It seems I have lived my life right in the point between success and failure, between glory and catastrophe. It’s not on purpose. It’s not like I love living in massive amounts of stress, watching my hair turn more gray by the month. I would rather have peace and tranquility. It’s my fault though. I’m not very good at setting boundaries. I can abide by other’s boundaries, like borders, you know, the ones with walls. When it comes to my boundaries though, my borders are more like the southern border of the U.S., holes more gaping than anal porn. (No one wants to see a gaping asshole. That’s not healthy.)

I’m not very good at defending my borders. I know what my boundaries should be in my head, but when I get pressed, I cave in. I’m a helper, an empath. I put other people’s feelings above my own. It fucks me over every single time. Usually, I get fucked over because people take advantage of that and walk all over me. When I do put my foot down, they get angry, lashing out at how I can be so uncaring. These are the same people who give unsolicited advice and tell me how fucked up I am and how I’ve made all the wrong decisions.

There are times when not being able to enforce my boundaries fails other people, those who are really trying to help. I feel bad not letting them help, even though they have their own issues to worry about. I can’t help but feel that this lack of boundary enforcement has helped lead to the current situation. Maybe if I would have been able to say, “Stop, and take care of yourself. I have this issue of mine under control. Concentrate on your immediate issue,” the stress would not have gotten so intense for both parties. This person will attempt to take full responsibility for her actions. She should, and does, but I cannot allow her to take all of the blame. While she is responsible for her actions and reactions, I am responsible for mine. I could have done something differently to maybe defuse the situation. I was ill-equipped to handle it at that time, not understanding what was happening. That, I will feel guilty about.

We were on the edge of glory, or at the very least success. Then, it all came crumbling down in an epic fashion neither of us could have predicted. Some people probably blame me. Some blame her. Everyone is quick to judge. Some blame substances, regardless of circumstances. It’s easy to blame a substance. It’s an inanimate object that cannot do anything, let alone defend itself. Some people tie incidents that happened 15 years ago to this one, blaming the substance. Some blame me for being attracted to crazy. In the end, there are several logical fallacies that are used in making the case of what’s to blame: red herring, hasty generalizations, and casual fallacies come to mind.

I’ve come to realize that the people who say they are there for you rarely are. They are quick to judge and throw biased thoughts and commands out like it’s a quick fix on how to tie your shoes by just wearing velcro shoes. Very few people are genuine in their desire to help. This is one of the reasons why the harder someone pushes me to do something they think is best, the more likely I’m going to do the complete opposite. They never provide quality reasons to back up their claims. Even worse, they dismiss my point of view as wrong while ignoring any evidence I might provide. I might actually be wrong, but to not even acknowledge the possibility my viewpoint might be valid is thing final nail in their help coffin.

I’ve also come to realize that those who say they are looking out for my happiness are some of the most miserable and/or self-righteous people. There is the classic, “I’m not going to say I told you so, but…” Yeah, you told me so, except you were the biggest, most unintelligent, condescending prick when trying to tell me things wouldn’t end up the way I thought. Of course, I’m not going to listen to you! You sucked at communicating in a compassionate way, like someone who really cared. It was “my way or the highway” type shit. If you’re not going to give me the common courtesy to listen and give thoughtful content, do not expect me to listen.

Is anyone else to blame for my decisions? No. I’m a grown-ass adult, and I made the decisions. Some have made me a lot of money; some have cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars. Some have helped me get closer to happiness; some have shot my happiness in the face with rock salt, just to burn a little more.

Again, it comes back to boundaries. Where are my limits on helping people? Where are my limits on listening to people spout bullshit? I’ve let people walk all over me because they were too lazy to learn or put in a little effort. I’m a pretty smart motherfucker, and some things come easy to me. A lot of times, it is quicker and easier for me to do everything, at least for other people. Then, I get overwhelmed because I’m doing 1,000 easy tasks and not taking care of myself. I’m holding people’s hands who should be able to easily look something up on Fucking Google! Shit, go Ask Jeeves, I don’t care, but fucking try!

I think this latest incident has forced me to establish boundaries. Some people are not going to like it. People who are used to me coddling them are going to get a rude awakening. They are going to start hearing “no” a lot more. If they aren’t going to have any compassion over my thoughts and feelings, I’m not going to have any time for their bullshit. They can go fuck themselves in the ass with a pineapple while they sing the Spongebob Squarepants theme song.