Whatever.

I was urged to start using this blog to document my journey - my journey of awakening, my journey with these beings, my journey of "It's happening." But it seems that my mood and energy are getting lower by the day, mostly because of these beings, and now journaling feels like the exact same fucking exercise in futility that made me quit the practice in the first place - just an incessant litany of unanswerable questions and general bitching.

I was enjoying getting back into writing at first, but in less than a month, it has devolved into a chore - because I have little good to say. Yes, it seems there are still some beings who support me, in spite of everything. But I rarely hear from them at this point, whereas those who hate me never shut up. And to hear the non-supporters tell it, I don't hear from those who support me because nobody can stand talking to me. My energy is too heavy, my words too angry, whatever. I guess they still want to work with me on the book, but as I've heard next to nothing about it since it was first brought up, my initial excitement is rapidly dwindling into uncertainty.

I have continued to make progress on the drinking - this is the least I have consistently had to drink in years - but that falls on deaf ears. These beings will not be satisfied until I stop completely. Never mind that three drinks in the evenings is a completely normal pattern for half the Western world, and I can no longer technically be classified as an alcoholic. "Does this mean I will continue to be psychically attacked even if I have a drop of alcohol?" I ask. Nothing. Straight answers are not their forte - at least, not the bunch that is attacking me. I guess the thing to do would be to try to have no alcohol in the house when we get back from New Zealand next month. But unless the attacks have miraculously stopped by then, how am I supposed to keep from repeating history? Is it just a matter of resigning myself to feeling like shit all the time, in perpetuity? But if that's the case, how the hell am I supposed to make any progress in getting off meds?

I am clinging to this upcoming trip like a lifeline in the wake of all this upset and my increasing disconnection from my partner. It feels like a make-or-break event. If nothing changes, where do we go from here? And particularly, if nothing changes between my partner and me, what am I supposed to do then? I was having a hard time before he unexpectedly came into my life, and it's only gotten harder since. I am 43 years old. I lost my eyebrows and much of my hair to cancer ten years ago, and my late-onset alcoholism has wrecked my previously youthful body. Not to mention, I hear voices that constantly cause me distress, and my sex drive is historically a joke. How is all that going to play out on a dating site? But if I lost my partner and was just stuck in my house alone all day with a fulfilling but robotic freelance job, how long would I last? I admit that part of me is mad at him for making me flush the suicide meds I'd stockpiled. It was a hopeful gesture on his part, but ultimately, he can't give me any guarantees - he's just made sure I have no out if we part ways. I hate to think like that, but Jesus. What in my life has gone well in the last twelve years? Could I really expect the Universe to send me another soulmate in his wake, when apparently I have gotten my life so badly off course that I fuck up every soulmate relationship that matters? Or would life just give up on me and leave me to my own devices?

I tried rapeh today for the first time, at the recommendation of my shaman. Everyone says it clears your mind, brings peace, and brings your energy back to you. Nothing happened - just like both times I tried ayahuasca. It's like after a lifetime of synthetic drugs, plant medicine can't even touch me. Which is shitty, because both can help or even alleviate depression. But I guess I'm stuck with meds or suffering. I shouldn't give up though; I guess I'll try a bigger dose next time.

Yeah, this isn't helping me feel better, it's just agitating the dark thoughts already swirling around in my head. I guess journaling is useful if you're someone who doesn't typically take the time to examine your own life, but fuck, all I ever think about is my problems. How is writing about them ad nauseam supposed to help?

Well, at least my head has been pretty quiet today. Thank god for small blessings. I have no idea why; I ended up having six drinks yesterday, so I assume they're not happy with me. From the sounds of it, no matter what I do, they will never be happy with me - and they take great joy in making it my problem. It's fun for them. According to them, I was never supposed to be able to hear them in the first place. This again begs the question of how I was supposed to learn anything I needed to pull off my destiny, since there wasn't exactly an abundance of spiritual figures in my life until I was in my thirties.

So, now I'm gearing up to have major talks with my partner after the trip - at the same time that I'm supposed to miraculously stop drinking and come down on the meds that have kept me exceptionally stable for the last two and a half years. Sounds like a real recipe for success.

My partner is off seeing his girlfriend tonight - one of his three romantic relationships. True, I originally gave him clearance to get out there and explore his sexuality, but it only took his second hookup for him to stumble into a full-blown romantic relationship - which I had expressly warned him to be careful of, and which he kept from me until he couldn't hide it anymore. Just like I don't want him to be married to a woman who is psychically attacking me. Just like I don't want to be supporting him financially while he scrapes together the organizational skills he never learned from unschooling. From an outside perspective, I am a fucking doormat. The question is, what am I going to do about it?

This is not what I want to be thinking about while we're in New Zealand. Lately - notably since these beings started openly attacking me - I keep finding myself having those moments of annoyance or frustration or boredom that would normally be a harbinger of an imminent breakup, a pattern I know all too well from my history of serial monogamy. And I just have to sigh, keep my mouth shut, and hope that we can find our way through this. Because clearly, we were meant to be together. All signs point to this. At this point, I feel like I believe in that almost more than I believe in my feelings for him, because I haven't been able to feel them for so long now. And he's content to just watch it waste away so he can cling to his in-name-only marriage. What the fuck.

Yeah, this is just making me more mad. Guess I'm done for tonight.