Sunday, December 8, 2013

Because I hurt

I came across an interesting document...See, I am the person who talks to themselves too much, and often quite negative.

The difference between myself and most people is, I say we, instead of I.

I often questioned why I would say we instead, I never could come to an answer until I read this.

I see and know that most of the self-talk is actually bad. But I came from (what some might say) a traumatic past. I'm not going to drama it up and say I was beaten by my parents, or hated by everyone, nope, I just had low self-esteem and a few bullies with a not so good support system. (To all you Christian parents out there, God is not always the answer, sometimes God gave you the answer and you have to carry it out.)

I had a teacher who called me the anti-christ, I felt like my parents didn't care, and me and my brother fought daily. I still have those words marked on my thought, the day me and my brother were playing Risk and I wiped her off the board. His words to me "Your soul is just like your face, blemished." I don't blame him, he was in a dark place too, just as dark as me in a different place, but I live with that now.

Anyways, I beat myself up for a long time, "I'm a creep, I'm worthless, I'm a monster, I'm the devil, I'm death, I'm a soul reaper (yep, even something as strange as that). But why did I say these things? Because I was young, because people said them to me, because as a young child we are impressionable, and we in those years take those words and put them to ourselves.

I hurt badly at that time, I wanted to die, I never could get far enough to do it. Instead I tried to find help, I didn't know how... I really didn't know how. I cut the words "help me" into my arm, I cut myself thinking someone would notice and just stop me, someone who could help, not just lock me away...I became angry, violent, I threatened people, I was caught in a corner and no one would help, it felt that way. I know that feeling, that last bit of light when your last hope is fading and you see people getting in the way, you'd rather them dead then go into the darkness.

In the end of it all, it was me who put myself into the darkness. I let them win, and I hurt myself for it. I needed help so badly, I remember cutting myself with glass from the scanner I broke in my house. I cut myself so I could write on the wall with my blood, "Help me, I am death". Yes, I was at that point, insane, I was lost, and I wanted to die, I wanted to die and I wanted the people who wouldn't help me, to die with me.

As I grew older I grew apart from people, people I had called friends, some had done no wrong, I just didn't want them, they didn't know how to help me, and so I did not want them. I looked online, it was a good mask for a long time, I hid myself away from myself, I stopped going to school, faked sick so I didn't have to live with that self-hatred anymore, so I could hide myself in a world that did not exist.

A fake world only lasts so long though, I saw even online that I was hurt. I didn't trust the people I was helping and I seemed to screw up a lot. I left with the belief I would destroy their things, that I would hurt their things. And after a while I stopped, I just stopped with the whole idea of friends.

When I moved out to Edmonton, I thought to myself, fresh start, this is great. I was good for awhile, I had hidden myself, buried parts of my past away with the thought they would not resurface. But going back to school, humans, people, oh how they bring back the past. The fights, the asking for help, the morals I didn't want to bend. The ones who claimed to be friends, and then I helped them, but they were scared because they felt something they hadn't in a long time and next thing I know a whole group of people are pushing me away. I left that school, and I disappeared again.

I dissapeared for years, I lived my life hating myself up to that point. Those words, "Creep, jerk, ass, worthless, monster, garbage, devil, demon, the anti-christ." They sat on me like a slab of concrete, slowly crushing the life from me again.

When I finally ended up at a Psychiatrist, I lied, the whole time. I didn't trust anyone anymore, I lied about my reasons for the things I had done, the way I felt, the problems that ate away at me. I fabricated a back story to myself. Yes, I was a liar, you were right, but I thank God my mom had the sense not to send me back to school, because what was underneath the lies that I told you, was so, much, worse.

I went for 6 weeks to a group therapy. I learned a lot about myself there, a lot about others too. I helped people, genuinely we helped each other, they liked me, and I learned not to listen to those words as my own.

Yet... I didn't learn to push them aside, instead I gave them their own voice, a seperate thing "We are evil, we are wicked, we are sinners, forgive us God for we have sinned." I gave the negative voice it's own side, so I could view it as someone else. I didn't want to hate myself anymore, so I grew to hate people, to distrust them, more than I had before.

I know manipulation, I know hatred, I know wanting people to see your way. I still do that, but I am not like I once was, no, instead I have this voice that I have learned to hate, I don't even see it as a part of me, I see it as humanity as a whole. So when people do these things, and they wonder why I am so angry at them. It's because I don't want another one of me running around, the things that made me into what I was and who I am, they anger me, and I hate them, and I hate people who live and use them for their own benefit. I use we, because I can't hate me any longer, but I hate what made me, and I hate those who use it because they want their way.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Loss Without Losing

In a time... Where we accept that it's not our problem. I can't.

Two days ago now, something horrible happened. A life was taken, a young man dead. Not even getting to live his life.

Taken away by a tree, in a cabin, at a place that was safe.

Who's fault is it? Is it God's? How dare he send the wind?

Is it God's? How dare he allow a storm.

We look, we see, we're blind.

We blame anything but what it is.

A young man died, a young man dead, a young man taken before his time.

The winds come, the storms blow, the rain pelts the earth as the tears flow openly from those who loved him.

In a world where we can see death, we can watch it when it affects, and we pass it off as blame and do not care.

In a world where we are told we do not have the time to care.

In a world where we are told that we do not have to feel sorry for others.

In a world where we are told to be strong.

I stand up and I say, "You know nothing!"

In a world that says "It's not my business."

I say, "You are fool's."

This world is our business.

These people are our business.

This world, and everyone in it, can be affected in the way that things happen!



You are foolish if you dare tell me that!

You're heart would break! You'd scream, the world would be without light for you!

You'd need love.

Do not tell me that I care too much!

Because of many years, I cared none. And now I stand in a pile of ashes, with my eyes open, and I see the pain.

Do not tell me, that it is not mine to deal with!




Do not speak against them!

Do not say you are above them!

For those who are above, will one day fall.

For those who are too great, will one day be little.

For those who were first, they will be last.

For those who used others to gain where they stand, they will be thrown from where they are!

In this world, you are nothing, but in this world, you are everything!

Love, be loved, give love, show love, be love.

This is what we are called for.

The meaning of life, to love one another.

It is truly, that simple. Because that simple, is just that hard.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

I Dreamt Of Lust

The lady in red my friend, the lady in red.

(Ok, now that I've given credit to where it's come from let me continue on with the story.)

So there I was... I believe I was on a cruise ship, a very elegant one at that.

The woman in the picture you can forget about her. The woman in my dreams was different. There was something about her that made you think. "Hmmm.... Weird... Interesting"

Either way she would come to me at random times during the trip, she would brush with me, touch my face, give my cheek a quick kiss. And at first she had seemed very pale, but as she did this her face would become full in color once more. I wasn't against or for it, instead after it happened I felt very much... empty. But I let her do it anyhow.

As time progressed on the boat I began to see her doing it to other guys. I... didn't even care. It was like. "She does it to me, they'll live." It was almost as if I had figured it out. Then she went a step too far, she did it to my brother... She touched his cheek and her face came to life.

When she came to me next time I started telling her to get away, that I didn't want it. I screamed at her. "Be gone in the name of Jesus!" The answer I got was not one I expected. "I know the name of David, but you do not know the name of God." I was rooted in fear, you remember that bible story where the guys tried to cast out a demon and the demon said to them "I do now know you, and the demon beat them to within an inch of their life? Yeah, I was waiting for that to happen, but it never did.

Instead she looked at me and said. "You expect God to do what you wish, when you wish, but you do not do what he wishes." She tried to touch me, she did but, no life came to her.

I think I understand a bit of it now, there was a warning in there. God did protect me from her, even though I was flipping scared. I felt myself challenged by those last words. Last night was a weird night filled with many dreams.

But the dream that sticks out, is the dream where I met with lust, and God saved me.