Saturday, February 16, 2013

Just in Time for Anti-Bullying Day...

I wrote recently about my snow shoveling pal, the one who "knew what was wrong with me."  I heard from him again today.  Only this time, it got real.

He told me that God had not only told him what was wrong with me - his diagnosis, by the way? Psychopathic  narcissism - but God had told him, and had confirmed it through other people, how to help me with my condition.  When I politely declined, I was warned that God had also told him and the others that, should I refuse to allow them to "help" me, they were to "expose" me.

I am not sure what this exposure will entail.  I did ask him if he was getting help for his (obvious) issues,  but he responded negatively (and indignantly), and I hung up on him.

I was also told that my "helpers" are aware that I am not crazy.  Apparently this is a moral issue.  I am evil.  I suspect their "help" involves some form of praying the devil out of me.  Or maybe an exorcism.

You think I'm joking?  Sadly, I'm not.

Anti-bullying day is coming up. This is a clear and vicious form of bullying. The people who are supporting this fellow are church people. I cannot call them Christians. I see no Jesus in this.  I have tried to be subtle, to protect the obviously mentally ill person who is leading this charge.  But I think the time is coming when that will not be possible.  I have called the police. My "helper" is known to them.  This is all too real.

And I am not going through this in silence.  I am not becoming invisible, to accommodate a group of religious bullies who believe God gives divine rights to them, to punish "rebellious women and children". Not this woman. Not my child. Not any woman and child. Or man, for that matter.

Tonight, I want to share how I feel. Right now. This may not be how I will feel tomorrow. Or even in an hour. But it is how I feel about the threats, the aggression, the attack that has been perpetrated on me today. Please, if you feel the need to correct me on any of these feelings, don't.  These are just my feelings, and I suspect that they are feelings that anyone who has been bullied, or is being bullied, recognizes.  They are real. They may not represent reality, but they are real.  I may not be alone, but I feel alone. The point is to be real, and honest, and to make plain what others are trying to shove into darkness.

So, yes. I feel alone.

I feel scared. Terrified. I don't even know what I was actually threatened with. This is scary to me.

I feel unprotected.  Vulnerable. Weak. Empty.

I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this, to go through this, to be me.  I want to hide, to escape, to be invisible.

I am angry.  Furious. Seriously and wildly pissed off.  At the person who called me. At the church people who are enabling and encouraging him. I have had several people tell me that he tried to call them. They saw through him, and refused to listen.  He is obviously not well.  The police who have seen him have seen it. Several counselors have seen it. His friends have seen it.  One of his closest friends told me, "I think he's sicker than we originally thought".  Ah...but throw a bit of religious rule disobeying in the mix, and these religious freaks are all over him.  Pull out the pitch forks!  Saddle the horses! Let's take this heretic DOWN!!!  This makes me mad, mad, mad.  Mad.

I feel guilty.  Guilty that people who love me have to deal with this, that my child has to deal with this, that I didn't handle it better in the beginning.

I feel tired. Tired of fighting, of trying, of living.

I feel hopeless.  And did I mention feeling alone?  When my mum was dying, she became very maternal and protective of me. She kept offering me money and asking me if I was okay.  This was a new dynamic for us.  After she died, I found myself wanting to lie with my head in her lap. To be protected and cared for.  To know that someone was going to take care of me, to help me, to chase the dragons away.  I feel like that now.  As much as I rejoice in the knowledge that if my mum was alive, she would want to do that for me, I mourn the loss of her, and her mother-ness.  I want my mommy.

I don't know how to stop this. To make it go away.  To fight the lies and hate. I don't understand this kind of hate.  I'm not perfect, and I have hated. I have had moments when I have wanted to hurt someone. But to be so cold, justify it by blaming it on God?!  I don't get it.  And it scares me.

I want to hide. To be quiet. To disappear. I used to be able to disappear. Imagine that.  Me. Blending into the scenery. Hiding.  A lot has changed, eh?  Sometimes, I wish I could still do it. But when I do try it, it feels like dying. Seriously.  It feels like going to a dark and dangerous place. I can't do it.  But man alive, right now, I want to.

I also feel angry at God. (Please folks, remember. No corrections.)  I want Him to drop the hammer. To send the thunder and lightening. To work a miracle and bring back the person that I knew and loved, not the hard, cold, angry person who is threatening me now.  And failing that, I want Him to stomp out my oppressors. To expose them like they threaten to do to me.  And maybe He will. In His time. But I want it done NOW!

I feel sad. Heartbroken.  I want to curl into a ball and weep. I feel old. In so much pain.  And then I think, the bullies might be reading this and rejoicing in my pain and then I feel angry again.

I just want it all to stop!

And that's how I feel.  And if you feel like this too, I am so sorry.  I know it is hard.  I know.  As angry as I am at God, I have no where to go but to Him, and I do it with faith.  Because I may not have enough faith not to be angry, but I do have enough to know, know, know that my anger does not change His love for me.  Or for you.  Please, please, please don't give up. Don't let go. This is how it feels today, now. But it is not forever. You know, when they say it gets better? It does. Really. I know this. I don't feel it right now. But I KNOW it.  We are precious and loved and our lives are worth living. Our voices are worth hearing.

And if you want to share your voice, to be heard, please email me. I promise to listen.

For you, dear wounded one, I can be quiet.

Peace out.

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