Anchoring the Light, a Journal of Healing and Self Love

[Wisebaxter]

So far I've been following the plan above pretty accurately. I did backslide on the porn, but by it's about improvement, not perfection. I feel like my body was craving a dopamine hit so I let it happen. Rather that than buy weed. 

Today, whilst working, I felt the pull to smoke. It's so tied in with that behavior. Wouldn't it be nice to just feel the weed wash over me, to feel the added stimulation it offers while I create, the extra excitement, the extra focus. But is this an illusion? Really how excited was I? How much did it really aid my focus? I remember the pull to play games, watch films. I also remember the frustration of feeling trapped by the habit, along with the over thinking and anxiety. I can feel the harsh burn on my lungs as I suck on that pipe, I can taste the acrid smoke and the chemicals. Did William smell it this time? Is that why he's outside? Again and again I would need to get up and take a hit, with no respite. Hiding it whilst out, ducking into alleyways. What a burden. But still I feel the pull. Why? Because something is missing. Something just feels, hollow. If I was high now I wouldn't be able to sit and just be. Morbid thoughts would take me over. Right now I feel bored, lacking, but calm. I feel like a more complete person, someone worthy of respect. Less broken. Stronger. Hopeful. I feel like my hero Theo Von, back from the precipice. I don't want to go to the meeting tonight, but I will. I'm scared of socializing. I'm scared of feeling fake, why? Because socializing, for me, always has to be so polite. The character I need to play is tiresome. I'd rather just go there and be silent. Just to be near people. It's all the blabbing I can't stand. Sharing is great, because it's honest. Normal communication never makes me feel real. I miss Lucie so much. I miss who I could be with her. I was completely me. She loved me. now, she says she doesn't know me anymore. My actions have turned me into a stranger. All of the truth I shared, all my honesty, has been overridden, erased by the strength of her new perception. Now, in her mind  I'm the guy who shows his friends intimate videos of his ex. I'm a liar, a cheat, a narcissist. I hope that one day she can see me again, in her mind. To be seen.....then to be lost...is heartbreaking. I must not do the same. I must not reduce her to her words, spoken in anger.

I am still sober. I am still winning.  

 

 

Edited Monday at 06:17 PM by Wisebaxter

[Wisebaxter]

Tonight I sat and watched the moon appear from behind the clouds, amidst a clear, starlit sky

[Wisebaxter]

I've just watched Timothée Charlemagne being interviewed by Theo Von. He talked about Bob Dylan, how inspiring he is, how he was an iconoclast that carved his own path. He also talked about his own dedication to the creative process. Afterwards I felt a strong urge to smoke. All those feelings came flooding back from my early twenties as I remembered how it all began, this obsession with music and fame. Weed was supposed to be my golden ticket, so why have I quit? how am I supposed to make original, captivating art without it, without the level of intoxication and immersion it provides? Should I block Pat and change my number? Maybe Triss is up late...

Then it occurred to me...this is fucking insanity. I'm 44, I was supposed to have made it by now.  This isn't playing out right. I am obsessed. The last twenty years have passed in a haze. I can feel the obsession burning deep within me, the yearning, the mad itch...I need to show that bitch, show all those motherfuckers who I am, what I can do. I need them all to feel regret, to realise they fucked up by doubting me. I need her to say 'I should have trusted him. I was living with a modern day genius and I was too stupid to see it. Why am I so fucking STUPID. Maybe I can get him back....I'll reach out....ah shit it's too late, he's not even contactable now through normal means. Probably has an agent. 

Did all of this really happen because I was so unseen? Do I really crave the attention of the known cosmos because my pappy didn't ask me enough questions, pay enough interest? Well....I guess I should calm down on the swearing. Sweet boy, so innocent. I see you. You are talented you know. I am your harshest critique but I will say, you are. But you're also sick. Sick with fantasies, detached from the present moment, from your very being, which is never enough. Just an asshole in a room, whom nobody sees. All Eyez on me.....would be a fine thing...wouldn't it? Perhaps I'll start with my own eyez and go from there. I feel this sense of lacking, dissatisfaction, eating away at me. What can I add to me? Money....oh yes money....attention, admiration....things, cars, clothes...they'd all look then. They'd look and say 'he's a success,' instead of 'he's an old pervert'  Women would see me step out of my sweet ass whip and say 'I want his babies, how much for a pint of his semen?' 

I will chase, and chase...and maybe I will succeed at getting paid...but will I be satisfied? Based on every bit of sage advice ever handed down by anyone who's actually been there, no. I will keep on striving to fill that hole. Money won't ultimately satisfy, because after all it's attention I want. But how much attention? City wide, nation-wide? global? When will it end? 

I still don't understand it all fully, the drive, where it came from, but I know something, I am not happy with who I am, where I am. I am not grateful. What a naughty spiritual sin. What a crock of shit. What a goddamn lie. Fuck this society, fuck my parents, for infecting me with this illness. Who's the asshole now though? Who's the one picking at the wound? FUCK THAT. no more. It's time to turn inwards, properly. I need peace, self-love, gratitude and I need to feel like I am ENOUGH, right NOW. Right NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW. If I'm only striving to produce art to prove myself, then what's the point? What a dead-end. What a betrayal of nature, of the creative impulse itself. 

For me death equals admitting I've wasted time. That's what keeps me going. Throw it all away now.... Everything unnecessary. It's only going to land me back on drugs. They ain't no golden ticket. Only a ticket to misery, ill health, weakness and self loathing. If I need to slowly kill myself to succeed, then I'll sit with failure. I'll put the kettle on for it. 

I am not advocating throwing it all away. I will not make rash decisions. I am too confused and blinded by concepts to see clearly. If it has to be thrown away then so be it. But I would like to change my relationship with it all. That's what I'd like. But what I need....that could end up being different. 

This is my life, not theirs. Not hers. I will not look back in another ten years, still smoking that shit, still weak, addicted, saying the same shit. I will not live with regret in my old age. That's where I'm headed, I'll say 'I wish I could have quit the drugs...my life could have been so different.' No, I will look back and say 'Alex of 2024 was a smart motherfucker. He called it. Opened his eyes and saw it all clearly. Boy I'm grateful for him. Now I have an inner peace I just wouldn't have had on that path.' Because really, shouldn't this be the bar to measure it all by....how happy I'm gonna be down the line, carrying on like that, vs taking control?' 

Wisdom. Maturity. It all starts now. I will cultivate an inner love so deep, an inner world so beautiful and blissful, that nothing fucking matters. I will fall in love with myself, with life, with being. I will not stake my happiness on some imaginary future event. This is MADNESS. I will create an inner world that shines. I will accept and love all parts of myself. 

It ends here. And so it begins. There is one place that I have not looked....it is there, only there, that I shall find....the master 

 

Edited Wednesday at 04:05 PM by Wisebaxter

[Wisebaxter]

I woke up with William banging outside my bedroom door and instantly felt stressed and anxious. It was like waking to the reminder that my space is not my own. It felt like he was doing it on purpose, to punish for me even being there. I left without eating breakfast. Being there during the day right now feels unsafe. In my mind he could kick me out whenever he likes, on a whim. if I'm there too much, if I don't change my behavior to suit his lifestyle, if I neglect to stop and listen to his thirty minute monologues on motorway planning permissions. To steal a person's time for your own pleasure is cruel and uncaring. I am so sick of being cornered by these people, simply because I'm a good listener. I'm standing there, dirty plates in hand, while he sits and talks

Fuck. If my reality is comprised of the meanings I apply to things, then it would be more empowering to see this as a good deed on my part. The man must be lonely, in need of connection. I do feel for him. But it all means I can't even access the facilities without the fear of awkwardness or boredom. Instead I'm in the Range cafe, eating a shitty, overpriced burger and wondering how the fuck it came to this. 

Looking at the Spotify photo for Wolfchild I stop and consider how nice it would be to be a part of a musical duo. Where do I find a partner? Imagine the companionship, the shared passion, the feeling of kinship. I'd kill for that. 

Man I'm horny. the urge to go on Bumble is always there. But what's the point? I'm done with that insanity. Pay money just to be judged and made to feel inadequate, no thanks. I can do that for free by myself, or call up Lucie again. She's a pro after all. 

10 Days sober. Listening to a Gabor Mate Audiobook called in the realm of the hungry ghosts, trying to understand addiction. It's helping a lot. As shit as things are, I am sober. I am a warrior today. I'd give anything for a blow job though. I'd give anything to be naked with her again. I miss her body, her scent, her face, voice. Everything about her. Ole big tits, I called her that to Lee, once, and it got back to her. Fuck that guy. Fuck this guy first and foremost though. Who does that? A drug addict, a people pleaser, a clown, a joker, a disrespectful fuck. 

This is my inner dialogue, laid bare. I Hope that getting it out and onto this page is helpful. Probably not though, who knows. So what would help me? What would definitely help me? I'll think about it. Right now I'm just grinding metal

 

 

Edited Wednesday at 03:31 PM by Wisebaxter

[Wisebaxter]

One of Mate's patients, Serena, a Native American, told him that in her culture a spirit cannot rest if you don't let go of them. Gabor remarked that's it's impossible for her to do that as, according to her, she was the only person that ever cared for or loved her. This makes me wonder if that's why I've struggled to let Lucie go. Months went by and still I mourned, yearned for her. Or, what she gave me, what I felt around her. Cared for, seen, loved. This knowledge is seems empowering. Know better, do better. How then can I deal with this? To find someone else to replace her? To love myself? To realize that I am already loved and cherished by god or the universe? I'll think about it

[Wisebaxter]

Today I came home with two books. The first, A Study of Orchestration, the quintessential book on the subject, and secondly, the narcotics anonymous handbook, bought for me by Romeo, an ex addict. I laid them side by side and looked at them. I had the thought that they're related somehow, that my higher power is giving me a message - you need one to appreciate or achieve the other, something like that. 

I told Romeo about the drive to prove myself with the whole music thing and he said 'slow down and find out who you are. What does Alex like? 

So who is Alex? 

 

[Wisebaxter]

Today I release Lucie from my energy field, once and for all. I’ve been holding onto the past. I won’t think good thoughts about her, or bad thoughts. I will just let her fade. Memories will surface. I will notice them and let them go. My time of dwelling has gone. I won’t allow these thoughts and feelings any more traction. I invoke the power of the Akashic records to move myself into a different timeline and to end our psychic bond. With love I say ‘thank you for the lessons you’ve taught me.’ With love I say ‘May you be at peace and find happiness.’ With love I say goodbye. 

Edited 8 hours ago by Wisebaxter

[Wisebaxter]

My plan for the future, in terms of relationships is as follows:

Get well, attend recovery 

learn to love myself and build a life I’m happy with that doesn’t require anyone else. 

achieve financial independence and rent my own place 

accept that I may never be in love or find someone I’m truly happy with or suited to. Be ok with that and design a life to cope with it, with good friends whom I love and a fulfilling career. 
 

attend therapy 

i will never actively seek a partner again. For the act of seeking is akin to saying ‘my life is not enough’ or ‘I am lacking.’ 
 

if I develop a connection and a friendship with a woman that truly feels suited to me, I pledge to follow this up. 
 

to deal with sexual urges I will learn to use my imagination again to masturbate. Or I will get a fleshlight or a blow up doll