Falling down.

by MistuhDead » Sun Feb 27, 2011 10:58 am

I am not sure where to begin with this, I'm acutely aware this is a bit uncomfortable for me and I am vaguely worried I will find myself taunted for this.

But all the same, I am taking a step forward. Right, here we go.

I have a fictional utility worker I've always referred to as "Mistuh Dead". Now, Mistuh Dead has always been content to toil in the background, the dutiful (if not cutely macabre) and harmless janitor that sweeps up the negative thoughts and emotions one has during the course of an average day. Mistuh Dead is a fictional entity, a silly name for something that encompasses the worst aspects of the mind; hatred, anger, wrath, cruelty and those sort of things. Unfortunately my life, particularly my youth and adolescence, were little more than a series of events that more or less forced Mistuh Dead to work an inordinate amount of overtime without word or complaint. Abuse, both physical and emotional have been hallmarks of my family. I was always pitted against my sibling, and invariably I was found to be lacking. Being proud of something was dangerous territory for me because if it was found out, it was criticized and I would feel very shamed. Likewise showing any emotion beyond what the family wanted me to feel was treacherous waters. If something upset or scared me but I was expected to be happy or entertained, then I had to express the emotion that was expected of me. My upbringing has helped forge and mold me into someone who was quiet and very gentle-minded, I have always been markedly different from my peers. I seem to have an absence of a competitive nature, likewise I don't seem to possess any real or tangible form of ego or inflated pride. I was taught very early on from my grandmother that "love means kneeling before her." I was to do as she said, to believe in what she spoke, fear her wrath with every fiber of my being, and never disobey.

Between her, several very violent-tempered stepfathers and a lack of a sense of self, I came to embrace a state of ever-calm. I would absorb insults and injuries and Mistuh Dead would tote them away in his seemingly endless storehouse. I would redirect my frustration and anger to Mistuh Dead who would in turn cart it to the place of infinite storage. Everyone who knows me generally has the same comments regarding me, I've gained a reputation for being mellow and laid back, people see me as an incredibly down to earth fellow who generally takes life with an extremely chilled out attitude. A lot of people have done me wrong multiple times and I simply say "Don't worry about it, it's cool." but it truly isn't. It is far from being cool. In the past four years, I've recently found myself contending with a very abusive relationship. Some days, it is great and fine. Other days, I am subjected to a great deal of verbal and emotional abuse. But something has changed, Mistuh Dead isn't carting the hurt and anger off to the storehouse anymore. He hasn't been for the past three years. I've just been getting madder, and madder, and madder.

I finally exploded earlier this month (2/15/2011) and ended up destroying half the kitchen by slinging plates, pots, the dinner I was cooking, and silverware around. I raged, The woman in my life was ranting with the usual attack of how useless I am, how rotten and uncaring of a father I am to our son (referring to me as "your biological sperm donor" to him), and just how in general my lack of utility sickens her. I felt a sudden surge of hate so black that it was as terrifying to me as it was uncontrollable. Something broke inside me and I can't fix it or find a way to make Mistuh Dead willing to take it away. I haven't simmered down, I haven't let anything go. It is as if Mistuh Dead grinned and took every wrong thing done or said to me and let it flood out. Something has been unleashed and it is very violent and very cold-hearted. I find myself being blunt with people, with no care if it offends, I find myself ready to injure someone if my vastly diminished threshold for aggravation gets exceeded, and I find that same black fury just bubbling under the surface.

I have gotten to the point where I am open with my hatred and mistrust of people, I have absolutely no problem being intimidating now, nor do I have issue with verbally destroying someone. I seem to have become something that is terrifyingly cruel and remorseless, and a good part of me isn't really objecting to the change.

However, the part of me that IS objecting to this change is what brought me to this forum. In my moments of solitude (when I'm not caring for my son, doing housework, or cleaning) I find myself realizing it is a countdown before my son gets subjected to the same brutal treatment I am unleashing on the world. I already find myself quick to snap at him and I've found myself thinking rather less-than-pleasant thoughts about being a father.While I haven't struck him or his mother yet, I fear it is just a matter of time before I am finally provoked to the point where I do cross that line.

It would seem that Mistuh Dead has finally protested, that he dropped the push-broom that faithfully swept all those bad feelings and thoughts away only to pick up a scythe and open the doors to the storage facility that housed all that pent-up negativity. It would seem Mistuh Dead is standing on the roof of that storehouse and is grinning that everything is finally pouring out.Anything you cannot relinquish when it has outlived its usefulness, possesses you. And in this materialistic age, a great many of us are possessed by our possessions.MistuhDeadConsumer 0