Just like after a physical trauma you might have to learn to walk again, with any kind of emotional trauma or mental illness you have to build yourself up again. I have worked for years to achieve emotional stability, confidence, a positive outlook on life, and inner happiness.
Money will come and go, material desires will come and go. But nothing is worth more than inner happiness. The struggles of unemployment, debt, and homelessness are no less challenging than other difficulties this life throws at us. I have been pushing forward, trying to break out of this viscous cycle for the past year. Moving in and out of houses, sleeping in beds that will never be mine, showering in bathrooms where my dreams were held hostage, and tip-toeing through corridors that didn’t want me on their carpets. With numbers in a bank account sinking and sinking, thinking and thinking about how I’ll eat, about worst case scenario of living in a tent. Mostly wondering, how I got there in the first place. Because it had always been like this in someway or another. Moving from house to house on bad terms, drowning in negative work environments where I felt separate from everyone else, and prioritising money for alcohol and cigarettes. I have changed a lot, in my values and ethics. Yet I am still in this struggling scenario of borrowing money for rent and being unable to emotionally cope with aggressive or draining work environments. I am more able to recognise these environments and although this is something that has strengthened, it means I am less willing to compromise and it means that if my inner happiness is threatened I will leave. I try to fight through and bring in the light but I have never been strong enough amongst all of the darkness so it creeps into my pores strangling streams of purity flowing through my veins. Then I wonder again, if ever I will fit in somewhere to make money and sustain this life.
I want one thing. Only freedom to be my authentic self. Un-tainted, pure, natural, loving and happy.
As this scenario happens again and again I am strengthened. This time I cannot deny that everything will be alright as I wipe away the tears, shake off my doubts and keep going, keep hoping and keep praying to know the right thing to do.
In my first lesson at church of Gospel Principles we were asked ‘why are you at church today? What was the reason you got out of bed early on a Sunday morning and travelled to this chapel? Why are you here?’ My response was that I had finally discovered what that burning sensation in my chest was. To me, this warmth was pure love. It made me feel comforted, wholesome, and as though I was not alone in the world.
I believed in doing good deeds, the law of attraction, and the power of the human mind in its’ capabilities of controlling our own worlds or lives. I knew there was a oneness that connected all human beings and thought of this as a united consciousness. I recognised it as the power of the universe and gave thanks to the universe or spoke with the universe concerning my worries. There were always trails of events, people, places, that happened in such perfect timing not to be coincidental as if I was on a pathway already mapped out but not knowing the direction. Never did I think that this universe, this consciousness, was overlooked by a man. By a man who I would learn to be my Father, who I would grow to love more than anything else in this world. A man who created me, and who created the earth, and who created a divine plan so that I could live for eternity in his heavenly kingdom nestled beside parallel universes and multiple dimensions of no boundaries where my potential would explode into greatness beyond comprehension so that one day I would be the mother and creator of my own world. I chose this life, I chose my experiences and I create all that I am. But I am not in absolute control. I am in control of my choices, which lead to consequences. And now I have learned truthfully that by using all of my might and willpower to choose the positive, the safe, the pure, the meaningful, and the resistance towards mainstream culture, there will be rewards. And that burning in my chest is one of them. Rewards beyond this material dimension that allow your character to develop and your spirit to rejoice. Rewards that push you onwards, that remind you that you are strong enough to carry on through the struggles, and that in all of the suffering on the earth, there is hope that we are more than flesh, blood and death.
I felt the darkness, and I felt it alone. But it was all so that I would know the magnificent light that was waiting for me at the other end.
My nan’s Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma has resurfaced. It’s a type of cancer. She’s having chemotherapy. She has also developed anaemia and is constantly having blood transfusions. I hadn’t visited her for a couple of weeks and my mother said she didn’t want anybody to see her because she was weak. This only induced a strong feeling inside that now was the very time I needed to see her. When she was at her weakest and wanting to be alone, was the time that she needed the most support. If my mother refused my visit I would have gone anyway, I could sense my nan’s frail spirit. She was laying in her bed that was in her lounge, waved silver hair annihilated to nothing, blanket draped over figure. I asked if I could kiss her; she had never been one for affection. We had general conversation, I could see her face becoming lighter and occasional smiles stretching across her tired face. My mother and aunty joined us. The cleaner joined us in talking about plants as she tidied the wet room. There was talk of childhood memories, double rainbows, bread making, and Malaysia as the room was filled with voices, love, peace, and laughter.
My nan began to feel nauseous and vomited for a while as she lay clutching a bowl. I felt helpless. Inadequate in relieving her suffering, and uncomfortable that I was sitting waiting for the pain to end. She murmured ‘God I can’t stand it’ and I looked down at the floor clasping my hands together telling God that she was calling out to Him. She had already been through so much pain and she had already been so strong. Why must it persist? I wanted to hold her hand and tell her how much strength she had. I wanted to stroke her swollen feet that were protruding from the sheet, and I wanted to tell her that it would be ok. But instead I stared at the ground asking God to love her when I couldn’t.
I had committed to a 24 hour fast in the hope of my prayers being dutifully answered. In this time that I could not offer support, while my mother and aunty rushed to plump pillows, cook food, medicate, speak with doctors, and persuade to drink, I sat useless with my contribution. Physically I did nothing, but spiritually I had gone without food and water and had prayed and prayed to up-lift my nan’s spirit. I didn’t know if it helped. I didn’t know how to help with all of those other necessities. I only knew that a spirit was suffering, that a soul was in darkness, and as much as I have wished to have the capability to shed overpowering light into great darkness, I cannot. So it is up to God, and that is where I must leave it.