Troebia's Diary

[troebia]

It's starting to dawn on me that I don't feel mentally strong enough to keep on doing the same routine as a relatively well-behaved spouse. I need to recalibrate and reduce everything, the alcohol, the Xanax, the excessive comfort eating, the obsession with not getting sex. I need purification, meditation, focus. Monk mode. My life as a sexually active being feels over and meeting very femenine women as I do every week only disturbs my thoughts and stirs up fantasies. There's another painting group formed by only older men but I noticed the other day that whenever they mention their spouses and partners it's in a very "beta" mindset, just like I do. Not saying that "alpha" or full-on MGTOW is the way to go but I can't squander more energy, my body and mind are weakening by the year. It's getting darker, the undergrowth is thicker for every step and I can barely see the trail any more.

[manuel_moe_g]

Hello Troebia,

I don’t know about alpha & beta, but a self-actualized man will communicate his needs and work resolutely toward his needs, without apology or hint of shame

All blessings to you, Troebia, take care

[troebia]

a self-actualized man will communicate his needs and work resolutely toward his needs, without apology or hint of shame

Amen, brother.

[Mental Fairy]

When the step is made to better yourself and look for what makes you feel you again, you feel like progress is being made.

My married was as dry as the Sahara desert. My mind was broken to pieces and still is on bad days. When you start making progress to find happiness your lungs open up again and you feel powerful. My heart is hurting that your marriage is making you feel so weak.

[snoringdog]

Hello Troebia,

Just checking in on you, hope you're navigating thru the rough seas.
Have you had any artistic inspirations lately, or are things at a standstill on that front?

Wishing you the best.

SD

[Mental Fairy]

Missing his posts.

[troebia]

Hello all,

I have had a very rough couple of weeks mentally. My mother and brother flew in to visit us for a few days. The real initiative came from a well-meaning friend, so I called them a month ago. It's been alright I guess, and especially good for my adult daughter to make a grown-up connection to her uncle after so many years of not seeing each other. My brother is both similar and very different from me: physically alike though 10 years younger, not at all spiritual and very driven in his work in high-level IT. He genuinely seems to enjoy his middle-upper class life in a European capital, and has an equally driven and successful wife who sadly could not come due to work. He has been on some kind of spectrum with a history of mental issues, but now seems to have things under control and taking medication.

My mother is now eighty years old and has become rather frail. I had been fearing that at some moment I'd drift into some spiteful tirade about my childhood, but I quickly realised it's useless to dig into the past. The lights aren't on in her, and she is unable to live in the present and enjoy anything because of some odd obsessions. She looks at her watch every minute and constantly has a frightened look on her face. Her personality has been laid bare and what I see is rather sad.

Strangely, that enormous angry wave of resentment, regrets and bad decisions through my early years now bounces back and washes over me, with my anxiety going through the roof. My present wiser(?) me wishing to somehow have been able to guide my younger self, although impossible. It is a frightening realisation: she was never truly there for me, and neither was my father.

Why can't I accept things as they are now, being the flawed little person who scrawls and scribbles to relieve anxiety, who occasionally enjoys a sunset and marvels at stuff few others seem to notice. The darkness and frustration in my soul prevents me from progressing towards the kinds of creativity and output I see other artists have on Instagram. I asked my brother if he remembered an artist who made puppet shows on Swedish television many years ago. "Yeah he was really crazy", "That's the kind of crazy I'd like to be", I told him, "just creating fantastic stuff without caring a bit what others think."

[manuel_moe_g]

“””
Strangely, that enormous angry wave of resentment, regrets and bad decisions through my early years now bounces back and washes over me, with my anxiety going through the roof. My present wiser(?) me wishing to somehow have been able to guide my younger self, although impossible. It is a frightening realisation: she was never truly there for me, and neither was my father.
“””

Wow, this hits me hard

I could have written it

[troebia]

It's like punching air, isn't it? Now that they've left, the impression is fading, only leaving some memories of strange people that came to visit, and that happen to be my family.

Strange dreams. I was very old, far up in the mountains and working in some olive groves. A woman came to me with a jug of water and I drank. I lay down to rest in the shade with her, and we might have looked like the sleeping peasants by a haystack by Van Gogh. I was toothless and decrepit, and every bone in my body ached. I felt myself drifting away, and I could no longer hear the loud cicadas or her heavy breathing as she dozed. Nothing mattered anymore, not the pain, the health, the harvest, any possessions, the food, the love, not even anyone else as every face blended into a fuzzy crowd and I was one tiny speck among them. I felt overjoyed and privileged to meet death in this peaceful manner. Now I could not see anymore, only feel the woman's chest gently heaving. At some point I could sense something or someone calling out to me, but I was already far from shore. The darkness swallowed me. Thank you, life.

[manuel_moe_g]

i love the mood of that dream. it is the kind of mood that lingers