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Living on a Prayer

God;
Yesterday, I confessed my anger towards You. I yelled, I cried, I begged for You; To feel You. I was already aware that my feelings were ignorant and shameful; Which is why it had taken me so long to even acknowledge.

This morning; My basement flooded with backed up sewage.
This evening; My grandma is having emergency surgery, and her only functioning kidney is currently failing.

God, I am sorry for being angry with you. I'm not sorry for confessing so; I feel in my heart, it was what I was supposed to do. I regret yelling though. I sometimes cannot perceive the ability to control my vocal tone throughout surges of emotion.

I feel like you're punishing me for being mad now.
Please don't punish my grandma too. Keep her from suffering. She deserves Your greatest mercy.
I don't.
Help me understand what to do next time I feel angry at You. I know it's foolish and blind.
Is it not equally ignorant to attempt to curtain this from You?
I try to stay bare to You,
I try to remember that it's only self deception to believe I could hide from You.
I'm confused.

Help me please; I am so upset for so many petty reasons which I haven't been able to let go of. I don't want to be mad. I am mad for being mad, and that only adds to the pile. Forgive me please; I don't want to dishonor you with my petty anger.
--
---
Worry and despair is so draining OMG. I just wish for a beacon of hope. I miss hope.

I am familiar with the psychological concept of transference, and can say with certainty; It is what I have been doing somehow with DBlue. I even said it once before; Exertion. He is my concept of exertion. The fruit of my fantasy. Also, he was a light, a reason to believe, and proof that hoping isn't of ignorance. I try not to indulge in him as a product of my transference; I only indulge in determining the nature of this in myself: What it all means, and why I did this to myself. It's torture.
It's torture...
I know I wanted to find the nature and source of desire; Namely, whether I had any sense of sexuality, or if sex is just something I would put up with because it is required of me to legitimately cultivate love. I do have a sexuality; I crave him sexually, and separately from love.
Now that quandary is taken care of; I no longer am at odds with this. The next dilemma to confront is; Courage. I am stuck on him, because; First off, I spent so much of myself expounding on this interest, and also; I haven't gone out into the world. I've stayed locked up safe in my skyless fortress where no one could dream of reaching me; Of meeting me. I have absolutely no hope of cultivating a similar admiration for anyone in the world if I keep on this pattern. Learning of my sexuality does not do anything to solve the avoidance which I approach the world with. It's silly of me to be so afraid of getting hurt when this, here; Now, is killing me.
Something about being my own worst enemy. comforts me.
Another thing I'm terrified of, and don't have to confront while I remain hung up on DBlue is; What if I still don't enjoy sex, physically? What if I'm still not enough for someone to love?  I relish the aspect of giving, it thrills me to see the person I love, in pleasure. But what about when my love wants to pleasure me? This was a major issue with Vixen.
This aspect of the ordeal escalates it from a simple case of transference, and puts it in the category of escapism. Habitual escapism. This behavior that once conciliated my spirit's survival, now keeps me from fully living. I need to admit it so that I can start to bounce new ideas around on how I'd like to deal with things.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
franklanguage
Mar. 24th, 2013 01:48 am (UTC)
I wouldn't see it as cause and effect; sh¡t happens, and remember: God actually works on a much bigger scale than answering or ignoring prayers of individuals.

I'm sorry about your grandma, and I hope she pulls through.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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