T-Minus 3 Days and Counting

Entry 11/20/2025 15:29:33: Mentat 2609

T-Minus 10 days and counting.. 

…Or in my personal case — it’s 3 more days before I leave in the dead of night and head for the homeless shelter I checked out in Ponchatoula… Now granted that’s only 20 miles (32 km) from here and I still haven’t called there yet to confirm they’re not going to pull the bullshit that the homeless shelter tried pulling on me in Slidell during my Trail of Anger in 2020. I’ll be attempting to call them or the Northlake Homeless Coalition to assist me along with this. 

Christ on a crutch, I still have cold sweats when I realize that I dodged a bullet dealing with the Red American Bullshittery (also known as a the Republican Party) of that place trying to convert the homeless to a religion to help them find guidance in their lives — and all the while it’s nothing more than a hypocritical illusion feeding into a cult of personality that reads like a cult compound disguised as a homeless shelter for transient people that want to either leave the system or leech into it round robin between Slidell (and the mainland) and the peninsula of Orleans & Jefferson Parishes. 

*Shivers* However, this isn’t what I’m wanting to write about at the moment, so I digress. 

Why am I doing this? I need to break habits I’ve created the last 5 years living in this House of Hell™. Between my mother’s onset dementia — which of course she only started admitting to when her health was plummeting out of control — and her incompetent, back-water husband and his childish and never ending-whinging he’s done, I’ve had to shut down my inherent want to beating the ever living shit out of both of them. It’s not like — and nothing like — the time that the psycho in Atlanta made sure that 4.5 years later left me a soulless husk of a human being that I didn’t recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. 

If anything, it’s so much worse. 

How do I begin to unravel the fact that when I used to look at myself in the mirror in the morning, I was seeing myself sure — but the anger and the rage in my eyes used to make me look away not because of the depression that I experienced when dealing with the psycho more than 22 years ago when he left. No, instead it’s a laundry list of non-stop issues from both of them that for adults they stopped growing up sometime in their teenage years (and in my mother’s husband’s case pre-teens). 

I’ve been trying to talk about myself one of the biggest problems that I’ve developed since the time I’ve had to bury my emotional states — including anger, rage, and disappointment continue to end up going into a laundry list of issues that distract me from dealing with them and thereby causes me to devolve to their immaturity levels both of them exposed to me to, since moving to Louisiana. 

Needless to say, because of this constant immaturity in the household: I’ve changed. I’ve changed in a way that was infinitely worse than when I was a teenager. I avoided everything and just buried myself whenever I could — in games, in binging movies, television series, YouTube Subscriptions — basically anything and everything I could possibly. I might have had the self-confidence, but it was nothing like when I was living on my own…  Not one bit… 

And I know for a fact I need help. I need to let it out and talk about it to another human being. Professionally. I also need to get out of this house because of the memories. Some of the good, most of them bad… I also need to break many of the habits I’ve created since moving to Covington. And that means giving up most of them online in order to get out of these habits of mine. 

Tomorrow, I might write about the laundry lists of bullshit that I had to deal with… Right now, I’m working on 6.5 hours of average sleep and it’s becoming difficult to staying on a subject without doing down rabbit holes… 

Until the next time.