Tag: personal

It’s hard to feel or think very positively when my body is wracked with pain all day and all night, i have no energy to be active, my prayers go unanswered, and all of my friends are “too busy” to care about me (which makes me feel that i have to go out of my way to make them care about me, which is just wrong)

The Death of Love

My father was the one most adamant about raising my brothers and i in a proper christian environment. He was also the only one who cared about such, seeing that, after the divorce, my mother really didn’t care about God or religion: she wasn’t antagonistic towards God, she just didn’t care one way or another.

As a result of my father’s intense knowledge of the Bible, as well as him being the only one caring about our spiritual upbringing, as well as being around no one else other than my family for fourteen of my now 27 years, what he said was law and gospel. The thing about this is that he had a thing about love: anyone, pastor or not, educated or not, whether Seventh-Day Adventist or not, whose primary topic of instruction was the love of God towards mankind was criticized by my father as “false christians”, “misleading their flock”, and “missing the important things.” To him, what was important were the prophecies about the end of the world, as laid down in Daniel and Revelation, as well as in parts of Matthew’s gospel. That was all he taught us, all he could teach with any meaning, and if we objected to this, we were called “a son of satan” (1st John 3:8).

Upon reaching adolescence, one would think that the devilish spirit of rebellion that accompanies adolescence, would drive me to either reject God altogether or to reject my father’s negative outlook on love. After all, i had seen how much “love” he had for us on a day-to-day basis, how he ruled through fear and intimidation, did things i can only now rightly call emotionally abusive; why would i not want something different, my selfish pride wounded by his stern and harsh manner of instruction?

So i decided to get reconnected with God through church attendance. I went to churches of my own denomination, as well as some sunday-keeping churches (against my conscience). What i found was that, even among those that focused on love, none of them really practiced what they preached. They taught love while ignoring one right at hand that needed help the most; not just once, but over and over, again and again.

Therefore i see that, as much as my dad hurt me, he was right about love. But even that is terrifying; having been raised to disregard and distrust love, as well as seeing firsthand how much “love” a parent can give (not just from my father, but from my mother, who turned her face away from my father’s actions, excusing him, pardoning him, defending him for 18 years, as well as giving up on me after the divorce), all those verses in the Bible that talk about love speak nothing to me.

In conclusion, while i am convinced beyond a doubt of the existence of God and the truth of the Bible, i know also that love is dead.

You know what

As nice as it would be to have a woman who enjoys music, and with whom i could conquer the world with music, like Ritchie Blackmore and Candice Night, i’m not so sure that i want that anymore. The women i’ve met who are into the music i like, or music in general, are not really good people.

Sometimes i feel that it’s living in the past to think about the good times. But then i remember that i cannot remember much of any good thing that happened prior to May 14th, 2009. And then i go…yeah, maybe i do need to try to remember the good things.

As my view of God was influenced by and large by my parents, so too is my view of friendships. After all, they were the only people I was regularly around up until the age of 14. From what I gathered from their friendships as well as their relationships with our extended family, their kind of friendships were the ones where they could talk for hours and hours on end with no hint of weariness, no lull in the conversation, and neither side appearing bored or uncomfortable. Hell, you’d pretty much have to drag them away from each other! And yet, despite this, after all the good-byes had been said and the doors of our car were shut and we were on our way, out came all of the things my dad hated about these people.

In thirteen years of being around other people, it seems that I haven’t yet found people I can talk with for hours on end without stop: it always breaks down into awkward silence where I’m burning my ass off to find something new to talk about and they’re wondering why they’ve bothered to spend time with me. However, as has been proven twice over (once on here), people certainly do say negative things about me behind my back.

I have never craved solitude. Time alone i could have whenever i wanted and in spades. And when i did have it, i was never rejuvenated or centered: solitude has always been a time of great anguish.

I want to be involved. I want to be part of someone’s life in a meaningful way. I want to help someone who might be going through the same problems that i’ve been going through.

Unfortunately, the very thing that i want is what is being denied me.