For years i had good health but my mind wouldn’t let me enjoy it. I have an even greater family that never quite got what they truly deserved, my time. Don’t get me wrong, i was there in body but my race track brain and compulsion to be always doing something never gave them. I feel like i tried, as hard as I could, I also know that never felt like enough.

Like just now, M wanted help with article of clothing and i did help but in as a time possible. Little wonder that we have intimacy issues. So goes the nature of my life.

My feelings of anger and distaste over my father created a situation where I  missed the last months of my mother’s life. So much missed over so much anger. While I’m unsure if Mom had a part in my dysfunctional youth, i know that she was always an ally in my adulthood, if you can call it that.

Mom put up with so much shit from dad it is hard believe today. Once dad decided running of would be a good idea. He had his bags packed, was shit, showered and shaved and was in the car (the ONLY car) when Mom and us kids went out by the car. I don’t know if was we kids crying or whatever, but he changed his mind, went in and took a nap instead. Such was the way that he would deal with life. If he couldn’t be mad at it, he’d ignore it.

I have, for the longest time been plagued by reruns of the past. Mostly they are particularly painful, or embarrassing memories that pop up in HD format. When I was nineteen, because I was shy but amorous, a couple of guys at work set me up with a slender, pretty girl my age. I went to her apartment but messed that encounter up in record time. It wasn’t that she wasn’t willing, I got up and left after a few minutes, leaving her and myself to wonder what was the problem. I can accept the part  that made it seem not right at that time, but the embarrassment that I endured from my co-workers put that experience at the top of the rerun parade that runs through my brain to this day.

There are others cause me extreme discomfort too,all interpersonal relationships, failures to be fed into my conciousness at random times usually when it can remind me of the failure that I always know that I am.


3 thoughts on “Failure

  1. Happens to me too. Over and over, relentlessly. No matter how much I think I deal with it, face it, work through it, these thoughts keep coming back. I’ve been told it’s a sign of chronic post traumatic stress disorder.


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