Of An Albatross And A Room Of One's Own

Dear Hearts,

I haven’t had a panic attack in a few days or seriously wanted to kill myself.

In Walmart tonight, there was a cashier who was badly burned and missing a couple of fingers. She was very chatty about her surgery—she couldn’t lift the case of water I got. She said that via Botox, essentially a poison, she may be able to get back the use of her hand.

“But,” she said, “I don’t know what I would do…I haven’t used it in five years. I am so used to not using it. How would I function?”

Is that how it is will CD (Clinical Depression)? When the Devil leaves…you don’t know what to do…how to live…because for so long…

That’s why I made My House into a prison after Asshole left. Because I was so used to the fear, I couldn’t stop fearing. Being with T. was mostly awful—but I wasn’t alone—and I understand subconsciously how to live with that Demon. Facing up to an ending career and an OD, a new normal…I didn’t know how to do that. But I knew how to live with the Abusive Devil. He always apologized.

Today, the gospel in the USCCB is

Mark 9: 41-50 KJV. The Church will never make me give up the KJV.

^“41 For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, because ye belong to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward.

⁴² And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea.

⁴³ And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched:

⁴⁴ Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.

⁴⁵ And if thy foot offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter halt into life, than having two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched:

⁴⁶ Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.

⁴⁷ And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out: it is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire:

⁴⁸ Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.

⁴⁹ For every one shall be salted with fire, and every sacrifice shall be salted with salt.

⁵⁰ Salt is good: but if the salt have lost his saltness, wherewith will ye season it? Have salt in yourselves, and have peace one with another.”

I am not looking the verse up. The OAB (Oxford Annotated Bible) says that the verse is about the warnings of Hell.

I don’t think so. I have always wondered about this verse. Certainly, Christ doesn’t mean what he says literally—although some might say so.

We can create our own Hell right here on Earth.

If something gives you grief—get rid of it. That’s what came to me.

I have prayed and prayed and prayed and thought and thought about letting go of My House—trying to come to some sort of consensus, peace…But, it’s when you aren’t watching the kettle that it boils.

Has My House ever brought me happiness?

I was cared about OWNING it. Like, Dad cares about OWNING a Hummer (H1) he never drives.

I loved the idea of a six-bedroom house. I never like the road frontage, the condemned trailer across the way, the neighbors…I liked the idea of the rooms and all the things I could put in the rooms.

I think this is really it.

I think this is God really speaking to me.

My House never really made me happy—just the idea of it. I wanted to feel AT HOME there and I wanted to love it…like I felt about Asshole after his first psychotic break and T.

Fuck.

I want a Xanax or two and a cigarette. It’s scary not having panic attacks—because they will come back. I digress. Forgive me, God.

There would be so much less financial pressure in my life if I just let My House go. The albatross was penance for the mariner.

I think I have done enough penance. Have I?

^“And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off…”

This doesn’t mean I am all hunky dory with letting go of My House, but I think this is a step…a HUGE ONE.

Virginia Wolfe of whom I was never a fan-–all stream-of-consciousness writing and words, words, words—but maybe her Demons, not her Demons did not leave her alone either. She walked into the ocean. She got CD

“A room of one’s own…”

Not six, not five…just one…

I have to cut without bleeding out though…

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: Thank you, God, for talking…

PPS: Can houses just be bad? A soldier or refugee wouldn't want to continue to live in a ravaged city...so why do I...?

Grateful For:

Health

Family

G-Pa

Angel

Cigarettes