Tuesday, September 28, 2010

No Smoking=More Raging

I've been raging like a bull since I stopped smoking herbs. I'm now much more likely to raise my voice, get angry, and punch walls. It really affects Chico, and he's been spending a little less time with me. I hate it. I hate not having complete control over my emotional response, and I really hate feeling angry. I'll go from being fine to being angry to planning to kill myself in a matter of minutes.

When I start planning how I'm going to kill myself I try to think of things in my life that are reasons to stick around. I try to make killing myself seem irrational, because I intellectually understand it to be. In my logical mind, my frustration and anger is from attachment which I have the power to overcome/let go of. I'll try to clear my mind, focus on my breath, think of my little brother, my nieces and my mom and the emotional pain I can spare them by continuing to endure the shit storm. I can have all these thoughts in my head and still have every fiber of my body saying, "do it. Kill youself! You've fantasized about suicide for years, and for good reason! Your existence sucks! You'll never be able to create a life worth living and you usually bring pain and suffering to those in your life. Sure, people may be initially sad that you're gone, but in the long run, you'll be doing more good by not existing."

It's not fun to imagine killing yourself, but it feels like the only solution. You know, I'm still not convinced that I was worse off smoking pot all day long. I have noticed some major benefits from abstaining from weed, however. I'm more talkative now and feel like I'm relating to people better. I feel more connected with the people around me. I've also been having a lot of lucid dreams, which are always fun. My sleep, in general, is really bad. I mean, I like what sleep I get, but I wake up at the tiniest sound or discomfort. Since I haven't been smoking pot, I wake up many times during the night. Like every hour or two. My sleep is very choppy, but I've learned to not let that make me get frustrated, or else I'd never sleep. I try to accept it and just feel grateful for having such few responsibilities that require my alertness. I really am grateful for that. I'm glad my mental illness is recognized as an actual illness, or else everyone would just think I'm a lazy asshole. The truth, I feel, is that I just have these intense emotions, and dealing with them is about all I can handle. Which kinda sucks, cuz my lack of ability to do normal things is very debilitating when it comes to making money. And it's really hard to attract a mate when you're super poor. Being bat shit crazy doesn't help much either. Fuck it, I can jack off the rest of my life and not care too much... who am I kidding, NO I CAN'T. I know I'm a little different, but there's gotta be someone for me. I feel like girls should be competing for me, but that's probably just another grandiose delusion... whatevs... you gotta play the hand you're dealt...

I started writing this blog in the mourning at 9am, and now it's 2:47 am.. the next mourning. I grabbed some drinks with some friends and some German boys one of them met. We got down at the Library (one of the more ghetto bars in SLO) and it was a fun night. On our way back home, we ran into some guys who wanted a cigarette. I always give cigarettes to people who ask appropriately, and these guys did, so I kicked 'em one. Right after that, one of the three guys asked my platonic girlfriend for a hug, and she gave him one. Unfortunately, for him, his drunk ass decided it would be a good idea to grab her butt. She was like, "WTF, don't do that!" I said, "WTF did you just do." He replied, "Hey man, she's the one that gave me a hug." He didn't know I hadn't been smoking herbs, and had the rage of bull. I knocked this little tatted bitch down after he threw the first punch. I kept socking him in his head until his friends came up and broke it up. They weren't gonna jump me... I just kicked 'em a grit. I'm a nice guy, but I will not hesitate to regulate on a white trash motherfucker who crosses the line. That fool is lucky I didn't stomp on his head, cuz that was definitely my next move.

Events like these are why I consider myself a mediocre buddhist. I definitely do not adhere to the eight-fold path, but, I do practice a ton of mindfulness, compassion, and sympathetic joy. Perhaps, someday, I'll decide its worth my time to not swear, do drugs, and not engage in sexual misconduct, like the Buddha advised. But until my own logic decides these things are not worth my time, I'll continue to be a down-ass motherfucker. I fancy myself a psychonaut with a passion for mindfulness. This way I don't trip when I have to beat some fool's ass. Compassion, to me, has always come in many forms.

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