How did this happen?

To me, the idea of being a better person has been that one is constantly learning and growing from their past experiences. We all make mistakes, but through those mistakes, we should eventually be eliminating them and always be moving towards perfection.

The more that things happen to me, the more I'm scared that I cannot grow and I cannot get better. I fear I am stuck and will remain the same person I've been since I was a teenager. I am still so prone to abandonment, to rejection, to bullying, to fear, to mistakes.

At the Jets vs Dolphins game today, the club had its Christmas party. I was annoyed after the White Elephant when I came away with the worst prize out of anyone, basically it was the second straight night I spent about 30 bucks on a white elephant prize and came out with a pile of crap. This one was a Pop Joe Namath figurine and 20 bucks to Wendy's. For the love of God, I haven't eaten there in 25 years at least. So that already had me in a bad mood. I don't care if it was supposed to be fun, it felt like I had wasted money.

After Miami started to come back in the second half and eventually put the game away, from the bar, I hear this bitch squeal so loud and so high like she was taking it in the ass, which I'm sure she would pay men to do. And she kept on going and going to the point where I wanted to go over to the bar and say something. Instead, I glared at her for a good ten seconds...and I walked outside for about 5 minutes. I had to cool down.

I came back inside shortly thereafter, it was starting to get cold out. And then on the next possession, Zach Wilson fumbled the ball when the offensive line again failed to protect him, it was the recurring theme for the second half. Something inside of me snapped. I pounded the table where I was sitting. I shouted a pretty vile curse word that I'm not proud of. I could feel the entire restaurant staring at me in disbelief, with hatred and disgust. Unable to make eye contact with anyone, I walked out, this time for good. And I drove straight home, desperate to not have to talk to anyone. 

And now, here I sit in my dark living room, having downed 6 shots of whiskey. I don't want to look at my cell phone. I know SHE wants to talk to me. She has called me. She has messaged me. She has texted me. But damn it, I'm too ashamed. I can't talk to her about the darkest parts of my mind, about my eternal scars. I don't deserve her. No good woman could accept a man who is so tormented. I am just wanting to not feel anything and dying to shut this world off, that is so full of hate, and judgment, and contempt.

I'm 40 freaking years old. I'm not a boy, I'm not a teenager, I'm not even a young man now. I'm not supposed to be failing like this. Yet every time that good things happen, something will always come along that knocks me on my ass. And I'm the same lonesome abandoned kid again. I don't know why God made me. I don't know why he put me on earth now. But I'm terrified that whatever my purpose was, I've completely missed it. I have an ordinary, inconsequential life. And if I miss my reason for living, and live a failure of a life, am I going straight to hell? Will I suffer the most ultimate abandonment of all???