mission or whatever. Then there was the school bullying too, which pretty much crushed any little self esteem or confidence I still had left in me.
    Later on, fast forward 10 years or so more I realized I wouldn't even get a college degree in physics or math. I just couldn't get my head around any of it. I couldn't get my head around anything. I am that stupid. If for nothing else then dreaming. 
    Then there was the disillusionment of the 80's and 90's when I realized humanity wasn't interested in actually making a future. It was obsessed with making money, keeping hold of it and in effect creating a new dark age of fossil fuels and disinformation, which has continued to this day. I also realized the whole "race to space" thing  of the 1960's was fueled by cold war politics and striving to being the top dog in world politics.
    Humanity didn't actually have the clout to go "up there", so to speak, in the first place. It was like the giant pyramids of Giza of 4000 years ago.
    At the end of the day the pyramids  were a colossal waste of human life for the glorification of men who thought themselves gods. Ingenious to be sure, but totally pointless in the sense that the culture itself wasn't really up to the job. 
    Neither did we really have the resources or the true technology to actually make going into space really worth the effort. All we proved was "yeah we were there". But to date we are still here, on earth making a mess of everything, suffering from overpopulation, poverty, discrimination, using up natural resources and and being so complacent it's not funny at all.
    God I hate us. 
     
    Nowadays I see no future for myself either.
    I don't want to live in this world. I have no idea how it could even change to anything resembling good. 
    I will  never do what I dreamed for the simple reason I don't have dreams anymore. Nothing in life is worth the effort. I have lived for over 50 years and as far as dreams are concerned, it would have been better if I had died when Apollo 11 was over.
    My life really ended then.
    Dreams don't really exist. Not for the likes of me.
     
  23. Sad
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from JD4010 for a blog entry, H. C. Andersen   
    I am a fake. Not real. What people see isn't me. There isn't a "me". 
    I don't deserve any thanks or gratification. None of my so called achievements(that have lead me absolutely nowhere with little if any sense of accomplishment) have any meaning or value. 
    I am always dissatisfied and empty. Nothing feels authentic. Only the anger I harbour is real. The hatred and frustration I feel. The hopelessness. That is authentic.
    Everything else is just a fairy tale.
     
  24. Like
    samadhiSheol got a reaction from JD4010 for a blog entry, Made in Britain   
    Back in the day I was lucky enough to see the gritty and realistic movie ”Made in Britain”. It’s a drama tragedy of a sixteen year old skinhead on a collision course with pretty much everything. Tim Roth is absolutely amazing as the angry young racist skinhead, Trevor. I believe it was his first major role. 
     
    I was drawn to the sheer intensity of Trevor. I felt sorry for him and even then I realized I had more in common with him than I would openly admit.
    I was often confused as a skinhead due to my hair(always cropped at the time) and the jeans and m65 type jacket I wore at the time(actually I still have a m65, it’s a classic!). I was more interested in the punk scene though and I have never been a racist.

    Not that original, late 1960’s early 70’s skinheads were racist. I had a friend who introduced me to ska, which was the original skinhead choice of music, and rocksteady and the two tone scene.  It was love at first “beat”. . I still listen to the likes of Prince Buster, Desmond Dekkar,, Skatalites and Toots and the Maytals, not to mention the 80’s the Specials, the Beat or Madness..
    But I digress. The film  also spoke to me because I felt a bit homesick(I was born in the UK), despite the grittiness of 80’s U.K. I was living in a foreign land(not telling where, I am too paranoid) and though I had lived there for years I just didn’t feel at home. I also hated the 80’s with a vengeance, which added to the feeling of alienation.
     
    But it wasn’t this that spoke to me. It was Trevor’s anger. I realized that though I was nowhere near as close as he was with clashing with everything, I shared his rage towards everything. Most importantly I was angry with myself. I probably didn’t realize it at the time, but listening  to the Exploited’s UK 82 - track just a moment ago, which also featured in the film, it all came back to me. 
     
    I realized that despite the trouble I had fitting in, or perhaps because of it, I also didn’t “fit in” with myself. And I realized I still feel the same.
    It is stuff like this that crushes me. The fact that I am essentially still the same at 50+ as I was at 16-17. I am as clueless and lost now as I was then. Mad at everything and everyone and still, there is not a place on earth where I feel comfortable.
    Not even here on df.
  25. Like
    samadhiSheol reacted to 20YearsandCounting for a blog entry, Who Am I?   
    I was thinking this morning about recognizing myself - or not.  I hate getting ready in the morning, because when I look in the mirror, I feel like I"m putting makeup on a stranger.  I feel no attachment to who I see there. I know from experience that what I see is 'me', but it means absolutely nothing. 
    So I got to thinking, what does represent me?  What image, avatar, etc do I recognize as 'me' when I look at it? 
    I thought about my avatar here -
    Nope.  Not me. 
    I thought of pictures from my childhood. 
    Nope - I can recognize myself but it is purely through experience. I feel no connection to it. 
    Sometimes I can remember bits of the events during which the picture was taken, and I can recognize my family. Even recognizing my family feels odd - almost like they are the family of that girl in the picture who happens to be me. 
    Anyway, it occurred to me - I started with picturing a blank white image - what can I put here that feels like me? 
    And I realized that the blank white image felt like me. 
    I recognized it on a basic, emotional level as 'that is me'. Like most people do when they see a pic of themselves. Maybe they cringe and think 'Oh, why did I do my hair that way?', but they still know on a fundamental level that is them. 
    I think it startled me just as much to feel that sense of recognition as it did to realize I was looking at... nothing.
    What does that mean? 

     
     
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