Thursday, 21 May 2020
If only, I tell myself, I had had a more religious upbringing, I might be more knowledgable as to how to proceed with this problem. Because of COVID-19, I can't go into the Catholic catechumen process, and I shy away from doing so anyway, because I feel very strongly that the church would reject a character like me. All I can do is reach out to God in any form that seems appropriate - Catholic forms of God seem more successful, when I work with them.
I worry I appear more fool than clown on here - I am certain plenty would scoff at what I write about, but my pain is severe on some days, and I feel like I need to create somehow, and writing is what I feel I can do right now. Maybe blogging my musings is a mistake, but I am compelled to do so anyway. This is at the very least an interesting story, it could make for more interesting work later, and I need some sort of database to catalogue my experiences. But the public arena can be cruel, so if a post looks downright ridiculous later on, I may delete it. I am weary from fighting, and long for better days, if they are to come. The pain right now is not in the form of voices and visions, as much as it is weariness, soul pain, and a weight in my energy body, as well as strange sensations and an awkwardness to my channeling sometimes.
I will focus on the saints right now, the Catholic ones, anyway. I will concentrate on anything that has been known to lead to successes before, and see where they take me. My life is such a challenge because of what my soul endures. I often wish I was someone else - a soul in pain is an agony that is indescribable, unless one has experienced it themselves.
I don't expect agnostics and atheists to see me as anything more than a lunatic, for that has been how they have treated me before. There are no real resources in Toronto to turn to, expect maybe the church, and I doubt they would take me seriously - they would call me a silly harlot because of my style, they would reject my views politically, they would come down on me for many things. So, why do I keep wanting to go to their churches? I wrestle with this constantly.
If I die from all this, I want it to be known it was not mental illness that killed me. I do not wish to die, but on weaker days, I fear I will.