#jesus ok maybe i should fight with my mom again for some diagnosis

[moomoomooing]

mild rant? mostly thoughts :)

yk ive just not been a fan of how quickly my mood and possible depression is flipping from eberythings fine and im only a little stressed but its ok! to jesus fuck let me rot (projects and deadlines are suddenly piled up and its overwhelming, but i also feel like this when i have nothing i can do)

i try to keep on a shower schedule cause of my class times (i have night classes half of the days so i shower on my off days) but it means i gotta be nasty for a day on sunday till i shower that night. and i never have the willpower to go to the studio feeling nasty,,, even if it wouldve been great to get work done and satiate the restlessness i get from being in my dorm all day

but i didnt and now im plagued with guilt and more stress/ anxiety yippees

on another note my roommate is really REALLY good at finding ALL of my triggers for anxiety or fight or flight responses. so far they nailed using my mirror/being TOO close to my belongings without asking (they eventually asked and i gave permission out of being nice but i severely dislike it and it makes me hyperaware of everything she does when i hear her close to my dresser). they got my i will tense up and not breathe till its over response to alarm sounds (i hate them theyre incredibly anxiety inducing and i always wake up before my alarm usually out of fear. thankfully now my alarms a last resort/reminder of time if i dont wake up early). and!! they let the door slam (boo loud noises), are constantly on a call they often dont wear earbuds for and talk really loudly half the time, or is on call past 12 am (i feel intrusive and also please i cant sleep if youre on call)

theres also other general icks that are hopefully getting better? im noticing less of smth that i hate that they do (its a not cleaning after yourself type deal) but it could just be coincidence

oh also im trying to apply for jobs (remote part-times or internships) and frankly im scared. the reason it took me so long to get a job in highschool was also straight fear and anxiety lmao

i would love money tho (pssst i have commissions open :D)

OW SHARP RINGING NOISE WHERE DID YOU COME FROM????????? ALL OF THE WHITE NOISE DISSAPEARED AND ITS ONLY THAT

anyways i got another strike of hypersensitive skin??? no idea what causes it but it made the underneath of my forearm feel like i scraped it across concrete. 0/10 i didnt have a pleasant showering experience

oh on a better note being so far removed from my family and the fact we basically never call or text has been quite freeing

its like when i was actually at public highschool and had agency over myself in a way i didnt have when my mom was around (basically her presence was usually STRESS)

on a lesser note i havent been talking with my two other friends (ill call em the trio, them plus me) and its been kinda radio silence from everyone? i havent exactly been great either but my infrequent requests for vcs are usually ignored or not responded too which sucks. it makes me more paranoid than id like to be

our time difference definitely makes it way harder too tho, im ahead by a few hours. ik weve gone months without talking before then picked it right back up, but im always scared during the radio silence anyways

im always scared and curious abt other ppls opinions on me, usually the ppl i consider friends. ik one of my friends likes me? but their friends (the 4 of us will be rooming together next year, theyre also technically my friends but my usually point of contact with them is through my friend) i cant tell how much they like me? its probably my unfamiliarity with them but it makes me nervous for no reason

anyways if you actually read all of this, sorry for taking away your time? i reccomend soft gepard x sampo (hsr) fics to soothe the mind, theyre cute.

also hey haha if youre one of the two friends, literally the nickels, are reading this? erase it from your mind please and thanks

[our-deamon2-blr]

Chapter 100: FAITH HEALERS

I still had my faith and I would give myself over to God, just to heal me. I wondered who was leading me in this life, Satan or God. The obvious answer was Satan. Since my diagnosis, I would ask myself over and over whether I have trusted God enough to heal me. After years when my prayers were not answered by God, I stopped asking and slowly starting to lose faith. My friend, who was religious, quoted these words to me. “God allows the path to be difficult because He intends on refining us and preparing us for our place of promise” What did that mean? He is playing around with me until he decides it is time to heal me? I held onto my faith but how could I trust GOD after what he did to my life. All my dreams were starting to shatter.

Adjusting to life with a disability is never easy, I didn’t want to be a victim that was caught in a body I had no control over. I wanted to be an active mom with my children. Although I was still physically able to walk, I could not run with my children that were one of the activities that a mom needed to be a “whole” mom. All I wanted out of life was to be normal again. Be the person I used to be, with faith and a zest for life. I was young and slowly killing myself emotionally. I was caught in a place I did not want to be. I did not belong there. I was young, and my life felt like it was stuck in this small space and being held down. Most of the time I had a positive attitude and my disability was placed far away to interfere with my life. I slowly adjusted my life to having a disability. I could not really complain. All I could not do is run; walk fast, stand-up in a weird way and sometimes when needed walk with a crutch. There were much worse conditions than mine.

Living in a small town, there was always information spreading around that could not be missed. One event that caught my eye that was of a church assembly organized by the church and a faith “healer” would be present. I have to admit that I saw hope, not that there was a faith healer/ Prophet but the fact that this happened so close by me losing my faith. I felt like it was a sign. I had nothing to lose. Maybe there was a small sign of hope for me.

Clyde would not accompany me as he took care of Jade. I got dressed in jeans and a blouse, grabbed my cane and hoped for the best. As I approach the church there was a huge tent set-up for the sermon. There were cars surrounding the tent as well as car guards directing cars to parking spaces. I was so nervous, my heart was beating that my body was giving me a "fight or flight” response. My adrenaline made my heartbeat at such a rate I have to inhale oxygen just to breathe. I grabbed my crutch and again I to convince myself that it would be ok and that I should not have any expectations.

As I entered that were people seated all over the tent. I noticed blind people, deaf people, people in wheelchairs, people on crutches, and people with a multitude of disabilities just from the onset.

There were a few people lined in the front that I assumed were requested healing. I could not see properly but I didn’t want to be in the front view and sat at the back of the tent. I secluded myself not to be noticed until I was ready. In the centre of the tents was a small stage or podium with surrounding floodlights but not that bright to see properly.

Suddenly there was a roar in the crowd and this well-dressed man entered the tent and was introduced as Nemha. (I will always remember this name due to my experience) and was given a microphone. He stepped onto a podium and presented himself as a man of God whom anyone might approach for deliverance, salvation, and miracles. He was joined on stage by a few men that looked like his bodyguards, also dress in suits. He started his sermon with an introduction as he was saved and his past and just about his upbringing and how he started having faith to this point where he was today. The sermon started out normal and then all of a sudden he started speaking louder and louder up to a point that he was shouting. It was like watching a movie, but this was just live. Everyone started yelling, “Amen, Hallelujah”, and “Praise God.” He continued preaching that the devil used some people and the devil brought them to their church to destroy the Demon in them.

All of a sudden he started speaking in tongue, walking back and forth. Some people in the front were bending down, so he could cast their demon out of them. I stood up to see what he was doing. He started putting his hands on these people, still speaking in tongue. He also did the ‘slaying of the spirit’ demonstration. His helpers would pick up a “disabled body” to be saved. He stood before him and two huge ‘catchers’ stood at his sides. He placed one hand at the small of his back, pressed the other to his forehead and easily pushed the man over. It seemed that this man decided to resist, and though Nemha pushed him hard three times. The man remained firmly standing. He then pushed the guy so hard and the helpers pushed him down to show he was being healed. Was this the demon resisting, fighting to be present and not give in?

I had seen these healings on TV documentaries and had heard much debate about whether someone should fall forward or backward when the Holy Spirit touched them, in a "slaying of the spirit" The audience started shouting so loud it became annoying. The louder the audience got, the louder Nemha spoke into his microphone until he started shouting to raise his voice over the audience chanting.

There was a section of the room that was set aside for people in wheelchairs. A contribution plate was held out for them to pay for the chance to be healed. He started the healing ceremony, encouraging people to stand up from their wheelchairs and so on. The prophets “bodyguards” were going around, pushing wheelchairs towards the prophet, trying to get people to stand up and walk. Mostly, the people would try but then sit right back down in disappointment, a few were crying.  He took his bible slapping the Jesus into a woman, well it didn’t work. He would then announce their failure and blame the people for a ‘lack of faith’ when it became clear that the healing would not work. A woman walked up to the 'prophet' and claimed to be healed. It appeared as if it was staged. The healing could be legit but it seemed very suspicious. He then began waving his magic finger at people, and they were falling down, supposedly slain in the spirit. One of the evil spirits was cast out and those set free by the Prophet writhed in the dirt while vomiting out the demons. One of these rituals I saw was a strong demonic presence over this man. His head was contorting and looked to me like it would almost twist, as well as his jaw, face and hands contorting; it seemed every muscle was at an extreme strain in his body.

He was jerking and twitching severely. Nemha wasted no time responding. He rushed over to this man; put his hand on his chest and forehead, starting to binding demonic powers and commanding his body to be released in Jesus’ name. I didn’t believe what I was seeing. Was it real or not? Weeks later confirmed that this man had suffered an epileptic seizure which often can display similar signs of someone being “possessed” being held by a “demon”, and then when the epileptic seizure passes, he would be “healed”.

He prayed for every person in the line and declared them all healed. He claimed that he could also transfer power to an ordinary person and that the person would be able to perform healing. During healing hours, he would touch any person in the congregation and tell that person to come forward and be healed. I sat at the back, out of sight, and did not even think of standing in line to be healed. Ironically, I wanted this to be real. I was hoping it would work for me.

I asked God, whilst I was sitting there, to please remove this demon from my body so that I could become normal again. I used to think that it was all bullshit, but here I was, sitting with a small bit of faith, clutching and holding on to hope. I am a fairly intelligent and alert person, and I kept my eyes, and ears open to everything that was going on. I am not somebody that can have the wool pulled over my eyes easily.

I thought it was a joke and got up to leave. It was extremely noticeable that I had a problem standing and somehow, one of his helpers saw me and guided me to faith healer/ Prophet to where I was standing. I clearly walk with a limp and using a cane. He sat me down, said something and touched my head, and pushed it backward. I thought: “What the …? F...k off, do not touch my face.” He was shouting over the microphone that he saw me healed, and announced that my leg had started growing longer. “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked him.

He ignored my question and again, touched my head and said: “You are now healed.” Then this person came with a plate so that I could reward the Prophet for his connection with God. I looked at this person, got up and shouted: “You are a fu...ing fake. You are not a healer; my one leg is not shorter than the other.” He turned his back on me and started 'healing' other people. His helper held out a plate for a contribution. I smacked the plate out of the man's hand that the change went flying and stormed out. The Prophet asked for a weekly donation that would be the same as having healthcare. Good people will go down in financial flames for trusting those con men and thieves. It also came to view that the congregants would write their fears and problems down on a prayer card "for God" before each meeting. The prophet would read them in secret, and then repeat their prayers back to them word for word while he laid hands on them. I wondered if he was a psychic before this was revealed.

That day, my faith in god disappeared. There is no god. I had been taken for a fool, believing in a god who does not exist and people should open their eyes. The song with the words: “I think that god has a sick sense of humour,” (Depeche Mode - "Blasphemous Rumours") were the exact thoughts I had at that point.

I had just experienced the rejection of a god that could tear you apart from the inside and leave your life in what seems to be an unending torture. It was a complete collapse of my entire belief system. It was like learning the truth about Santa Claus. It seemed obvious that god was completely fabricated. I came to the starkest of conclusions … god did not actually exist. I got into the car and banged my fists against the steering wheel.

Shouting at the demon to get the f...k out of my body. I punched my legs so hard that I cried out in pain. I needed to vent so badly but only tears came out. I blamed myself that I had taken this path and had made choices that I had believed to be my own. I cried out in anger and disgust at the extent of the deception, and it caused a deep-seated headache.

“You did this to me,” I cried in anger. “Get out of my body now!” I had a battle with this demon in my body; I sat there for what felt like hours. My eyes were swollen so badly from the tears. I was shaking and I had to drive home. I looked at my watch and it was just past 22h00. I tried my best to pull myself together because I did not want Clyde to see me like this. I could not face him and hear him say anything negative right then. I did not have the strength to talk, and I did not want to argue either.

I got home and composed myself. Clyde was sitting in the lounge. “You were gone for a while,” he said. “How was it?” not sounding as if he really cared. “The guy is a total fake and ridiculous,” I replied with the anger still inside me. “I’m tired. I’m going to take a bath and go to bed.” I walked to the bathroom and let the bathwater run, calming myself. I heard him switching off the TV, opened the bathroom door slightly asking me if I am ok because he is off to bed. “I’m fine, I will be done soon” I try to speak these words without anger. To sound cam

I bathed longer than usual, waiting for him to be asleep when I got out. I went to Jade’s room, and he was sleeping soundly. “Sorry I failed” I whispered to him. By the time I got to the bedroom, Clyde was already fast asleep in bed. Although I was with my husband, I felt very isolated and extremely alone. I turned my face towards the pillow and softly cried myself to sleep that night. I buried myself into the pillow so my sobs will not wake Clyde. I wanted to take his arm and wrap it around me. I needed comfort but could not ask for it.

I kept this experience/nightmare/secret buried for years and never mentioned it to anyone or indicated how it affected my life.