Helena Handbasket
Well-known member
Time and time again I've tried to improve the quality of my life by doing this, that, and the other. And time and time again I've failed.
I've had it. My life has been too many problems for too few rewards. I GIVE UP. And please do not flood me with sunshiney optimistic replies encouraging me to not give up or to "ungiveup". My life will never be substantially better so why go through the effort? Lately I've been spending whole days watching YouTube -- maybe I should just do that from now on and not work towards a better life anymore.
I live a SULFUR lifestyle -- Stressed, Unhappy, Lonely, Frustrated, Unfulfilled, and Rejected. It's about as much fun as it sounds. In particular, I'm lonely and rejected -- if I do try to form a closer (platonic) relationship with someone, after about 2 months they begin to hate me. It's gotten to the point where I hold back because I don't want to get to the point of being ghosted (what Hannah Green called in her book, I Never Promised You A Rose Garden, "the surprise of the inevitable"). Usually I never find out what I did to incur such wrath, or if they do tell me, it's an answer that doesn't make any sense.
I have no charisma. There are certain signals that one gives off that create charisma, like turning towards the person speaking and doing NOTHING else while they talk. I'm capable of multitasking; of listening to someone while making notes or picking up something I dropped. What infuriates me is when they stop talking "waiting for me to finish". I don't want people to wait for me to finish -- I want them to just continue talking. "Waiting for me to finish", circling back, or starting over just spoils my multitasking. Sometimes I have to keep asking people what comes after [the last thing they said]. And yes, I do understand and retain what was said.
People talk about their misspent youth -- my youth was excellent; I got a good education, graduated with high honors, and then a good job and an apartment of my own, with the promise of better things to come. It was only in my adult life that things started to fall apart.
I was never raised right. My mom never wanted to be a mother, my dad never wanted to be a father, and I didn't want to be there either. (I can't say what my 2 brothers thought.)
My father was a narcissistic violent type and a childbeater. My mother was neglectful, doing the absolute minimum in terms of contact with us. (She was a "loose woman" before she got married, and got in trouble, but that's a story for another time.)
My elder brother teased and annoyed me every single day of my life. He made up a nickname for me and soon had the entire neighborhood calling me that. He criticized my every move, and when he couldn't find anything to fault me for, he would just make up something. When you're disrespected every single day of your life, you begin to believe there really is something wrong with you.
Even my grandmother, rest her soul, did her part by twisting everything around to make it look like it was all my fault.
Together, they kept me in a state of continuous fight-or-flight mode, which I believed directly or indirectly caused my Asperger's Syndrome, sugar addiction, and Metabolic Syndrome.
Eventually, I grew up and moved out, something I couldn't wait to do. I went low-contact with the lot of them, not seeing them for up to 7 years at a time.
I've worked on several major projects to try to improve my quality of life and give me a sense of purpose:
PROJECT B: I joined a cult. (I really don't have to say which one, do I?)
PROJECT W: I moved to the other side of the country. (I think my family was glad I was going as far away as possible.) This worked out well.
PROJECT BETA: this was all about a relationship, definitely not platonic, that was going well while it was going. Then he suddenly died. I still miss him to this day.
PROJECT WFHGB: I started a science-fiction club chapter. We built up a membership and even published a magazine. But someone who didn't like me spread (untrue) rumors about me and destroyed the club and my reputation. Everybody in the club deserted me.
PROJECT KAPPA: this was another relationship, quite satisfying, but he died too.
PROJECT OCTOPUS' GARDEN: I took early ("fire") retirement, and moved with a friend to another state. She took advantage of me, extracting as much wealth from me as possible. (I'm just too ******* trusting.)
PROJECT SPAGHETTI BOWL: somehow I got the idea that I should start an org of my own and help make the world a better place. I partnered up with someone, whose name most of you would recognize, who also proceeded to steal from me as much as he could. I finally got out of that trap.
OPERATION SHOOT THE MOON: this was my move from the U.S.A. to Europe. This one actually worked out well. I could see the U.S.A. was headed in a bad direction, a notion confirmed with Trump's second term. I moved out, transferred my money to a European bank, and changed my citizenship. If I ever go back it will only be for a vacation/visit -- and even then I'll be afraid to get off the plane!
(Hitler cemented his power by targeting a defenseless, vulerable group, and now Trump is doing the same thing. But instead of Jews he's targeting transsexuals; demonizing them because he can.)
OPERATION WALKABOUT: same as Project Spaghetti Bowl but in Australia. Again I was mercilessly used. I demolished my entire life in Europe to move to Australia and had to come back with my tail between my legs. (If I ever do anything like that again I'll create my own movement and be it's Founder [like Werner Erhardt did]. I'll insist on being in full control, and anyone who doesn't like it can leave instead of asking me to leave.)
OPERATION CATASTROPHE: this project lived up to it's name -- it was all about adopting 2 cats, and giving them a home. But everything possible went wrong, and they recently died, too. I put a great deal of effort (and time and money) into this, and what am I left with? Nothing. I've had them for less than a year. I've been lonely and miserable all my life and it's now clear that that will never change (no arguing with me, please).
My life has been one disaster after another, particularly on the 2D. This song describes it well:
Why even bother? My elder brother, may he rest in peace, had it all figured out: life's a bitch and then you die. I can't see any other outcome at this point (again, no arguing).
I've been neglecting my health and personal hygiene. I've stopped taking most of my medications. My teeth hurt sometimes, but why go to the dentist if I'm just going to return to my SULFUR lifestyle when I'm done? Maybe I'll get cancer and die soon.
Or maybe I'll sign up for the suicide forum (bulletin board). (And I don't want to hear a lot of ******* "don't do its".)
My life is no longer worth living. It was barely worth living in the first place.
If you've gotten this far, thanks for letting me rant.
And that's why they call me
Helena Handbasket
I've had it. My life has been too many problems for too few rewards. I GIVE UP. And please do not flood me with sunshiney optimistic replies encouraging me to not give up or to "ungiveup". My life will never be substantially better so why go through the effort? Lately I've been spending whole days watching YouTube -- maybe I should just do that from now on and not work towards a better life anymore.
I live a SULFUR lifestyle -- Stressed, Unhappy, Lonely, Frustrated, Unfulfilled, and Rejected. It's about as much fun as it sounds. In particular, I'm lonely and rejected -- if I do try to form a closer (platonic) relationship with someone, after about 2 months they begin to hate me. It's gotten to the point where I hold back because I don't want to get to the point of being ghosted (what Hannah Green called in her book, I Never Promised You A Rose Garden, "the surprise of the inevitable"). Usually I never find out what I did to incur such wrath, or if they do tell me, it's an answer that doesn't make any sense.
I have no charisma. There are certain signals that one gives off that create charisma, like turning towards the person speaking and doing NOTHING else while they talk. I'm capable of multitasking; of listening to someone while making notes or picking up something I dropped. What infuriates me is when they stop talking "waiting for me to finish". I don't want people to wait for me to finish -- I want them to just continue talking. "Waiting for me to finish", circling back, or starting over just spoils my multitasking. Sometimes I have to keep asking people what comes after [the last thing they said]. And yes, I do understand and retain what was said.
People talk about their misspent youth -- my youth was excellent; I got a good education, graduated with high honors, and then a good job and an apartment of my own, with the promise of better things to come. It was only in my adult life that things started to fall apart.
I was never raised right. My mom never wanted to be a mother, my dad never wanted to be a father, and I didn't want to be there either. (I can't say what my 2 brothers thought.)
My father was a narcissistic violent type and a childbeater. My mother was neglectful, doing the absolute minimum in terms of contact with us. (She was a "loose woman" before she got married, and got in trouble, but that's a story for another time.)
My elder brother teased and annoyed me every single day of my life. He made up a nickname for me and soon had the entire neighborhood calling me that. He criticized my every move, and when he couldn't find anything to fault me for, he would just make up something. When you're disrespected every single day of your life, you begin to believe there really is something wrong with you.
Even my grandmother, rest her soul, did her part by twisting everything around to make it look like it was all my fault.
Together, they kept me in a state of continuous fight-or-flight mode, which I believed directly or indirectly caused my Asperger's Syndrome, sugar addiction, and Metabolic Syndrome.
Eventually, I grew up and moved out, something I couldn't wait to do. I went low-contact with the lot of them, not seeing them for up to 7 years at a time.
I've worked on several major projects to try to improve my quality of life and give me a sense of purpose:
PROJECT B: I joined a cult. (I really don't have to say which one, do I?)
PROJECT W: I moved to the other side of the country. (I think my family was glad I was going as far away as possible.) This worked out well.
PROJECT BETA: this was all about a relationship, definitely not platonic, that was going well while it was going. Then he suddenly died. I still miss him to this day.
PROJECT WFHGB: I started a science-fiction club chapter. We built up a membership and even published a magazine. But someone who didn't like me spread (untrue) rumors about me and destroyed the club and my reputation. Everybody in the club deserted me.
PROJECT KAPPA: this was another relationship, quite satisfying, but he died too.
PROJECT OCTOPUS' GARDEN: I took early ("fire") retirement, and moved with a friend to another state. She took advantage of me, extracting as much wealth from me as possible. (I'm just too ******* trusting.)
PROJECT SPAGHETTI BOWL: somehow I got the idea that I should start an org of my own and help make the world a better place. I partnered up with someone, whose name most of you would recognize, who also proceeded to steal from me as much as he could. I finally got out of that trap.
OPERATION SHOOT THE MOON: this was my move from the U.S.A. to Europe. This one actually worked out well. I could see the U.S.A. was headed in a bad direction, a notion confirmed with Trump's second term. I moved out, transferred my money to a European bank, and changed my citizenship. If I ever go back it will only be for a vacation/visit -- and even then I'll be afraid to get off the plane!
(Hitler cemented his power by targeting a defenseless, vulerable group, and now Trump is doing the same thing. But instead of Jews he's targeting transsexuals; demonizing them because he can.)
OPERATION WALKABOUT: same as Project Spaghetti Bowl but in Australia. Again I was mercilessly used. I demolished my entire life in Europe to move to Australia and had to come back with my tail between my legs. (If I ever do anything like that again I'll create my own movement and be it's Founder [like Werner Erhardt did]. I'll insist on being in full control, and anyone who doesn't like it can leave instead of asking me to leave.)
OPERATION CATASTROPHE: this project lived up to it's name -- it was all about adopting 2 cats, and giving them a home. But everything possible went wrong, and they recently died, too. I put a great deal of effort (and time and money) into this, and what am I left with? Nothing. I've had them for less than a year. I've been lonely and miserable all my life and it's now clear that that will never change (no arguing with me, please).
My life has been one disaster after another, particularly on the 2D. This song describes it well:
Why even bother? My elder brother, may he rest in peace, had it all figured out: life's a bitch and then you die. I can't see any other outcome at this point (again, no arguing).
I've been neglecting my health and personal hygiene. I've stopped taking most of my medications. My teeth hurt sometimes, but why go to the dentist if I'm just going to return to my SULFUR lifestyle when I'm done? Maybe I'll get cancer and die soon.
Or maybe I'll sign up for the suicide forum (bulletin board). (And I don't want to hear a lot of ******* "don't do its".)
My life is no longer worth living. It was barely worth living in the first place.
If you've gotten this far, thanks for letting me rant.
And that's why they call me
Helena Handbasket
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