Grace

Sep. 19th, 2017 09:14 pm[personal profile] quirkytizzy
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The day to day is so mild as of late, I have to reach for things other than the daily grind to write about. I miss writing. I miss hitting just that space when I feel my own power, where the words twist like blown glass under my hands.

Inspiration is not a requirement to write. I tell myself this isn't the first lull I've hit with writing - and it will not be the last. It's nice to have the lull emanating from a place of calm. I also feel just the slightest of guilt, as if I am ignoring something. Hard to know if you're "taking a break" or "procrastinating."

I know eventually something will break and I'll be back to the keyboard with typing possessed. I'm not so far out of the woods as to think it will be smooth sailing forever. Not only is that not my luck (there's no "tragedy limit" for me and my life), but that's life in general. At least for me. In this quiet time, I'm settling to accept that.

There's been quite a bit of thought around that idea lately. That for whatever reason - karma, fate, the cold, cold hand of an uncaring Universe - my life will be a battle. Where most people have years and years of calm broken by events of crisis, mine is the absolute opposite. My calm waters are the punctuating events, not the rule that leads from year to year.

But in these glass seas, I can come to appreciate that. It's not so easy to be grateful when the ground cracks beneath you and sends you scrambling for an overhanging rock to keep you from plunging into the earth, but here, now, I can be grateful.

Maybe accepting my life as it has been (and for how it will be) is grace.

I can't bring myself to believe that there is some being out there that guides my hand and heart through the hard times. I can't bring myself to believe that I, as I was born and as I live, am deserving of some kind of divine benevolence. But I can take these quiet moments and reflect on my life, the things that brought me here and the things that propel me further.

I can take these quiet moments and think of things I might be able to believe.

I can take these moments of quiet and comb through the answers that I asked all of you to give me about ritual, about belief, and find ways to bring it back to grace. To an acceptance - a true acceptance, one not borne out of exhaustion - and continue to learn to love the Teressa that comes out of the other side of that acceptance.

This last year has been so hard. Hard in ways that I've never struggled with before. I do not believe there is some cosmic prize at the end of this finish line. I do not get the girl, I do not win the lottery, I do not get a Happily-Ever-After. Maybe no one does.

But I do get to learn just a little more about myself.

A great deal of what I've discovered over the last year has not been pretty. A huge chunk of what's been revealed about me has, in fact, been horrifying and shameful. But I am beginning to realize that there is no such thing as having too detailed a map about your inner self - craggy cliffs and raging torrents included. I know myself, in sickness and health, in ways that I never have before.

To learn those things as positives, as things to learn from...if I have any definition of "grace" that I can believe in, that is it.

(no subject)

Sep. 17th, 2017 12:05 am[personal profile] quirkytizzy
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It is storming. Heavily, heavenly, beautifully. It is the first storm this year I have been home for.

Every time it has stormed this year, EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME. I have been stuck behind the soundproof wall of triple-paned hospital glass, hanging six stories above in the psych ward. I couldn't hear the thunder, could not open the window to hear the rain falling, could not smell the ozone of lightning strikes, could not feel the thunder rattling the floor under my feet.

I can now. The window is flung wide, Nature rebels, and I am home to revel in it.

Sweet, sweet sanity.

Sweet, sweet freedom.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
This is an issue that while I try to keep quiet, has come up frequently in the last year. As of late, it's been spurned by Jesse's and I's binging on the show Supernatural.

It can be difficult to discuss it with Jesse, as his spiritual beliefs are well-structured, complex, and very well defined. My questions and ideas about spirituality are anything but structured, complex, or defined. There are times he will even allude to having experienced spiritual experiences around and/or about me while I've been in dire times, but I always shut him down before he gets into explaining it.

While hospitalized, I have spoken to a few chaplains about it all, but they tend to be Jesus-centric. (It's a Seventh-Day-Adventist hospital). So half of those conversations wind up with me trying to steer the conversation from accepting Jesus as my savior and into something more generic. This is more than mildly frustrating for both the pastors and myself, so I no longer seek them out.

My hardline beliefs are that I do not accept the existence of ghosts, angels, demons, or spirits that would otherwise have any interest in my tiny, tiny little life. But now that I've had a little time to look back and see just how easily any of my sidesteps could have resulted in a bloody, projectile-vomiting death, I am beginning to wonder.

Chance and coincidence, along with a stubborn as fuck willpower, can carry almost any explanation very, very far. But does it carry it over the finish line? How far does the belief in Luck stretch until it smacks into a belief of faith?

What IS faith and does it have to be connected to a structure of beliefs about the spiritual realm? I find Paganism to be just as annoying as strong Christianity. Ditto for Buddhism, general New-Agism, Unitarian beliefs, and anything else that requires letting go of any personal reigns in order to trust a Higher Power.

But there is ONE thing I do miss about all of those beliefs, and that is ritual. The closest thing to ritual I've come to in the last several years is wearing a locket of Santa Muerte, and even that, to me, is more about the power of symbolism than an actual belief in a Death God.

But lighting candles, saying specific prayers, having a thing-to-do that follows steps and instructions in order to connect with the Universe as a whole...I do miss that. But how does one create, let alone follow, a ritual when you believe there is nothing there to hear it?

Jesse has said that he saw the spark of faith flare up over the last year. I respond by telling him that I was scared - terrified - and that faith is a pretty common refuge for the frightened. But even in that fear, I didn't come to any conclusions, find any beliefs, that comforted those fears. I just barreled through the fear until I didn't NEED that comfort anymore.

Except maybe I am still scared, because the idea of wanting to believe in something (something small, that doesn't have assloads of minor and sub-beliefs that have to be built as a foundation UNDER the belief itself) is still there.

Don't get me wrong - the show Supernatural is not enough for me to start stockpiling salt and buying silver tableware. This is TV-land we're talking about, and as fun as it is, I recognize that it's fantasy and adapted-folklore.

I just have to wonder if there is a way of not-believing that is somehow a belief. I've never had a paranormal/spiritual experience that wasn't easily explained by mundane things (or else experienced while flying high on mania), and maybe I'm looking for that. Maybe I envy people who seem to experience that all the time.

But I can't just make myself believe things that I don't believe in. This is, however, starting to get in the way of wondering if there, actually, things TO believe in, whatever those things might be.

Maybe, in the end, I just want there to be some kind ghostwriter to this narrative that is my Life. I don't know. I am still vehemently opposed when Jesse insists that he's seen my lack of spiritual beliefs shift, because while I've questioned, that does NOT mean I've settled on an answer.

I guess even having the questions is what's throwing me off.

(no subject)

Sep. 15th, 2017 05:54 am[personal profile] quirkytizzy
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Despite having taken an extra 25 mgs of my sedative, I am up well before dawn. I'm also about to start my rag, so sleep disturbances are par for the course. God, how I miss the Depo shot. But it turns out heavy-hormonal treatments don't play with lupus, so back to monthly misery it is.

Speaking of lupus: Good news: The stomach problems came and went inside four days. Bad news: Afterwards, the lupus rash showed up again. This means my kidneys are not properly processing my food (thus leaving my body to desperately start shoving stuff through my skin) and I've had too much sun exposure. The renal diet does help, it'll just take a few weeks. And while I loathe sunscreen, it's a hell of a lot better than needing to put on two coats of foundation to cover the red spots.

I've finally figured that an ounce of prevention really is worth a pound of the cure. I'd just gotten so used to feeling better than I forgot that I am, now and forever and ever amen, actually sick.

I've decided I'm going to be less of a dick and start referring to David as Rachel and use female pronouns. Not so much because I think she deserves the courtesy, but because I realized I don't want to be on the wrong side of history when it comes to transgender rights.

Besides, it's a change of, like, two (three maximum) words. If I can't manage that, then I've got some serious laziness issues that go waaaay behind disliking my ex. Now to change my tags that deal with Rachel....

Erggh, does anyone know how to rename tags on the LJ side? All it's giving me is "Add new tags". Attempting to create new tags and then merge them (by pressing "Enter" like it says) just reverts it to the old tag name.

What I WANT to do this morning is go down to the treadmill and take a long walk. What I DON'T want to do is aggravate my cramps into turning from annoying to "let's curl up in the fetal position and pray we can fall asleep through them." I did go down and put a mile and a half on the treadmill. Ha, take THAT, reproductive organs!

As for everything else in the life That is Teressa, it's All Quiet On The Western Front. No wild ups, no wild downs, no intrusive thoughts, no compulsive urges or behaviors. It's slowed down my writing, but seeing as the slowdown is coming from a place of peace, not writer's block, it is infinitely easier to handle.

All in all, things are good. Even with the ultimate suckiness that my period looming, inside feels well. I'm becoming less and less shy about saying things that would previously make me feel like I'm jinxing things. These are all good things.

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