I have been going through a few system updates in the last few months. Apparently, my internal processor has been working on old settings and therefore glitches have been occurring. Well, when I say old settings I think what I mean is the settings that were in place when my system first broke. When I first decided that I didn’t want to be accountable for my many mistakes because things had happened that I had little or no control over. Things that had hurt me so deeply that my only recourse was to mentally run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I didn’t have the support around me that could explain any of this and then listen to my feeble whimpers and babbled explanations. All I had was a taught response of finding a room in my head to stuff all the feelings and fresh, bloodied memories and then lock the door. It didn’t take too long for the mansion of my mind to be a fortified property protected by subterfuge, containing multiple levels of locked and sealed rooms. Whenever something happened that I couldn’t deal with it got locked up.
One of the problems with all this was the subterfuge involved. I had a belief in a loving, caring God that only wanted the best for me. I had picked up some horrible teaching about how some people deserved this love more than others and that I was clearly one of the ‘doesn’t deserve this’ people. There had been pockets of teaching that had almost reached me and helped me climb out of my hole, but the trouble with this type of hole is they’re almost always made out of mud. Just as I get to the edge and think I’m about to break free, I slip and slide straight back down to where I started. A hundred thousand times. As this keeps happening I have to build a framework of lies around myself. I have to protect myself from yet another slip. I have to be physically if not spiritually counted amongst the other outsiders. I have to not care. I have to create an outside to go with the inside that they say I have made for myself.
It doesn’t matter what I think, what matters is what I’ve been told, and I have been told quite clearly that I have crossed the line and will now have to wait until the end of time to find out if God might, almost accidentally, accept me. Somehow, underneath all the pain and shame, the knowledge that God doesn’t care about the mistakes and the mess echoes around inside my head. I know that it is all going to be ‘alright in the end’ whatever happens. It has to be because that is all I’ve got. But I also know that God is bigger than my pain, shame and mind-numbing confusion. I know that His book tells me that I’m holding a golden ticket. I got an access-all-zones pass. Somehow through the fog of confusion and the crushing shame, I know that I can stand up straight in front of my God, but I only know the feeling and the feeling says no. So I go on another round of repeats.
Because I didn’t have the support around me to help me vocalise the pain and shame. I didn’t have the arms ready to give me the hugs. I didn’t have the reassurance that it was actually Ok to ignore the macho shit and just cry. What I had was a broken internal processor that was constantly glitching because it was trying to take on board new updates that didn’t fit its outdated operating system. So I need to let the built-up pain and shame out somehow. I need to connect with the feelings that I have kept covered up with bravado and a broken understanding of cool. I need to say it again and again. I need to express my feelings and here seems to be the best place for now. So, therefore, I need to write and write about it. I am on a mission to get it out into the light. I am on a mission to be the loving, caring, kind, considerate man that God saw when He created me. It’s gonna suck as I go there but I gotta face that. I’ve had so many occasions when I’ve connected with another broken person and seen them decide to fight another day and I want more.
The hard part is accepting that I am worth anything. Stepping into me. I don’t need to explain why people are wrong when they see anything good in me. I can claim to be an artist, I don’t need to list the reasons why my art is actually not good enough. I can enjoy the ‘free’ gifting that God has given me. While I am accepting the interesting way that my mind works, I can accept that I am artistic and passionate and that not thinking in straight lines is just one of the outcomes. Obviously, I am metaphorically standing in front of my bathroom mirror saying these things cos I sure ain’t there yet. I can believe that people might actually want me around and not just because I make them laugh or think outside the box. I can and am growing into this. I can fail a few times, dammit I can fail a thousand times cos my understanding of God no longer has space for a description of a strait-laced, controlling authoritarian. I’m starting to believe in the forgiving aspect of His nature . . .at last.