I would call it "Self Inflicted: the story of a sorted and twisted soul".
Years ago when I was doing regional theatre, there was a song I used for auditions. An old Irish drinking song, it contained a verse that ran,
"...and all the harm that ever I did
alas, it twas to none but me."
Story of my life. All the drama, all the harm to health and sanity, 99.9% caused by yours truly to yours truly.
Who knows, maybe I should start on it. I've been reading some recovery memiors lately and see no reason at all why I shouldn't add to the pile.
"The Cross Bearer" by the guy who wrote "Basic Instinct" and other trash movies. He has since recovered and is doing well.
"Angry Conversations with God" in which the author takes God to marriage counseling and confronts her preconcieved notions of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
And then there's me, tainted by the school of thought that holds that the heavenly Father has planned out EVERYTHING in your life, that all that takes place is part of his "precious plan" for you.
Pure and simple.
So I blamed God when if anything he was trying to patch the holes in my boat as fast as I could make them.
God has a plan for me and while he is willing to be my flight coordinator, he has not written my story in stone.
Just a random thought for the day.