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 |   A journey of self-improvement - or not. |
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Sup? I'm Char. You may know me from timeless classics such as
and
I blog for things like
[Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Believin' all the lies that they're tellin' ya Buyin' all the products that they're sellin' ya They say jump and ya say "how high?" Ya braindead, ya got a fuckin' bullet in ya head |
  "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  Prompt: Write about origins. You can take this literally as in where your family originated from (your history, culture, traditions), or you can focus on your own origins as a person. I had a super blah day today. I wasn't feeling work at all, and for the first time since I started working, my boss mentioned it to me. He was like, "Come on, struggle bus. I need you to be the little engine who could."  But it still made me uncomfortable, like shit, he's noticing that I'm not mentally here. I was feeling really depressed this morning. I didn't know why, but I started linking it back to my friend who ghosted me last week. Maybe because I usually talk to him when feeling down and I couldn't do that. Not sure. Either way, I was like fuck it, I'm just gonna totally go off on him. Might as well, right? He's not responding anyway. So I was like basically like, "Hey there, fuck you." Along with some other choice words. Of course, I didn't feel better at all. I felt worse then because I basically handed him all the ammunition needed to be like, "Oh, hey, Charlie's an abusive psycho."  But I think Elle - on hiatus  's comment on that entry is totally accurate. This is a person who's fully aware that I have borderline personality disorder that's heavily triggered by getting abandoned like that. It's 100% on purpose to flare up my mental illness and get a reaction, and my dumbass is like, "Sure, here you go." After reading everyone's comments yesterday, I decided that I'll start my meds. I'm not going to say anything to Kira about it. I'll just take them and if I do get noticeably sick, I'll fess up to it. Buuuut, I'm not starting quite yet. It's really hard because this is my longest stretch in a while of being pretty much totally unmedicated. I like being able to drink whenever I want and recreationally take whatever else I want without having to worry about interactions. Once I start taking a daily med like that, I have to actually be careful with alcohol and other things. I have a tendency to mildly OD by mixing things without even thinking about it. Earlier this year I had surgery so I was taking opioids and nausea meds for that. Then I casually threw in xanax and muscle relaxers and spent an entire night alternating between passing out and vomiting. It was good times. Obviously I need to get on a daily med though given the fact that I'm having daily issues at this point. Felt like I was doing okay-ish before this month. I can't really remember though. Speaking of Elle though, she'll be great for this prompt. I don't know a whole lot about my origins. I know there's English, Irish, and German in there. I never really looked into it because I don't talk to the paternal side of my family, like, at all. My maternal side doesn't know much beyond a couple generations back. As far as my origins as a person... not really sure what I can say that I haven’t already belabored here before. I grew up in a very rural area and I was raised pretty strictly Catholic. In fact, my first signs of OCD emerged as Scrupulosity, which is basically religious-themed ocd. I was a kid then, but I felt immense guilt all the time. I’d have panic attacks during confessional. I was convinced I was the worst person in existence because I’d thought or done something “bad.” Even things that are completely normal, like masturbation, would send me into a spiral of ritualistic praying and crying. I thought I was definitely going to Hell since I was such a piece of shit 11-year-old.  The adults around me did absolutely nothing to quell my worries. In fact, I specifically remember a conversation with the priest and my parents where he told me that my body is a temple, you know, that whole spiel from Corinthians. And that by intentionally destroying it through cutting, I was actually slapping God in the face and angering him. Oh man, the horror of my childhood thinking that this omniscient, omnipotent being was furiously angry with me and waiting to condemn me to Hell for being such a bad person... The reason it’s relative to my origin is that it was pretty much my whole childhood until I got kicked out as a teenager. It colored every part of my life. The religion indoctrinated me to believe that I was unworthy, that I was indebted for my life itself and I should be thankful for everything that happened because I was undeserving in the first place. It taught me to be submissive, to not ask questions, to not raise concerns. It kept me quiet when I should have spoken. Needless to say, I eventually got out of the church. I’ll never, ever go back. To this day, I still struggle with feelings of extreme guilt that make it difficult for me to say no. I still feel those feelings of worthlessness. When I get overwhelmed with dissociation and stress, my brain still tries to gravitate back to it. I’m happy that people can get calm and peace from religion, but it was pretty much a traumatic part of my life. It’s bad for my mental health now. And it’s sad to me that when I think of my origin, I have to be reminded of all these things I went through in the name of religion. I have to be reminded of being a child and having adults angrily be like, “This ultimate sacrifice was made for YOU and you’re so UNGRATEFUL.” And I’m like 6 years old just thinking, wtf, I didn’t even do anything to anyone. I do credit religion with turning me into a masochist though, so there’s that. My sadistic partners thank you. Sometimes I see religion working for someone and I’m like, man, why can’t that be me? It’s scary to me because I see a lot of people who say that they turned to God as adults, like 40, 50, 60 years old or even older. In my twenties I look at the and I’m like, yeah... I’m screwed because I already did that. I already invited Jesus into my heart and lived in the presence of God. I did all the sacraments. Baptism, confirmation, eucharist, reconciliation. I’ve done everything. I can’t wake up at 40 or 50 and say, “Oh hey, life is kind of a mess and this religion stuff isn’t half bad. Let me accept Jesus into my heart and oh now all of my past sins are forgiven. Now I’m vibin’ with the Lord and I’m under constant protection. My best homie, God, has a plan for me so now my suffering feels bearable.” That ship has sailed for me. I can’t wake up and have this revelation. I said all the Hail Marys, I did everything I was supposed to do and I felt absolutely nothing except guilt, shame, and anxiety. I’m gonna wake up at 40 or 50 and have to off myself because I’m going to have no other place to turn. Like I said, I’m stoked that religion works for some people. It makes me happy that at least someone receives the prize that was promised. I’d venture to guess that a lot of the very religious people I know got that way a bit later in life. There’s nothing wrong with that. I just have my doubts that they were hanging out at 15 like, “Yeah, God really be out here having my back right now.” But for those of us who were absolutely demolished under the thumb of religion at the root of our origins, the perspective might be different. Also, the Catholic Church is infested with pedophiles and I’m glad we’re about done pretending it isn’t.  Stoic Thought of the Day: It's not like you killed someone. It's not like you drove a hateful spear into his side. -Tool |
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