Chapter 01. What I think

I think I’m not as good as I thought. This entire hero persona that I think most of us have is crashing slowly. I’m afraid of it happening, I try to avoid it with everything I have most of the time. But nothing seems to work. Even more so, the more I avoid it, the sadder I become.

There’s a story about this. I was in this car with a, I would call friend at the time, from the church I was frequenting. We were having this long conversation about our lives while he was driving to china town to buy some freshly baked bread. We sat in that car park for a while talking and I mentioned that, while going on about my life, I ignored what god told me to do, and resisted it. However, after a while, I became depressed, too exhausted to resist and keep on doing my own thing, so I decided to finally cave in and do what god has initially told me. I can’t possibly recall right now, but it was a high chance of being about my girlfriend at the time.

He immediately interjected how such occurrences are curious and seem to occur in most people, as if our rejection of god is what causes depression, this disconnection from this everlasting love. He carried on mentioning some stories in the bible to match his claim and we carried on to other topics.

So this came to my mind just now, this depression and purposelessness, might just be, again, me rejecting god. Now, things get tricky here, and I’m confused about what to do next. Praying is out of the question, so maybe meditation? I’m so afraid of trying to dig deep again.

I feel so isolated and alone and cold, but I wasn’t always like that. While I was close to this god, I felt full and loving. Even at the time where I’ve stopped fearing him and realizing he was my ally.

I think the broken fall was when I last saw my then girlfriend. I was at this airport, ready to board. I barely had money at the time, I was pretty much broke. But as I was on this moving belt doing towards my terminal, I had this premonition type feeling, that I should turn back. That things were going to go extremely bad if I board the plane and it’s for the best if I turn back. Maybe that’s where all of it started, maybe I should have listened.

See, she lived in Austria, near Vienna, and I was in UK. We had the best relationship I’ve ever had until then and I really wanted to see her, feel her, be close to her again, and feel her touch. I was also leaving with almost a will to leave everything behind. She didn’t want to move with me in the UK, so I started applying for jobs in architecture in Vienna, without much success. So now, when I was leaving, it was possible that I would find some job at a clothing store or something similar and I could finally be close to her all the time.

So when this premonition came, I felt this extreme sadness, and an overwhelming feeling that I should turn back. I was already formulating my call with her about not going, knowing it would be something she really didn’t want. And still, I didn’t turn back, and pushed on, thinking I was sad mostly because I was leaving my entire career behind, and that was something I was willing to sacrifice.

A few days later, I realized I have never felt emotional pain to that extent in my life. I was in her car, and had her stop, I laid in her lap and couldn’t stop crying. In the middle of the past few days of emotional trauma that I still think will haunt me for the rest of my life, to survive, I had to leave what we call presence. I tried to escape in god, but he wasn’t there. Then I tried to escape within myself, and went to this place I can probably call afterlife and before life at the same time. I even remember being on the bed with her and suddenly, I get this feeling I should run, get away from there. I start shaking and crying and telling my girlfriend to run with me. She tries to calm me down and tell me nothing will happen when her mother walks in with the most evil and destructive aura I’ve felt on anyone. She proceeds to insult me and her for the next 30 minutes or so. All considered, she could have done her usual 1-2 hours, but this time, I couldn’t defend myself or stand up for myself. So I just sat there, looking at this creature whose only purpose in that moment was to destroy our relationship and cause as much pain to me and her daughter as she could.

And she did, as per usual, almost every night for the past year or so, when I had to console a crying girlfriend for the rest of the night instead of enjoying any time together. But this time, I couldn’t console her, because it was too much. I had been broken entirely. There was no future anymore, no hope, no love and no laughter. For me, that moment was like the death of my soul and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered any joy since then.

So I sat there, in the car, in her lap, crying like never before. I felt like I’ve lost something essential to my life. I saw myself in that afterlife, covered in light, warmth and love and I saw that’s maybe where my soul went, but I was stuck here and never again will I even feel any joy or love, in my life. There was no purpose anymore. I was bawling at this point, she was trying to calm me down, but it wasn’t doing much to help. I told her what I was feeling, but I don’t think she understood, but she tried, she always tried… but I needed her to understand, or else I was going to be alone in this grey new life.

She never did understand. I never felt her close again, it’s like she stopped loving me that day. Although I know that’s not true, I have to admire how she managed to survive living under that tyrant all her life. I never did feel any joy or love after that..

It feels like my entire life after that has been a husk of my personality living on, but I never felt alive. I broke up with her a few months after, maybe more to go away from that sorrow and evilness I would have to endure if I joined her family. I can’t accept that as something in my life, so when she said she didn’t see her mother as I bad as I do, even after all that, and she couldn’t chose to be with me, maybe I had to finally chose. So I did. I threw away the best in my life, I left the house I was in to live alone, blocked toxic people from my life, my parents, my best friend, just to finally be free from them and people that just want to destroy and spread hate.

I abandoned her, the light of my life, and my precious cat, to finally be free. But that dream, to live with her and my dear cat all my life was gone. I hoped that light and joy would come back but it’s been almost two years and my last joyful day that I can remember is before I took a step on that plane.

So, now, how do I go back to god from here? I can realize I’m wrong for months on end but when does it truly end?

Maybe I should have never stepped on that plane and I should have turned back to the other abusive mother I dreaded and dreamed escaping. Maybe that would have helped. Maybe I would still have my wonderful girlfriend and Michael. Or maybe nothing would have changed.

I learned god is in me, that I’m god, that we’re all connected, that we have this abundance of joy and love within us. And all of that came crashing down that day. I cannot and no not want to love someone who enjoys destroying people, and how could I? Wouldn’t loving that person and allowing it to carry on hurt more of life and love? Maybe this is me arguing against what I already know is best to do.

I do not know how to ever rise from here. I don’t think there is a point anymore, not without getting back what I lost that day. Maybe there is a way. Maybe I can meet that god again and love being. Maybe.

But I don’t know how.

I feel there is so much more I want to say, and tell, I have this storm inside ever since that day, and I cannot find words. I usually could. I could let it out, let myself scream, let myself feel, let myself turn this storm into a beautiful next step. But I can’t now. I feel there’s no reason to rise anymore.

I hope sometimes that she’d finally reply and somehow that would help me move on, but I’ve long since given up on other people being here for me, as, aren’t all of us really alone? Do people understand each-other to the level I want to be understood? Or is this the loneliness that we’re meant to carry for the rest of our lives? Maybe I just don’t understand anymore, maybe I truly never understood.

It seems so trivial for those who know themselves, who know a goal towards they dance and move on. Or maybe that’s what I was always told, and it’s not true. Do you people doubt that goal every day? Do you crash down and ask yourselves if it’s truly worth all this struggle? I never had one, I wasn’t allowed as a child to dream. I know it sounds dramatic, but bear with me.

I really wasn’t. I guess I always knew inside of me, so as far as I remembered, I always knew who to blame. I think I was 3 or 4 when I remember waking up and immediately hating being near my parents. Maybe they tried their best, but it never really showed. Not really. Our dad would hit us almost every other day, whenever he probably found a valid reason to, I guess. I never really knew why, an explanation was too much to give to a scum like me, or so I was told. I learned how to avoid, how to please, how to run away from that, so I never really had a chance to carry on dreaming about a real life. For the most part, I was Harry, underneath the staircase, under his tyrannical uncle and aunt, dreaming to escape to Hogwarts, for magic to finally be real so I don’t have to carry on like this.

Ah, but it never was real, and I that was, for a long time, the last dream I had. I got the good grades, wasn’t allowed any other way, I got into the school they said, wasn’t allowed any other way.

And then, ah, the wonderful days of being a teen, rebellion. I finally did the first thing in my life I felt I had control over. I went to an art school. I made a choice, I don’t know how, maybe that constant pressure of being somewhere I didn’t want to be finally pushed me to do it. So I did. And I got it, to the dismay of my family, which I think still believes art is the most wasteful thing one can do with life. But I WANTED IT. And I did my best. Now, thinking back on it, did I stay at school drawing until 8-9pm every day because I loved it, or because I didn’t want to be home? Was it truly something I wanted or was it the only way that I could show an ounce of control over my life so far?

It didn’t matter back then, so I rebelled more. I let my hair grow, I moved with my grandparents, I made friends I enjoyed. I was never allowed those things. I was never allowed outside, or long hair. I found people that were also suffering like me, and they helped me tremendously. I still think about them sometimes, it is thanks to them that I ever got the courage to make my own choices and grow. To those few of you, I owe you more than I can describe. I wish I could relive those days in Spain with the two of you forever, it was the most free and loved I’ve ever felt.

So how much of that art was real? It all came crashing down as soon as I left, you see. I think that was my way of coping with them. Pick something, get good at it, use it as a means to escape, then escape! And it all worked fine, until I was free. Then, I didn’t like it anymore. I didn’t like anything anymore. I pushed on because I was again in a place without a choice, doing the same thing I hated back home, but now all alone without the friends I much loved.

How do people cope with that? What do you do?

I got sick, so sick, that I had to give up. Or maybe it was my way of making myself do that hard choice. Instead of art it was now giving up. Be free again from that same oppression. But it was me who put me under this new oppression, not my family, couldn’t blame them anymore, but I could still blame their god. For a while, until that got old. It always gets old, hatred does that, drains you away until you can’t even stand.

I’ve gone through so much now, maybe not nearly as much as some others, but I cannot live their life, I can only live mine. I look at some people, and see their suffering, and their passion. How do their still have passion, and purpose? Did they always have it? Did it suddenly come? I never had one, so I don’t know. Maybe that’s all I need.

But how do I even get one of those? There’s so many things I’d love, but the truth is I’m still here, after all that 1^st half without really feeling much passion or light.

Does it ever get better? Or do I have to find a way?

Will I find my way, a true one, or will I pick something to make me free again from under this current oppression? Am I really bound to running this circle over and over? I really hope not.

Thank you, to all who read through and accepted part of me in your life. Thank you, know that with the little I have, I love you.