Light and Darkness

Dear Universe,

 

Thank you for taking care of her. Keep it up!

                                                                                           love

                                                                                          ~Nae

Always with The Wrong Time, The Wrong Place

I swear the Universe/God is conspiring against me. You know that squeal that escapes you when you meet someone? That fabulous yet lonely feeling you get when you cross paths with someone and you think, "goddamnit! Different circumstances and this may have been a lovely thing. If I weren't too old...too young...too fat...too...... CRAZY."

My life is the prank of some prickish, Ashton Kutcher god that I really want to kick in the balls.

Universe.....stop being a douche. Love me. Choose me to be your favorite for a while. I think I'm due.

Knocking on Heaven's Door

Marjorie died last Saturday unbeknownst to me. I found out on Tuesday when my neighbors came knocking on my door. I had wondered about her health and her life but coming and going from work sometimes keeps me out of the business of the world around me. Evidently, Marjorie's body started failing shortly after I visited her and she had to be committed to the hospital where she died. I know she didn't want to go there but it's not surprising that her son took her there.

When Mr. Devine was dying, my mother decided to let him die at home. Hospice care helped set up the front room to be his death room. There, my mother and my brother cared for him until he exhaled his last breath. He wasn't sick for more than a year before he passed.

During the last days of his life,

(10.05.06 @244p)

Flower of Life

Anyone want to recommend any good books on the Flower of Life?

Naomi al borde de un ataque de nervios

I apologize, Senor Almodovar for stealing your title but it seems fitting right now.

It's been a week since my termination. I've cried once during this which scares me a bit. I'm much more dramatic and sensitive for moments like this and one outburst of tears just doesn't seem like me. Anger has been the dominant emotion. Depression and Fear are not too far behind.

I have to decide whether or not I stay in Texas or go to Tennessee. Florida is out of the option because Mom doesn't want us there. Leaps and bounds in our relationship over the last year or so but there are still big snags.

Question for the Almighty Around: What do I do?

I wish I could have an answer. One that pops up on the screen as I type that is definite and amazing and brilliant. One that I know that Emma would be safe and secure and happy. One that I know that I'm going to do well from it's beautiful, all-knowing grace. Uggghhhh.

I came to Texas with faith and hope that I was making a good decision for Emmaline and me. I thought that coming here would give us the opportunity that I had been working for years. I took a herculean leap of faith and then one almost one year to the date of starting my job here, I was fired.

How do I trust any decision I make now? I thought there was great wisdom, maturity, and faith when I decided to leave Pensacola and come here. Was I mistaken? So now....what do I do? Honestly, I haven't made a decision because I'm bloody scared to open my eyes and do anything.

If I go to Memphis, Emma and I live in my sister's house with her family. We get a couch and a floor. I start anew there. If I stay here in Texas, I have no family or friends as support. I start anew here. It should be a simple decision. It should be a very simple decision. But it's not. Never is.

I'm thirty-five years old and starting over another freaking time in my life. No damn stability, so it seems. When does it level off? When do I feel some amount of security in my life? It appears I never will.

Damn.

How do all you other adults do it? Do you believe in yourself? Does believing in oneself means you have a belief in God? Do you forget about yourself entirely and just jump into the faith of an omniscient entity?

I am scared. And I'm holding my breath for some peculiar reason.

Conversations I Should Be Having with God

During the course of my life, I've been persistent with talking with that creator of ours. I've felt guilty when most of those talks have been my pleading to The Omnipotent One to fix things; but I had always maintained those spiritual chats. Slowly, over the years I've stopped talking to God as much. I wonder if I can change that.

I think this silence has coincided with the cessation of many relationships or the communications with existing ones. I don't call my sister when I'm emotionally unhappy. I don't call my friends for fear that I'll blab on and on, incoherently about myself. I dial numbers and then stop before going through with it. My fear is that eventually, all will grow weary and leave me...and my problems. So, God? God's been thrown into the lot. Neglected. Ignored. Held at arm's length. Fear of abandonment.

I do have to confess another reason why I don't speak to God as much. I've tried to give name for the reason, but it comes down to simple change of belief. I don't like addressing God in such a finite way. Trying to relinquish this thought that God is He or She. I don't believe in man's concepts of God anymore. Religion both amazes and disgusts me. Fault in all of them because they've been touched by human hands.

My faith in a higher power still exists but not as a conventional deity, and I can't seem to pray because of this changed view. I can't quite explain when it happened. My childhood prayers always went to God directly. I never asked Jesus or interceding saints. I never relied on or liked people praying for me. I went directly to the Thing Upstairs. In my younger adult life, I tried Jesus. Felt uncomfortable talking to him or announcing myself as a Christian.

Don't get me wrong. I believe Jesus lived. I believe Jesus performed miracles. I also believe Jesus was a man who loved God a lot. He was a compassionate man who questioned the 'pious' leaders of his time. Those who were followers of the Sabbath but never of the moral code of men. And he was killed. And martyred. Like people before him and people after him. He upset the unequal balance set before him by corrupt false prophets. Those afflicted with the disease of being poor or unwanted had a voice that resonated without fear. Someone championed them. People followed. Things were changing. And men of religion and power and greed killed him.

Does that make him a God? According to the mythology of all religions....yes. But was he really?

I can't do it. I can't rely on any person's concept of God anymore. It makes me feel unworthy of life. I fail miserably at being confined to this mold of what one religion defines as beautiful and faithful. I've already said I'm fat so how am I to fit into a restrictive, skinny, pre-assembled version of a morally correct believer?

Perhaps I'm deluded. Perhaps I've confused God, yet again, with all the failings of man. Perhaps God has become a metaphor for my dissolved faith in people. Perhaps. But I feel better having abandoned most of the religious concepts I have in my head.

I think religion has its beauty. People coming together to express this love and fear within them. Finding someone similar to yourself? Glory. Who wants to go a dark path alone? I gave my definition of religion a man who was trying to convert me from Catholicism to his Protestant beliefs. Religion is the outward expression of one's inner spiritual beliefs. We are born with a spirituality that is undefined and really can never be explained. It's an innate connection between all things created, from all that existed to all that will. It's vast and simply exists. We get lost, overwhelmed, and scared of that infinite feeling welling up within our souls. To feel grounded and to know we're not the only ones feeling it, we seek each other out. Religion tries to explain it. For that, it's beautiful.

But I don't want religion to be confused with spirituality. Religion is man-made. Spirituality and faith are instinctual. Woven into our beings. Seeing how convoluted religion is, I want no part of it. I admit, I feel a sense of loss because I haven't defined myself in this world as one religion or another. I miss the community but I can't separate myself from God by a man-made definition. Again, I felt unworthy by man's standards.

Now I suffer the repercussions. Does my human prayer betray me? I know I sound like a loon but does praying define me as one religion or another? All religions pray. Do other believers that haven't picked out a religion du jour pray? I've stopped and I feel I've broken the connection that once defined a portion of me. I wonder, again, if I've stopped because of human relationships. If so, am I using my examination of my religious subscriptions as an excuse?

I want God's miracles to solve my problems and give me a better life, but I feel that's a man-made belief that God does that. I become more depressed when I don't get the miracle. I feel I've done something to upset God. I feel unworthy and a non-believer when miracles don't occur. I know. That's not what God is. I try to abandon the belief that God performs Las Vegas magic miracles and does the every day miracle that may go unnoticed; but in abandoning the flash I've stopped asking God to help me. Another severed link to The Omnipotent One.

I'm afraid I'm killing God and I'll eventually be an atheist. I'm suffering from my silence with God. I'm killing not only God but that spirituality that resides throughout my being. Freedom from religion has me losing my spirituality. Boy, one never knows how tied those become until you try to separate them.

I need God and I'm trying to reconnect.

To God...Help!

Why?!

Why would God make me this way? A weight that noone wants to carry. A sore in others' as well as my life. WhY?!

What did I do wrong to be this fucked up? Was I born to be this reminder of what others should not be or avoid? Why can't I just get over all the shit in my past? Why didn't I just be a good girl so I wouldn't be this crappy of an adult? What am I doing wrong? Honestly, I want to know.

I want to know why I can't just shut my fucking mouth when I need to. To remain silent when that's the easiest thing to do. Why can't I be a better person?

I'm fucking up at work. I've fucked up or will fuck up every relationship I'm in. I'm ugly and fat. I'm lousy at motherhood and at the domestic thing. I'm loud, opinionated, impatient, lewd, stubborn, and insensitive.I have nothing to give anyone but grief and strife.

So, why? Am I the reminder to all of you from God to just try harder? Am I the leper you are suppose to avoid? If I were just different. Seriously, I wish I were different.

I've tried, God. I really have. I've tried to not bother anyone with my problems. I've tried to be more engaging. I've tried to stop eveything I am in as little of a space within my soul. Ignore all that I am so that I wouldn't hurt others or myself. I've tried, but I haven't tried harder.

I am so mad at myself for not trying harder. For not being different. For not being more like other people or what I'm suppose to be...and what am I suppose to be?! I must be stupid or cruel or evil for not being better.

God, I hate myself. I hate the mistakes I continue to make. I hate that I can't get this right. I hate not having died so many of the other times.

It hurts so much to be me. I am embarrassed of who I am. I am so sorry to everyone that has known me. I can't apologize enough for not being different. I am so very very sorry. I blame noone anymore. I'm not even angry at God the way that I once was. It's just me. I'm incompetent at life.

I hate that I am nothing and am still here.

Get Behind Me, Satan

I received in the mail today a business size envelope addressed as such:

To the Family of Steven S
c/o Naomi
...
Pensacola,. blah blah blah

The return address was Arkansas and the postmark stamp was Memphis. Perhaps a condolescence letter from someone who knew Pop?

HELL FUCKING NO!

Hello:
    My name is Valerie C. (I debated including her entire last name but I decided that would be entirely too unkind of me especially since I will be writing Ms. Valerie back and letting her know what I think of her.) I'm a Bible student, and I understand your sorrow and distress in the recent death of your loved one. I'm writing you because I have some good news to share with you regarding your loss.
    Did you know the Bible promises us that we will have the opportunity to see our dead loved ones again? Turn in your copy of the Bible to John 5:28, 29. Here, Jesus Christ says, that "everyone in the memorial tomb (or grave), will hear his (Jesus) voice and come out".
    Yes, the wonderful promise of a resurrection of all those who have fallen asleep in death. Acts 24:15
    In addition to that, Jehovah God has promised obedient mankind at Revelation 21:1-4, that soon "pain, sickeness and yes, even death will be done away with". Why? Because we read at 1John 4:8, that "God is love".
    I hope these few lines have brought you some comfort.
    I urge you to seek out one of Jehovah's Witnesses in your area to further explain these wonderful provisions that Jehovah God has in store for mankind.

Thank you for your time.

Ok. Who the hell is this chick?! Oh...and included in the letter was a tract about heaven and shit.  Is this how some Christians minister now?  They troll about the obituaries and funeral parlors? They scope out the guest books of the decease and just send out form letters to every person who seems related to the descedent? I'm fucking apalled. I'm annoyed. I'm pissed.

I don't need Valerie's idea of Christ if it involves intruding on a family's grieving time in this way. This doesn't give me comfort..to be bitch-slapped with Christianity.

The clergy that performed my father's service did the same exact thing. He tried saving the audience with my father's casket up front between two Marines. He went on and on about how it would be a loving tribute to Steve if we dedicated our lives to Christ right then and there. Are we ready for God if our time came unexpectedly? He asked us, mourners to pray a sinners' prayer. And when those who did finished, he asked those to raise their hands if they did it. He blessed those who prayed. WHAT ABOUT THOSE WHO DIDN'T PRAY?! Aren't those the ones who need saving more? Aren't those the ones who need more blessings? Fire and brimstone and salvation instead of what we were truely there for.....MY DEAD FATHER!!!!

I can't stand people like these two. It's no longer about trying to console the grieving. It's not about really teaching them about a God. It's about scaring them. About adding numbers to the masses. It's a Ford assembly line of mass produced Christians.

You don't even know how angry this letter has made me. The amount of vile putrid anger I have right now for this anonymous bitch. YES! I'M BEING CRUEL! I see her as tiresome as ambulance chasing lawyers. And those Christians who are true Christians? Those religious followers that are devoted and lovely and true to their beliefs, Christian and non-Christian alike, are soiled because of this heathen!

I hope she gets toe fungus!

"What's up with this anti-God thing."

My friend, Beth has a new blog on MySpace and one of her recent blog entries posted this question of me that I have to respond to. I told her I was going to post a response there but as usual, I was getting long-winded.

What's up with this anti-God thing?

Anti-God? I'm not Anti-God. I think I'm anti-man in regards of our definition and rules of God. I get angry at God like any other man or woman created. There are such fascinating and beautiful things in religions but I don't trust them. I think that the majority of us distort God and spirituality to fit into nice little definitions that make what we are doing in our lives right and what others are doing in their lives wrong.

I'm anti-hypocrisy. I hate hypocrisy. Sunday Christians.Extreme crusaders. Zealots that claim what they are doing is in the name of God....everything from those people blowing up buildings to those selfish religious leaders sitting on an outrageous gilded set and transmitting to millions of people worldwide asking for money to support their hedonistic lifestyles.

I am definitely not anti-God. I am human. No more nor no less than those who create religions and make rules and then pass judgement on those who say we as humans are not trying hard enough in life and that's why we don't have favor in God's eyes. I am very much a believer in God. Very much a believer in a Creator. I just refuse to pretend I don't get angry or sinful or "blasphemous" with questioning "why me, God?!"

I don't believe in religion. I believe in spirituality. I believe in God. I believe in being accountable for ourselves and to others. I believe in ONE GOD. God is not male. God is not female. God is limitless. God is infinite. God could care less of us if God wanted to. God can change God's mind and completely decided all the "rules" for living written down by man are NO longer what God wants. God is God. Why are there restrictions on what God should be.

Limits belong to man who is finite and will die and return to the soil. Man is bound...by desires and selfishness and feelings of inadequacy. And because of the mortal coil we are all invested in, we corrupt what is truely God.

I think all of my past entries in the Gye Nyame archives have been more or less about my human soul and my flawed perceptions of God, my struggles with what role God plays in my life, and really, a helluva lot of depression and disappointment.

The prefix anti- suggests complete opposite or contrary to a position. In fact, its definition reads opposite, opposition, against.. I am none of these in regards to God. The Great One is a favorite of mine. Made trees, rocks, the oceans just to name a few. I'm all for more of all of those. I find all this beauty indications of a God that exists and I just don't think I'm against any of that.

So, not anti-God. Angry with God at times. Disappointed at myself for not living up to the beauty of what I could be. Pissed at people who can point their damnation fingers at me and propose to tell me what God thinks based on relgions founded by man, supported by man, corrupted by man, edited by man, and generally fucked up by man.

And if I'm wrong....well, I'm willing to face God with my sins exposed and take responsibilty for all of them.

Absence

I don't ask God for things anymore...at least not for me. If I hear that someone is sick or that someone has died, I'll ask God to look out for that person and the loved ones. I ask God to protect Emma. But for me? Forget it.

I've been angry towards God for a long time. I gave God everything when I was younger. So much faith. Everything that I am. At least I thought so. I would beat myself relentlessly for thinking that perhaps I was holding out on God. Such guilt. But now, I just scoff at God. I snub God. I taunt God.

Perhaps I think if I incur the wrath of God, I'll have some attention from the Almighty. Proof that God exists.

Isn't that what's happening now? Seems like I shouldn't complain for all the crap in my life. I've brought it upon myself.

Non-believers and fucking optimists will advise me to just do it. Make my mind up and just change my life. To you, I give you the finger and say FUCK YOU! Take your worse imaginable day and multiply it a thousand fold. Then tell me whether or not you can get your fucking optimist ass out of bed and just take charge of your life. FUCK YOU!!! I'll fucking bash your face in if you tell me to just overcome this shit.

Followers of God, just don't talk to me. You don't know what you are talking about. Unless God, itself, came down from the throne on high, wrote a personal message for me, and asked you to deliver it to me personally.....I'm not listening to you. You don't know what God thinks about me. And the Bible doesn't mean jack. Honestly, man wrote it and it's a nice pamphlet and all....sort of guidelines...but it's not God.

I'm mad.

I think that under the circumstances of my life, I've done alright for myself. I've not killed anyone in my fits of rage. I've never been arrested. I've curbed most of my immoral and impetuous instincts so much so that I'm a zombie within. BUT...and this is a big ass BUT...I'm not strong. I've never been that strong. I've only just survived, waiting for someone or something bigger than me to fucking help. I've been promised that for so long. All of the spiritually inclined which includes every friggin person on this fucking piece of rock called Earth (and don't argue scientists or whatnot because their religion and spirituality is tied up in a different form of mysticism and such and honestly, I'm not in the mood for anyone to disagree with me right now...want a fight? Go sod yourself!)

I had decided to not send Em with my sister. The separation would have been to great for the both of us. Other circumstances such as money, space, and adjustment were of issue also. Instead, I had opted to make things stronger here for the both of us after a committment to the hospital. My mother who I have very s-l-o-w-l-y started talking to, had offered to help when she initiated contact on Em's birthday. I was hesitant. Alway am. But she said she would help if I need to seek out psychiatric help. I asked her yesterday if she would help with Em, allowing her to stay with her. "It will cut into my time, but I guess I can pick Em up and drop her off at school." Trying to explain that I needed more, she started yelling at me about everyone else in her life: my brother, her employees, and the fact that I made Jenn come here to take Em with her and then didn't send Em. Basically, Mrs. Devine's help is a patronizing hand extended as a disclaimer that she offered me assistance.

God is no different.

I wish I could say that God doesn't exist. But God does. As easily as I can say that my hair is brown, I can say God exists. So, what the fuck?! Was I that evil in a previous incarnation?

Unless you plan to drive to Pensacola to care for Em while I commit myself for a much needed visit to the loony bin...don't say shit. I don't want to hear it.

I've been doing things 'not me' lately. Craving cigs, pot, and alcohol. I've indulged in all. Hearing voices. Calling my name. Talking. Almost like ghosts in the house. Quieting the need to yell at random people...even wanting to get into physical altercations with them. Violent, self-abusive, sexual thoughts. Will not engage in any of them for fear of being killed. My heart has been chaotic. Sometimes pounding so violently in my chest and throat. Other times so silent, I almost convince myself that I'm not alive. And the chestpains have been unbearable....fear I've been having mini cardiac episodes of something or another. Been scared that I'll turn the corner and find the devil waiting for me. Been very uncautious on the road, swerving unintentionally into other lanes of traffic and onto the shoulder....just drifting in the car going well over the speed limit.

And I ask....Where's God?