I’m not a religious person. I don’t like taking part in theological discussions. My relationship with the Universe has always been questionable at best. I like to say “Universe” instead of God. The name “God” feels so foreign and heavy in my mouth whenever I say it aloud. It makes me feel uneasy. The same is also true with the idea of getting down on my knees and pray. So whenever I feel the need to ask the Universe for guidance or help I write letters instead.
I was baptized in the Catholic church, but I haven’t set foot within an actual church since I was probably 11 years old. Never mind the fact that I’m gay, but the idea of conforming under the Catholic faith just seemed too restrictive for me. I wanted to keep myself open to other beliefs. I try to be understanding of other people’s religions, but then I sometimes thinks that it clouds their eyes. Sometimes I think it even robs people of their free will.
I had written before about how the Universe had sent me signs. I do my best to interpret the signs on my own because there’s no one else who can read them for me or tell me my fortune. It’s how I’ve been doing things for the last 8 years. I thought it would lead me to a better reality where I wouldn’t have monsters living in my head or have to always fight for my own survival.
The inside of my mind is a battlefield. Wars raging on 24/7, all 365 days of the year. My depression has created monsters and villains that I see trying to destroy everything good and decent. The heroes I see in my mind’s eye are the people that I wish were in my life to fight my battles for me. I have no such people in reality. I have no champions that are flesh and blood. I only have myself. And my inner demons are always these intangible beings. The irony is the deeper I fall into depression the more aches and pains I start to feel all over my body. As if I were in a real battle for my life.
I don’t know why but today my mind has been in that dark place that I’ve been trying to get out of. I didn’t understand why. Especially after I had spent all of yesterday cooking up a storm. I was feeling good while making gimbap, frying up shrimp and chicken, and chopping up vegetables for my stir fried rice while listening to good music playing. I was happy with cleaning up in the kitchen too. Then I enjoyed all that good food while watching The Hateful Eight on Netflix. Then I went to bed happy and woke up a mess. Then the power blew out. The electric bill had been paid. I know this because I’m the one person in this house who is in control over it.
One of my roommates had a small fire coming out of the outlets in his room. The fire had been put out, the house is still standing, but he also cut the power of the house. Next thing I know the landlord came over to address the problem. As usual everyone except me gathered around and commenced with the usual, “I hate my fucking landlord” bitch rant. I’m the only one that doesn’t take part in it. My biggest reason why is because I’ve been down that road with my Dad, with Mike, with the roommates I had at the Cottages, with all of Boone. I was angry with the whole Universe. I had all this malice accumulated inside of me and it nearly destroyed me completely. I don’t want to go through something like that ever again if I can help it.
I knew that they were going to be pissed off about something so I kept my headphones plugged in and I did my best to write something, anything, to keep myself from falling further into whatever bad spell I was already in. I had the volume up high, I made sure to pick the loudest song on my playlist, I was getting lost in my own world, and I was finally able to string together some sentences that didn’t come across as incoherent. But that’s when Marissa went and pulled out my headphones so I could be part of the “house meeting” with the landlord present when I really didn’t want to. There were talks about possibly stepping out of the house for a night while someone came in and worked on the wiring in the house.
It had been suggested that we should spend the night at someone else’s place if we couldn’t brave through the night without power. When someone asked me what I was going to do I slipped out, “I have no choice but to stay here. I have nowhere else.” I might have slipped out “no one” instead of “nowhere”, now that I think about it. Everyone heard that. I didn’t know why I had said that out loud.
Marissa offered to let me come with her to her boyfriend’s place and so did the landlord. I didn’t know how to answer other than just say, “Thanks. I’ll keep your offers in mind”. I was very monotonous with my response. Everyone went their own way and left the house to do whatever. The power in the lower part of the house had been restored, but not in the upper part where I sleep. So I stayed down and did my best to distract myself from my own thoughts. At some point the landlord came back to the house with these mini-fire extinguishers in case something else happened. Next thing I know I blurted out more stuff.
I told him about my depression. Not everything about it. But he knew there was something off about me nonetheless. I described it to him as this dark miasma that tries to suffocate me. I don’t know what came over me when I was sharing all this. I don’t even know why I was feeling down in the first place. It wasn’t even the strongest spell I had experienced, but I was feeling it anyway. The next thing I know he put his hand on my shoulder and asked if he could pray for me. I said, “Sure”. I mean, how could it make things worse? So he closed his eyes and prayed for me. He gave me a hug, offered up a room at his place if I felt uncomfortable about staying here tonight, and said we could hang out sometime.
Everyone always talks about how much they hate him and joked, “Oh well, we’re not supposed to be friends with our landlord”. But I didn’t pick up on any insincerity or malevolence from him at all. Especially during that prayer. This was only 2 hours ago and it made me want to write about it.
For a moment I almost thought he was the “Dream Man” I mentioned before. But I know that’s just wishful thinking. Pretty sure he’s as straight as straight gets. But I did appreciate his concern and that he listened to me. Even though it was through some involuntary slip.
Normally I wouldn’t give something like this a second thought, but there’s something about all this I just can’t seem to shake. It makes me wonder if my trust issues weren’t limited to people alone, but maybe to the Universe when this entire time I had believed that the one person I mistrusted most of all is myself.
The more I think and write about this I’m plagued with more questions. I don’t even know if I’m making much sense right now to be honest. But at least I feel better. That depression spell or whatever you’d like to call it has run it’s course.
I’ll find my answers and I will stand by own convictions.
Until then, signing off.