The freak show continues. The past four days have far more eventful than my sleep-laden days and nights would suggest.
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I’m being pulled apart, and I can’t stop it. I don’t even know what’s real anymore. The voice of literally everyone I know is in direct conflict with the one voice inside me, and they all say it’s a delusion that will leave my life in ruins.
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For the longest time I held onto the idea I was special in some way. Maybe that’s an inevitability when one thinks God is talking to them. Or maybe it was my mind's way of putting a positive spin on not having an authentic place of belonging. Perhaps it was arrogance or elitism, or maybe a desperate attempt to just keep going after years of wounding and depression.
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There was a brief moment in 2009 when I'd fooled myself into believing I'd successfully ordered my life exactly as I'd have it. It was a Monday. I'd just arrived at work, had hung up my camel-hair overcoat on the office door, was placing my carefully folded scarf and driving gloves on my mahogany file cabinet, and was gazing out the 19th story window upon a landscape that felt like mine for the taking.
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For all the days and months I've spent sorting out my psychological landscape, all the progress I could’ve made, I find myself regressed to the point that I feel worse off than before that fateful moment in the fall of 2012. The tension between the pull toward what I am versus what I’m supposed to be is at an all-time high and frustration has spread like a wildfire in my mind.
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I offer this poem in honor of the richest men in the world. Change 'wishes' to 'money' and you have your 85.
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When it comes to progress, accomplishments, or the simple journey of life, no matter how many hills I ascend there will always be more to climb. What matters is how I make my way and with whom.
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I'm at work. Got in at 5:30 this morning. It's 8:15, and I feel like I'm in a pressure cooker - not from the stress, but the utter absence of it.
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I’ve been doing inner-child work with my therapist, and I’m making significant progress toward resolving the issues undergirding each of them. Each of them represent deep wounds, which generally turn in against me in the form of shame, anger, and depression when they’re triggered. I do occasionally experience them projected outward, in slightly modified form, against the external world.
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A new day dawns, and the year of The Word begins. I believe the eschaton I spoke of in December is close, but at this moment I’m at peace. As I place one foot in front of the other, there are four things I must incorporate as I prepare: enter the flow of life, be watchful for synchronicity, accept my destiny, and begin to walk as God's son.
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