God is a concept by which we measure our pain.
So says John Lennon
I was always oddly jealous of John’s freedom to say his story of abuse plainly and without complication or compromise or so it seemed. I knew I had a similar tale to tell but was so far away from understanding it or having the wherewithal to really do it.
Plus while still holding onto the illusion that we had a functional and even loving family unit made authentically approaching my story seem impossible. It’s too dark to tell while still trying to pretend we’re friends. It took a betrayal so visceral as the S.S.G.F. To really wake me up. “These people aren’t your friends , let alone your family. ”
I approached getting my story out anyway. I wrote daddy’s on Prozac.
‘ my daddy beat his love into me. ‘
Other songs too. But my expression of the abuse really mirrored the narrative of talking it down.
It was as if I was expressing the minimal I needed too.
And my dad usually played the good sport and said he didn’t care.
But as I started to see thru the narc web as brought on by the psychopath.
Both my mother and father started getting weird and in Particular about my writing.
And discouraging me from freely expressing myself.
The last text I got from the old man was odd and said “so I hear you’re writing a book”
It felt like a threat but there was no direct threat but it felt like one.
“So I hear you’re writing a book ” has a certain ring tho doesn’t it and taken in context with my story. The threat is there.
The rest of the text equally aggressive yet expressing a desire for us to try and finally get to know each other.
The timing seemed strange. Just as I was waking up. Why all the sudden interest.
I had told my mother in the strictest confidence that I was writing.
So my fathers bizarro text was a real slap just on that level. My mothers unabashed betrayal of trust.
These types of things began picking up pace. Things were getting weirder and weirder befor the SSGF
At that point I was starting to have waves of understanding
And then proceeded to act cartoon versions of narc parents.
I still don’t know if they reacted to my growing awareness and became more extreme an obvious or if they were always that way and my eyes just opened up.
I think both.
The threat of our freedom is very real to Narcs
And we know now that they are extremely sensitive in areas where we are not.
I think/know that type of abuse was always front and center for them.
But just as all matter changes in relation to it being observed so does the behavior of narcs when they think that you might know. They get more twisted. Not less.
I always wrote a lot. And probably expressed more of this than even knew, but though I think I’ve written a few good things.
There has always been this elephant in the room.
It’s as though I ran out of energy to write around it anymore. And so now I’m just gonna write through it. Primarily so I can see what I write next.
Because as this unfolds and you stand with courage to push it forward. More and more keeps getting revealed. Like some twisted version of the Beverly hillbillies where I struck Texas tea in terms of content. It’s black and oily, not sure it’s gold. And I don’t even want to write about , but I must.
It’s like coming up to wall and either you climb over it or you go back from where you came. But they didn’t leave me a way back.
And even as they were doing that.
My higher self could see what was happening and was like “really, y’all want to do this to me? You sure about that?”
But they kept going. And going. And then they were gone.
Abandonment is a big part of being a scapegoat.
As an adult it’s kind of ok (or so I thought) because they are trying to communicate toxic shit to you but they are doing it by disappearing on you.
So (especially when I was on drugs) I considered this a good thing. Freedom to just fall off the world.
But underneath, the toxic sting of what was actually going on landed. Always landed.
Before I could really take in the full breath of this thing, I could feel and even let myself understand, this lack of love. But I wasn’t working on myself then
It was just a rolladex of escape options. Porn, sex, work , drugs. Food. Repeat. Movies. Again. Repeat. And on and on and on. So nothing really gets in. Not enough so you actually have to feel it.
But it’s there working you down even lower than you are. And it’s working you down in ways you don’t understand and in ways that you think you’re too big for. But you’re not. Not even a little bit.
God is a concept by which we measure our pain
I guess I’ll say it agin too John Lennon
But I’m not sure that’s all God is.
I’m quite sure
God is that and just about everything else. Ok everything else.
Someone, a nice lady I met after my gig in St. Paul asked me about my faith. And I answered and what came out was my truth and it was revealing to me.
The interesting thing about becoming transparent in this way
Is you start learning about yourself and everyday a new energy source wakes up. Everyday you become different again. But more better. Not the other way. You can look in the mirror and into your own eyes and say you love yourself without hesitation or embarrassment. That was huge for me. That was recent and at no time before.
She asked me about my faith.
I told her. God is everything to me. I can’t imagine life without him.
And that is so true with where I am now.
I’m not seeing a therapist. I’m not getting permission from anyone about what I’m posting and writing. Or how I’m healing.
Anyone that is accept God.
God has led me here and is my strength. And my only strength. Good thing it’s God tho, cause I feel protected.
I can relate to trying to break him down to a concept about pain. Certainly it’s extreme pain that makes us surrender.
I started praying in earnest when I was a child.
Our family basically never went to church. I actually asked to go when I was a kid.
I don’t think that’s normal.
They didn’t take me but my grandmother did.
I loved Jesus then and I still do now.
I’m not a Christian in the dumb way
But I am in the real way.
I love God. He wouldn’t have to be Christ for me to love him. And my love for him is different than my love for Jesus even tho I know they’re supposed to be the same. I love Buddha too. So there.
But yeah John
I can see how pain brought me to God
But here’s where we maybe disagree
Pain brought me to God
But God delivered me from pain.
And concept can’t do that.