When faced with my demons I clothe them and feed them…

Sorry

I’ve been sat up most of the night reading death metal lyrics. I really can’t stand the music but the apocalyptic tone of the words resonated with me just now.

Hey, anyone still reading. I’m sorry for being somewhat of a monster lately. Please bear in mind that this is a fairly safe emotional outlet for me, and I don’t tend to sugarcoat things. If I came across as dismissive, uncaring about others’ opinions, well OK that’s my learned behaviour of arrogantly following my own lights I guess, but I hope I didn’t come across disrespectful or contemptuous.

Anyway folks. Y’all were right and I was wrong – about S. He was indeed a ‘bad lot’ and I had to wash my hands of him sharpish. He’s SCARILY mentally unstable as well as an alcoholic. I was a quivering wreck when he arrived at the house unannounced today, my heart went into overdrive, and yes, it’s very far from being the first time but I don’t know, it just brought it home to me that I have a bit of post-traumatic stress from his violent behaviour, shown sporadically over a period of about a year.

I am just not used to being hated as much as he hates and resents me currently, and being at risk of actual physical violence from someone with zero self-control. And you can’t reason with someone so utterly divorced from reality or from ideas of respect or taking responsibility for one’s actions.

I’m just being vigilant and doing all I can to stay safe. Obviously, double locking the door. Getting Douglas to deal with him so I don’t have to (it’s only me he hates and resents in this house at least). He doubtless gets a small ‘buzz’ from terrorising me. What I go through is probably nothing compared to the terror he lives with internally, but since he appears masochistic and self-hating he does nothing to better himself or his situation whatsoever.

It was just a couple months into my association with S, in February 2016, that he heard that he was being required to sign on at the Immigration Office as a result of too many instances of lawbreaking, and was threatened with being deported to Somalia (a country he’s never actually lived in). He was from that time on not permitted either to sign on for benefits or to work. I guess this might have sent him gradually spiralling down, because honestly I just watched the sweet, childlike smile disappear altogether from his face during the next year and a rather grim, dark mood predominate.

And yeah, he showed more of himself to me than anyone (well, so he said) and I got a heck of a lot of crap from him. Nothing EXCUSES it, of course. His personal boundaries are obviously well fucked up too and talking about his psychological issues with him doesn’t work too well because he would obviously rather not ‘go there’. He evolved a lot of rather maladaptive coping strategies for himself instead and now…they’re just unravelling and so is he. It’s not a sustainable MO or way of life, especially with no income or legal way of getting one.

So yeah. Thanks Immigration, thanks British Government Policy. You just went and made my and a few other people’s lives less safe.

I know – I was dumb but I was also very caught up in my altered states of consciousness, and had quite the obsession with Satan and demons generally as some may have noticed, plus yeah, S. played quite a significant role in it all. It depends how things pan out whether I will be grateful to him for certain things, honestly I just hope and pray I can stay safe and that adequate time and distance away from me will calm him down.

As a rule I don’t regret my ‘mistakes’ regarding love or attachments that I form with people because I tend to learn so much from them. I was definitely in a state of ‘flow’ with my thoughts and decisions regarding him for the most part. I kind of hope the error if such it was doesn’t prove calamitous or even fatal. And S., I hope you don’t read this but if you do just know, hardly anyone reads this blog, no one who knows you and it is really very private. It’s one of my little attempts to keep what remains of my sanity.

 

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