I know that the subject matter in my blog has been flying from one end of a continuum to the other, and back again. I just can’t seem to stay on one side. Is she serious? Or is she funny?

As I wrote that, I thought – like a pendulum.

The pendulum swings and the hands of the clock will continue moving forward, dutifully informing you what time of day it is.

I suppose I’m a bit like the pendulum, dutifully (or gleefully) informing you guys what mood I’m in and what I think of the world in general.

I always found the sound of a ticking clock to be extremely aggravating. I have gone to great lengths to stop ticking clocks if I am, say, a guest staying overnight in someone’s house. If earplugs don’t do the trick, I’ll remove batteries, turn a switch off, unplug or even place my finger gently against the pendulum, if the clock has one, to stop the ticking sound.

So the ticking stops.

But time marches on, though, doesn’t it?

How I wish I could be still and satiated even as time marches on. I simply can’t. Or, I don’t have the ability yet.

I have lost faith in many things. I have lost faith in myself the most. I am convinced that I am of no particular importance and that my presence here on earth must be some sort of punishment for a mortal sin committed in a past life or in another dimension. I actually believe this because I sincerely do not understand why my presence is required here. And it’s not to glorify God and His Son, Jesus Christ through my spiritual gifts. It’s not to convert the heathen. That much I will profess. Tell me that and I just might put a curse on you. You can choose the curse if you like. But it has to be a bad thing. I could turn you into a newt if you’d prefer.

I don’t believe in what I don’t see. I used to think very differently. For about the past ten years, I have completely disregarded the religion I grew up into. I no longer accept what is spoon fed to me. I consider myself a person who reasons. Therefore, thinks for a lifetime.

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I would be flat out lying if I said my illness did not play a part in me “losing my religion.” At the same time, to say that was the driving force behind my decision is flat out reductive. I did not leave my beliefs quickly. It was a long and thoughtful process. Many beliefs that I “went along with” simply were either ridiculous, not rooted in evidence or were just plain lunacy.

I now identify as “if I don’t perceive it through one of my five senses it doesn’t exist.” Period.

Last night almost changed that. Almost.

Magical Thinking

I have this strange thing where I “sense” vibrations, or energies – I’m sure I’m offending someone in the religious community – but I don’t know the correct terminology for what I hear.

I was never diagnosed with schizophrenia, am not paranoid (well not currently), bipolar, or overly superstitious. But I did once identify as a Christian. Make of those two sentences what you will.

In 1999, I had a “spiritual cleansing session” which basically is the Christian version of an exorcism. I wanted so badly to get better that I’d try anything that promised favorable results. Someone suggested I see this therapist who had a stellar reputation. This person was also a legitimate professional with a degree and everything. And was a Christian, so I was pretty impressed.

I was told that after removal of nefarious beings that had “rights and grounds” to my “space” that I would be “delivered.” This would most definitely happen after much preparation (prayer and Bible study) and one session with 1.5 hours of intense “spiritual warfare.”

Being the dutiful student I always have been, I took the process very, very seriously and gave it my all. I believed everything I was told right down to the bottom of my little black heart. No stone was left unturned on my part in terms of revealing my “sins” and past exposure to the occult. Including unfortunate instances of me opening up fortune cookies. Not kidding folks. I can’t make this stuff up.

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If you are in or ever have been in contact with an unwrapped fortune cookie, leave the premises immediately. Pray fervently because you have just invited the demonic into your space! I mean, don’t play with Ouija boards and fortune cookies. You have been warned.

Confession

I did confess the fortune cookies and a laundry list of other “atrocities” because I wanted this process to work so badly. I even confessed bad thoughts I’d had. Like thinking about being a stripper so I could pay for my schooling. Like I said, no stone unturned.

What I got out of the session, in general, were some “visions” he’d claimed that he’d seen during the therapy. And a bill for $160. I was all excited to begin a chronic fatigue free, spiritually enriched life.

Wow, was I ever a fool.

Results

Over the next 14 years, my life got progressively worse. My illness got worse. I became more depressed. Then when I went to university I started to apply science and reason to my life. And all that religious nonsense went straight out the window. Part of me had never accepted the religious stuff in the first place.

The only thing that had changed after that “spiritual session” years ago is I began hearing the aforementioned vibrational noises. High pitched, low pitched, on my left side, right side, above me, below me, well, you get the point. Like, the day after the session. It was like standing under a high-voltage power line on a quiet day and “hearing” an electromagnetic sort of field. Or listening to an activated tuning fork.

This newfound “phenomenon” never seemed to do any good. Didn’t do any harm, either. I had this seemingly “sixth sense” and didn’t know what to do with it. Well, technically it wasn’t a sixth sense because I was processing electrical impulses sent from my inner ear to my brain – so hearing. Nobody else was much help in determining what I should do with what I was told was a “gift.” Meh.

Eventually, because I was so depressed, some of my family members thought I might be going through some manic phase of a bipolar disorder. I wasn’t, but they worried. And talked behind my back. Eventually, I just stopped telling people I heard the vibrations and then I just stopped believing in what I couldn’t sense. Then I stopped believing altogether. The vibrations continued, but I brushed them off as tinnitus and marched on.

The Dots

I do remember someone telling me – and I don’t remember who – that if and when the vibrations came, that I should pray to God and politely ask what I was being told (like some direction/instruction, or warning, or comfort, or whatever). It didn’t really work. I couldn’t find a way that I might have used the “ability” in a practical, useful sense. Like to help someone else.

Last night, I was sitting at my computer, as usual, editing videos. All at once, there was a very loud, long, and high pitched noise that clearly was not coming from my headphones. In fact, there was no audio or video playing at that particular point. OK now what does the universe want?!? I’m busy, dammit!

I ripped the headphones off my head and threw them to the ground. The ringing got louder. Quickly standing up, I said out loud (to the ceiling, in exasperation):

“What in the hell do you want? What are you trying to tell me? I’m sick and tired of this nonsense.”

And the very FIRST thing that came to mind was this:

Your house is on fire.

I sat back down, just as exasperated, picked up the headphones and shoved them back onto my head. I muttered “Well, I’ll just wait for the fucking fire alarm. In fact, I hope I die of smoke inhalation.”

Connecting the Dots

Several hours later, I connected the dots. I’m good at that. Connecting dots where there aren’t any. But for the purposes of this narrative, let’s say there were dots and that I connected them.

Starting on June the 15th of 2017, I began having strange pain, including inflammation in all of my joints. I felt like I had a low-grade fever. I was having difficulty walking, standing, getting up from a sitting position, wiping my backside, etc. etc.

In fact, I am in pain as I sit here typing. ALL of my joints hurt. But my backside is nice and clean.

I figured “Oh shit – here we go. Now I’ve got fibromyalgia. Or osteoarthritis. Or MS. Or Lupus. Or meningitis. Or osteogenesis imperfecta. Or osteosarcoma. Or paralysis.”

I likely have none of the above-mentioned conditions, but this is what happens when you’ve had many years of medical training. You consider all the possibilities after assessing signs and symptoms. All of a sudden you might have bone cancer, then you write yourself off as nuts. Well, I do, anyways.

Emotions

I do know that emotional well-being is connected to physical wellbeing. And I’ve been feeling progressively worse and worse over the last three years. I have not really invested any time or money into therapy. I haven’t really been honest and open with anyone about my true feelings. My goal is to get out of the situation I am currently in and be as perfect as humanly possible. I have turned into a paranoid, isolated, agoraphobic. I panic easily when I must go outdoors. Or mingle with people. Or venture into an unpredictable situation. Like a 3-year-old’s birthday party.

I was really never like this. But this is what isolation does to a person. It has changed me quite a lot (but that’s a topic for another blog). And finally, my body delivered a message to me.

Your house is on fire.

Uhh, well I suppose I should take steps to put it out. What was that acronym again? PASS means “pull, aim, squeeze, sweep” right? I digress. Yes, my poor body is arguably the conduit through which negative feelings and energy are beginning to escape. The pain, burning, and inflammation is most definitely real. And needs attention. That’s the message that I got from, well, who? Probably from an under-utilized portion of my brain. The area that deals with common sense and shit like that. Lol.

I guess my body is my house. And it most definitely is on fire. 

I think I’ll get someone to drop me off in a rural area so that I can scream for several hours straight. Then I’ll get some therapy.

The ringing in my ears continues. It probably won’t ever go away. If my ceiling has something interesting or amusing to say to me the next time I hear ringing, I’ll share it with you. I promise.

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