Love. When this word is spoken things like kindness, giving, compassion, companionship, relationship, and deep emotions of devotion are positive things that come to mind for most people. Love is not just words but actions. Having Love or the lack of it can help define a person’s character. Love given with an understanding of it can soften the hardest of hearts. Love is not religious. Love is community. Love is when people get along while embracing each other’s differences. A mutual respect and acceptance of each individual’s place of maturity no matter the stage of their own personal growth. This is where patience becomes a vital part of Love. Words like safety, trust, honesty, and pain come to my mind when talking about Love. Also having to say no or having to accept the word no. The word selflessness is considered a given when using the word yet more often than not we think well, what about me? When it comes to honesty we do not want to think about or include anything that can be perceived to be negative or cause us to think or feel we have been rejected for being who we are for this is not Love, this is hate because it makes us hurt or feel bad. We would rather have someone lie to us than tell us we are wrong or give us ideas on how to help us grow in a way or area that would make our lives easier. Anything that requires us to change or adapt in a situation that makes us feel uncomfortable. We would also rather lie to others for the same reason, avoidance of feeling rejected. For a simple example, whether you are on the giving or receiving end, speaking with your friend, spouse, or family member about a suggestion on how make changes to reduce stress levels to better their mental and physical health. Once we lie to protect our feelings or theirs, trust becomes questionable. Words spoken harshly or in a disrespectful manner saying it is out of Love not only causes pain but feelings of being unsafe emotionally with that person. We no longer feel we can trust them when we are vulnerable.
To study Love in other religions is of great interest to me even though I do not believe you should show Love just because religion says you should. I have a theory that Love is a pillar that was in the center of the first set of principles requested of people from the beginning to practice. The first persuasion to keep peace among the tribe. An act and law to follow for survival’s sake. I have also read a book that explains how once a population exceeds the community’s local resources Love is tossed out the window. Games and rituals are performed to the death. Whole civilizations brought down from within due to fighting amongst Rulers and those who want to overthrow Rulers. Rulers who have sent out whole families to new areas because there was not room within the city to grow, instead of allowing death battles. The decisions made by these Rulers intrigue me. Why did they make the choices they made? Did Love have an impact on their decisions or Fear? History and how we have grown is important to what Love is about. Stay with me over the next few weeks as I hope to be able explain in the next few blogs as to why.
Tag: Spirituality
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Trouble for a Love Reference: What is Love
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Old Facebook Posts Haunt
Oh to be likened to the stars who’s life is not experienced until its death or to the sand who is incased in an agitated shell only to be released a pearl…comparitive to walking on earth only to live in eternity or wrapped in flesh and battled only to be set free as a prized item…
The above is one of the posts I slipped in between my ‘Biblical and Christian’ posts I used to vaguely explain my beliefs, what I felt was needed to make it through my situation. It basically means I would rather my life mean something then what it does. There are alot of posts I made to trigger memories at a later time kind of as a post it note or alarm that give me an idea on what to write and how to find and express my true self and what I believe. The rest is below which has a little broader meaning of the above post.
Better to have been and done good but can you with stand to be used as an example opposite of the message that motived you to be good and do good as a way to show what you stood for ment nothing. In the middle of a battle of who is right and who is wrong or good vs evil. They ask mockingly if I can withstand my message being denied but I ask can they handle knowing the real reason they blocked it in the first place. Thieves don’t mind as long as they have their spoils. Sheep and goats are sincere in their belief and stand on their traditions. The wicked in heart only cares no one sees the thieves and hides them while feeding the sheep and goats privately in each thier own fields. Those who have none give none and say foolish are those who call the none believers foolish. The believers of everything seem to be non existent and I am alone yet told they stand in the shadows waiting in darkness. The blessed be closest to my heart for they truly are brave. An understanding under my breath my only hope as each walks their path. None I wish to intrude or impress my truth. I only walk and am judged by my answers. Religion, Faith and Spirituality have become a place of judgement and force of which is the right to believe in. For one life for one eternity for some and one lesson for multiple lives it seems in others. I fear to even say for one there are many lessons for many lives to come together for how ever many understandings it takes over an eternity to realize our place and who and what we are without this tangible place.
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Bad Week, Subconscious Desire a Weak Excuse
I failed again at getting something in by Sunday but now understand that a letter was coming through. Below is one of the last things I wrote almost twenty years ago. I held it back. If you know you know. Some drop their hints some don’t. Truth be told we are nearing the end. I hope you all good, happy and healthy lives. Thanks to the ones who helped with this one. I hate/love you.
I have lived my life ignoring others in a space I love to hate and one that has proven to hate loving me. Something that underlines all these layers that keep piling up over all my abuse, hurt and pain. The unseen is the reason I commit the so called sin I plan. This not so silent killer is aided my many voices and split down a middle of those who mind their own business and those that seek drama whether to destroy or appear helpful as angels. Mediums bent on bringing out the crys of the suicidal when in truth it is thier intrusion into private mental space that causes the intent to begin. Forced to continue being placed in these spaces because it’s where they think I want to fit in. As if I wanted to fit in any where. Together yet apart as dare I say friends and not mere carriers of work slipping me my notes as if we are at some mediphoric table. One perhaps low to the floor while Indian style set knees knock against the frame of a worn out wooden table. Old and weathered through time. The pictures they lay out for me as my now editors since tables turned seek to tell me stories but instead runs the lines as if to say we can wait till another day. There will be another day?…Will there? I sometimes wonder as my life and plans get lost in this collage of my life hidden in the blue and red hueing purple sky filled with teddy bears, pirate ships and dippers. Golden peaks rising with my fears of a lost anology among the many conversations and practiced speeches. Perhaps a art museum date or concert confusion. Was it the stage or the middle of the floor…definitely not the VIP section or really in public at all I’m sure. The sex, drugs and achohol all symbolism for the code of rolling emotions that came crashing through once this 20/20 vision came splashing through a dam of years held back due to the divination. Agruements and cover ups. Realizing the dream would never take fruition seeking another road to set my skills into motion. Every road lead me away from the life they had planned. So no road in the end was the intention.(slide that list of math symbols to me, shh keep it secret and safe) Mediocre life of quite and pretend solitude as covert narcissists ate up my time and destroying the life intended to be mine and only mine. All that money on their mind knowing I would walk away never to return and leave them alone with what they claimed was suffocation. A life time of continuing to remind others of the time wasted and the lack of respect and the to little to late care placed on the table from selfishness that said I only like you because you said you would compromise all your time for me. The constant admission that I am the problem just as many others and fitting that out across a stretch of internet conversations that will arguably be debated as to being used or to be used. Does it matter? The statements and decisions made as I interjected a few notes some personal some not. One thing I know is the connecting of dots and the problem solving I have come accustomed to that the origin seems to be ignored. The instinct and practiced critical thought processes running deep as I make my stand and leave. The judgemental stares as I follow the path through what seems like just another kind of hell trying to escape the upper side of it that has all the treats you might wish to eat. That realization all the treats aren’t real and the farther the walk the more disillusioned you become as your so called life doesn’t seem real. All the tragic endings and beautiful transformations made to save the innocence of children buying them a little more time before reality sets it. I want the children out of hell and in heaven. The ones with happy, healthy, well rounded utopian parents who have never had a broken relationship due to hurtful and harmful situations. For with them we would duplicate that in the same happy, healthy and well rounded utopian people in a rainbow colored world. The air seems thick with contextual emotions of reeling thought patterns motivated by intoxication but in reality it’s just another letter to my self that I put back that took time to lay out and plan. Having its own notes tied in. Now it’s just playing back as my time crunch screams you have little time for sleep and no time for hidden thoughts and cascading notes to write and throw to oceans and retrieve bottles of the same. No dancing, no parties, no more the life of the female Forest role even though the story goes you are the girl barely stepping back off the edge to run from the room. Note after note amongst so many sheets and yet all you were intended to be was just another lieing, crazy and lost little girl. They tried to stop me, he was about a week to late, figured it out when the comma took place. Instructions to write and my reply I already have and you decided to do it again trying to prove something I’m still not sure what. But again I stopped because of the ideas of others. As if I didn’t recognize my own face in the mirror. As if I hadn’t lived my own life. As if I couldn’t take the time to construct my own words. I touched it. I did. I regret and I don’t. As always both. On one side I am as purified as white gold on the other as dark as the most smoldering hot metal. Yet seeing nothing but diamonds in the sky and understanding this life was the only one I’d have, this life I lived in my mind. Divination by your hand stole it. Science by its own system saved me as voices reached out. The Supernatural shakes its head and I still have yet to figure what exactly her whisper said. The dark room and that screen was the time I knew my life…life would never reach past it for I am nothing but “a full blown loon” just as one says quietly another not knowing stakes the claim they make me as crazy as the moon. I laugh for I was born into what you call crazy I have been digging a way out but the longer I surveyed the area the more I realized it seems I’m camouflaged and unseen. With a Boo and a silent weapon just waiting for trip five and having that bang ending bullet to the brain. I don’t care what you believe I was there and felt every touch you left on me till baracaded doors were my only escape and you still found a way to take even my own work away. Inscribed and inbeded in time you just can’t except it I have found a way every time and I don’t care who knows it. Personal journals taken away and made a public display. Forced to put it out the for others to poke fun and humiliate. The nightmare that isn’t a nightmare but very real. “Oh the crys of the over dramatic, that is what they will say once I get her moved away.” Just another enemy in my way.
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Update: Thoughts I Hold Till the Right Day, Today
Repeat. I post the same pics. Not personal pics but pics I find so funny I can’t help not laugh every time I see them. I’ve been judged for it before. Some say I don’t remember doing it before and believe it is my first time and not aware.
They say come out of your room. Ofcourse I am informed that is my placement prior to this comment. It happens more then once and I am to say I am gay…or a liar perhaps…anything they want to put in my mouth and have it come back out. If I don’t comply then a punishment, more sleep deprivation, brain washing and repeating the same things till I meet their expectations.
To experience telling the truth and have people call you a liar. Ofcourse I am informed of the knowing my every move from needing to urinate to documenting my abuse. The childish attempts to the adult sarcastic remarks communicating the understanding of the situation. I admit I get lost in the mix. From gaslighting to efforts of encouraging my humorous outlook on life. Sometimes one gets hit while in the process of telling the children to walk away we laugh not in jest but for sanity’s sake.
Some ask why. Articulate? What happen to your time? My response is even when found telling my feelings of what has happened fail at connecting with words and coming out. The flood of memories as pictures pass through while sounds of they won’t believe and the occult has washed away the truth. It was a chance I took. After all the challenge of who was it and who are you was nothing new. I had already excepted my life and my story from my perspective would never be mine. It would always be someone else who had passed through. Something I think through out the years gave me comfort. How could I be the abused, it wasn’t me it was you. The disillusionment grew and grew. I had become the perfect child, the Daddy’s girl who for her family always gave in and came through. Not the independent person who plans how to be removed and moved only to onward move. The one who stays, lies and takes all the pain while sitting in a mediphoric chamber where the only stories are the ones the parents made. A toy, a doll, a performer. Entertainment for them and by their narcissistic behavior it appears I still am. It isn’t my life I write, not my poetry, not my story but everyone else’s I stole and strung others stories into. A mere mega phone to announce awareness of the abuse others suffer but nothing about me, I have never been used or abused. So no matter the time I have to articulate, the truth is lost due to the masses my step father and others have had me see that I’m nothing but just crazy. Most importantly a thief and well anything that would discredit me. Perhaps given all I’ve said, calling on the articulate was me being the sarcastic asswhole I am.
With these emotions an under current while I try to find ways to grow my currency, live life in the present and move past those who are unaware my life isn’t revolving around theirs. Trying to find a footing with the occult by definition, hanging over my head and judgement of how and when it began from people who aren’t detailed, thorough or slow to speak. Some get way to personal and with a judgmental tone of I know how it happened confess or I’ll just slander your name till I’m right and I win by default because you won’t write to me or call in. After all the occult lifestyle is a choice, just as child pornagraphy, or molestation and we as children know what we are getting into. Follow all these insults and results of rumors with everyday tasks of living a houseless life style. People standing outside your car while cat calling, mocking, gaslighting and instigating more drama we want more drama. Like my life and escape is a mere show to put on for entertainment and people pleasing, as if doing so increases my happiness as well as theirs. No time for healing. Just more of the same, push it down and plan for the day you pick up that gun and end everything because we will never stop treating you and your life as a game. I am a mental person who needs pulled out of a schizophrenic break, or so they would have me say. A cover for them so no one knows all the family secrets. Family secrets. That’s just the people I was born into. We haven’t even mentioned the test of humanity. My very sad and disillusioned attempt to try and save myself by reassuring my doubts I could get out without people being influenced by money and power.
So with these mountains and mole hills in my view, I do…I do sit here looking…and I do…I hear them telling me look over to the other side. But I also hear from there the ones before you and the ones after. I wish I could say the buffet was closed or that I no longer wish even of the honest my life to be biographical book on display. Some would say it’s the money, the sandwich (the one even I have joked of), or the lack of a home. It is time. Time wasted. Time I can’t get back. Time spent on experiences I will never be allowed to experience. Time I was told I would be able to make up. You’ll catch up they would say. Catch up. To what? What is all the words, all the art, all the music, all the work? If we have missed each and every metal and emotional growth in real time what is any of it. I didn’t sign up for a crash course at life. But that it what I’ve been forced to experience. Time is what I have missed. Experience is what I have been left with and that is something through everything I have been greatfull for. The awareness that though my time has been wasted by people trying to hold knowledge and information while stifling my experiences in attempts to control me. There is alot that can be stolen from a person. Experience is not one. For to be locked in a room with no hope for escape for a lifetime is still an experience. One that though this current body of flesh must endure, the very essence, the energy that makes us who and what we are will flow on and into something else carrying the experiences we learned and absorbed into ourselves.
Rolling around the words till the time is accurate, spill them out and act like they were never yours. My life is not my own. On days I don’t want to kill myself this lie is one reason. I am not that girl. I never will be. Still that gun looks real appealing for if I’m not planning someone else will. I haven’t been defeated, it’s just easier to belive it along with you.
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Set It Free They Say Choose Dealth
Nothing hurts
Nothing stings
Like being bashed
For finally, being me
From the prism in my mind
To the billboard where worlds collide
The show you see before you
The invisible me
I used to look in the mirror and see the girl next door
The pure, the perfect, flawless, daddy’s little girl
I loved her, admired her
The image I wished reflected me
Instead
All this change
All this waiting
All this patience
Your angry?
The real me
The pain, hurt, rejection, confusion
You don’t want anyone to see
But I do know it doesn’t define me
This importance of truth
Resounds over and over in me
I need to fall apart to be me
And I waited because of you
Now before it goes to my head
One way or another
I need to be me
Or I’ll have to set it free
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Old Stuff; Visual Lies
Old writings popping up. For the longest time, most my life I wasn’t allowed to listen to anything but Christian music. Only allowed to write nice, uplifting or Christian poems, stories and the such. Wearing only skirts up until after I was divorced. I wasn’t allowed to wear pants even when I was married due to my stepfather lecturing me on how that would be the first thing to cause me to go into a life of sin. The intelligence he showed in each step of setting me up for looking crazy shows in everything I was put through as a child and young adult. The fact I would even write that these things were apart of my life making him look like an ultra conservative Christian man when it was far from the truth.
I lost myself in the Christian faith with the idea that if I had to live this life and still wanted to find my own belief in something, study Love then looking at the lives of Christian people and how they interacted with the world and each other was as close to being myself in secret I was going to get. So I sat and watched. I participated in the symbolism and the rituals. Many times I was seen as a real Christian when in reality I was just walking in Love for people abd bidding my time for escape. The amount of patience I found while trying to keep who I was a secret just so I can get out of a situation was surprisingly easy from the stand point of an observer and sometime participant. I have several poems and journals written to Jesus about Jesus. Alot of writing is vague and coded so to try and get as close as I could to getting my true feelings out. not being allowed to write anything dark or depressing let alone non religious was just a stupid idea to me. Writing was supposed to be an outlet for me and instead I was just kept from writing it. Most of it was kept a secret from my stepfather inless it was for school. Whatever the cause it is what I knew would make it difficult for me when I left and had to face many who believe I am Christian. I am not a religious person and never have been and I will continue to say it no matter the cat calls of hypocrisy. It’s never easy walking out of a situation where you had to lie. Liars are marked even if you where just trying to escape.
Believe
Lord, here I am again
the top of the valley
bottom of the moutain
neither looks inviting
I stand here alone
pondering
over anylyzing
sadly, debating
I've walked along the base
not looking up or down
it was too detramentle
I almost lost my faith
which way to go this time
Lord, I need You now
Your guideance please
a gentle nudge if no word
I now know what it looks like
it is hard not to miss them
saducing spirits filled with emtyness
their longing hollow eyes burn
all i know right now
all i can see
the past and the hurt…
i know I’m not going back there
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Synced x 1
As I sit here and contentplate
Follow the road to my death
I remember the good times
I remember the bad
The bridges I burned
The mistakes I made
We are more than this body of flesh
The intricate details of the mind
The layers too many to number
Like the sand
Can you honestly look at me
Say you will take me as I am
With all the mess
All the troubles
The pieces lay bare
Blood, dirt, plaster
This is the only me I know
The mess the problems
Mental case
The daydreamer the imaginer
The journey is too much to bare
This burning in my chest
Death by asthma and cigarettes
Once I spoke of words in third party
Now I try to strengthen the muscles
Cognitive functions stolen
I just wanted to forget
Not strong enough
Too weak so by my actions they tell me
But it was my need to process
Keep from my anger
But instead my wounds festered
They know all
They knew every step I would take
My clever window only a façade
The only thing I had was time
And I am betrayed by it every time
Choosing to stay on repeat
This the only move I had left
Over and over
They plan every little thing
They watch and they sit and wait
I long for the day
No noise, no hovering
I know who I am
And still
There will only be silence
After the ringing
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Force Tripped
The last few months I have had a few past posts come across my news feed that were from a time where my already difficult ‘religious life’ was being made more difficult by people trying to force me to say I was a Christian. My closest friend and few others had already been told several times and I quote myself, “I am not a Christian.” Ofcourse this was followed by my reasons why I have never believed I was one and hated when people referenced me as one. It was someone who was determined to either at some point make me look like a liar or thought it was his duty to make me tell what he thought was truthful which in fact he caused me to tell a bold faced lie to a group of people. One of these posts references how no one is important but Jesus. One of those misleading survival statements I feel the need to ‘come clean if you will’. Ofcorse if you stuck with me and have read all of Trouble for a Love Reference, you know part of Jesus’ message was about Love. All that matters is Love. Put Love first. Judging others for how they have had to survive whether by living a lie or by some other choice you think is wrong based on your own social raising is not Love. Ofcourse there are people who will say they don’t Love those people who they disagree with and we already discussed briefly what that means. They really don’t know how to approach a person or situation they are not accustom to and their nature and social background says get rid of those people who don’t look and act like us. But the truth is you don’t have to agree with someone to show Love.
Ofcourse talking about Love and trying to show it since it is what I truly believe I am tested and judged for ANY impatience I may show. Which with people who have been around and consistently bully me I have to laugh and say they are right because I have run out of patience for them. What they do is deliberate and showing Love doesn’t mean allowing yourself to be walked on. I think we have been taught that unconditional Love means having no boundaries and I don’t believe that is accurate. With Love comes respect and respect with Love. Many choose to separate the two. I believe they are meant to be together working side by side. Often on days I find it hard to show Love I remember showing basic respect is not unreasonable and is more than possible.
Sorry for the late post and no excuses but I wasn’t feeling well over the weekend. Alot of personal interference into my life and I wasn’t able to be myself. It was a struggle but many days have been and will continue to be until what needs to be done gets done. I hope you had a productive Monday and an even better rest of the week.
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The Set Backs
One of the hardest things about moving on is cutting people out of your life that don’t belong there because they only wish you harm. Also not letting people in who have the same characteristics as them. What complicates it even more is having those people being in and using the dark arts. Occultism. It is its own culture and they don’t like people like me sharing. I stayed quite for a long time but their constant reminders being used to scare and intimidate me from leaving quietly with my intentions to never write or talk about it set in motion by their own self proclaimed premonitions they knew would happen. I come from a group of people who truly believe it is okay to act and be on the offensive and attack before their premonitions ever happened. They fool themselves. They allow their dark secrets and sins to rule their lives. They are swollowed up by thier own insecurities.
Then there are the people who see a target, a victim they can manipulate and persuade that I just need to be retrained, taught and or broken in to just sit quietly and behave if you will. That since I am already accustomed to the abuse that I just need a little push to accept my role and place in the occult behavior as there is no way out. To not do so means death.
These are hard times for someone like me. I am not one to celebrate holidays. I sometimes believe if I was raised in a different environment I would be somewhat of a Chrismas fan. Not necessarily a Christian one or feed into the commercialism of it. I would be more interested in all the different cultural practices that make up the Holiday. The why if you will. I sometimes think about how I would decorate my home if I had the energy to do so. I really like white Christmas trees with black ornaments. The really fancy kind. With white lites maybe some red. I think that would be pretty. I never have the money, space or energy but it is what is appealing to my eyes.
This time last year I was so nervous and anxious to set out and leave to start over. It has been almost a year later and I am still dealing with the same issues. People. Ones who think I need to be broken, beaten down based off of rumors or half truths and uncompleted explanations. But how do you describe to unbelievers about the occult and not sound ridiculously crazy and as a person who is seen as not wanting to take responsibility for thier actions. How do you explain some of those actions were not in your control? I don’t think you can. You are just someone who is seen as playing the victim. I hate being a victim. It screams I am an easy target. Broken, vulnerable and able to continue to be abuse. The fact that this culture is so tight and rarely is ever caught is why I have suicidal thoughts at times. In their eyes not conforming and loving that they don’t get caught allowing them to do whatever they feel and get away with it makes me stupid, weak and lacking. It makes me not a survivor. Not a fighter. That I am willingly laying down because I won’t conform to thier culture.
Isn’t that the heart of war, conflict amd hate. Cookie cutter Staford Wives cultures that say survival is dependent upon conforming and not appreciating the diverse personalities that when allowed the correct and appropriate amount of friction that leads to mature progression of cities and countries. The space to be who we are is smothered by territorial right to be ourselves. The lack of ability to get along, compromise and just have utopia slightly out of reach. Tranquility and serenity. It’s a dream we will never achieve because each belief systems says we are right and the only way to happiness is to be what we are.
The Truth is Love. The Word is Truth. Each cultural interpretation and what that looks like is what keeps us in a constant cycle of starting over. Not understanding the one Truth is Love. We can love our families our friends but have failed to understand what Love looks like when we are faced with people and things we are not accustomed to. We all have a way of doing it and our way is the only way. The larger the population and the more diverse the people the tougher the questions of how to make the appropriate and deemed best moral way to live. What laws everyone can live with. The logical being heartless and the compassion to save lives. All this complicated by a thirst for power, commercialism, greed and being the number one ruler whether community, business, country or continental.
That is my problem with religion and early teaching. The need and want for answers to universal questions. The pressure to explain who we are and how we got here. Translations lost over time due to various reasons. Love doesn’t force conformity it teaches and waits with patience. The pressure of population growth and what that brings due to the many individual and personal wiring of the brain. How Science doesn’t just duplicate but grows and evolves to fit its environment. The split of philosophy; the many new ideas and lack of time to appropriately adjust. The splitting off due to conflict of how things should be ran. The creation of several civilization branching and living out their truth. Sometimes when I think about it like this I say to hell with Utopia, the growth even in the so called ugly spots are nothing but beautiful. Even if the rise and fall is a vicious cycle. Why rush?
I hope everyone stays safe for their Winter Holidays. 2023 here we come in all our beautiful conflicts and agruements of how it should be. May it be done better than we have done it in the past. May we not stunt our own growth and be forced to start again.
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What I want to Know
I thought once I started Trouble for a Love Reference and put what I did so far on this blog and how I felt about being called Christian things would be easier but it seems to be more difficult. I have this situation in my life where people keep repeating the same senerios and situations until I react to it the way they want me to. Which is usually against my character and involves aggressively reacting in close to an inraged state. I had a person for a second time call me Christian to my face in an environment meant to make it difficult to respond as it was a perfessional one and not a personal space. Ofcourse it once again is a set up. I also heard the plans for it to happen again as I didn’t stand up the way I was expected to. It has begun to lean into the same occult situation of free will being taken.
The occult I mentioned now and in my family’s past involves a person who likes to keep telling people who have rejected him they are crazy out of his need of attention and adoration not being met. He capps you as Crazy when he feels the need to express to you and others you fail at being what he wants after he has given you unwanted attention. He is yet another narcissist dare I say psychopathic person who has invaded my life and has refused to leave.
People who like to forget the actions they made and who refuse taking responsibility for what they did to cause me to respond in the way I did and yes I did react in a harsh way about alot of it, but not all of it, frustrate and angier me. Especially when they follow me after I have walked away. Have you ever been so angry, the building kind of anger that rises like heat? Imagine a rant that was so fueled by emotion and rational thought was so calculated that you began to believe being irrational was the only way to express the anger raging inside you.
I am frustrated at this repeating of lessons meant to make be show a side of myself as being real that is not. The plan of making me out a liar and unreliable witness. The divination used to go ahead of me and use my own personal thoughts and feeling as your own and then point your finger and call me the thief. You have reached a level of self entitlement and knowledge without what seems to me as having any understanding which makes you irresponsible and worthy of the Law’s judgment.
As this unintelligible and incomplete rant stops not because I feel better or because I think I made my point but because I am really tired, think I should delete this whole thought process and write something more frilly or positive. But this is what is on my mind right now. Why do people think ALL good caring people are Christian? Why do people who use Jesus as a reference for love and compassion called a Christian? I have heard many talk of Buddha and not be called a Buddhist. I have even heard of Buddhist being called Christians and why because they are known for living peaceful lives?? I don’t think you understand that when you call me Christian you put me in a group of people who tell the world most of them are going to a hell because of reasons they themselves do and then hide under a rug of grace and forgiveness. I have defended Christians before. Christians who don’t just talk about their religion and their Bible but wholeheartedly follow it and trust me they are few. But I would be quick to let them know I don’t agree with everything they teach. I will continue to love them regardless of their response to where I think they may have gone wrong. No one wants to be wrong when they have put their entire life into what they believe and it is a delicate matter but I’m tired of respecting so many people who claim love and caring of others is the center of their religion while forcing them to conform to their way of life and saying it is the only way to life and peace and then outcasting, bulling and turning hateful when that person chooses free will and free thought not to conform to the religion presented to them. The attitude of “go to hell then its your choice” showing no love and compassion for the soul who you say will burn in hell. It is a manipulative move. Why can’t we just simply live among eachother respectfully in our common spaces. Kindness isn’t a religion nor does it beak any of its Laws. Inless ofcourse you follow one of the occult religions not of love and light. It is difficult at times like these to not point out that religion is early law used to help keep a society safe and under a certain amount of control. Not to harm the people but to help them live together.
The harassment and intrusiveness into my ideas, thought and feelings is also at the height of enough is enough. The way you choose to go about it is not okay and I am not okay with the intrusive behavior. I typically will write about my thoughts and feelings. Stop being impatient and control your own behavior not mine.
As the broken paragraphs of today’s blog show the weight and overcrowded head space I have right now I choose to end my rant here.
Histamine Intolerance and the cleaning of my bucket has my immune system in full force and I need my rest. I hope you well and full of happiness over this next week. The holidays are busy with people rushing around, stay safe and try to remember diversity doesn’t have to breed war and hate. Let it grow our patience, understanding and love.