In the last three months my life has done a complete 180 and then another. Right now I am in the good of the 180s, but there are certain things about my life that I wish were better. The biggest one that I can think of right off the top of my head is the fact that my relationship with both my parents has deteriorated completely, and my wife's relationship is almost non existent.
Let me start at the fact that since January 13th, I've been to the mental hospital twice, prison and jail. My parents have had a rocky relationship with my wife from almost the beginning of me knowing her. She came and my parents ripped us a hard one. First time that my parents ever met her. And, I think since then for her, my parents have felt threatened of my wife/gf. The sad thing is this isn't the first time that my parents have been threatened. Kayla was a big threat to me leaving them. I really wanted to marry her, and they just spat in her's and my faces and I just conformed to what they wanted for me and not looking into my heart.
But now, since I've been to all the above places, the trust that they had for my wife, which was little to none, has left, even to the scary realm of my parents telling my wife to go to hell and that she worked with the devil and that she isn't right for me nor has she ever been right for me.
They are not right. And the sad thing is they are hiding in the shadows of the things they have said and done to me, and sadly, to my wife. My wife, rightly so, does not want a relationship with people who have treated her this way. I haven't made my position clear throughout all of this. And so I am kinda in a communication freeze with them right now. I haven't talked with my dad, because, ever since Christmas, he's been a Giant Jerk to me. It's not right. All because I suggested that They pay for the complete sum of the ticket instead of us.
I've had to hang up on them and specifically him, several times over because I couldn't handle talking to them and because they were being super disrespectful to me. I understand that Hanging up is also very disrespectful now, but it seemed like the only thing I could do to get them off my back at the time, in a not nice manner, of course.
My Dad is trying to reach out to my wife to get her involved in a Coronavirus devotional, but she is not going to be involved until an apology is received. Honestly, in light of everything that is going on, they should be reaching out to us to tell us how wrong they have been and with an apology.
I'm realizing things about my parents that I have been putting on blinders on all my life to not see. Specifically, like the fact that my parents have not been perfect the whole time I have been alive. That they make mistakes and that they can be really mean to the world, specifically my mom. She raised me, but I know her M. O. Complains a lot of the time and doesn't enjoy the place that she is in life. I love them, but I have been too close at times to them, not realizing the false indoctrination that they were teaching me.
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Friday, April 3, 2020
4.3
I'm in a program right now called Momentum. It is a like a program for adults that have hard times in their lives. Not all of them, if any of them (it's hard to tell) have just been to prison and jail like me. I think that a lot of the members of the program have mental illness, were drug or alcohol addicts, and people that have had traumatic experiences. It's cool to be in this society of people, because I feel like sometimes these are the only people that understand me in life, other than Cocco (my nurse) and especially my wife (who has been through it all already, or knows how to get me out of my psychosis).
I feel unsafe at the laundromat that is not close to my home. My wife thinks it is because I am racist, which may be so, but I feel more safe in my lit up laundromat that I can walk to at a moments notice than at a laundromat where everybody goes to next to a liquor store, a check into cash store, and a grocery store that doesn't feel very reputable to me. I guess I am racist. But I legitimately feel fearful almost every time I go there. Let it be because of the area, let it be because of the muscular men that all go to the liquor store in their muscular cars, let it be that I don't like how full t worse, a deportation truck come and pick me up and I have to go to prison once again and gehe place gets (busy). All of the above make me fearful, not just race. I am afraid of getting shot there, ort tazed or pepper spray, just because I was doing my laundry. Yes, they don't make sense, but everytime I go there, I feel unsafe. I wouldn't want to go there doing my laundry on my own. I feel much more comfortable in our laundromat that is connected with the apartment. I am just afraid.
I feel unsafe at the laundromat that is not close to my home. My wife thinks it is because I am racist, which may be so, but I feel more safe in my lit up laundromat that I can walk to at a moments notice than at a laundromat where everybody goes to next to a liquor store, a check into cash store, and a grocery store that doesn't feel very reputable to me. I guess I am racist. But I legitimately feel fearful almost every time I go there. Let it be because of the area, let it be because of the muscular men that all go to the liquor store in their muscular cars, let it be that I don't like how full t worse, a deportation truck come and pick me up and I have to go to prison once again and gehe place gets (busy). All of the above make me fearful, not just race. I am afraid of getting shot there, ort tazed or pepper spray, just because I was doing my laundry. Yes, they don't make sense, but everytime I go there, I feel unsafe. I wouldn't want to go there doing my laundry on my own. I feel much more comfortable in our laundromat that is connected with the apartment. I am just afraid.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
4.1 Answer to myself, How I have needed to treat my Angstiness with Love and as a part of Me
I wish I would of thought to wait for a response, but Sarah's good at this kind of stuff, haha.
I really wanted to take you away, as made clear by the last title, but it isn't to bury you, it is to merge with you to fight for our needs and wants that are clearly good. I want to listen to you. What is it that you have to say? Why are you afraid of the cell? How can I service you?
I am a people pleaser. I would rather do what's good for the room than for me, and even blame myself, for all the wrongs. Learning from Ben Carlin in his podcast "Popcorn Culture:15 - The Time Ben Went to Jail and T-shirt Cannons", there are things that happen to people that are so goody two shoes it hurts. Or sometimes I am a blow over for the people in the room and I don't set clear boundaries.
It stems from the time that I told my mom that I was masturbating, which was the first AND last time I ever told her such a thing and I wanted to hide who I was, while at the same time seeking their approval. I remember that day very well, like the traumatic instance that it was. I can almost say that I was in my pajamas and we talked for hours. First my mom would cry because she blamed herself for my errors, and then I would cry or we cried together; FOR HOURS, at least past noon. My mom, in very direct terms told her to never let her know if I masturbated. Right then and there was the place that two John's was created. One that was a hider.
I felt so much shame from my mom and no room to ever tell her again that I was messing up. Because, for some reason (knowing I was human) I knew I would mess up. I want to say that I had this conversation before I went to college, while I was still attending High School. Fortunately, besides probable multiple bouts with Masturbation, I was so far along in High School and with good company to not mess up during those times.
It wasn't until I felt so alone that the first bipolarity existed. I feel that being bipolar really has to do with our relationships with others, and having these views in conflict with your mind. My first bipolarity was with my mom and me being thousands of miles away from her in school. The reason being is that I was alone, and had no real friends, nor did I feel able to leave the house without guidance from my parents, for growing up, I never did stuff to leave the house. I was always a home body and never had any friends come over or outside of the home. Being married has really liberated me from the aspect of having to be a home body at all times.
But I had really skewed views of having someone be with me inside of my home. Even the whole girlfriend thing, I felt I was stuck to date at home and only on dates would I find myself liberated from this torturous staying at home. I had no real friends outside of Blair, my girlfriend, but even she was a home body, but at least she had work, which taught me to get work, not my parents. They wanted me safe at home.
With all that being said, I can't believe I got through my first two semesters unscathed, and to be honest, I hardly did. The only things that got me through were a few phone calls to home (cell phones at the time could only be used for minutes instead of unlimited), a girlfriend, and work. School was in the trash after the first semester because I had signed up for more than I could handle. And I was in a foreign place, not used to being away from home, even though being away from home is probably all that I needed at the time (if only healthily).
Another light at the end of this long tunnel I would call my depression was that at the END of it, I would serve a mission and that that would save me from myself, if not only a little bit. And it did, for a time. (This is not saying that I never wanted to serve a mission, on the contrary, I looked forward to it, even though I had no idea what to expect from the mission). I had no idea that the mission would not get me out of this mess of blaming myself for masturbation, and hiding, really. I told my mission President everything, except about my masturbation, because, because of my mom, I had no idea who I could trust with this information. I also for a certainty thought I would get sent home. Looking back at it now, maybe President Talbot would have kept it a secret, if only I had confided in him, but the prospect of being sent home and having to tell my mom that I was still masturbating was enough to lie after every instance of masturbation. It was a bad cycle that my mom had weaved, and that my mind had found itself in. I was in a mental (bipolar) conundrum.
Finally, after 15 months of lying to myself and my mom and to the mission president and really to about everybody, my mind spilled the beans in the form of trying to be perfect. My mind compensates for the lie by becoming perfect in everything that it does, by obsessing over something that is not perfect about my life, and keeping lying awake at night. And when you lie awake at night, the only things you have to turn to in the dark is prayer and masturbation, and my body was apt to choose the latter.
The stresses of missionary work got to me when I was asked to be a trainer for a missionary I had never met, in an area that was so new to me still that I loved with all my heart. There were now so many things on the stake: myself, my mission president and his wife, the new missionary, other missionaries that I knew, the whole area of hampton; and outside forces too like my mom, my dad, my parents as a unit, my siblings, our home ward, and all the rest that knew me, there was no way of getting out of my bad deeds now.
My mind, I, finally cracked. A huge reason for it was because I did not practice self care to the extent necessary for me to feel healthy. Largely, I was dying inside because I was not getting appropriate enough amounts of sleep. And a part of my soul did die in Hampton the day the Mission President drove me out of Hampton the two hours back to the mission home.
I was hysterical. No controlling me. Maybe that's where my need for control began because from then on, I was controlled in some way or form. By medicine, by doctors, therapists, and Sadly, my parents, in the mission and out. Of course I needed it, but I for one wished it didn't have to be like a bandaid, but I don't think there is, nor was a way to END a mission so well.
There is more, but my controlling extended even to the point of when I finally met my wife 7 years later. I was still on something and was seeing somebody for my mental ailment. I had not learned to love myself in the way my last girlfriend came to love me just yet, and even now, 11 year later, I still have not learned to love my soul, wholly, like her.
I just want it to be complete without the work. But I know 11 years of winding and unwinding need to be reconciled with at the most, 11 years of love for myself and caring. Fortunately, my infinite love for my wife and hers for me, has been a rock in the midst of my most recent hard times. That said there is a lot of self-love that I need to create, especially with boundaries that have not really been existent at all. And it's difficult to even know where to start and what to do, after part of myself has been rebelling unbeknownst to even my own mind.
I love you. I'm willing to do everything necessary to get you back on track mind. I think going to Momentum has been really helpful, so I will continue to show you love by doing so (not just for the food that is offered). I really am willing to change for you. Please be aware of that.
What more can I do for you?
A big point is I do do everything for others more than myself and I am willing to do so. It is time to set boundaries that show myself that I love who I am, and not more than others.
Prayer needs to be worked on. Continue seeking help through prayer, written or said aloud.
Hie to the temple. Ask your wife for ways I can do that since it is closed now.
Be aware of where your emotions are taking you. Especially anger. Listen to them, but don't react or act out. Think before you do. You are wise.
I really wanted to take you away, as made clear by the last title, but it isn't to bury you, it is to merge with you to fight for our needs and wants that are clearly good. I want to listen to you. What is it that you have to say? Why are you afraid of the cell? How can I service you?
I am a people pleaser. I would rather do what's good for the room than for me, and even blame myself, for all the wrongs. Learning from Ben Carlin in his podcast "Popcorn Culture:15 - The Time Ben Went to Jail and T-shirt Cannons", there are things that happen to people that are so goody two shoes it hurts. Or sometimes I am a blow over for the people in the room and I don't set clear boundaries.
It stems from the time that I told my mom that I was masturbating, which was the first AND last time I ever told her such a thing and I wanted to hide who I was, while at the same time seeking their approval. I remember that day very well, like the traumatic instance that it was. I can almost say that I was in my pajamas and we talked for hours. First my mom would cry because she blamed herself for my errors, and then I would cry or we cried together; FOR HOURS, at least past noon. My mom, in very direct terms told her to never let her know if I masturbated. Right then and there was the place that two John's was created. One that was a hider.
I felt so much shame from my mom and no room to ever tell her again that I was messing up. Because, for some reason (knowing I was human) I knew I would mess up. I want to say that I had this conversation before I went to college, while I was still attending High School. Fortunately, besides probable multiple bouts with Masturbation, I was so far along in High School and with good company to not mess up during those times.
It wasn't until I felt so alone that the first bipolarity existed. I feel that being bipolar really has to do with our relationships with others, and having these views in conflict with your mind. My first bipolarity was with my mom and me being thousands of miles away from her in school. The reason being is that I was alone, and had no real friends, nor did I feel able to leave the house without guidance from my parents, for growing up, I never did stuff to leave the house. I was always a home body and never had any friends come over or outside of the home. Being married has really liberated me from the aspect of having to be a home body at all times.
But I had really skewed views of having someone be with me inside of my home. Even the whole girlfriend thing, I felt I was stuck to date at home and only on dates would I find myself liberated from this torturous staying at home. I had no real friends outside of Blair, my girlfriend, but even she was a home body, but at least she had work, which taught me to get work, not my parents. They wanted me safe at home.
With all that being said, I can't believe I got through my first two semesters unscathed, and to be honest, I hardly did. The only things that got me through were a few phone calls to home (cell phones at the time could only be used for minutes instead of unlimited), a girlfriend, and work. School was in the trash after the first semester because I had signed up for more than I could handle. And I was in a foreign place, not used to being away from home, even though being away from home is probably all that I needed at the time (if only healthily).
Another light at the end of this long tunnel I would call my depression was that at the END of it, I would serve a mission and that that would save me from myself, if not only a little bit. And it did, for a time. (This is not saying that I never wanted to serve a mission, on the contrary, I looked forward to it, even though I had no idea what to expect from the mission). I had no idea that the mission would not get me out of this mess of blaming myself for masturbation, and hiding, really. I told my mission President everything, except about my masturbation, because, because of my mom, I had no idea who I could trust with this information. I also for a certainty thought I would get sent home. Looking back at it now, maybe President Talbot would have kept it a secret, if only I had confided in him, but the prospect of being sent home and having to tell my mom that I was still masturbating was enough to lie after every instance of masturbation. It was a bad cycle that my mom had weaved, and that my mind had found itself in. I was in a mental (bipolar) conundrum.
Finally, after 15 months of lying to myself and my mom and to the mission president and really to about everybody, my mind spilled the beans in the form of trying to be perfect. My mind compensates for the lie by becoming perfect in everything that it does, by obsessing over something that is not perfect about my life, and keeping lying awake at night. And when you lie awake at night, the only things you have to turn to in the dark is prayer and masturbation, and my body was apt to choose the latter.
The stresses of missionary work got to me when I was asked to be a trainer for a missionary I had never met, in an area that was so new to me still that I loved with all my heart. There were now so many things on the stake: myself, my mission president and his wife, the new missionary, other missionaries that I knew, the whole area of hampton; and outside forces too like my mom, my dad, my parents as a unit, my siblings, our home ward, and all the rest that knew me, there was no way of getting out of my bad deeds now.
My mind, I, finally cracked. A huge reason for it was because I did not practice self care to the extent necessary for me to feel healthy. Largely, I was dying inside because I was not getting appropriate enough amounts of sleep. And a part of my soul did die in Hampton the day the Mission President drove me out of Hampton the two hours back to the mission home.
I was hysterical. No controlling me. Maybe that's where my need for control began because from then on, I was controlled in some way or form. By medicine, by doctors, therapists, and Sadly, my parents, in the mission and out. Of course I needed it, but I for one wished it didn't have to be like a bandaid, but I don't think there is, nor was a way to END a mission so well.
There is more, but my controlling extended even to the point of when I finally met my wife 7 years later. I was still on something and was seeing somebody for my mental ailment. I had not learned to love myself in the way my last girlfriend came to love me just yet, and even now, 11 year later, I still have not learned to love my soul, wholly, like her.
I just want it to be complete without the work. But I know 11 years of winding and unwinding need to be reconciled with at the most, 11 years of love for myself and caring. Fortunately, my infinite love for my wife and hers for me, has been a rock in the midst of my most recent hard times. That said there is a lot of self-love that I need to create, especially with boundaries that have not really been existent at all. And it's difficult to even know where to start and what to do, after part of myself has been rebelling unbeknownst to even my own mind.
I love you. I'm willing to do everything necessary to get you back on track mind. I think going to Momentum has been really helpful, so I will continue to show you love by doing so (not just for the food that is offered). I really am willing to change for you. Please be aware of that.
What more can I do for you?
A big point is I do do everything for others more than myself and I am willing to do so. It is time to set boundaries that show myself that I love who I am, and not more than others.
Prayer needs to be worked on. Continue seeking help through prayer, written or said aloud.
Hie to the temple. Ask your wife for ways I can do that since it is closed now.
Be aware of where your emotions are taking you. Especially anger. Listen to them, but don't react or act out. Think before you do. You are wise.
4.1 Letter to myself, To take away my Self-Angst
Dear other John,
I know that I have said that I hate you. I'm sorry for the blame but if there is one thing that is truthful, it's not that I hate. It's that, at this time I don't totally understand you; at least why you would come out, why you lay dormant, why this creature that you are is so alone and not really a part of me.
I don't want that to be the case. And honestly, I am you. If good and bad were off the table, like it should always be, I do understand you. You like sex. What man doesn't? You care about your wife enough to tell her all the negative aspects of her life to try to force her to change. I think that is gone about the wrong way (since for the most part, you are normally a harmless person in general), but what man doesn't make some visionary mistakes like you? You love your good friend Carlos. What man, thinking someone was taking advantage of him (erroneously and blaming his wife) would let the con artist do such a thing? Not I.
You have the best of intentions but we need to talk about some of these things. I don't like how you've been treating other people: yourself, your friend and his wife, but especially your wife. You have quite the catch and she has stood by all different facets of your temperament. I, like her, want to be on your fighting side. You are just a facet of me that loves humans but just doesn't have the correct bringing up to know the manners and the ethics of your thoughts. I defend you because I love you. I want the best for you and your soon to be family, and I want you to be whole with your entire body, and not faceted as much.
You are not alone. And even though what you do affects me, I hope to always stand by your side and not to put you in a cell, where there is no room to grow and no room for change. Even though, in the last hospital, you did help the actualized John change. Wow, how you ran a rampage in Jail and in Prison. Please not let's ever cross a man again to the extent that I did so at Carlos' apartment nor how I treated the ones that had me captive for 2 days.
Remember what the light of day feels like and how much I love you and want the best for you. Remember that there is a man that suffered so that you didn't have to, if only you choose to follow him. Remember that He is ALWAYS your advocate even when I am not understanding what it is you are doing. Let's always be on the same page with our actions. I love you. I don't want to go back to jail, nor do I ever want you to enter a cell like that again. Although I can't make any promises that life will be that easy, I can say that Sarah is a rock, almost to the degree of toughness as the Savior.
Always stick by your woman. She is here for you, to be by your side at all times, in all things and in all places. Take time to thank her each day for being there for you and be grateful for her strength and trust in your heart of hearts.
Like I said, I love you, and we will get through this together.
John
I know that I have said that I hate you. I'm sorry for the blame but if there is one thing that is truthful, it's not that I hate. It's that, at this time I don't totally understand you; at least why you would come out, why you lay dormant, why this creature that you are is so alone and not really a part of me.
I don't want that to be the case. And honestly, I am you. If good and bad were off the table, like it should always be, I do understand you. You like sex. What man doesn't? You care about your wife enough to tell her all the negative aspects of her life to try to force her to change. I think that is gone about the wrong way (since for the most part, you are normally a harmless person in general), but what man doesn't make some visionary mistakes like you? You love your good friend Carlos. What man, thinking someone was taking advantage of him (erroneously and blaming his wife) would let the con artist do such a thing? Not I.
You have the best of intentions but we need to talk about some of these things. I don't like how you've been treating other people: yourself, your friend and his wife, but especially your wife. You have quite the catch and she has stood by all different facets of your temperament. I, like her, want to be on your fighting side. You are just a facet of me that loves humans but just doesn't have the correct bringing up to know the manners and the ethics of your thoughts. I defend you because I love you. I want the best for you and your soon to be family, and I want you to be whole with your entire body, and not faceted as much.
You are not alone. And even though what you do affects me, I hope to always stand by your side and not to put you in a cell, where there is no room to grow and no room for change. Even though, in the last hospital, you did help the actualized John change. Wow, how you ran a rampage in Jail and in Prison. Please not let's ever cross a man again to the extent that I did so at Carlos' apartment nor how I treated the ones that had me captive for 2 days.
Remember what the light of day feels like and how much I love you and want the best for you. Remember that there is a man that suffered so that you didn't have to, if only you choose to follow him. Remember that He is ALWAYS your advocate even when I am not understanding what it is you are doing. Let's always be on the same page with our actions. I love you. I don't want to go back to jail, nor do I ever want you to enter a cell like that again. Although I can't make any promises that life will be that easy, I can say that Sarah is a rock, almost to the degree of toughness as the Savior.
Always stick by your woman. She is here for you, to be by your side at all times, in all things and in all places. Take time to thank her each day for being there for you and be grateful for her strength and trust in your heart of hearts.
Like I said, I love you, and we will get through this together.
John
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