my careless contagion

This would be accurate if I had friends. Or a friend. I've begun to see myself as a rescue dog. Bear with me. This actually makes sense. No, I'm not an actual dog, but I do bear a lot of the same scars and history as an abused dog that finds a new home (which I haven't yet, but I'm trying). Add to that some of my behaviors and vulnerabilities, and it's really the same challenges a rescue dog has. Apparently, trauma translates well across species. Normally, I wouldn't joke about suicide, so I won't. I'm not joking. It's been something I've wanted to do most of my life, say, 35 years. People always gang up on those who take their own lives, saying they're not thinking of those they leave behind. You're absolutely right; they're not thinking of anyone but themselves. Imagine pain so intense, pervasive, and constant the only plausible solution is taking one's life. You cannot see beyond that kind of pain to anyone else's po...

Toxic relationships. It's fodder for songs (like the obvious and, frankly, glamorizing Toxic by Britney Spears) and movies and books. And my life, apparently. The reality is far less glamorous than any pop song, however. An article here at Hey Sigmund (a site with an obvious psychological bent) details how toxic relationships work. I had a conversation recently with someone when I realized that nearly all of my close relationships have been toxic, starting with my family, the basis for how I interact with the world.  Yes, I would consider my ex-wife to be a toxic person at times. But how did I agree to be in that kind of relationship? It goes back to my childhood experiences with my parents and brothers. The article mentioned above does a good job explaining how toxic relationships work, which was a head-nodding thing for me to read. Reading is believing. Sometimes we get so bogged down in our lives that we lose perspective. That outside perspective is what liberates u...