I’m going to be honest here, after all, isn’t that what blogging’s about? Not that I’m ever ‘deceitful’, it’s just that one chooses the topics one blogs about and edits the blog so as to ensure that one does not look like a completely self-absorbed, arrogant, rude, pretentious ass. . . Well, some of us anyway.
A taboo topic though – Death, linked with a predominant topic – Love, those are what were in my space as I woke up this morning; part of the head-space of having to talk myself out of hell. Not a nice space to wake up in, but hey, it happens. Fortunately, even though this morning offered thoughts on Death, I most often wake up with Love Songs and Christian Praise Songs in my head and then have to try and work around those too as they feel so ‘unreal’ and ‘fake’ in my current circumstances. I guess I’m just one of those characters who can’t be pleases or helped. And the worst part of it is, clearly, as I’m typing about it now: I’m aware of it! Most bizarre really, most bizarre. I doubt there are many people out there who would post a public blog to say that they don’t understand themselves, they don’t get why they are so dissatisfied and they don’t know what they are missing exactly or what they are supposed to do about it, but then, I’m not ‘everyone’, I’m just me and this is my story… I can only type it as it is.
I digress, however, as per usual, so back to the opening: Death. I woke up with the question: “Lord / Death / God {take your pick}, it feels like you are slowly killing me, so why don’t you just hurry up and get the job done?” Please note: This is in no way a step towards suicide, because I’ve chosen the whole approach of “Christianity” as my life-ethos and practice. I think maybe if I’d chose Islam or Atheism or Satanism or whatever else is out there, then suicide would be an option… a pity about my choice in this circumstance, but that’s just the way happened for me. So, because God created me in and before my entrance into my Mother’s womb in a cosmic form of Love like no other, I now have to wait for “Him” to decide when my part in “His Story” {history} is complete, and for “Him” to decide that I’ve played the role as “He” is happy with so that “He” can send me off from this life. I don’t believe in Hell {as per previous blogs}, due to the rationalisation that Love / God wouldn’t create me flawed and then tell me it was my fault and therefore illogically impose an eternity of suffering on me… which has made me think that earth is hell, separation from God, health, peace etc… but that’s another blog. Due to this reasoning I’m not for suicide as it doesn’t serve my faith-path. Yes, I could change my faith-path, but then I’d be stepping out of the incredible knowing that despite all the lunacy of this world, and my annoying Self, I am loved and I have received Grace. {Another blog too, but Grace is the factor of Christianity that sets it up as THE Choice when it comes to following a faith-path, if you want to be loved without having to be punished more than you’ve already punished yourself by not living in Love.} Still, all of this leaves suicide out of the question and leaves me at the mercy of the Universe / God / Satan / my own choices and consequences; I still haven’t figured out which one is really behind it all, or if they each have shares in mucking up my life. Maybe it’s 33% to God, 30 to the Universe, and Satan and my mind share the remaining 37%. Who knows? Not me, that’s for sure. Yet, here I am: TIRED.
I’m not typing about, “after a night out” or “a hard day’s work” or “new-born baby” tired, I’m typing about chronic fatigue tired – no evident reason at all, other than ‘viruses’ in my body (the GP said my bloods had too many in there to figure out which). Viruses – an infestation inside your body that you can’t treat, you can’t medicate and you can’t do anything to help. Viruses are their own boss and will do what they want, how they want to, irrespective of their host’s needs {Hmm, I’m thinking “The Matrix” and the virus of humanity on planet earth here…}. I’ve got 9, apparently, in my system so that’s one big fight between too many ‘bosses’ and no healthy workers in my bloodstream. Freaking SUCKS!
So I wake up in the state of my body being one with the mattress and bedding, knowing I must get on with the day or my natural depressive gene will kick in and I could find myself in tears before 7am. The thoughts of Death could evolve and turn into the frustration and anger that I’m stuck here with chronic fatigue, viruses and depression. As the Biblical King David did at the depression of the death of his son, he got up, washed, dressed and ate.
So, I know I need to do that too, but then my thoughts go to ‘eat’. ‘Eat’ what? I’ve now been off all sugar for 8 days as the homeopath told me that I most certainly have rampant Candida… {anyone who has read “Eish! London” will know of my battles with this already over the years}… so ‘eat,’ but no sugar, no wheat, no gluten, no dairy. No pancakes, no muffins, no toast, just the repetitive option of oats (I work through the occasional nausea, the gluten seems manageable there) and eggs… and I’d have to be careful in the preparation of any food in order that I don’t aggravate the eczema that has found my thumb. . . I also know I have to get up and take the acid clear otherwise my legs will be in pain again (my dancing stolen from me in Aug 2012), and I have to take the probiotics for the Candida and gut illness, and the Vitamin B for the stress and depression… Why Lord, I think, why should I get up? Why am I continuing to live through this? Death, why so long and slow? Why not just arrive in one bam – “Here I am!”?
How does Death answer? He sends the images back to my mind from photographer James Nachtwey, namely the “famine” photo http://www.jamesnachtwey.com/ … He reminds me that if that famine victim who has no flesh on his body can keep crawling, then I have no excuse not to keep going too.
http://www.ted.com/speakers/james_nachtwey
Death always has such good arguments.
novel1eishlondon 