Author Archives: Forlorn Hope

Winning! (while reading this title, visualise American actor Charlie Sheen)

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I was walking to the theatre this afternoon for the improv show and was hoping that solo scenes would not be a part of it. In improv we sometimes use a competition-like format. It is not a competition in a sports sense but rather a way to facilitate it for the audience to invest themselves in the show and connect to the characters on stage. In any competition there are winners and losers but on stage we all support each other. The real competition is always against self in the constant strife to get better and to do a good show. That said, nobody likes to lose spectacularly which is my track record with solo scenes. OK, so it is was a track record of one but, oh, what a disastrous one!

So as I was getting closer to the theatre, an anticipation of the rush of being on stage has set in and I stopped dreading the possibility of facing my nemesis. Or rather being inside my nemesis? Well, you know what I mean.

As the “competition” progressed and other players left the show (no, it is not like wrestling – we do not determine winners or losers; it is all improvised) it was down to three players including yours truly. If you thinking “Oh my god! The last round is going to involve solo scenes!”, you are correct! Of course, being a much more experienced improviser than I was the last time I had a lot more tools in my improv belt. Of course, having gone through the emotional rollercoaster of the last three months, I felt about as sure of myself as a eunuch in a whorehouse. I have about zero self-assurance. In my time as an improviser, I had numerous opportunities to train with some amazing artists. I chose to put my trust in their craft and in what they have taught me. Without thinking that it was all on me, I was able to relax and pull together a pretty amazing scene that the audience loved. I did not end up winning the show but I came in second and that was my best showing so far. Afterwards, fellow improvisers came up to congratulate me and tell me how much they loved my solo scene. It was a success.

And yet, it was a success that still felt empty, for She was not with me. She will never know what happened tonight. In the end, win or lose, every success feels like a loss for I have lost Her.

The sound of children

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mirrorgirl's avatarMirrorgirl

WHAT IS THE PROPER AGE TO GET MARRIED? 

     "Eighty-four. Because at that age, you don't have to work anymore, and 
     you can spend all your time loving each other in your bedroom." (Judy, 
     8) 
    childE "Once I'm done with kindergarten, I'm goin o find me a wife." (Tommy, 5) WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE? "On the first date, they just tell each ot her lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date." (Mike, 10) WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE? "You should never kiss a girl unless you have enough bucks to buy her a big ring and her own VCR, 'cause she'll want to have videos of the wedding." (Jim,10) "Never kiss in front of other people. It's a big embarrassing thing if anybody sees you. But if nobody sees you, I might be willing to try it with a…

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Support.

By Posted in Road To Recovery Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

Forget those of you who are stumbling upon this humble blog for the first time, please allow me to recap the previous posts: depressed for about two decades, got dumped by the love of my life, went into a total meltdown, blogging anonymously as a way of getting my thoughts in order and using this as outlet, getting (A LOT OF) therapy.

Here’s a thing about being depressed for so long without anyone realising the extent of it: this requires not letting anyone in close enough to see what is going on inside me. That in turn means that there is no support, no cheering section wanting me to keep going. I have been trying to be more open with people in my life. Some of them know the extent of my issues but it will take a lot of good will to bring things to where acquaintances can grow into adult and caring friendships. Last night I had the following texting exchange with one of my improv friends:

Friend: Hi, (me).
F: How have you been since we last talked?
Me: Same. Teetering on the edge type of thing.
F: OkAy.

I had no idea what to say. How do normal adults communicate? What do they say? Where do they learn the right things to say? How do they then parlay that knowledge into forming productive adult relationships?

There are a lot of questions to answer in order for me to grow. My therapist has been advising me to take risks and go to places where people congregate so that I might perchance meet some of them. Except the therapist does not a cheer squad make. There are people who wish me to get better but they are either very busy or do not wish to get involved. I do not blame them. Or perhaps I just do not see them? Yours truly is truly a mess. What I am thankful for is the support of the wonderful WordPress community. You guys and gals have been my cheering section through the most difficult and painful period of my life.

And now I will return my attention to a funky band on stage doing Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition.”

Searching To Survive.

By Posted in Love Lost Tagged , , , , , , , 4 Comments

Google and smartphones have changed the conversational landscape. People do not argue for hours anymore about a matter of fact: they just whip out their smartphones and look it up. I do it all the time because my memory sucks. I keep going “you know, it’s that thing, from that place… you know what I’m talking about!” Nobody does, of course, which is why Google and HTC are directly responsible for keeping my sanity functioning. When I had my meltdown, I even Googled “psychotherapy in (my city)” and “ways to cope.”

Sadly, Google itself is yet to move into the realm of therapy. Or online dating for that matter, which, I am sure, will be quite a day! So apart from the constant searchers for the “whatsitcalleds” and the “whatchamacallits,” there is something that I keep plugging into Google in the hopes of finding something new, something that would change my current situation. In the hopes of being able to get ideas on how to keep on living after being dumped by the love of my life, I have been googling the self-help sites on how to do just that. There even was the “No B. S. Guide” from Cosmopolitan that was full of B.S. So here are some thoughts on their suggestions.

1. Avoid contact.
In my case that is not the issue since She was clear about me never speaking to Her again. I desperately wish I could but I am respecting Her wishes on the matter.

2. Think about Her faults.
Easy. She is impatient, presumptuous, and is seriously lacking in tact. Which is why She reacted the way She did to my letter: She misunderstood some stuff and decided to think the worst of me. My therapist insists my letter was quite clear and there was nothing to misunderstand; in his words she is a “cold bitch.” Whether logical or not, I do not believe that.

3. Find someone else.
This is damned hard for several reasons. I was never that good with women at the best of times. Except now I have no desire to find someone new. In fact, it is worse than that. My usually overly active sex drive is all but gone. My brain has done what millions of years of evolution could not: it made a male (Yours Truly) monogamous. Of course with my luck that means I am on a self-imposed abstinence regime. Be still my heart!

4. Give it time.
Time cures all. Or so they say. We shall see. So far – not so good. It has been about three and a half months and though the worst of the pain has either subsided or I have just gotten used to it, I am still just as much in love with Her as I was before.

So I guess that means that the search for the cure from unrequited love continues. And I still love Her.

Google, Google on the screen,
Won’t you wipe my love slate clean?

Megan and Grace Or Why I Do Not Hate The Westboro Baptist Church.

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Few people would disagree that I am a pretty intense character. In fact, if I am being honest, no one would disagree with that. I am angry. I am in a state of preemptive warfare against the world at large because it is easier than giving it a chance to hurt me first. I am pissed at the unfairness of the cruel universe that endowed me with a learning disability that went on undiagnosed for most of my life, which in turn gave me a shitload of psychological and emotional problems. For the longest time I even thought that I was devoid of capacity for love. Of course that ended up being proven wrong with the most disastrous of consequences for my already troubled mind. And now I am perhaps more jaded than ever before and I do not want to love. Now, nor ever again.

I mean look at the disaster that is my life! I have so many fucking problems! I am totally justified for feeling the way I do! My goddamn issues are so goddamn fucked up and the world just doesn’t understand me! I am the most royally screwed fucker in the whole fucking universe!

To be fair, this does not really represent my serious, considered thinking. I am not always this dramatic and wallowing in self-pity but it is a fairly accurate distillation of my inner cognitive distortion(s).

So the other day a story of two young women – named Megan and Grace – has come to my attention. There are some general similarities between their lives and mine. Megan and Grace come from a very loving (perhaps even more so than mine) and supporting family. They grew up a fairly regimented life and have always known how their lives would go. Of course, that is where the similarities end because while my family is completely unknown to the world at large, Megan and Grace’s family is arguably the most reviled group of people in America. That is because Megan and Grace Phelps-Roper are the granddaughters of Reverend Fred Phelps, the founding head of the Westboro Baptist Church.

http://www.cbc.ca/player/AudioMobile/Q/ID/2350556712/ (WordPress won’t let me embed a flash player so you will have to use the link instead).

Listening to these two remarkable young women and reading about them, it struck me that even though they are clearly traumatised not only by the horrible message that they used to spread but also by the fact that their family – whom they still love – considers them traitors and will not speak to them, both Megan and Grace have kept their love for the world in general and hope in the future. While I dread the times ahead and what they bring because I expect the worst, they look forward to whatever it may bring. I have an education and a career. I have hobbies and friends. I still have my family, however small it may be. They have left all that they have ever known less than a year ago. They made some new friends but they may never see they brothers and sister, their parents again. So why have I been feeling such complete absence of hope for so many years? Why have I so little energy to try to go on living? Why do I feel so much pain?

Learning about Megan and Grace Phelps has been an incredibly transformative experience. Though I struggle to see the hope in this world and emotional point of loving again, their example gives me strength to keep going forward. Their actions and words tell me that if they can overcome their hurdles in life, then I can overcome mine, which seem so pitiful and banal in comparison. Despite all the realisations Megan and Grace have come to about their family’s hateful message, which they did not choose to grow up in no more that I chose to be born with ADHD-PI and get co-morbid depression and anxiety, they still love them. That is not something to be ashamed of or something to hide. Their love for people who have so royally screwed them is empowering.

Follow Megan on Twitter here: https://twitter.com/meganphelps and Grace here: https://twitter.com/gracethecurious

Love Letter #7.

By Posted in Love Lost 2 Comments

It has been so long since You have left me… In the strife to keep busy and getting my mind occupied so as to not think of you, I am loosing track of days. Yet the memories of You still burn ever so brightly. Not a day goes by that my heart does not get crunched by the wistful vise of despair and loneliness. Even on a day like yesterday, when I should feel happy and proud for having achieved an important milestone, what I am confronted with is the realisation that the success means nothing without being able to share it with You. I miss our closeness, the comfort and peace I felt when I was with you. I miss being able to talk to you about anything.

You are certainly forgetting me more and more every day or, perhaps, you have completely shrugged off all memories of our time together, of me. You are leaving our time behind further with every second that passes yet those same seconds are excruciating to me because I still live in those memories, I have not moved on nor do I see a way to do it. And every day the realisation that on this day you are slipping away just a little bit further feels like a ice cold thrust of pain through my heart.

I need You in my life, my dearest girl! My therapist insists that it is not You I miss but rather the emotional intimacy that I thought we shared. He is wrong. I do miss that feeling of oneness I felt with You but I do miss You.

I miss you so, so much and I love you still.

Treat.

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Today’s Daily Prompt asks us: “If bloggers had their own Halloween and could go from blog to blog collecting “treats,” what would your blog hand out?” So this shall sum up my blog quite nicely: it would hand out misery (seriously, read my blog – I got a lot of it. You can have some of it any time you want and not just on Halloween. Seriously, come back for some for Christmas and pick up extra for your friends and family.) and condoms. There’s 7+ BILLION people in the world! Do we really need to make more? By 2050 the ice caps are going to melt down and we will be at 8 billion fuckers. We got climate change that makes it really difficult to support the population we got already and we keep making more children? How about adopting some that are already here now? But I digress. And since we are fantasising, might as well make it big. I would not just give out the actual rubber condoms, I would also hand out the emotional ones that protect against the most insidious virus of all: love. That way you can be sure to remain safe until both you and your partner decide to stop using them and get infected together. But keep the other ones on! Keep using the (rubber) caps on your party bits so that the Poles (see what I did there) can keep their (ice) caps.

Day 79. Broken.

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Once upon a time, there lived… me. For a long time things worked exactly the same way. Not in a good way, mind you, but there was consistency to my choices in life. And although not a conscious one, it was a habit nevertheless. A habit that I did not break. Until one day I did. I met a girl and we hit it off. It did not work out and I was heartbroken. Now, dear reader, if you have been reading this blog prior to getting to this post, you might think that the girl in question is the one I have been writing about for the past few months. It is not that girl. But I digress. I was heartbroken and it took me a while to get over her. That fact that she was batshit insane helped me out a lot. And so things went back to normal. Well… My normal. Which is to say not normal for most people but whatever it was that made up normality for me. You get the point.

So I started walling myself off from people and emotions. Again. It is a sound emotional defence. If you do not get close to anybody than they cannot hurt you. It can only get you so far though. We need to feel emotional intimacy. Having felt it before, meant that I could not go back to the way things were. I broke my habit of taking myself out of the human equation. I tried other solutions. I started doing improv. Yet even there my habit of building a defensive shield around myself was a problem. Nobody wants to see a Dalek on stage. I started making new friends and getting perspective on my life. I started to feel more freely.

And then I met Her and my life has changed forever. I fell in love. I fell in love harder and with more openness than ever before. I had been living without feeling any emotional intimacy for so long that, having tasted it once before, I dove in head first with complete disregard for the likely dangers of doing so. The rest is history. You can pretty much guess what happened from the name of the blog alone. I went into a complete emotional breakdown.

And so hear I am. Broken. Wondering if it was worth it. If I figure it out, I will be sure to make another post.

Day 72. My Gypsy Soul.

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As I am writing this, the exotic sounds of Arabic fueled gypsy music are wafting through the Bohemian atmosphere of this weird cash-only bar.

Surrounded by the most diverse crowd of hipsters, artists, immigrants of all creeds and races (on a side note  how is it possible that Eastern Europeans can manage to sound racist even when not trying to be? – overhearing conversations), my mind travels to places that I have only read about or seen in films or on television. And yet, my traitorous mind still manages to bring up the images of Her, my greatest love. She would love this place and this music. Whenever I imagine myself in some exotic locales, I keep seeing Her next to me.

The great thing about imagination is that I can imagine anything. So why do I keep thinking about Her rather than being happy without Her? She is not even that good looking. I can imagine being 6′ 4″ and being hugged by Uma Thurman but instead I dream about a plain looking girl with a very average body. But, of course, to me she is the most exquisite and intoxicating creature in the Universe.

I still love Her. I am so thoroughly fucked.