Why...How....--UPDATED

Dear Hearts,

Can a house be bad? Evil? Possessed?

From my Pagan perspective, this was an easy “yes.”

Houses, buildings, objects, places…they all can maintain the energy of things that happened in, to, at them before.

If Catholics believe that objects, places, buildings, etc. can be made Holy via a myriad of Blessings…then why not the opposite?

Actually, if you follow the Catholic Church’s teachings on Masonry, then yes, things and places can be evil.

Fuck what Catholics think or don’t think according to the Catechism. When I first became Catholic I was gonna all buck the system and believe what I wanted. Now I feel guilty for having beliefs outside the realm of the Church. I digress.

I know it. I’ve felt it.

When I visited the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre, I felt such inexplicable sorrow and despair. I have gone into homes that just “feel off.” Hell, I have met people that I just don’t trust from the first introduction without any evidence—usually I am right.

If displaying crucifixes, crosses, saints, and other symbols of the Church can bless a house, why can’t a house be cursed also? What about all those demons Christ drove out.

Can a house suck up, like the event horizon of a black hole, the badness it encounters and hold onto it? Can a house suck up people’s emotions and actions and not let go?

I AM NOT COMPARING THE NY HOUSE TO AUSCHWITZ. But, nobody is going there to just hang out and picnic.

Priest bless objects to make them Holy. So, can’t the Devil curse things?

If the Devil works through people, can people curse things?

I don’t mean like Charmed curses to make people forget all they know. I mean like if a place—a home experiences so much badness can that badness just become a part of it?

When I came downstairs in the NY House yesterday morning and fell sobbing into Daddy’s arms—he said he thought the House was bad. He’d had dark dreams all night.

The night before I’d heard voices before falling asleep—auditory hallucinations via lucid dreaming. I’ve seen things.

Fuck, when Arthur and I moved into the House it acted like it was possessed. The lights flickered, stuff didn’t work right…Arthur was in the middle of a psychotic break. I tried to exorcise the House with Holy Water from Glastonbury.  

I got to the NY House about 6.30 p.m. Thursday, by Friday I wanted to kill myself. That House makes me want to kill myself.

I mean, that is the whole idea of a Church, right? Or a Church Graveyard? It’s consecrated ground.

There was happiness in the NY House. I know there was. But, there was a lot of badness too. When I go back there, I am not Kate 2017. I am Kate 2010. That was the first time I seriously considered as an adult killing myself.

Dad made the decision that we were gonna get what needed getting and get the fuck out of the NY House. And, I was not to coming back there alone again.

Part of my liking to be there alone…the whole part of my liking to be there alone was just that. I was alone. I could walk around naked, smoke wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted. Itch uncouth places, release gas from my colon, attend to my clogged nose, you know! all that eembarrassing stuff. I was alone in a place that was mine. It was mine. I belonged there. And, it’s not like I am living under martial law either here or in Illinois. But, there is something about just being alone. Totally all alone. But, the benefit of being alone doesn’t outweigh the liability of being alone in the NY House.

I slept 11 hours last night. To bed around midnight and I woke up at 11. I felt safe with my stuffies, my statues of Mother Mary, Saint Jude, Saint Therese, and my cat. Dad downstairs with his arsenal and Mom in the bedroom down the hall.

She just came into the “my bedroom.” I hugged her and just shook a little.

“It will be okay,” she said, “You just have to get through this.”

“You don’t know that,” I said.

Why do I have so many Blessings from God, so much Grace? I don’t deserve it. Why do kids is Chicago get shot, a mother survive her daughter in a NYC attack? Why?

“Aye, there’s the rub.”

Why the fuck me, God? Why the fuck me? I tried to be good. Why did you put T. in my life when I was so cognitively impaired? A test? You couldn’t think of a better way to keep my alive?

All I ever wanted was to be a wife and a teacher/writer. Why can’t I have that one really good person who will love me the way Johnny loves Gaia?

Why am I graced with adequate SSD, a choice of places to live, a totally loving and confoundingly loyal family, health? What did I do to deserve to never have to worry about the basics in life? What did I do to deserve my UC to go into remission?

Why do I feel so lost? Why can’t I look myself in the mirror? Why have the “you-stupid-bitch-voices” returned? Why am I am experiencing acne at my age, when I didn’t for most of my life? Why do I have a “good figure?” Why did all the Lithium I swallowed not damage my organs? Why is the wet wool blanket down between me and the world again?  Why can’t I just be good and believe what I am supposed to believe as a Catholic? Why am I “able to not work” and not be destitute? Why does my family love me?

I can give it all up to you. All of it. But, how do I know if I am following the path I am supposed to—the one you want me to? How do I know that your not a cosmic joke?

What should I do? What is the “next thing?”

                                                                H         E          L          P

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: Not proofing this post and I am sorry for being all teenage-angsty. I am just sorry for being.

PPS: I am so sorry for my doubts...forgive me.

Grateful For:

Cigarettes

Coffee

Buffalo meat

Ruby’s frozen yogurt

Health

Family

Angel

UPDATE

It's like being in that House brings on a type of

(Angel just gingerly walked across my laptop and the angle where the screen and keyboard meet--she did not touch one key. Amaz-fucking.)

It's like being the NY House brings on a type of psychosis in me. Where my perspective is skewed and I can't think right. I am not blaming the House for Arthur's psychotic breaks. But, for me--it's like...it continues to torture me. Because I was tortured there.