Progress.

I'm not sure what to write here. I'm not sure if I should be writing this in my journal or on the internet, but it doesn't matter I guess.

It's December again. The time in my life last year I was literally going through hell, mentally. Having an ex live with you is never a good decision, especially one who's already moved on.

I feel no anger. No amicability. No... no nothing, toward her or anyone else for that matter.

One year ago today I was probably plotting to kill myself. I had no help from anyone, not even my best friend. Because as much as I wanted someone to talk to... talking doesn't really help if the person you're talking to can't do anything for you. Talking is like putting a band-aid on a gash in your thigh, cutting to the bone. It's a small solution to a big problem. Hell, I wouldn't even call that a solution.

And as I sit here, thinking over 2016 and what a... damnable year that was for me, I smile.

It's actually taking me a while to write this as I mull over this last year and 2016. Every few minutes I just drift off into thought. But not hateful thoughts, or bad thoughts. Thoughts of how I've grown as a person in the last two years than I ever did in the last 5 before that, when I was 19.

I guess I might just ramble here.

Everyone sees those tweets and stuff about "reaching out" to people who are going through a hard time. To be honest, (and a fairly unpopular opinion at that), those ones who kill themselves couldn't make it through the struggle. They couldn't take the voices in their heads, constantly undermining them, their efforts through daily life. And note that this does not apply to men who have been divorce-raped by women, or anything RELATING to that, because a lot of times that will happen to a man and it's impossible to get back on your feet. So you die.

No, I'm talking about those people who were in a relationship and kill themselves over a significant other. Those people who can't take the pain, the mental anguish it causes.

I can tell you right now that suicide is not a thing willingly done, as much as everyone thinks it is. I can tell you that right now. I wrote a will in 2016, thinking my life was over. I don't have jack shit to give anyone, but what little possessions I do have I wanted specific people to keep. This is hard to write because I can remember every single word that I wrote, and revised. Every two weeks in 2016.

And it's funny, as I tear up thinking about it, I actually still feel nothing. No sadness. No grief.

Every two weeks I revised that will in 2016. Or thereabouts. Sometimes more often, sometimes less. And every time I did it, I did not want to do it. Now that's a feeling I can remember sharply. I did not want to do it because I did not want to die. I always said the people that killed themselves over breaking up with a boyfriend or girlfriend were idiots, but...

When you're subjected to their laugh every day.

Supporting them with food that you have to lug home on your own.

Forced to interact with them in order to maintain a "friendship" that you were desperately grasping at as a possibility to ever get back together.

Showing them you can support them.

And probably many more things. But you know what was the biggest one for me?

The laughing.

Every single night, listening through thin walls at her laughing it up with her internet "friends" who she could lean on and support her through her "hard times", while I had nobody. I had absolutely nobody to help me. No parents. No friends to talk to about it. No nothing.

If I had had a shotgun halfway through 2016, I'd be dead. Hearing her laugh... at the time, it killed me, inside. But now I know what it really did. It jaded me. It jaded me so much that I see no point in pursuing any woman anymore. I see no point in relationships. Everywhere I look I see people waiting to get mentally stomped by their significant other. Men, and women. Now, more than ever before in the history of humanity.

The laughing. It took a whole year for me to not think about it every day. I count myself as one of the lucky ones. For some, it takes a lot longer. For some, it's shorter. But every now and again I'll go to sleep... and dream of her. And I only feel anger, and resentment for what she took from me. She took six years of my life. Six years of attempting to help a mentally feeble person get better. And when she finally does, thanks to me, she runs off into the arms of another man.

Please feel free to switch sexes here because I am sure women have had the same thing happen to them. Also, I don't hate women, I just hate the women who think they can do dumb shit and get away with it. Like ride cocks until forty and then think they can pull a nice guy to settle down with. Shit's going away real quick.

Ah, but this is neither the time nor the place for that discussion. Where was I...

It jaded me to the point where it killed any emotion I ever had. Love. Hate. Anger. Sorrow. I feel tiny twinges of things here and there, but those get patched up real quick. They get patched up and removed. Because feelings only get in the way. Which probably explains why I spend so much money. Because I want to feel something. Because I want to feel guilt for buying something like I used to instead of... nothing.

Touching back on another paragraph, the laughing.

Actually, no...

I'm not even mad or sad while writing this entire thing, I must stress this. And if I said I smiled earlier, it's not because I was happy. It's because I realized how much I grew as a person. And grew as a person over a lot of people I know in my life right now, and over people I used to know in my life.

I'm going to leave that there, but I'm not sure where I was going with that.

I dunno. It's almost 1AM so I have to get some sleep for work tomorrow, but, I just wanted to say where I'm at mentally now. And I count my blessings that I'm not an obese landwhale, even with all the crap I eat. Euuugh.

I guess I just... I tend to review the last year with myself in December, and it's just kind of funny to me because I immediately defaulted to instead of reviewing the last year, I jumped to where I was in 2016, but on 12/18/2016. Which, I guess technically is the last year, but I was generally reviewing all of 2016 as well.

I dunno man, just what really gets me riled up slightly is the fact that when men are emotionally ruined by women, they have nobody to lean on or help them with their feelings, but women have entire communities dedicated to that shit. I was literally torn down to the bottom of my emotions every single night in 2016. Not to mention the night that started me down the path of booting her out of my apartment. And I had to build myself back up into a stronger pillar for myself. Because she wasn't going to pay the rent. She wasn't going to pay any bills. I had to keep it together for myself. I had to keep it together to keep a roof over my head and some damn noodles in my pantry. To keep the internet and electricity on. I had to keep it together so she could rub one out with a guy on the internet.

And that's what pisses me off the most. And I can't even use the word "pisses" because, I'm still not mad. I literally feel nothing as I write that, this whole post. As I mentioned, I was literally torn down to the bottom of my emotional pillar, so to speak. And I had to rebuild myself. And every day I left the house wasn't even a relief, because I still had those thoughts killing me. I mean, hell, those thoughts plagued me the entire relationship. 'Is she cheating on me with people on the internet while I'm at work?' That was literally streaming through my head, every day I left the house. And little did I know, I had the right idea all along, because, she was. She will not admit it to anybody, not even me, but I absolutely 100% know I was right.

I had to rebuild myself using only myself. Swimming around in thoughts of killing myself and just ending the emotional torture. If my feelings toward the situation weren't "you're a weakling if you kill yourself because of this", I'd probably be gone already. But that was such a firm stance in my life that I could take the steps to do it, but it would never have happened. Those people are weak. Those people do not deserve to live. Love is a weakness, sex is a weakness, lust is a weakness. All of those things, anything relating to love is a weakness and a fallacy in humankind.

You think she was thinking about killing herself while being able to actually talk to people? Like I said, band-aid for a gash, but, at least it's something. While being able to speak to someone who maybe mildly cared about her problems?

It's that fact and how I remember she just so carelessly tossed me away one day and how I was so appalled she could treat another human being like that, that I will always remember. And that will always keep me on the straight and narrow, away from women, away from love, away from any of that. Away from drinking, away from smoking, away from drugs. Because I am already a better man than those who use drugs, drinking and cigarettes for emotional relief. Because I have been through the wringer and I pieced myself back together on my own. Sure, I had a drink or two in 2016, but out of 365 nights and having to go back through the wringer that same night, it didn't help, and I know it didn't help. It couldn't block my damn hearing that's for damn sure.

I sit here on 12/18/2017, a better man than many could ever hope to be, but I still have a long way to go.

But I've got a good job, savings, and multiple open roads ahead of me and I don't know where it's going to take me. Only that I have to pick a path, and walk it.

I'll probably be back to post my past me's e-mail I think I'm going to get on the 24th or so, and I'll probably be back to speak about the Christmas I had in 2016. Probably going to be a short one.

Good night, internet.

medical issues

I'd fucking LOVE to get regular checkups every year. I would LOVE to get checked for cancer and all that other stuff once a year. I'd love to know I have a clean bill of health. But I can't because ONE PHYSICAL (being visit to the doctor for a general check-up) runs anywhere from fucking 300 to whatever dollars. The last time I went to the doc was for an infection I had that literally made me have to stand all the time cause it was an infection on a pore of my ass and that was literally an urgent care, I hate to think what an actual hospital and an actual "regular" doctor assigned by my insurance would cost. And I had insurance for the urgent care visit too and they covered half the cost, so the whole thing would have been 600 bucks. Like, what the fuck dude.

Is 300 dollars worth the relief? Tbh, probably not, I probably would have taken my chances ordering some antibiotics online if I would have known I would have been slammed with a 300 dollar bill, considering that's all I took and STILL had to pay for the GENERIC antibiotics (15 bucks).

Nah. I still haven't paid the bill. My credit has tanked so hard because I don't have the money to pay it and I probably never will. You people with your free healthcare should take advantage of low costs and stuff because holy fuck is it bad here. I'd rather die than be slammed with a 10k dollar ER bill for "saving my life". My life isn't worth living in more debt, which is also why I haven't even gone to fucking college to be almost guaranteed not to get a job in this day and age.

So I just live and started living by the whole "here for a good time, not a long time" thing cause I'll be dead by 40 or earlier.

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7jdxym/what_do_you_refuse_to_pay_for/dr5luo2/

mgtow again

https://www.reddit.com/r/MGTOW/comments/7h414n/anyone_here_been_into_psychotherapy_and_has_some/

my new therapist has really helped me out. The others said that i needed meds and it was my illness talking and not me. They took my money and i got worse. Waaaaay worse.My current one saved my life however i had an incident. Am i reading into this?I went to my therapist today at 11:30. Turns out that the appointment was for 11 and I was late at the hospital.I have never been late. Dunno how i got confused. She didn't seem pissed but I felt really really bad. I asked her what could be done and she said that we still had 30 minutes and I felt really really hurt. We talked for 5 minutes and suddenly there was a siren and we had to evacuate the wing. On the way out she was talking to her friend who is a doctor and I was walking alone. I felt so rejected and terrible. She obviously didn't charge me and we fixed a new appointment for Monday. I have been diagnosed as being bipolar and am very depressed right now. Only person who has ever helped me is my therapist. Have important exams in a few days and don't know what to do. My friends were total jerks to me and i helped them a lot monetarily and emotionally but they just left when i needed someone to talk to.

My response

Dude you are like a fucking eggshell. How old are you?

1. You were late for an appointment. Sucks, but it's your fault, deal with it. Not much else to say there.
2. You attempted to have the last 30 minutes of your session, admirable. However, you expecting this person with their own job and their own appointments to give you an extra 30 minutes, ("I felt really really hurt" when she told you you could take the last 30 minutes of therapy with her) when you were late to your own appointment, is extremely astounding and says a lot about how entitled you feel. You are entitled to NOTHING. You were late, suck it up. You're lucky she didn't cancel the whole thing entirely.
3. Emergency situation at the hospital. Sucks, but it happens. Also, you are a patient to her, not a friend, not a buddy, not ANYTHING resembling a friend. Of course she's going to speak to Doctor Chad Chaddington III. Everyone walks alone fucking everywhere dude, unless you're hanging out with friends, then, obviously not.
4. Good you got another appointment and weren't charged for that one. Technically she could have charged you for the half hour you weren't there, probably, though you probably could have disputed it as well.
5. Exams? You better fucking study. You're not in college to fuck around, idiot, if these are college exams. You're there to learn and get a damn DEGREE. Hope you didn't get a huge ass student loan.
6. If you were diagnosed as bipolar chances are you will be put on meds and shoved off so your therapist can see the next patient. Sure you can talk about your feelings with the therapist but if nothing is getting solved and the therapist sees this, you're getting some form of medication one way or another. However Therapy is an important part of taking meds and is highly recommended to do while taking them.
7. Your current friends are not actual friends at all. Get new ones. I mean if you just wanna keep shelling out to keep some people around, by all means. But most guys have their own emotional baggage to take care of, they can't hold someone else's. But giving money to friends is almost never a good idea unless you're paying them back for something or paying them to HELP you do something. Sounds like these guys just took advantage of you. It'll take a long time, but you'll get new friends. Whether or not they're actual friends or not is up to you to decide.

Downvote me all you want but you know I'm fucking right. I will never tell anyone to man up because that's a bullshit excuse to not offer actual advice or insight into a situation that someone is trying to hide from.

Also if you want a tiny piece of candy, good on you for posting what happened. But yeah, men are disposable, I'm surprised you even got an hour of therapy. Probably required by the insurance or something.

dad

So I decided to video chat my dad as I try to do once a week, he's always happy to oblige since he's living with my grandma right now (his mom), which is a different story entirely than the one I want to put up right now.

So my dad brought up that he regrets not giving us the attention he usually gave me and my younger brother during a small period of time (maybe 3 years, just about) after my youngest, third brother was born. I guess the marriage to my mom was going downhill and he told me that he regrets not spending more time with us during those three years because he was more dedicated to making my mother happy (I don't know what this entails and tbh, I don't really have any business knowing) than spending time with his three boys.

I thought this was really profound for him to ask me something like this because one, he obviously regrets it and he's told me before that he regrets not trying to be around us more, to do something to fight back against my mother to see us more, but he couldn't. He just had visitation rights and ended up having to go live with his mother again after being kicked out by my mother. And two, because it was probably pretty hard for him to ask me this, as well.

However, I told him to not worry about it, because I seriously didn't remember any of that time-frame besides bits here and there (I would have been six at the time) and to not beat himself up over it.

He also told me after my mother had my brother she started bringing home other guys. While my father was home, or at work, it didn't matter. Keep in mind they're both deaf, sign language and all that, so.

At the time, my mother was very handicapped. Rods in the legs+ankles+feet, extremely debilitated back from falling out of a five story window. (I have yet to corroborate this story from any witnesses or anything because she was the only one there apparently, but I take it with a grain of salt + she's always, as far as I remember, been extremely hunched over, can't stand up straight while walking or at any point besides maybe sitting in her rocker. So, musta been some guys desperate for poon (including my dad...) cause I would not call my mother attractive by any stretch of the imagination IMO.)

I was very surprised at this because I did not remember ANY of this. I do remember when my mother brought home guys when I was about 9 or ten and my dad was "around" per se, he visited the house every now and again to hang out with us as mother allowed. One of those guys was my sister's father, who left as soon as possible after banging her. He is now paying child support. Where that money goes, idk, but it's not to supporting my sister. My dad also told me during this conversation, during this time period I called my mom a whore to my brother and he told my mom and I literally got punched in the face, just straight to the jaw/side of my face. I don't remember this but apparently he saw it and didn't do anything. Explains a lot on both sides of the fence.

But back to my point here: My dad fought to spend time with us from what I remember after they got divorced and my mother fought tooth and nail to keep him away. Why, I don't know. My dad was not abusive, a drunk, or anything. If anything my mother was 100% more abusive towards us than he ever was, and if he ever did anything, it was a damn spanking because we were being retarded.


edited post on reddit here because I felt it was too long