Monday, April 30, 2007

Happy to be queer!

4/30/07—I’ve had a much needed weekend of rest. The constant involuntary drug assault to which my body is subjected leaves me in chronic pain, nausea, and tension. I wish I could say that I was clear of the doping, but I am not. I just learn to function and carry on as best as I can with my limitation. Even now, I am doped up. What I long to do more than anything else is to get in touch with my spiritual self, but that is precisely what the drugs prevent (and when I think of how many people in this country are on drugs, it makes me weep over our country’s spiritual poverty. Nobody can fully exercise their spiritual faculties under the pervading influence of chemicals). Even for an adept like me, it is impossible to carry out a daily spiritual discipline when I am under the influence. I have no time to pray. I can’t even sleep well. I just get up and go to (and suffer) work, while I deal with the irritation, anger, and even rage that accompanies the subjective experience of brain and mood chemical imbalance, and the objective injustice of my situation that I endure. Normally, I would be able to temper, and even counter those feelings with the supernatural grace of spiritual love and joy that is activated when my will is in full awareness of, and cooperation with my spirit. But the chemicals of the drugs effectively blunt and undermine my relationship to my spirit, leaving me seriously handicapped. I long for the days when I could write every day. I long for a period of spiritual rest and rejuvenation, but I don’t foresee that happening any time soon. I just have to do the best I can right now. At least I feel rested. At least I have time. At least I can read, and now, write, even if just a little bit.

I am more and more certain of my vocation, though I no longer speak of it. It is something hidden inside of me, just as reality is kept "hidden" from me by the people who continue to control and drug my life in the delusional belief that I will think I am crazy. Maybe that is for the best. According to the wisdom of prophets and healers of the charismatic movement, the evil one can even read our thoughts (which is one reason to pray in tongues—that can’t be penetrated). Being completely honest, I have to admit that I have a powerful evil spirit within me, and thus I am not completely trustworthy, not even to myself. I have always prayed to God, no matter what, not to let me be sold out to the influence of the evil one, and I have a rock solid faith that such will not happen, even though my body may be destroyed in the process. I believe that the evil spirit in me is part and parcel of my vocation, and when the time is right (and it may not be until my death), it will be completely exorcised. But making me think I am crazy will not play any role in that. As part of my unique, if compromised, psychological and spiritual makeup, I instinctively sense, and actively resist all lies and liars. Even those lies with so-called "good intentions" all originate in the father of all lies and liars, and I refuse to give him comfort and aid, no matter the dislocation or suffering to myself. The fact that the Church would be so intimately involved in "perping" this lie onto me, is only irrefutable proof of how corrupted and compromised the institutional church has become in these climatic days.

It’s clear that after Constantine, the church has always gotten it all wrong anyway. Christians are to resist and/or enlighten worldly power—not be an alternative proponent of it. The churches seem to believe that exercising worldly power, using worldly, and even immoral means, is perfectly fine as long as they hate on sexuality and women (and Christianity is not the only religion to fall prey to this heresy). Now I admit to having a difficult time with a pagan approach to sexuality (and I consider myself an ally of many pagans). For me, sexuality always intimates commitment. Thus I am not a supporter of casual sex. I do advocate a sexuality that is fun, playful, and edgy, but one that occurs within a committed relationship. Sex most emphatically does not have to entail biological reproduction or openness to conception, though certainly many do wish to choose so, and that is indeed one possible fruitful aspect.

Commitment is difficult. I can see now that my big fear of a final commitment to Colleen was not primarily because of Colleen, and her negative issues, but rather because, even at 34 or 35, I was not ready for, or capable of the ultimate commitment. I had to mature into it, and what enabled that maturation was first of all, really accepting myself and my sexuality, instead of trying to run away from it into some phony, spiritualized realm of celibacy. For me that meant affirming the legitimate value of homosexual love, which in my defense I can say that, unlike my heterosexual brothers and sisters, I had very little socio-cultural validation or support. A homophobic culture does not lessen the incidenceof homosexuality, but it does greatly increase the unhappiness and psychological maladjustment of us gay people. Even now, I believe that the pain and misery I suffer at the hands of my tormentors, is primarily instigated by homophobes who believe that I am going to convert to celibacy. They do not know me, or my needs or what I believe. I am a lesbian. I do need a partner to help complement and ground me—especially in social relationships with the world. I am happier and more fruitful when I am partnered. Finally, I do believe that I have Jesus’ approval of my homosexuality, and an honest and committed partnership, and even marriage, with another woman. Writing on that will be for another day.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Doped up again.

I have written in a long time--to be honest, I just don't have the energy.  I have to drag myself to work everyday and yoga three times a week, but life has gotten worse and even more difficult in the last two or three weeks.  I am certain now that I am being doped up on psychotropic drugs.  At first, I wasn't sure because I felt so yucky and out of it after a severe migraine around the middle of March, and then surgery on March 22nd.  But now I am sure.  It is not the unstoppable weight gain (after months of losing and holding steady), the constant nausea, or even the constant headaches which necessitate.  It is not even the fact that I have to drag myself to work, where I feel miserable and enslaved to a job, that a few weeks ago was enjoyable.  It is not my inability to drag myself from a persisent lethargy that doesn't want to do anything except watch TV.  It is what is going on with my brain.  I had to use the dictionary to spell "necessitate"-- a simple word.  Even after looking it up, it doesn't look right to me.  It looks like a nonsensical word.  That happens a lot.  I go to read, and words look like they came out of Jabberwocky.  I have no reading comprehension whatsoever.  I tried reading some poetry this morning--a volume that I have read many times.  It was Greek.  I couldn't even begin to read another book on theology that I picked out.  It makes me want to cry.  I was reading at a postgraduate level by the 8th grade, and now I cannot even read a simple paragraph or verse. My oral comprehension is even worse. I, who always hear and understand everything that is said to me, now have to ask people to repeat themselves two or three times.  People talk to me and my brain is so slow, I cannot properly answer them.  I remember Dr. Huaman asking me when I had seen another doctor, and my brain couldn't remember the date, or make a connection to the date, even though I knew it was the last day of the last month. I've become a retard. I hate myself.  I hate my brain. I hate my body that can barely even walk, and is just a receptacle for the poison that destroys my soul and spirit, and turns me into a barely functional TV potato (I guess my persecutors can rest happy now.  I am the typical soul-destroyed, stupid TV couch potato, full of self-destructive rage and self-loathing, which seems to be their ideal American).  Most scary of all, are the brain rushes I am suffering from constantly, and which are increasing in number(I just had one about 15 minutes ago).  It is like a drug rush that feels like I am going to pass out, and then it leaves me shaken, like I just short circuited from life and reality.  I am afraid I am building up to an epileptic seizure.  I have to say a large part of me just doesn't care anymore.  My body and brain are so wrecked from the NSA's poison that I will never recover my health and vitality.  Never. Never. Never. Never.  I am just a thing to them, so I might as well just be a thing to myself.  Nothing I say, do, suffer, or endure has any effect on them, so I may as well just wait for the worst.  Maybe I will get lucky and die.  I am so tired of living like this.  I don't even want to fight anymore.  I just want it over with.