Right now I am reading (really listening to since it's an audio book) to the Narnian a book about the life of C. S. Lewis. Why I bought it, I can't say other than I have always been fascinated by Narnia and to understand the mind of the author of such a work has always been intriguing. Why would a man write of this? How did he just "happen" to write Christian parallels into the work when the author himself has been known say that he did not set out to write them rather he intended JUST to write a children's fiction? What brought a man who (before I read this book) I understood to be a complete atheists with no Christian background other than that which was forced upon him by the public schools of his time become a Christian and known as (among other things) a author on the Christian faith?
And as I said in my facebook post yesterday, as I have listened to this book, I have found a odd sort of "kindred spirit" (words stolen from Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables) in C. S. Lewis. According to this present book, Lewis was raised in a "Christian" home, but in a home in which technique and rules and fear of God (though not the "good kind") governed his religious life. So with this information, it isn't a supprise to me that Lewis came to a point in life when he didn't believe that Christianity was nothing more than mythos similar to the mythos of Roman and Greek gods.
Currently in the book, Lewis has just gotten past the philisohical arguement that God "probably" exsist to believing that God is god....he has not yet embraced the religion as a whole, but that he was on a journey/an adventure that was a pressent beyond is control of where it ended up. He then believe (in his words) in "not precisely Christianity, but it may turn out that way in the end".
And without reading the end of the story yet, this is where I find my "kindred spirit". Much like Lewis, in many ways this is how my faith began. Yes a fourteen I "got saved" though I didn't understand what that meant at the time. But for most of my life, I thought God required me to fit into a box that was one sized fits most; and if I happened not to fit, then it had to be good-bye God and...(at least from my religious teachings)...hello hell. So for several months to a year or so, Christianity was just rountine, something I did because I had to because I lieved in my parents house; but something I no longer believed and I wasn't too absolutely sure that God exsisted, I figured it was more probable that He did, but I wasn't postive. Now let's jump forward in my life to now, the God I see and interact with now, is not that God I learned about in Sunday school at church....I'm not exactly sure who He is, but I know it was Him in the vision I had the night of my "salvation" inviting me into his embrace inspite of my unsuredness of my really wanting to become a "Christian" or my fear that the only reason I was standing in the place I was at the time was because I was scared of this place called "hell".
Looking back on it now, until I saw the picture in my head of Jesus asking me to come Him, my accent to "become a Christian" was more logical and practical than a matter of the heart. Jesus, the founder of Christianity was a good man, and did right in his life...I wanted to be like that...Plus I wanted to avoid the god that would seemingly with out care throw unaggreeable lots into hell, a place of forever being frozen in a state of being burned alive. And I can't even honestly tell you that after I saw the picture of Jesus in my mind that I WANTED to become a Christian. But more so, it was the first point in my life where I thought that MAYBE someone wanted ME even with all my dirty spots and things everyone always seemed to hate about me. And that, that possibilty of being wanted has been a forever draw to me even if my faith as it stands today can't exactly be described at "Christianity" or even if at pressent I can't exactly explain this God of my faith or what he wants or where he's going or if I will ever true get where he is or wants me to me or if I will ever really make him happy. But the pull is still there. The Possibility of love. Like a drop of water on parched land has sunk into me and cannot be extracted out.
thoughts to be continued......
Friday, January 27, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
I Have much on my mind right now. And since I am currently at my parents cabin where I have Internet at 4 am; I think I am going to attempt to write some of my thoughts down in hopes of clearing my head and finding sleep again (hopefully peaceful/restful sleep).
I am so tired. There is a section of my brain that is trying to blame all this fear and tiredness on myself, in which case this part of my brain is being very hateful, berating, and over all demeaning. I will not say these things because either one, I am so exhausted and tired of fighting for sleep that I am kinda delusional and trying to find someone to blame and finding only me or it's my addiction trying to give me enough cause to come back. Either way it's bad. so yeah this paragraph is all the acknowledgement I plan to give it.
Number two. I am current at the cabin because I cant force myself to face my phobia at the house which would correct my irrational fear and probably bring life back to normal. But as you can tell by this early morning post....the cabin has phobias to be dealt with as well. My parents just got a new Saint bernard dog. His name is Keg (they didn't name him, his previous owners did). My dad says that Keg is sweet and friendly. But my first impression of him goes as follows. 1. He is MASSIVE, when he stands his head is at my dad's waist, and since dad is 6 foot, that puts Keg at a good 3 ft height. Mom calls him tall and thin, but he's a saint bernard, no matter what shape he is, he's huge. 2. upon getting on the porch where my mom was, Keg decided that I was a threat and started barking (thankfully only stayed in one spot); but none-the-less coupled with my fear of dogs especially barking dogs due to a dog bite as a child, Keg's barking sent me into utter panic. I froze in place, shaking and crying, all the while thinking in my head "he's big enough he could eat me, oh please oh please don't eat me. I just want inside so I can sleep. Please don't eat me. and PLEASE don't come closer". My dad had to come to me and grab me to walk me forward while I fought the urge to run to my car drive to work and sleep in my car and go without food tomorrow. Keg may be nice, but now I'm scared to step out of the door alone. A couple times last night, both of my parents tried to invite Keg in to "get to know me" and in there mind hopefully vindicate him for his horrible first impression, but all these suggestions produced was another round of panic and their 25 year daughter begging them not to bring him in.
and when I finally fell asleep I dreamed of working in which each sale without a gift card would require me to spend time with Keg. Nightmare to one who finds the dog currently terrifying. So there was lots of tossing and turning, whimpering in my sleep, dehydration and nausea.
Part of me says that I should call in sick to work today and attempt to rectify my house phobia, IE ask my dad to come with me to the house and show me I am wrong. so then at least I can eat and drink and sleep in one safe place....because I don't envision myself coming out to the cabin again for a while where there is an actual fear and object of fear versus the irrational fear at the house.
I feel like a baby.
Yesterday, I also gave away my latest batch of razor blades, because Friday night God and I had a conversation in which I discovered that I as a cowardly, stupid, human could in fact bring pain to God. Also in the conversation I came to realize that I have a love for God now. I don't know that I would say that I am in love with God (because he says that I am not letting him have my heart), but it definitely a degree of love in which I feel bad for bringing him pain and if possible want to try not to bring him pain again. So I asked a friend to take them (partly because I feared that if I through them away myself I would only return to dig through the trash for them). But since then, especially after meeting Keg, there is a part of me that is begging and pleading for the blades return. I have asked my friend what became of the blades and they said that the blades are now in the trash....although I am tempted to ask "which trash". I guess so much for my shear willpower not to go back to the blades....I can't even go 24 hours without thinking of ways to get them returned...idiot. And right now, there is no plan B. So I guess I will just have to hope willpower is enough to keep me away from it for now, til plan B/ in case of emergency plan comes to me.
I am so tired. There is a section of my brain that is trying to blame all this fear and tiredness on myself, in which case this part of my brain is being very hateful, berating, and over all demeaning. I will not say these things because either one, I am so exhausted and tired of fighting for sleep that I am kinda delusional and trying to find someone to blame and finding only me or it's my addiction trying to give me enough cause to come back. Either way it's bad. so yeah this paragraph is all the acknowledgement I plan to give it.
Number two. I am current at the cabin because I cant force myself to face my phobia at the house which would correct my irrational fear and probably bring life back to normal. But as you can tell by this early morning post....the cabin has phobias to be dealt with as well. My parents just got a new Saint bernard dog. His name is Keg (they didn't name him, his previous owners did). My dad says that Keg is sweet and friendly. But my first impression of him goes as follows. 1. He is MASSIVE, when he stands his head is at my dad's waist, and since dad is 6 foot, that puts Keg at a good 3 ft height. Mom calls him tall and thin, but he's a saint bernard, no matter what shape he is, he's huge. 2. upon getting on the porch where my mom was, Keg decided that I was a threat and started barking (thankfully only stayed in one spot); but none-the-less coupled with my fear of dogs especially barking dogs due to a dog bite as a child, Keg's barking sent me into utter panic. I froze in place, shaking and crying, all the while thinking in my head "he's big enough he could eat me, oh please oh please don't eat me. I just want inside so I can sleep. Please don't eat me. and PLEASE don't come closer". My dad had to come to me and grab me to walk me forward while I fought the urge to run to my car drive to work and sleep in my car and go without food tomorrow. Keg may be nice, but now I'm scared to step out of the door alone. A couple times last night, both of my parents tried to invite Keg in to "get to know me" and in there mind hopefully vindicate him for his horrible first impression, but all these suggestions produced was another round of panic and their 25 year daughter begging them not to bring him in.
and when I finally fell asleep I dreamed of working in which each sale without a gift card would require me to spend time with Keg. Nightmare to one who finds the dog currently terrifying. So there was lots of tossing and turning, whimpering in my sleep, dehydration and nausea.
Part of me says that I should call in sick to work today and attempt to rectify my house phobia, IE ask my dad to come with me to the house and show me I am wrong. so then at least I can eat and drink and sleep in one safe place....because I don't envision myself coming out to the cabin again for a while where there is an actual fear and object of fear versus the irrational fear at the house.
I feel like a baby.
Yesterday, I also gave away my latest batch of razor blades, because Friday night God and I had a conversation in which I discovered that I as a cowardly, stupid, human could in fact bring pain to God. Also in the conversation I came to realize that I have a love for God now. I don't know that I would say that I am in love with God (because he says that I am not letting him have my heart), but it definitely a degree of love in which I feel bad for bringing him pain and if possible want to try not to bring him pain again. So I asked a friend to take them (partly because I feared that if I through them away myself I would only return to dig through the trash for them). But since then, especially after meeting Keg, there is a part of me that is begging and pleading for the blades return. I have asked my friend what became of the blades and they said that the blades are now in the trash....although I am tempted to ask "which trash". I guess so much for my shear willpower not to go back to the blades....I can't even go 24 hours without thinking of ways to get them returned...idiot. And right now, there is no plan B. So I guess I will just have to hope willpower is enough to keep me away from it for now, til plan B/ in case of emergency plan comes to me.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
I was just on facebook and under my "people you may know" box, it suggested a person from my biological fam.....and discovered that reason this person was suggested was because they have listed my high school as one that they attend. But when I saw the name, My first impulse was to flip off the computer (like it was facebook's fault). Facebook doesn't know that I don't want anything to do with that person or most other people in that family....
I don't want to be agree or feel any hatred towards the people that this person represents, but right now I do. I don't completely hate them because I know that no one is perfect and that they are human, but I sincerely dislike them for their action and in-action as it relates to my life. Even while I know that the events of my life that these people have been involved in have shaped who I am and what my life is about and stands for....
In the back of my mind sometimes I hear a voice saying that I am not any different than these people. That my graduating high school and college was a miracle and had nothing REALLY to do with me or who I am. that in reality, that being where I am in life (college grad with hopes of one day going to grad school, middle class, intelligent person), is just random...a happy accident. That if things went the way they "should" I would be a low class and or poverty level, high school drop out, abusive druggie working a minimum wage job (which is a current reality) with no foreseeable future.
Maybe that is why I get angry when I think about these people...I haven't fully embraced that thought we do share DNA (a point that I fight every day not to blame myself for); we are not the same. Though I may have difficulty, I am capable of feeling and appropriately responding to those emotions (or at least reaching out and asking someone to help me choose right).
I was/am a gift that just happened not to come wrapped in wrapping paper so I wasn't perceived as such. And I am compassionate and have a huge heart (sometimes to my own detriment). I dream of a life beyond the generational happenings of the past...a life beyond bob or disordered eating; and on good days...fight to reach that dream.
I AM different, hopefully that will stick in my head one day
I don't want to be agree or feel any hatred towards the people that this person represents, but right now I do. I don't completely hate them because I know that no one is perfect and that they are human, but I sincerely dislike them for their action and in-action as it relates to my life. Even while I know that the events of my life that these people have been involved in have shaped who I am and what my life is about and stands for....
In the back of my mind sometimes I hear a voice saying that I am not any different than these people. That my graduating high school and college was a miracle and had nothing REALLY to do with me or who I am. that in reality, that being where I am in life (college grad with hopes of one day going to grad school, middle class, intelligent person), is just random...a happy accident. That if things went the way they "should" I would be a low class and or poverty level, high school drop out, abusive druggie working a minimum wage job (which is a current reality) with no foreseeable future.
Maybe that is why I get angry when I think about these people...I haven't fully embraced that thought we do share DNA (a point that I fight every day not to blame myself for); we are not the same. Though I may have difficulty, I am capable of feeling and appropriately responding to those emotions (or at least reaching out and asking someone to help me choose right).
I was/am a gift that just happened not to come wrapped in wrapping paper so I wasn't perceived as such. And I am compassionate and have a huge heart (sometimes to my own detriment). I dream of a life beyond the generational happenings of the past...a life beyond bob or disordered eating; and on good days...fight to reach that dream.
I AM different, hopefully that will stick in my head one day
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