The Beginnings of Christianity and an Alternate Path

My views of religion have been shifting a lot lately. I’m starting to see the world in a different light. No longer am I afraid of the Christian devil coming to haunt me at night. I’m still paranoid, but not for that reason. No. These days I embrace the darkness. I embrace my fear of the unknown, and I embrace all and any negative feelings I may have. Only through acceptance can we grow.

Lately I’ve been reading Adversarial Light – Magick of the Nephilim – by Michael W. Ford. It describes the beginnings of Luciferianism, and also the beginnings of the Judeo-Christian-Islamic religions. They all date back to Zoroastrianism, an ancient Persian religion. The Zoroastrians believed that there was one true God, called Zurvan, or if you want to switch to Greek mythology – Chaos, that gave birth to two gods called Ahura Mazda and Ahriman. Ahura Mazda was the first to be born. However, Ahriman, his brother, pushed past him and out of the womb first. The Zoroastrians believed that Ahriman was evil, and although he was as much as an equal god as his brother, they decided that his brother, Ahura Mazda, was the one true God.

Ahura Mazda and Ahriman represent Light and Dark, respectively. The interesting thing though, is that these gods seem to have be born out of ancient Hinduism (Brahamism), which is probably the oldest religion on earth. Another interesting thing, is that Ahura Mazda, actually seems to be the Asura Varuna, who is god of the sky, water and the celestial ocean, as well as god of law and the underworld. Now in Hinduism, an Asura is usually seen as a spirit of darkness and night, whilst his brother, Ahriman, is actually the Deva Aryaman: A spirit of Light and Sun, also known as the sun god, or the Egyptian god Ra. You see where this is going?

Now Ahriman, is one whole of two separate halves. One half of Ahriman is Samael, also known as Satan in the Latin translation, and the other half of Ahriman is Lilith, also known as Lamia in the Latin translation. If you see one of my older posts, you will see that Samael is actually the same as the Greek god Prometheus, the god of intelligence, and Lilith is equated with the Greek goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love. They are all different aspects of the same being, and if you put them together, you have Ahriman – aka, Lucifer.

I realize this is a large leap to take. It’s not so much pure Lucifierianism as it is a mixing of all world religions to understand one concept. But that’s the beauty of Lucifierianism, the truth is what you make it. You’re not held down by laws and rules of what you should or shouldn’t believe.

No matter whether you worship the more socially accepted Ahura Mazda – The Abrahamic God, or the more mysterious Ahriman, Ahura Mazda’s counter force, you have to conclude that every person, being, deity, and atom has a light and a dark side. A negative and a positive. The universe is made of balance. Worshipping Lucifer doesn’t make me any more evil or even good than worshipping Ahura Mazda.. instead it just means that I’m searching for the truth in a different way that is more meaningful to me. Christian’s can carry on worshipping their Christian God. It makes no difference to me. I just don’t like to see them so enslaved. Ahura Mazda is a god of law, after-all, a god of slavery to rules and to the underworld, which is nothing more than being bound to the chains of ignorance. I would prefer to worship a God of intellectual freedom any day and rise beyond into the heavens where the true light is at, where my true self lies.

Of course I am pantheist, so all this is symbolic. I don’t actually believe the mythology. But I am spiritual either way, so as I’ve said before – I believe that reality is what you make it. And Christians wonder why they’re always being attacked by the ‘enemy’? Because the law of attraction states that if you constantly push something away and ignore it – something such as the darker things in life – it will eventually catch up with you and hit you face on. So now I’m no longer ignoring my dark side. I’m embracing it, accepting it, and therefore, now I don’t have to be afraid of it. Heaven and Hell aren’t places. Heaven are Hell are what you make it.

Self Harm – My Story

I’ve been meaning to write another post for a while now. I’m not quite sure what I’m going to write exactly. I think I wanted to write this about a topic that some would consider sensitive – self harming.

Yes I do it. I’m not quite sure how I got into it. Looking back, I realize now that I was self harming as young as twelve years old, but at that point I was completely oblivious to what I was actually doing and why. I remember not having a nail left on my thumb because I’d stripped it away bit by bit. Once the nail bed on that thumb was completely exposed, I started on my other thumb. My mum picked up on it and told me that I was self-mutilating myself and that I should stop. It was a nervous habit I’d picked up but eventually I had enough control to stop. To stop that particular habit anyway. Over the years I’ve done similar things without realizing it. I’ve suffered life long with depression and probably a few personality disorders too, so it makes sense why I would be doing it.

When I went to college I was exposed to a few new things. One of them being purposeful self harming. The interesting thing is that my Christian parents had told me that cutting is inviting demons into your body. At the time I was naive enough to believe it. I never judged those people who did it, but I was weary of them. The ironic thing here is that self harm comes in many different forms, conscious or unconscious, and that I was already doing it myself in various different ways.

Being exposed to it though over and over again made me more and more desensitized. At that time I had started falling away from my parents religion – Christianity; again I didn’t realize it at the time. One day, I was sewing something, and I was in a dark place. I grabbed the needle and grazed my skin with it. That was the first time I consciously self-harmed. I have a twisted sense of humor, so that day I etched the word ‘love’ into my arm, despite the fact all I felt at that particular time was anything but that. A needle isn’t particularly sharp, but it broke the skin in places. The burn felt good, and the resulting calm made me feel better.

I did that a few times. Eventually though I got fed up of it. I became numb. Stopped caring altogether. That is until an explosion happened at home. I found out my step-dad was abusive, and I told my mum. She was in denial, and let’s just say it was a good six months struggle before she decided to divorce him. During this time, my world was upside down. Everything I knew to be was a lie. I’d lived a lie my whole life. I was thrown back into emotional turmoil. Then one day I got really drunk and my nails were really long and I did the only thing I could. I dug them into my wrists. Over and over and over again. There wasn’t a patch of skin that wasn’t covered in marks. These didn’t break the skin however. It was relatively safe. And it healed fast. But it was a build of mostly raw anger. I had no control over myself. It just happened. And I couldn’t stop it.

Half way through all this was going on, we had a clear out whilst my step-dad was out. We packed all his stuff in order to kick him out, (although he didn’t actually move out for a few months more because he refused. We had to get legal support to get him out – aka, social services, the police, ect.) and when I was going through his draws I came across a whole bunch of unused razors. Now I don’t shave, I wax, so I’d never had need of a razor. Perhaps this was a good thing. Because that day, I quickly hid one of the razors in my pocket until we were done and I hid it elsewhere in my room. Two weeks later, and a mixture of low inhibitions due to alcohol abuse, morbid curiosity, and tumultuous emotions let me to retrieve the razor. I think I’ve regretted it ever since.

Yet the twisted part of me loves it. I only cut once that day. I underestimated how sharp the razor was and cut a little too deep. It scared me and I put it away again. But that didn’t stop me wanting to do it again. By that point, everything had been leading up to this moment – my cutting addiction. So I researched where best to cut and where to avoid and how to stay safe even though I’d told myself that I wouldn’t do it ever again. But of course I was lying to myself. I did actually try to stop. But that feeling you get when you feel off and need grounding, or when you haven’t done it for a while, or whatever. I think only self harmers will understand this. It’s like your wrist practically vibrates with the need to be cut. It’s an addicting feeling in and of itself. It’s just screaming at you to be slit. And you’re there just staring at your wrist, every part of your mind in war with itself. Should I, shouldn’t I? But it would just feel so damn good- no, no. Don’t think about. But I just need to, I hate this feeling. Fuck it all, the only thing that will make this go away is to just get it over with. Rinse repeat. And that is how the downwards spiral into self harm starts.

Truth be told though I don’t think I had any choice in the matter anyway. Looking back, everything had been leading up to this. It’s just one of those things. I realize it is a bad thing, but the other part of me, the twisted part of me, likes it- no, loves it. But it’s at odds with the way I’m starting to get scared. I don’t want to die – but like with any addiction, the more you do it the more you need to do it. The harder, longer, and deeper you need to cut. I mean, whilst I have that razor in my hand, sometimes it takes all my will not to plunge it in any deeper. I wrote all this because I recently relapsed two days ago, and it was the worse I’ve ever done. My whole arm is covered, and it actually makes me feel sick. I can’t bear to look at it – until of course I need that ‘fix’ and then looking at it makes me feel better. It’s almost like whilst the scars are still largely visible, every time you look at them, it sends you back, and you mentally commit the act, which is enough in itself. But once the scars have faded into those little silver marks that are barely visible – that’s when the urge to do it comes back. Until then, I’m safe, even though the addiction is more compelling whilst I’m healing. The healing process kinda symbolizes mental healing too in a way, if you forget about the addiction issues.

So. Here I am. A victim of my own abuse. I guess it’s like I’m carrying on the cycle my step-dad left behind. The interesting thing is though – the longer he’s away, the more disconnected from reality I feel, and these days I cut for the opposite reasons. Just to feel something. Which in my opinion makes things ten times worse. I’m well aware I’m going through psychological trauma, due to many other symptoms. I think I’m relatively stable now not to need my anti-depressants anymore, as I’ve been off them two week now, but then again maybe they never worked in the first place. Depression due to chemical imbalance and depression due to childhood abuse are two completely different things, after all.

One other thing I want to mention though before I go, is that there is that sick twisted part of me that likes the blood. I’m not gonna deny, I have a dark side. And I like to revel in it. I love to expose myself to dark things. I start to feel uncomfortable if I’m away from that side of me for too long. I’m not sure if that’s down to psychological conditioning, or what, but I’ve recently denounced Christianity and turned to Luciferianism. It’s an ideology that emphasizes that the dark and the light nature of a person should be allowed to be balanced, much like Taoism. The way this works, is to accept all the dark parts of yourself in order to be able to see the light and grow above and beyond it. Its foundation is in the dark nature of man, rather than religions like Christianity whose foundation lay in the light. I’m not sure whether this is going to affect me negatively, but so far, it’s teaching me not to be ashamed of things like self-harming that are perfectly natural (and scientifically proven to be natural also). And I think that that is the first step to acceptance. So we’ll see how it goes. I can’t say I’ll indefinitely stop, or that I actually want to stop, but that if I’m going to do it I would rather accept it and keep in control of it, rather than letting it control me.

Also, having to wear long sleeved shirts in summer is a bitch. I should’ve thought that one through.

Update on life in a nutshell.

I was just scanning through all my posts and realized that I haven’t actually done a life update in like ages. God, I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know if anyone reads this shit but it’s a good way for me to get my thoughts out either way. So basically:

I deleted all but one twitter account, I barely have any friends again due to it (nothing new there, I always seem to enjoy dropping people), I rebelled against my step-dad, who by the way is an evil fucking bastard, forget everything I’ve ever written about him before. My parents got divorced, I’m now pursuing a career in music and trying to get into music school, I’m an agnostic atheistic pantheist who’s a polyamorous pansexual demiromantic female-to-androgynous demiguy that believes in the flying spaghetti monster and lots of other weird shit. Oh yeah, and I’ve become majorly obsessed with Death Note. I mean MAJORLY. ISN’T L/LIGHT JUST THE MOST PAINFULLY HEARTBREAKING FUCKING BEAUTIFUL SHIP IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD AND CAN I KILL MYSELF YET.

jokes. This post is only half sort of serious. Although completely true.

And I suffer from serious depression. Which isn’t so serious anymore now that that bastard of a step-dad has left. It’s more like background noise. I feel healthier psychologically (despite the surface insanity) and have a zest for living life for the first time ever. I’m also half-evil and sacrifice babies to the non-existent devil in another dimension, but you didn’t hear it from me.

Also I think I have paranoia, which is no surprise really. I feel like the so called non-existent devil is stalking me and watching my every move. It’s creepy. Oh that and I dream about my evil step-dad almost every night now. Man I have some fucked up psychological issues. At least I don’t seem to have a split personality anymore.

Otherwise, in my spare time I’ve been practicing my singing for music college, since I obviously suck so bad at guitar, despite having played it for five years. Singing is easier anyway and doesn’t require having to drag tons of equipment around to every live venue – not that I’m cool enough to do that.. yet. MARK MY WORDS. I WILL ONE DAY RULE THE WORLD AND ALL THE PUNY BEINGS THAT LIVE IN IT.

And I’ve been reviving my fanfic writing skills. I did finish my 50,000 word long Destiel fic, but I never could be bothered to edit it, so I gave to it my writer friend as a present to do whatever she wanted with it. She’s a huge Destiel fan. I’ve kinda gone off Supernatural though, it’s really not that good anymore. Being Human USA version is way better. So back to reviving my fanfic writing skills… I’ve written a bit of L/Light JUST BECAUSE IT’S THE DEFINITION OF PERFECTION. I practically have a religion devoted to Death Note in my mind. I worship it. Dream about it, blablabla.

Steins;Gate is really cool. I’m watching that now. Most anime is shit imo but some are good. Like Kuroshitsuji. GRELL. MY BBY. Sebastian is fucking hot. End of.

On the sidelines I’m also majorly into psychology, specifically the Myers-Briggs personality kind. I actually thought I was an INTP. and then realized being socially fucked up doesn’t mean you’re introverted. So I’m actually an ENTP. which is another fancy word for A) being awesome and B) being a fucking loon. But an intelligent loon. We usually get lumped with the mad scientists. and save the day even though we might not want to, we do it cuz we’re bored. And then have sex with the villain afterwards.

I like the Enneagram personality system too. I think I’m a 4w3, but I’m not too sure. It’s usually quite unusual for an ENTP to be a 4w3 too.. but it happens. Basically 4w3 means I have a need to be different and creative and need to express that and become famous through it. It’s basically another term for ‘attention starved tortured artist’. So you can see how it would be a little at odds with the whole ‘mad scientist’ thing, but hey, it works for me. (if you ignore how mentally unstable I am).

I’m basically fucking crazy. And I think too much. And I drink WAY too much goddamned alcohol to get rid of all the thoughts going around in this head that’s more like a prison cell. And sometimes I make stuff… like homemade dildos.

Anyway.. I have no idea what more to say. Report terminated.

P.s. I don’t drink coffee.

Saying goodbye to Christianity and hello to Pantheism. The afterlife and the search for truth.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my spirituality lately, and the whole concept of ‘religion’ in general. I’ve come to the realization that despite the fact I was raised in a Christian home, I am not by any means a Christian, nor have I been for a long time now, although that was unconsciously known to me at the time.

At first when I came to the conclusion that Christianity, and all other religion in general is a lie, I labelled myself as atheist. However, the doctrines I’d been brought up made me scared for the first time. What will happen when I die? What if God really does exist? I don’t want to burn in the fires of hell for eternity. Logically of course this makes no sense. The illusion that Christianity is based on love is just that – an illusion. At its very hidden core it is built on fear. In a nutshell, that is the ultimate contradiction. It also defies most of the laws of nature and science. But enough about why I don’t believe in it anymore, perhaps that is for another post another time. The fact is, no matter how illogical it is, there is that indoctrinated part of me that won’t let the fear of the afterlife go. And of course at its heart: human inquisitiveness.

So in the wake of the death of my instilled Christian values, I decided to read up on Near Death Experiences. What I read surprised me. The results are the collective experiences of people being clinically dead from anywhere between two minutes and two hours before being revived. The experiences have objective themes, such as looking down at your own (physical) body, passing through a dark tunnel, seeing a bright light, being embraced by the light and/or love, and talking to the light. What surprised me the most though was that there were also subjective themes. The afterlife seemed to be influenced by whatever that persons cultural/religious experienced on earth. For a example, a Christian will see Jesus in the light, a Buddhist will see Buddha, and the atheist their dead relatives. From a spiritual yet non-religious point of view, this makes a lot of sense. All religions are right and all religions are wrong.

There are also hellish experiences, but it seems to be more a result of self-inflicted hell that the person lead on earth and carried on into the afterlife, or a type of karma, that the person experiences subjectively also. If they were born in America, chances are they’ll see fire and brimstone, and if they were born in the East then chances are they’ll be in some sort of void empty of everything ‘good’. However, unlike traditional Western belief, non-belief doesn’t send you there, and that there is always that Light visible to pull you out when you are spiritually willing to move on. There’s always a choice of heaven. This I understand. It’s not so much punishment by some other deity as it is a painful yet necessary self-inflicted form of spiritual growth.

On a non-spiritual and more scientific approach, however, there is a chance that these people who die and come back to tell us about it, are not completely brain dead when they die, and are merely experiencing some form of hallucination that is created by the brain when placed in a life threatening situation – and the ultimate one at that. The tunnel scenario has often been described as due to lack of blood in the brain and happens in many real life situations such as fight or flight.

I want to continue to call myself atheist because logically there is no objective proof for God’s existence, and yet neither is there proof for his non-existence. The argument could go either way. And the fact is it will probably take me many years to be consciously comfortable with the idea that Christianity is a load of bull. And in that aspect, it’s more likely I’m anti-Christian and most things anti-religion than I am de-facto atheist.

Instead, I’ve come to the conclusion that at the most basic level, I’m a pantheist, and an Agnostic one at that. The truth is, I don’t know what exists, but due to logical reasoning my belief at the moment is approaching something (somewhat ludicrous) like this: (The atheistic logical beliefs will be written in bold, and the more agnostic views I have concerning the God, the supernatural, and the afterlife which have yet to be proven will be italicized.)

1) God and nature are one. Everything is connected, and it may or may not form one universal mind.

2) The universe is self-sustaining and interdependent. Nothing is truly created and nothing is truly destroyed. There was never a beginning and there will never be an end.

3) If there are lower forms of consciousness (plants, animals, ect.) then it serves to reason that higher forms than humans must exist, or be capable of existing. Through the learned process of evolution, the universe is in a constant state of growth through the cycle of life and death, until a being attains the highest level of consciousness and becomes one with the universal mind, with God.

4) Reincarnation is the shifting of physical energy at its simplest form and a shifting of consciousness at its most complex form, meaning that if an afterlife does exist then its more of a reincarnation into another reality formed by the universal consciousness of the universe.

5) It also serves to reason that if there is a non physical afterlife, then it must be a different realm, although not outside the laws of science and nature, lending to the theory that the afterlife is perhaps a fourth or nth dimensional, or even multi-versal. Based on the karmic levels of a person’s earth experience there will be different subjective realities that a person is born into. Much like all the Hindu variations of heaven and hell.

I know a lot of that makes no sense and is probably another attempt of my psyche trying to hold onto some greater meaning to my life in place of Christianity, and I’ll be sure to keep tabs on it. For now however as a transitional point away from Christianity its a large step to take, and perhaps real clarity will come in time. For the time being however, I’m surprised by how much Eastern philosophy pervades my beliefs, despite the fact the only thing I’ve known for most of my life is Christianity. Maybe at a spiritual level this is actually an intuitive thing, although I don’t really hold that much in account if it clashes with rationality. If I’m going to be spiritual, then reincarnation into a temporary heaven certainly seems more plausible than burning in hell for eternity for not believing in something that makes no sense. Then again there’s always that possibility that God does really exist but he’s just an evil bastard who thrives off contradictions and likes to watch people suffer..

Either way. I hope this concludes this really long revaluation of my values. At the heart of it, the concept of God, especially a religious one, is really illogical, and based on other peoples Near Death Experiences, I have nothing to fear of death either way. Either the afterlife and some form of non-contradictory God does exist and we live happily ever after, or it doesn’t exist and our physical bodies decay and release energy to help the cycle of life continue.

Interdependence of Yin and Yang

Good and evil have always fascinated me, the fine distinction separating the two. I have spent many a night trying to understand the concept behind both, and how they’re connected. Over time I have come to a few conclusions which I thought I would care to share. What I write may sound like complete rubbish, but it has taken me many years to finally understand the mechanics behind these most basic instincts, and my life has become greatly enriched in the process of realization. I no longer aim for that impossible standard of being good, because the consideration of good is not the whole picture, instead it is an illusion. I feel like these upcoming concepts have really helped me understand who I am, and accept, even praise, my darker nature, but in conjunction with my better nature. Instead of becoming weak, I have found myself strengthened.

Good and evil are different sides of the same coin. Good and evil need each other, one cannot exist without the other. They are interdependent. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, is that not Newton’s Third Law of Motion? If there were no evil then how would we know what good is? The universe works off a strong notion of black and white, dark and light, however the mixture is blended for the best results, such as that of a black and white photograph. It utilizes opposite halves to create a whole picture, it could not work otherwise. This concept ends up ruling morals as subjective, based on a flawed system of preconceived misconceptions, one of those being that one can only be whole when they are good. Then they will be pure. However this is false. There can be no standard when dealing with morals and the fine line between good and evil. Balance is the most crucial, eliminating that need for a distinction in the first place.

The truly happy person understands this well and accepts both parts of themselves with open arms. Such is the concept of Yin Yang. Being only good is like denying half of yourself, whilst equally being only evil is still only half the picture. Being only good is as detrimental as being only evil. One can only be happy when they’re whole, and to be whole you have to be comfortable with not just the good, but the evil too. Balance is crucial.

The intention to do only good can often cause a relapse in evil nature. For example, you may only want the good for those around you, but when it comes at your own expense you may unconsciously end up going to extreme lengths to balance out the good inside to understand the evil around you. This can lead to endlessly depressive cycles where selfish yet misguided thoughts become prominent. And then a once only good person has been converted to becoming truly evil, maybe even without realizing it. Often, the innocent are most susceptible to corruption. The same case can also be said with those who are only evil, just reversed in measure. However, in the case of the evil, society tends to deem this as good, which philosophically speaking, is not true at all. This is why often many services promoting the good of the individual fail; prison, rehab, and so forth.

A good person will have dark thoughts, just as an evil person will have sincere thoughts. This is nature trying to balance itself. Often, though, our subjections deem it wrong to indulge in the opposite end of the spectrum, for many reasons. If there ever were an error it would be this. It is shameful because the two sides are complementary to each other. They are naturally attracted and opposed. Hope means nothing without worry, and likewise with courage and fear, love and hate, happiness and sadness, and so on. The fine line separating the two means nothing as the opposite alternative seems to be connected by a lifeline. And of course, both opposites can be experienced at the exact same time, creating an ambivalent relationship with ones’s true nature, whether it be consciously or unconsciously.

However, is true, that the line between good and evil is fine indeed. Although it is important to have clear cut standards on both sides of the coin, total perfection is impossible. The irony is when a person doing evil uses good as a motivator, or when a person doing good hates evil. They are still exercising the opposite functions of themselves, unknowingly to them. It is impossible to completely escape the grey area that acts as common ground and an intermediate between good and evil. The separation between the two is only there because without it, it would not function. Life would cease to be. Unless a balance is achieved you will be lying to yourself about your true nature and will never feel complete in yourself.

And so ends my blog on the relations standing between good and evil. As a conclusion: black needs white to survive just as white needs black, opposites are merely an illusion of independence, the whole picture can only be seen with the subjective lenses of truth set to both and all perspectives. This is the fastest way to become happy of and within yourself. As a side thought, the understanding of this also improves external relations as once you realize that neither you or anyone else can truly be perfect, judgemental thoughts skid to a halt and you no longer find yourself living to impress, to feel whole and complete.

I do not think I have missed anything, but if I have I will be sure to update it. I want to emphasize that this is however, solely my interpretation on such a controversial field. Although everything I have written stems from my own thought processes, and hasn’t been garnered from other sources, I am not the first and neither will I be the last to try and tackle the immense chasm of understanding between that of good and evil. Maybe one day judgement day will come and the truth will be revealed for what it really is.

Thou Shall Not Covet

I don’t know what I want. I genuinely don’t know. I also don’t really care, but I’m almost 19 years old and according to the external world I should know what I want already. I don’t really care about what the external world thinks either, except the fact that I can’t stay living with my parents my whole life not doing anything. They wouldn’t allow it.

Pretty much 100% of people my age know what they want to do with their life, and if they don’t, then they make do with a more mundane job. I have a problem not only with the former but also with the latter. I’m an incredibly restless person. I’ll start a project and get bored a couple of months later, and that means I’m terrible at holding down any type of typical job. In fact, because I know that about myself it prevents me from seeking out jobs in the first place, knowing that failure is inevitable.

The problem isn’t that I don’t like anything. I love everything, but it’s not very long before my interest in one topic dwindles and I become bored. This may sound very vain, but truth be told it’s the exact opposite. It’s extremely frustrating, almost like a curse. Then I’ll get overwhelmed thinking I’ll never find something I truly love and then I’ll become even worse, purposely trying everything possible not to find anything by convincing myself that I’m doing a good deed for the common wealth by opposing the system. The system is ridden with flaws after all, such as the illusion that who you are is determined by your worldly success. In the end it becomes so much that all I want to do is run away and wander for the rest of eternity, just to avoid the question, to avoid the system, to avoid myself.

There’s also another factor to be considered here. My biological dad is an incredibly successful person, and he loves what he does with every last breath. He’s into politics and is currently running for senator. He’s been Senator once or twice before, and the way things are currently looking he’ll be senator once again, along with his party and his bestfriend making it into office and becoming the President (of Mexico. I’m half-Mexican). Now don’t get me wrong, I feel incredibly happy for him, but it makes me feel depressed.

Everyone has such high hopes for me, and although I don’t care about what everyone else thinks, I do care about what I think. I look at my dad and all I see staring back at me is the void of everything I am. I don’t care about impressing him, but I just feel so worthless when I see him. Now I’m usually a pretty vain person so that feeling is more than unnerving. I feel like I’ve failed myself. In this instance, my rebellious nature becomes my worse enemy.

I feel like I’m gonna do nothing with my life, that I’ll be no one, that I’ll be all alone, and the worse being that I’ll never find something I truly want and love. My dad unsuspectingly makes those thoughts ten times as worse.

The thing is, I could be ok and just lie to myself if left to my own devices, but out there in the real world life is a completely different ball game. The minute I step foot in that mess of wibbly wobbly stuff I’ll end up being the inadequate one. It just all makes me want to do something stupid like become an exotic dancer or something just to hide from myself. I don’t remember if I’ve written this before, but contrary to what people may or may not believe about me, people who think they know me, I am my worse enemy. I just hope I figure it all out before it’s too late.

Love as a Concept

This is my first attempt in a long while at writing a deep post. I used to have a blog a couple of years ago where I would post extremely deep things on, but I haven’t done that in ages because although I would get plenty of compliments of a mind boggling nature, as a rule of thumb people didn’t care. I’ve been encouraged to try again though, and seeing as currently I have nothing better to do, I may as well give it a shot. A big apologies if it’s not that amazing though, it has been a long while.

Love as a Concept:

I’ve been thinking a lot about love recently. I’m not sure why exactly, maybe because I’m so devoid of it. Love seems to me a complex thing. I think love is a more complex than it should be. In theory the idea is simple, yet in reality true love is twisted beyond the point of recognition. I don’t trust anyone for this exact reason. I will always have a doubt niggling at the back of my head because I’ve noticed that people will even unconsciously manipulate people under the false pretense of love.

I’ve always felt like I’m never loved, by anyone, friends and family alike. Sure, I know that they respect me, but that’s as far as it goes, sometimes not even that. I think the idea of being loved is what compels me through life; some of the biggest fuck ups I’ve made have been searching for some apparently non-existential deep connection of love. Maybe this is an unhealthy romanticism and what I feel will vastly improve when I stop thinking about myself and start actually thinking about others.

I’ve often heard it said that, “love isn’t a feeling, it’s a choice,” which I believe is entirely true, but why then is it that when we make the choice to love someone completely unselfishly you feel worse than if you decided to just let fate decide for you? People take advantage, that’s why, they drain you dry. Love needs to be replenished, and if you’re constantly giving love yet never feeling like you’re receiving then you will eventually end up depressed, like a zombie, devoid of what’s supposed to be the most basic substance in life, and ready to commit suicide.

That’s why now I’m generally very select to who I show love to because deep down I’m actually an incredibly sensitive person, hell I even hide it from myself. When I do show it I’d like to think that it’s pure and 100% unselfish, but this has to obviously be untrue. There are many presumptions that affect us as people on a subconscious level, presumptions that incline us to make decisions that we’re not entirely aware of, decisions that only a select few of external persons can understand.

Does love really exist though? If it were a substance then surely it would be tangible? Ideas and concepts are not tangible, just like hypothesis’ and theories. So then, is love merely an illusion of hope for the weak-minded? Or maybe a chemical by-product for the theory of evolution? Or a way God uses to keep us in line, if even just slightly? I find that the scripture “love thy neighbour as thyself and all the rest shall come to pass,” is useful only as a moral compass, not necessarily useful for emotional well-being.

Personally I’ve given up on trying to find love, or even it’s meaning. I find that I can recharge better when I let other people do the loving yet making sure that I stay emotionally distant from them in order to not expend any of my own reserves. Maybe this sounds selfish but it gets me by quite nicely. I find myself quite content. There are times though when I do get an overwhelming urge to just pour my heart put to someone, just anyone, and love them till they bleed, but if I did that then I’d be an emotional wreck because I’d end up using it all and not getting any back.

I hate the idea that I’ve fallen into the trap of being like everyone else and taking this concept of love instead of giving it, but it’s self preservation above self sacrifice at the end of the day. Maybe one day the right person will come along, maybe not, and maybe love is just one big fantasy. Either way, I’ve accepted that love may not the big answer everyone is looking for, and until then I’ll be alone, and happy for it more so than if I were a free giver of love and personally depleting myself of all that’s good and true.

Emotional Compromise

So, I thought I’d write a bit about me as a person. Not that anyone would probably find it interesting anyway, but seeing as I have all these extra hours to kill from trying out this polyphasic sleeping thing, I might as well spend the next hour or so wasting a quarter hour of your life. Seems fair.

Where to start? I’d say emotions take up the substantial part of my life. I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. I always have done and probably always will do. I am just going to say now that the latter wasn’t supposed to come across as negative statement, because now I feel like I’ve finally got the place where I can control the depression, but a disorder like that doesn’t just go away. Not ever.

To top the depression, I’ve always had trouble fitting in with people, with society. The idea of being accepted was a driving force in me for many years, and I never was accepted, no matter what I did or how hard I tried. I am just one of those different, complex, and often highly misunderstood people. Today I accept this, but it wasn’t always so. I used to do stupid things to try and fit in. I had no concept of social norms, and to this day I still barely do. The depression in conjunction with the rejection I felt I was unfairly receiving was too much for me to handle.

I hated myself. I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought that I was a plague that needed to be exterminated. No one cared and neither did I, or well, that’s what I believed. Truth was, I did care. I cared so much that it was breaking me in half. People thought I was trying to be all superior, that I believed I was better than everyone else, that’s apparently the way I came across. The thought that I couldn’t even be myself around anyone drove me to insanity, because the truth was, I didn’t actually know who I was.

I went suicidal. Twenty-ten was probably the most depressing year of my life. What I went through no one should have to experience. Unfortunately I’m not alone and many others do go through it. I was an absolute emotional wreckage. I couldn’t stand the sight of my own family because I thought they’d betrayed me, I couldn’t trust anyone enough to have friends, and I couldn’t be left alone in my own company for any extended period of time. Everything was painful. I couldn’t remember even one time in my life where I’d felt truly happy.

Finally I hit rock bottom in the fall of that year. I had suicidal tendencies for about a month. I remember getting as far as considering planning my own death. I’m pretty sure I would’ve carried it out too if it wasn’t for a miracle. Someone I knew from college just happened to message me during that awful phase, despite the fact we barely knew each other. The friends I did have at the time were no help, in fact I’d ditched them all. I was completely and totally alone. This guy, however, saved me. To this day I am convinced he was a miracle from God. I don’t quite remember what he said or how he did it, but he calmed me down, managed to chase away the suicidal tendencies.

I was okay for a while after that, for about six months roughly, well, if you could call it okay. Instead of being emotionally broken, I became emotionally numb. Life was a big blur of nothing. I ditched the friend who was probably responsible for saving my life, and I closed down all my social networking sites. I didn’t talk to or see anyone for that whole period of time because I was being home-schooled. I was living in some sort of post-traumatic suicidal haze. Eventually I got pulled into going to church with my family, and that’s when everything began to change.

I began to be connected again with people from the outside world. I decided to try and start a new leaf, with these new people who didn’t know me, who couldn’t judge me, who had no history of my past. The past caught up with me though. I didn’t want to hide my complex nature in front of everyone. I wanted people to understand. So I started up a blog and confessed everything. Shame to say that the wrong type of person stumbled across it and told my parents. To put it briefly, they were outraged. They didn’t realize what I’d been going through, I’d been hiding it so well. They couldn’t understand. They wanted me out the house.

Things continued to spiral down. The suicidal tendencies came back. I couldn’t cope and I was advised to write my parents a letter, to explain and to apologize. I decided to do just that. The thing is, the thing that so far I’ve failed to mention is the fact that I had no idea who my real dad was. I was told he rejected me when I was a baby, thus fear of rejection was apparently a subconsciously inbuilt behavior. I suggested to my parents for us to find him, so that I could have a chance to know who I really am. They agreed.

I flew six thousand miles to see my biological dad. He was overwhelmed with emotion on sight of me, apparently rejection not the reason I was abandoned. Things were sorted out, or so I thought. Both dads were there with me, and lo and behold of all things I met a guy who ended up somewhat becoming my boyfriend. I ended up pushing both of my dads away in the process. I was the one who rejected both of them. After a few weeks it turns out that mr boyfriend was not just using me, but also two timing me. I had ruined everything, for acceptance by a boy. I’d never had a boyfriend before. I was so susceptible. I had ruined everything. I flew back to England. That was six months ago.

I was so distraught at my stupidity, not just those couple of months, but my whole life too, that I fell back into depression. I started self harming. I started cutting, I started extracting the opiates in painkillers to use as drugs, I started drinking till I was sick. I became a wreck. I realized I couldn’t trust myself. I realized how I am my own worst enemy.

I was depressed, but one day something inside of me had clicked. I do relate this to meeting my biological dad. I completely did a three-sixty. I decided that I was going to ignore my emotions. It meant that I wouldn’t have to care about anything for the first time in my life, including people. I found it extremely difficult to change a lifetime worth of thought processes, but I succeeded. I no longer feel things, and I’ve learned how to instantaneously switch myself off from the emotional haunting when I become tempted. I still have no friends, no life, but I know who I am, and for the first time in my life I’m content, and to me that’s all that matters.

I still deeply distrust people, but it’s almost a dismissive type of action these days, I don’t care anyone whether I have friends or not, usually preferring my own company. I stick to the shadows now because I no longer have that driving urge to be accepted. I thrive in being different. No one could ever convince me otherwise.

I am unique and I am special. I still get depressive episodes, however. Like I said in the beginning, a disorder doesn’t ever go away. It’s always there in the background of my head space, like static, but I’ve learned to drown it out, for the most part.

I hope this can be used as an inspiration for change. Anyone who’s going through any problems can feel free to contact me. I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. I still mostly am misunderstood, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I feel free, and I hope I can help others feel free too. I know how addicting depression is. It’s a drug. It’s an entire life. It’s even better than being happy, because if you’ve never been happy then it’s a hundred times better than feeling nothing. Depression becomes happiness, and only the strong ones could possibly ever know that.

Recording and Experimenting with my Episodes of Sleep Paralysis

I’ve decided to write down all my episodes of Sleep Paralysis because they are so fascinating and I’ve decided to experiment with them some more and try to use them to get into lucid dreams and to have ‘OBE’s’. I get them quite regularly, at least once a month, and often once a week or more, so this is ideal. I also want to record any possible triggers so I know how to induce one or how to stay away from having one if possible.

Today I had been out all morning and when I got home I was thoroughly exhausted and just flopped on my bed. I can’t remember the time. Maybe it was round about 3pm-ish. I was woken regularly throughout the nap by things going on in the house, but couldn’t be bothered to wake up properly. I fell asleep on my front but flipped over on my back somewhere along the way. I eventually woke into Sleep Paralysis at about 5pm-ish. I slept 5hrs last night and I had three glasses of alcohol beforehand, something that I think might be related.

I woke up and realized I couldn’t move. I thought I could hear my mum outside my room talking to my brother, but since sleep paralysis is full of hallucinations I can’t be sure. It made me nervous because I was worried about her coming into my room to wake me and me not being able to move. (something which would’ve actually have woken me up). All of a sudden I could feel exploding head syndrome coming on, (for any readers it’s what I call when I hear a huge noise and pressure in my head and it quickly gets worse until it feels like my head is going to explode. Usually then I wake up.) so I calmed and centered myself just before it happened. It immediately stopped before it got bad, which is also a first. However I was still stuck.

I tried moving my arms and legs again and I was still stuck. By this time I had come to my senses a little more and decided to try and use Sleep Paralysis to propel me into a lucid dream. It was a really odd experience.. I closed my eyes (not sure if I could control them in real life or not, so couldn’t tell if they were actually open or closed) and I immediately thought of a random dream scene I had previously planned out to experiment with. I imagined myself flying above the ocean. Suddenly I saw a vortex of swirling colors and random dream fragments in front of me like I did the last time I tried this. I focused on the fragments some more and suddenly it felt like I was flung somewhere.. I was like in this weird void. I’d left my body behind and I forgot that I was paralyzed.

I can’t really remember what happened next.. all I know is that I awoke out of a really short dream back into paralysis again. I think I’d almost succeeded in becoming lucid.. but I’d given up somewhere along the way since I had trouble focusing on a particular dream scene and projecting myself there. I tried moving my body again and I was still stuck. By this point I had been in paralysis for what felt like forever and I was worried that I would be stuck for up to thirty minutes like I’d read on the internet since it has to have been the longest episode I’ve had yet.

I think my eyes were open again. I tried moving my fingers and toes (my dream projected fingers and toes could wiggle just fine), and I thought I could see them twitching in real life, but it still wasn’t enough to wake me. It never actually has been. I’ve usually found that controlling my breathing usually wakes me up.. but I’d forgotten to do it this time for some reason. I decided that if I was going to be stuck for thirty minutes I might as well experiment with it some more. So I decided to try an OBE. Just thinking about having an OBE freed most of my awareness from my body. But when I tried freeing my left arm it was stuck. Something always get stuck whenever I try OBE’s! -_-

Anyway, I was starting to get pissed off and that was when I woke up for real and it turned out that my left arm was stuck in an awkward position above my head and had gone a bit dead. So obviously that sensation had carried over into the Sleep Paralysis. Also I’m pretty sure I awoke with my eyes open, and when I tried to focus everything was swimming in and out of focus. I don’t know if this is the after affects of any hallucinations, or whether I’d had my eyes open too long in the paralysis, since I don’t remember feeling the urge to blink.

If I had to rate the awesomeness/weirdness of this episode compared to others I’ve had it would probably have to be around 6/10. I was disappointed that the lucid dreaming didn’t work. I’ve given up in the past but I get it too often to not at least try. One day I might get it.