could be a cult?

sorry for the long vacation, but i don’t have the inclination to fill you in. what this is really about might throw you for a bit. then again, it might not.

i have never been more disgusted at a church service as i was this weekend. i will leave out names, the this associate of my church seems to be hell bent on hatred. his sermon fell just short of calling the homosexual umbrella an abomination. this sets me off like no other! in his twisted, perverse way, he justifies it because “it’s not natural”… “God created man for a woman and woman for a man.”

i absolutely hate it when people interpret scripture in a was so that is blatantly refuses people. Jesus call us to love our neighbor, and even our enemies. the Bible also states that Jesus didn’t come to condemn, He came to save. we are supposed to be bearers on Christ, and follow in His ways… but i guess this speaker didn’t look at that part close enough. i was in a foul mood all day, mostly because of this jackass.

further more infuriating, he called self esteem an enemy of the church; because it absolves the child (in this case) of owning up to sin. it teaches them that they aren’t “good”’ and that they are sinners doing sin. what about the child who is picked apart at home and at school? is it their fault that are picked on? and the kid who was sexually abused? are they not good enough because of their “sin”?

he was saying that it’s dangerous to tell a kid they can be what they want to be, what kinda horse shit is that?

a year

it has been over a year since i last showed up here. i occasionally lurk around, reading post from people i followed. but it’s been a year, 367 days since i took to the keyboard to type out anything.

in that span two (or really three) things have happened: my mother was diagnosed with lymphoma, and recently confirmed, after 7 treatments of chemo, her body fought it off; the second thing is that i uprooted with my family and moved half a country away. we left all we knew, all my VA appointments, all my wife’s volunteering, all my kids’ friends, and all our family.

i am looking forward to 2020, sappy as it is, i feel like everything is going to be ok. for once.

6/8/2015 (a very abridged account)

i sat there, steadily hearing nothing. no electronic beeps, no gasps from the oxygen machine, no agonized breathing from his cancer riddled chest. nothing but the earthshaking silence of a bland beige recovery room. the lazy sun threw shafts of 8:30am light in an otherwise hazy room. i sat there, both a million light years away, and yet ten feet from his motionless body.

then there was a frantic possession of nurses that invaded the room, taking his useless vitals, reading the silent machinery, and attempting, in vainly, to resurrect some signs in his body. all that was left on the white hospital bed was fresh sweat stains and his grey skin pulled over protruding bones. his once opposing body was reduced to a cheap halloween decoration, complete with a plastic sheen and cold feel.

silence fell again, not because they stopped working on a hopeless case, or that he was suddenly vital; i was dead to what was going on in the tomb around me. i couldn’t tell you how much time actually passes, or if i responded to everyone in an appropriate manner. i couldn’t even tell you what was going on through my clouded mind.

everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time, both feeling like only seconds had pasted and that i had been sitting in the counselors office for decades. i was there, but not at all present. i must have said the right things with the right intonation at the appropriate time, because next i was in the parking lot headed toward the funeral home.

in between the revelation of his lifeless body and the journey where his husk was sent; in a moment of clarity i remember calling his other son. this is the other son that they unfailingly fawned and fussed over. whom they seemed to focus all their affection on (at least it seemed like that to me at the time), and whom they turned a blind eye to what he did when he thought they were dumb. he was the one who tried out various different sports, got wonderful grades, and was in many extra curricular activities; he was contemptuous toward his family, like he was a criminal and they were the police.

all i got from the conversation was “i’m sorry he is gone, and i am on vacation until thursday.” those barbarous words landed another blow to my already damaged frame of mind; but was so common that is seemed like he was simply going to be late coming home from the movies. he either didn’t realize that i was wading in doubt and sorrow, or he was callous enough not to care. although i was half expecting this rejection, i was still feeling crushed an alone. i felt adrift in choppy waters with no means of navigation. i didn’t even have enough anything to feel angry, that would come weeks later.

the next couple of days were nothing, as if they weren’t even on the calendar. even at his memorial service nothing seemed real. sure, everything was tangible, but yet not entirely there. i remember people hugging me, and imparting wisdoms like “it will get better, and “i’m here for you.” i remember shuddering at the embrace of a family friend, but i could even force a single salty tear. i remember comments like “it was a nice crowd” with the same inflection as if a baseball game was being discussed while grilled hotdogs were greedily being consumed.

i don’t think i am recovered, four years later i still wrestle with not seeming him. true, our relationship wasn’t copasetic in the past, in fact it was deplorable at the best of times;but he, no we, were trying to heal from our past, and taking the time to find out who each other were. he saw how horrendous his actions were, and i saw how unforgiving i was being. that came to an abrupt halt when his body couldn’t take life anymore. i’m just sitting here, now, waiting to recover and start feeling like a person instead of one of like a hollow plastic bag.

i am tired of the way the Christianity deals, on doesn’t, with mental illness. i have heard, so many times, to just pray through it and to “cast your anxieties” on God. that shit doesn’t help, and i don’t think that’s how God works. i think, and this is my opinion, that God would want us to seek the help that he has provided. God has given people knowledge and insight on how to help individuals going through various mental illnesses, and i think God wants us to use them. i think that just praying and giving it up to God is just a way for Christians leaders to have a less worldly, hands off approach. i think that there should be practical training for church leaders and pastors, or at least someone with a psychological background on staff, or on call (if the church has the funds). i think the current standing is more damaging than anything. thanks for listening.

everyone i know will die

so, i have been depressed lately. it might be because of the weather change, or the fact that i am 35 and still working menial jobs that have no future. i also had as anxiety issue at work the other day, and it spiraled from my friends mom dying. now, i never knew her, but thoughts ran away from me and i ended up stewing in my own morality with the knowledge that everyone i know will die. i have no other thoughts right now, just that.

everyone i know will die

so, i have been depressed lately. it might be because of the weather change, or the fact that i am 35 and still working menial jobs that have no future. i also had as anxiety issue at work the other day, and it spiraled from my friends mom dying. now, i never knew her, but thoughts ran away from me and i ended up stewing in my own morality with the knowledge that everyone i know will die. i have no other thoughts right now, just that.

i give up

so, i think that i have given up on the idea of having sex with my wife. from time to time she says that we can have sex that night, but 10:30 rolls around and i am heading to bed (i have become used to going to sleep by 10 due to my previous job). what’s she doing? watching TV until 1:30. then when i do stay up, she lies beside me on the bed playing on her phone. she won’t even ninja sex when the kids are busy. i lover her, i don’t want to leave her, but it’s been a while. i am just frustrated.

the past few months

life has been funny as of late. i have had three jobs in the past 4 months, fired from one i really liked; lost around 25 lbs but have been stress eating since i got fired. found out my brother is probably moving before i am. seen my wife spiral into some angry, depressed person that i don’t recognize all of the time.

to say the least, it’s been really strange; i just hope that it doesn’t stay like this.

i am a fake, this is a sham.

i don’t feel like i am an artist at all.  i feel like, sometimes, it’s a sham and that everyone will wake up and find out that i am a hack.  i don’t always feel like this, but lately i have.  it is hard for me to come up with ideas on what to draw; and then when i do it never turns out the way i imagined it.  granted, people like my work and appreciate the dedication i put into it; i feel like i am not an artist, just a guy that puts ink lines on paper.

my depressing background

i want to go into what i am feeling, because i think that i was vague and rambling.  as many of you undoubtedly know that i suffer from PTSD.  this has been a real bitch to me.  i live with depression, nearly debilitating, but i manage to rise a little above this encompassing depression to raise my children and keep my wife fairly happy.  i go into bouts of finding joy in my hobbies, to wanting to find joy in them.  not only do i have depression, but i also have sessional affective depression; and right about now the seasons are changing.

when i was a young teenager i was also very depressed, but i think that is normal for teenagers to go through.  i had no one i fit in with, although i was not bullied i did feel like an outsider.  i talked to people in the halls, and in class; but i don’t believe anything came of it.  I’d sometimes invite people over but they’d never show, which is ok because my home life was bad.  in the midst of all of this i would cut my arms and my legs.  usually these would be just deep enough to bleed but shallow enough no to leave visible scars (save for 5 deep cuts on my lower left leg).  i was never caught, but i was snitched on by someone i trusted (the syndrome).  also during this time i did what any teenager would do and put my trust in people rather than in a higher being.  i dated syndrome for 14 months, and the last 2 months of our relationship she reverted back to not knowing me.

anyway, all that to say that i have been struggling with mental illness of some sort or another for a long time, but this time it is kicking me and lingering.  i feel empty and alone, like nothing can fill a void i didn’t expect to have.  i have been really bad intrusive thoughts lately, almost all-consuming.  it seems that i think about hanging myself a lot.  i won’t ever do it, because i am frightened of death and what happens after it.  i am perpetually scared that everything i learned about heaven is a lie, and i have been living a fraudulent life (not that i am the perfect Christian).

i think everything was vague because i did not want to admit it.