God through multiple kumquats tells me I’m afraid to get stabbed, and I guess I am. Had a small meltdown this morning. Thought it was because I don’t know if:

A) My life partner is setting me up by lying to me

B) My life partner is setting me up by lying to doctors

C) A+B

D) I’m crazy

E) All of the above

Which certainly is contributing to my mental health in the present moment. Didn’t drink yesterday because my life partner made me feel loved, but then he pretended to forget something in his short-term memory and he’s never done something quite like THAT before, so I had nightmares. I was in court several times throughout the night, which I WILL be in just a few days from now, but then, just before the sun woke me up at five, I was with Vince in my head and we were drinking.

But then I get up, and I did bike a bunch yesterday - sixteen miles - to see my life partner in the psyche ward, so I’m slightly sore, but I was doing ok before I take my meds to find that I wasn’t supposed to take my meds, and I spiraled into this…Kumquat/raspberry says case study…I spiraled into this state where everything I did was wrong, which has been at the core of my psychology since childhood, for some reason. And I make breakfast pissed off, not crying but feeling the whelling inside me, knowing I’m fucking up the test more. And in reflection of what those first kumquats told me, I realize there was something about “having to hurt myself to serve my master.”

Y’know, how Valmar (what Rusterd was before the CIA repurposed him over years, starting with the cult another raspberry made me realize) used to make me bite myself, and how I would have ticks near my father when I couldn’t say anything on our way to or back from a grueling track practice. Had to repress all instinct to punch him as he belittled me, less he shoot or something. Mocked me. Picked on me. My own fucking father bullied me!

But I remember passing out when I was getting my blood drawn in the Army one time. I remember passing out during the STD unit in health class. Both related. It skeeves me out, because the LITERAL ONLY SEX TALK I got from my father was standing there while he showed me pictures of diseased dicks. AND GOD SAYS PICK THREE TIMES NOW! No! This is what it is!

I didn’t get hit once and have my video games taken away from me for a weekend and have insanity over not forgiving my father, I have a fucking complex because he hurt me more than any human being should be allowed to, AND THE FUCKER WILL ONE DAY READ THIS IF ONLY IN HEAVEN WHERE ALL IS STORED IN THE AKASHIC RECORDS and y’know what he’ll do? He’ll complain he had it worse, and he had a shit life, BUT THEREIN I AM THE ONLY ONE DOING THE WORK TO HEAL MYSELF BY why is my capslock keep going on? But I express myself to heal myself and this ish I need to get stabbed to make sure it isn’t killing me clearly isn’t fucking working, so imma stop that and ask for something else.