Why does it always feel like Sunday night. It's one night of the week I really find very uncomfortable. I guess when you spend your entire existence on your own things like this can really get under your skin.
Lonliness has a distinct vibration or feeling about it; at least for me it has. There's this certain wistful and empty space that I am always occupying. And Sunday nights only make it worse.
Of course the sage advisors among us will supply good advice, and not even send a bill, and say you should get out more; mix with people more. Well, yes that's probably good advice but the average individual doesn't want to get into the deep and meaningful things of life or deal with dysfunctional misfits. Apparently I qualify for the latter descriptor. Accordingly people don't want me around. Mind you, it's only fair, I'm not the biggest fan of people who are intollerant of me either. I'm a pitiful conversationalist and have the skill of rubbing people up the wrong way with such ease and rapidity; so the luck of being able to fit in with usual conversation is something that won't come to pass.
The Great Judges of me, will be only too glad and quick, to tell you of my failings, foibles and obnoxiousness. And if you need their phone numbers or email, let me know.
But as I was mentioning before about Sunday nights; and of course it's Sunday night and the usual knawing feeling in the pit of my stomach reminds me of the same feeling I had when I used to start thinking about school the next day, when I was a child; and that, compounded with the torment and violence that masqueraded as my childhood contiually made for a perpetual state of foreboding and worry. And don't you just love the wise-arses that say don't worry. No worries. Then you have the tormenting sociopaths who make it their calling to make your life miserable and painful by either mentally and emotionally sodomizing you or destroying your property or creations or both as was my experiece.
So now the clock has ticked over past midnight and it's Monday morning not Sunday night so I guess the time of my gut-pain and worry has past. Well at least according to the clock.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
"So you want religion do you?"
Organized religion is a fascinating creature. At my time in life now I can understand why so many people hate it, hate God and everything to do with it.
I don't hate God. I stand in awe of him and his plan for his children.
The church I belong to, and very distantly I might add, has the authority to administer the ordinances of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But, and this is my point, I've come to understand that just because people claim to belong to the Lord's church doesn't mean their actions and intentions are as pure as they would verbally belt you about the head that, 'the church is true'. Define 'true' for me gang.
The missionaries are some of the few that appear to live the gospel. They are out teaching and testifying of Christ and his existence and the reason he came to the earth.
But it has been my regrettable experience that if you are not marching lock-step, mentally and administratively with the hierarchy and general membership. God help you if you suffer any problems, because the attitude is, 'Well, obviously you must not be keeping the commandments. So you just have to do better'.
The likes of Australia and the US and the UK are quite suited for this kind of religion. It has a theme of Calvinism that makes the man Calvin look quite tame by comparison. When people accuse Mormons of being un-Christian, it's been my sad experience, that I can only agree. But they're really no different to any other members of churches that become caught up in the day to day 'work'; mind you I've got a lot to say about all the pretenders to the Lord's name, also. The Gospel and its ordinances, it appears, get lost in the labyrinth of policies, practices, procedures and protocols. People and principles are very secondary.
In closing, it has been my regret that I've had to endure some of the absolute worst treatment from some of the people who are members of the church; My ex-wife, a bishop and a branch president (not being the least among those pretenders) who dished out to me some of the worst kind of sociopathic behaviour you could put you mind to. But they'd just laugh at me and simply say, 'Well, what else could you expect from a dysfunctional misfit like him'.
We've all got our demons, but when people use mental and verbal abuse; that is just sick. At one stage of the game I was told I would never be asked to participate at church because I never wore a tie. No worries.
The actions of religionists (and of course all the rest of the various chancers) down through the ages has never been much different. Get into power and use it. I'm sure I'm not the only one who could claim being bullied near to death by people who love to use either religious or personal power to make themselves look or feel good.
I don't hate God. I stand in awe of him and his plan for his children.
The church I belong to, and very distantly I might add, has the authority to administer the ordinances of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But, and this is my point, I've come to understand that just because people claim to belong to the Lord's church doesn't mean their actions and intentions are as pure as they would verbally belt you about the head that, 'the church is true'. Define 'true' for me gang.
The missionaries are some of the few that appear to live the gospel. They are out teaching and testifying of Christ and his existence and the reason he came to the earth.
But it has been my regrettable experience that if you are not marching lock-step, mentally and administratively with the hierarchy and general membership. God help you if you suffer any problems, because the attitude is, 'Well, obviously you must not be keeping the commandments. So you just have to do better'.
The likes of Australia and the US and the UK are quite suited for this kind of religion. It has a theme of Calvinism that makes the man Calvin look quite tame by comparison. When people accuse Mormons of being un-Christian, it's been my sad experience, that I can only agree. But they're really no different to any other members of churches that become caught up in the day to day 'work'; mind you I've got a lot to say about all the pretenders to the Lord's name, also. The Gospel and its ordinances, it appears, get lost in the labyrinth of policies, practices, procedures and protocols. People and principles are very secondary.
In closing, it has been my regret that I've had to endure some of the absolute worst treatment from some of the people who are members of the church; My ex-wife, a bishop and a branch president (not being the least among those pretenders) who dished out to me some of the worst kind of sociopathic behaviour you could put you mind to. But they'd just laugh at me and simply say, 'Well, what else could you expect from a dysfunctional misfit like him'.
We've all got our demons, but when people use mental and verbal abuse; that is just sick. At one stage of the game I was told I would never be asked to participate at church because I never wore a tie. No worries.
The actions of religionists (and of course all the rest of the various chancers) down through the ages has never been much different. Get into power and use it. I'm sure I'm not the only one who could claim being bullied near to death by people who love to use either religious or personal power to make themselves look or feel good.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The Invisible Sociopaths
Back in February 2010 I had the occasion to be duped and fell in with a sociopath. Though it was unbeknownst to me at the time.
To back-track a little, I had a very uncomfortable nervous breakdown in October of 09. I'd been driving a cab in Canberra and combined being sledged and my property vandalized by another! sociopath (he's a well know ex-rugby union player for a very well known local team in Canberra) who, found it impossible to tolerate someone who read books and was a bit of a scribbler and didn't own a telly. Still don't.
Anyway he managed to run me out of town. I ended up in Ballarat.
The Ballarat sociopath and I met in the carpark at church one Sunday morning. That's right at church. It turns out he was ex-communicated from the church because he's lied through the back of his teeth about having a long bonking connection with some female; who was happy to be bonking another woman's husband. And yes, she's a member of the church also.
Anyway, he gives me this long-lost-brotherly hug and combined with the fact I'd had this break-down some months earlier and having Aspergers doesn't help my discernment much; I was entirely blind-sided. But I felt like an artificially inseminated cow; I knew something had occured but I couldn't figure out what it was.
Time went by and he buttered me up properly, acting all nice and friendly like. And of course in this matter I couldn't see daylight through a ladder. As luck would have it I had to move out of where I was and he so gallantly offered me to stay at his joint (and I use the term advisedly) rent free of course.
After a three weeks or so there was a distinct line drawn in the sand. We went from the blokey, jovial flat-mates to this weird, dark scenario. He stood on me for money and when I didn't poney-up, as Charlie Sheen would say, it seemed the trigger for his behaviour that was to follow. But I think this whole thing was a throw back to Bendigo when I knew him then via church. He had a sneering, jeering contempt for me then but of course I didn't get it (I know, I know, I should've!) plus I was dealing with another fire-fight involving the creature to whom I was allegedly married. (Do you know what it feels like never to be spoken to; unless you speak? It doesn't have good results). I digress.
This sociopath then took on himself to basically destroy what was left of my fragile stability. He vandalized nearly everything I possessed. But here's the thing; it was done in the most subtle and almost unseen manner. Scratches all over my car, urinated on it also. Stole my prescrition glasses, cash and sundry items out of the car.
Damaged a number of articles of clothing. Urinated on clean washing. Sabotaged my paper-shredder and had to chuch that out.. Disabled the car on two occasions that, as luck would have it, neighbours were able to get me mobile again.
Destroyed all of the files on my computer. Locked it down with another password. (He's big-time in the software manipulation area) wiped out all my writing for the last eight years. He replace all my Word files with two things; a chocolate mouse recipe and a how to pro-forma job application. 62 documents gone.
He never missed an occasion to insult, denigrate or humiliate me. I must give him credit he did it so well. His present squeeze must be so proud that this is the father of her child.
The thing that really hurt the most was my second draft of Barneemar also was stolen/destroyed. A story about a writer who couldn't write very well (a bit like me) gets mistakenly kidnapped by Russian agents who thought he was an MI6 operative. Good laugh. I think it's got legs. But it will take six months, I don't know, to re-do it. Who knows.
The money and time, plus the fact I had to flee Bacchus Marsh where I'd moved; to get a bit further away from him (but he tracked me down via church records and had made about a dozen or fifteen, nightly visits to tap on the wire trellis or thump on the back fence outside the window and other noises to spook me out come more). When I sprung him one night at two am I rang the coppers to report it. But when I told the manager of the flats what had happened, he told me to get out.
No worries.
I applied for a Stalking Intervention Order and had a hearing on June 7th. The Magistrate said he didn't have time to hear it so he held it over till July 18th; tomorrow. But I've pulled the plug. I won't be there.
I sent a fax to the Magistrate explaining my fears at the repercussions. Besides that, as my mate Les said, someon like that wouldn't take any notice of a piece of paper from the court. Knowing my luck I could end up having a summons to court in Ballarat. Could be interesting.
I've become wonderfully paranoid. Getting startled at noises during the night and checking the car too much for further damage. Plus the worry of whether he'll show up and start the death-by-a-thousand-cuts thing again.
And isn't this interesting; I feel as though I'm the perpetrator here. It has been a wonderfully successful campaign on his part. Even to the point of me being on the precipice of suicide back in March and April of this year. And all of this from an ex-Bishop of the church. Someone who was very 'fit and proper' and telling everyone they should 'keep the commandments'' and yet he was running quite a juicy bit on the side.
He got kicked out ot the church and had to leave his home and family. And had to leave Bendigo in disgrace. And ended up in a $120 a week flat in Ballarat. You can always tell (yeah, I know, I didn't) someone by their surroundings. This place stank and it was dirty. And on reflection, painted a clear picture of him. Dirty, untidy and very scattered.
There was a lot I learned about myself. I didn't retaliate. I feel sad for him because this is how he really is inside his heart and mind. Plus, part of the tragedy of it is he hasn't learnt much as a parent of his two sons by his first marriage. And the new accident of a son has a father who spent an inordinate amount of time trawling through someone else's personal writings etc rather that looking after his parental responsibilities.
But a clinical narcissist cum sociopath wouldn't give that sort of thing a second thought while he's obsessed with his mission of torment and bullying.
So, finally, I just wanted you to know how I felt after this marathon of sadistic abuse.
I feel mentally and emotionally sodomized.
To back-track a little, I had a very uncomfortable nervous breakdown in October of 09. I'd been driving a cab in Canberra and combined being sledged and my property vandalized by another! sociopath (he's a well know ex-rugby union player for a very well known local team in Canberra) who, found it impossible to tolerate someone who read books and was a bit of a scribbler and didn't own a telly. Still don't.
Anyway he managed to run me out of town. I ended up in Ballarat.
The Ballarat sociopath and I met in the carpark at church one Sunday morning. That's right at church. It turns out he was ex-communicated from the church because he's lied through the back of his teeth about having a long bonking connection with some female; who was happy to be bonking another woman's husband. And yes, she's a member of the church also.
Anyway, he gives me this long-lost-brotherly hug and combined with the fact I'd had this break-down some months earlier and having Aspergers doesn't help my discernment much; I was entirely blind-sided. But I felt like an artificially inseminated cow; I knew something had occured but I couldn't figure out what it was.
Time went by and he buttered me up properly, acting all nice and friendly like. And of course in this matter I couldn't see daylight through a ladder. As luck would have it I had to move out of where I was and he so gallantly offered me to stay at his joint (and I use the term advisedly) rent free of course.
After a three weeks or so there was a distinct line drawn in the sand. We went from the blokey, jovial flat-mates to this weird, dark scenario. He stood on me for money and when I didn't poney-up, as Charlie Sheen would say, it seemed the trigger for his behaviour that was to follow. But I think this whole thing was a throw back to Bendigo when I knew him then via church. He had a sneering, jeering contempt for me then but of course I didn't get it (I know, I know, I should've!) plus I was dealing with another fire-fight involving the creature to whom I was allegedly married. (Do you know what it feels like never to be spoken to; unless you speak? It doesn't have good results). I digress.
This sociopath then took on himself to basically destroy what was left of my fragile stability. He vandalized nearly everything I possessed. But here's the thing; it was done in the most subtle and almost unseen manner. Scratches all over my car, urinated on it also. Stole my prescrition glasses, cash and sundry items out of the car.
Damaged a number of articles of clothing. Urinated on clean washing. Sabotaged my paper-shredder and had to chuch that out.. Disabled the car on two occasions that, as luck would have it, neighbours were able to get me mobile again.
Destroyed all of the files on my computer. Locked it down with another password. (He's big-time in the software manipulation area) wiped out all my writing for the last eight years. He replace all my Word files with two things; a chocolate mouse recipe and a how to pro-forma job application. 62 documents gone.
He never missed an occasion to insult, denigrate or humiliate me. I must give him credit he did it so well. His present squeeze must be so proud that this is the father of her child.
The thing that really hurt the most was my second draft of Barneemar also was stolen/destroyed. A story about a writer who couldn't write very well (a bit like me) gets mistakenly kidnapped by Russian agents who thought he was an MI6 operative. Good laugh. I think it's got legs. But it will take six months, I don't know, to re-do it. Who knows.
The money and time, plus the fact I had to flee Bacchus Marsh where I'd moved; to get a bit further away from him (but he tracked me down via church records and had made about a dozen or fifteen, nightly visits to tap on the wire trellis or thump on the back fence outside the window and other noises to spook me out come more). When I sprung him one night at two am I rang the coppers to report it. But when I told the manager of the flats what had happened, he told me to get out.
No worries.
I applied for a Stalking Intervention Order and had a hearing on June 7th. The Magistrate said he didn't have time to hear it so he held it over till July 18th; tomorrow. But I've pulled the plug. I won't be there.
I sent a fax to the Magistrate explaining my fears at the repercussions. Besides that, as my mate Les said, someon like that wouldn't take any notice of a piece of paper from the court. Knowing my luck I could end up having a summons to court in Ballarat. Could be interesting.
I've become wonderfully paranoid. Getting startled at noises during the night and checking the car too much for further damage. Plus the worry of whether he'll show up and start the death-by-a-thousand-cuts thing again.
And isn't this interesting; I feel as though I'm the perpetrator here. It has been a wonderfully successful campaign on his part. Even to the point of me being on the precipice of suicide back in March and April of this year. And all of this from an ex-Bishop of the church. Someone who was very 'fit and proper' and telling everyone they should 'keep the commandments'' and yet he was running quite a juicy bit on the side.
He got kicked out ot the church and had to leave his home and family. And had to leave Bendigo in disgrace. And ended up in a $120 a week flat in Ballarat. You can always tell (yeah, I know, I didn't) someone by their surroundings. This place stank and it was dirty. And on reflection, painted a clear picture of him. Dirty, untidy and very scattered.
There was a lot I learned about myself. I didn't retaliate. I feel sad for him because this is how he really is inside his heart and mind. Plus, part of the tragedy of it is he hasn't learnt much as a parent of his two sons by his first marriage. And the new accident of a son has a father who spent an inordinate amount of time trawling through someone else's personal writings etc rather that looking after his parental responsibilities.
But a clinical narcissist cum sociopath wouldn't give that sort of thing a second thought while he's obsessed with his mission of torment and bullying.
So, finally, I just wanted you to know how I felt after this marathon of sadistic abuse.
I feel mentally and emotionally sodomized.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Life doesn't run in a straight line
So now we've arrived at 60 we've understood that the worrying didn't have a lot of foundation. Nevertheless the experiences that led to the worrying, among other things, have left deep scars. Of course everyone says, 'don't worry, be happy'. Even Bobby McFerrin said the same thing that lunch-time when he layed down that famous track.
But you know...all of the abuse, vilification and bashing has effected my ability to relate and to function. As much as a normal appearance is sought for, the words, actions and re-actions don't sail on an even keel.
So, when an individual is happened upon acting in a way that is weird, bent, twisted and/or irrational; I'm reasonably prepared to deal with them. Not that this is a guarantee of judicial equanimity; but at least the poor soul can rest easy that they won't get slagged, sledged or ridiculed!
After 60 years of seeing how Australians and the west in general operate. And as I am regarded as turd in the bilge of the good ship, Australia; my life has to take another direction.
Accordingly, my sights are now set on visiting the Phillipines for a short while to see if there's a place in the sun (...are you kidding fella?! the joint's on the Equator!) where there are not so many wise-arses and career sledgers and slaggers.
And yes, I know!..there are plenty of problems in that place as well. But at least there will be less of an abortion epidemic and career feminist maniacs per square foot of ground; and that the women there actually believe that profanity is bad!
So as we all know; time will tell.
But you know...all of the abuse, vilification and bashing has effected my ability to relate and to function. As much as a normal appearance is sought for, the words, actions and re-actions don't sail on an even keel.
So, when an individual is happened upon acting in a way that is weird, bent, twisted and/or irrational; I'm reasonably prepared to deal with them. Not that this is a guarantee of judicial equanimity; but at least the poor soul can rest easy that they won't get slagged, sledged or ridiculed!
After 60 years of seeing how Australians and the west in general operate. And as I am regarded as turd in the bilge of the good ship, Australia; my life has to take another direction.
Accordingly, my sights are now set on visiting the Phillipines for a short while to see if there's a place in the sun (...are you kidding fella?! the joint's on the Equator!) where there are not so many wise-arses and career sledgers and slaggers.
And yes, I know!..there are plenty of problems in that place as well. But at least there will be less of an abortion epidemic and career feminist maniacs per square foot of ground; and that the women there actually believe that profanity is bad!
So as we all know; time will tell.
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About Me
- CrispyDog
- Aspiring dysfunctional misfit. So far I think I'm doing an excellent job. But it's been hard work. However, I'd like to think I possess some redeeming features, such as intolerance of most sports. Killing animals for 'sport/entertainment/fun has to be a very suspect activity. I mean, I really don't get this! I know I'm seen as pretty weird but it is Australia. At least my desire or endeavours are pointed to a better quality of life and living for us here on the planet. Even if I might be as useless as tits on a bull to some of the general sociopathic and narcissitic community.