The beginning of the end

[rhyzome-soul.livejournal.com]

I am having a hard time accepting this reality. I can distinguish it quite well but sometimes I wonder how it could possibly be this riduculous and messed up. I thought my dreams were only this bad. When did 'real life' become such a mindfuck?

Lately I'm having a hard time containing my beast. I'm slipping in and out. Today is a better day and I'm coming down a bit. But I can't seem to get a handle on it. This weekend was bad...very bad. My homicidal ideation, which has always been rare, was in full swing. I hate my old boss. I thought I could get her out of my mind at this new job, but I can't. Six months hasn't made me hate her any less, especially when she randomly shows up just to create anxiety for me. When I fall back into that state, I don't even think of her as human. She is a demon, sent here to torture and bulldoze through people. I think about how she needs to be put down like the rabid dog she is. I hate her more than the man who raped me, more than the father who abandoned me, and more than the mother who abused me. She deserves more than a simple death, but I would be merciful. Quick two shots, head and heart. Not the kneecaps and stomach, even. No, I would be merciful. It's not like she's worth the time or intimacy of anything more. She is, after all, just another dog. She's ruined many lives, gotten off on it, but it is her nature. She knows not what she does, only that it makes her feel good. It would be a good deed, to put her out of her misery.

And when I snap back, when reality cuts through these thoughts, I feel nauseated and feverish. I'm such a nice person, too nice they say, and how could I possibly have these thoughts? And it's not a multiple personality thing. That would be too easy; treatable. It's all me in here, just my dark and my light fighting against each other. These thoughts aren't even the worst I've had but most of my sick fantasies involve nameless, faceless beings, not even necessarily human. More like...ghosts. Knowledge of my own power and depravity, but that is where it ends. I am the female version of the teenage Dexter. I have not yet developed, and so far only my desire to choose another life has kept me from breaking down the walls and introducing some vigilantism to this disgusting drug-infested town I live in. I think it would be hard the first few times, but I could see myself, 10 years from now, having no problem killing people if I knew for 100% fact they were rapists, murderers, drug lords, pedophiles, etc. And that thought scares me so very much...but less than it used to.

I don't understand what is happening to me. I want to talk to my therapist but he is convinced I am a good person. I haven't told him everything. I think his official diagnosis at this point is that I have major to severe PTSD (and PTSD related OCPD) and abandonment issues but have otherwise developed extremely well and that my Buddhism, of all things, has kept me on a productive and legitimate path. I think the problem is that lately I am losing my focus on my spirituality. I am tired of watching people fail up only to put others down, tired of watching people torture one another for no reason other than amusement, tired of watching children being abused because the state gives unfit mothers every chance and then some to keep them. I am sick to death of the addicts, the perverts, the slave drivers, the pushers and abusers and facilitators of the violence and prostitution and whirlwind drug trade. I can't sit by my entire life and observe this while doing nothing.

I know I don't belong. I never have. Since I was five years old I have been aware of this. I belong in a world more loving, more tolerant, free of hate and greed and jealousy. And if my wishing for the last 20 years hasn't done anything, maybe I should do something about it. Maybe that's what my purpose is. I've wanted to do the right thing, to open shelters and create advocacy programs and put my CPC license to use. That is what I should do to make the world a better place. I want to help people. I don't want people to suffer as I have, or others I have known who have had it so much worse. But sometimes, when the beast inside me surfaces, all I can think of is taking shortcuts. Clean up the problem. Clean up the streets. Become a cop, maybe, as a cover. Take care of it by hand. Shelters and programs are great but just not fast enough. Just never enough. We need something else. This cannot continue, not in my fucking house. If the universe won't balance, and karma won't act fast enough, someone has to.

I am perched on the edge, here. I can go one way or another. I need advice, and quickly. Timing is vital now.