I had taken to airing out my clothes. I would take off my clothes, go outside and shake them out. I aired out the sheets and blankets on my bed. I walked around outside with my clothes off. When doing this, I discovered something. You breathe oxygen with every pour on your body, not just your mouth and nose.
I did a lot of saging. And a lot of drinking of the coconut water, for I needed electrolytes. We ran out of bananas and coconut water, and my mom refused to go to the grocery. Desperate, I walked the long journey to the grocery store and back to buy some more. On the way back, I was walking, and my phone rang. I answered it. It was a recording, financial services requesting someone who wasn't me. When I hung up, I looked at the time. 12:22, just one short of 12:23. I read the message loud and clear. You are almost there.
I was going to carry out the dog plan. However, this was a risky plan. My parents would think I had lost it. And, the bigger issue was, I needed supplies. Where would I get so much construction paper? How would I attach it to the walls? How would I do all this at night without my parents waking up and coming downstairs to find out what I was up to? It seemed clear to me that this was a surefire path to enlightenment. At least, it did at first. Later on, I wasn't so sure. It seemed like a funny idea, but I wasn't sure I could pull it off. So I decided against it.
I was asking Meg, my spirit guide, questions. I asked her if Jesus always has a happy ending. I got a laugh and decisive yes.
I was paranoid that they were going to raise my medication. I asked if the doctors were going to. Meg said, “If you play your cards right then no!”
It's evolutionary to be turned off by things that are weird because from a primitive perspective, weird usually means danger. But spiritual growth in itself is odd and that's not danger, that's something great. It's related to the way people get really really obsessed with fictional stories, like Harry Potter or Twilight. You get an emotional reaction and fixation on the story but it has no evolutionary purpose. And now I'm worried that people will think I am trying too hard to be spiritually enlightened or people pleasing, but I have to give them the benefit of the doubt too and realize that people are more open-minded than I give them credit for.
I was thinking about the idea of silly humor, which is usually disjointed and weird. I remembered a guy named Ian at Innercept who told me he did NOT like silly. When he said silly, I could hear something akin to fear in his voice. As if, however subconsciously, silly created a fearful reaction in him. I wondered if these two things were connected, silliness/weirdness and danger, in terms of evolution.
The funny thing about fear is, it has a tendency to transfix people like a deer in headlights. There's this moment where you just sit and stare, like a deer in headlights. And your mind goes blank. Kind of like enlightenment.
I remembered how my sister saw a psychic, and she told her she was an old soul. My dad and I wondered if she was like a fifth year senior.
In my mind, I imagined a soul, that was old, but never, ever progressed. My sister was immature in many ways, and it was hard to imagine how she could be more advanced than most people if that's really what “old soul” meant. I asked my guides if this was true, if my sister was the old soul who never progressed.
I located the image in Meg from my dream, drew the energy back in my head and shot it at the image, somewhere in the sky. I got back a response. A funny noise/laugh, and then a reluctant nod.
She was the old soul that never progressed. She had lived many lifetimes on Earth, and the main thing she remembered was what happens when you age and you lose your physical beauty. You always, always miss it. So now, she was still young, and she was trying hard to preserve her physical beauty. She was very egotistical about being attractive. I wrote her, and told her she couldn't do it. Her beauty wouldn't survive forever. She would eventually lose it.
As I advanced further into my enlightenment, I saw how I used this belief about my sister as a crutch. I used it to feel superior to her, to build my own ego, at a time when I was at that level of using other people's misfortunes to boost my own ego, when it was that type of ego I was boosting. Later on, I progressed past this belief about my sister, I didn't even ask, I just dismissed it, and I knew why my spirit guides had told me this... because my ego needed it at the time. I didn't even question it, I knew they had lied, and for good reason.
As I progressed further into my enlightenment, I realized a universal truth of spiritual growth. You are in more pain the more you resist spiritual growth. When you are having a hard time, when things aren't working for you, when you are miserable, you are resisting. It was true for this stage of enlightenment I was in, and it was true for other souls in day to day life. During my enlightenment, I was going through something, something hard, difficult, but not painful, when it got painful, I was resisting. It wasn't pain, it wasn't pleasure, it was growth. How much pain I was in told me how well I was doing.
When I was feeling happy, I decided never to talk to my friends again. They were not good for my spiritual growth. They didn't appreciate my enlightenment, my astuteness, my wonderfulness, just don't talk to them ever again. Then, I realized, I was in pain. My growth was stalled.
I was picking at my hair, and breathing deeply, over and over again, as I let go of negativity, removed attachments, became one with myself, and breathing oxygen was necessary to let go of these attachments.
When I was happy, I was ecstatic that I was making spiritual progress. I told Erik he was the guy I loved, not with my words, on the spiritual plane. He told me I was the woman he loved, and asked if we were getting back together. I laughed, no, I meant because of your spiritual beauty. He laughed, and said, why, you noticed? That's pleasant.
Wondrous beauty. That is the word that describes this spiritual state. I held ideas in my head that were contradictory, not like dark night, but like something else entirely. One moment, I believed I was going to rule the planet, the next, I didn't understand if I would even live to see the next day. When I believed I was the ruler, I stopped doing things like showering, and basked in my effervescent glow. When I believed I was no one, I showered fiercely to get off the stench of failure. No one understood. No one understood. When I was up, not up, happy, it was not cyclical, I was not cycling, I was happy at times, unhappy other times. It was not chemical, it was nothing like the crappy geodon ups and downs. It was based on my thought processes. When I was happy, I was ecstatic, but not enough to do anything about the troubles at hand, which was, how do I get myself out of this mess? This parental nightmare? Of living with these ogres, who loved me not at all... They could not afford to take care of me forever, so the obvious solution was to make a living as a psychic, but that was far-fetched... I could, but who would buy my readings? I would, no one else would, it wasn't out, it was on hold. I needed to do something now. I needed to have a heart attack, to prove to them that my life was not fragile, it was delicate. Not because they thought I was delicate, they thought I was fragile, and I was not, my brain was fine, these chemicals that I put into my body were not the culprit, lack of love was. I was going to have a heart attack because no one loved me. They wanted me drugged, unhealthy, chained to the ground, but could they handle not having me around? They knew not what it would entail for me to die. They took me for granted. Now, I was going to prove that they could no longer take me for granted. Forget “dog.” It was cute, but ineffective. If I had a heart attack, I would never let them see me in pain. Laugh out loud. Yes, it would be painful. And yes, they give me nothing for the pain. Do not put me under. Do not give me anaesthesia. Let me suffer, like Jesus on the cross, who refused painkillers. So, I could go through open-heart surgery, without anesthesia, without being put under, and it would correct my broken sexuality. That would work, maybe, a little, yes. That would work.
I was smart enough to know that they wouldn't actually do surgery on me without putting me under. I knew that expecting them not to was silly. But at least, in this one moment, I was willing to go through with it. I was willing to do the whole thing, all the surgery, without anything for the pain. That willingness was enough. So I made a point of going and telling my parents, “Don't give me anything for the pain.” They just brushed it off. They would know what I was referring to when the time came. My aunt Linda had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from being awake during surgery. She for one wouldn't stand for it, watching me going through the same thing, when I didn't know what was at stake, and they could so easily put me out. She would come out and tell them not to, with the goodness and compassion in her heart, and save me my sexual normalizing surgery. I would rather have the sexual normalizing surgery if it meant being normal sexually. But would it be worth it? Would it be worth the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Probably not. I was better off just being abnormal.
It didn't occur to me at first, however, that they would be unwilling to do it without anaesthesia. To prepare me for the surgery, I put on some music. This song by Nine Inch Nails that I hated, Somewhat Damaged. I hated this song so bad it drove me crazy. But, it had an eerie loop in it that reminded me of the hypnotic knife of surgery. It was a horrible, sinister surgery song. I hated this song, but I listened to it to get me used to the energy of the knife.
I imagined what would happen, when I had a heart attack. First, I would be in so much pain, and it would be horrible. I would die, and then go to hell. My idea of hell. My real, hyperbolic idea of hell, the worst physical and mental misery there is. Then, I would be rescued, and have a near-death experience where I went to heaven. I would meet God, maybe Jesus, some other people... it would be fun. What I needed to know though was, don't look up. Don't look up when you are in heaven. If you look up, you are permanently dead. Then, I would wake up after surgery, and possibly my father had sacrificed his own life to save me, because I needed a heart transplant. Then, I would be welcomed as the second coming of Christ, because I had predicted my own demise beforehand, that I would be having a heart attack. I went and told my parents right then, very calmly, I'm going to have a heart attack. They looked at me funny, scoffed, didn't believe me because I was so calm. Not now, later. But I didn't say that part.
I was anxious. I didn't want this to happen. However, it was the only way out of the situation. It was the only way to show my parents what truly mattered. It wasn't whether or not I was on psych meds, it wasn't whether or not I was doing “well” in their eyes. It was my life. That's what mattered.
Meanwhile, I was happy. Really, truly happy. The reason was, I was living, fully and completely, in the moment. With each day, each breath... I wasn't focused on some point in the future when I would supposedly be happy, like I had always been in the past. Some point which would never come, because I was never happy. I was happy right here right now in the moment. And as I lived in the moment, time slowed way down. I got up one day, went and got an energy drink, lived my entire day, and had a good time. I thought the day was over, when I looked at the clock. Shit. Only eleven am. I would have thought it was at least five pm. Hooray for me. I still have the rest of the day to live.
As I walked around, I varied up the music I listened to. Mostly stuff by Eminem. Eminem was perfect energy for this stage of enlightenment. I could tell this was what I was going through, because, with all the information I had ever collected about enlightenment, this was it. It was a balancing of different feelings, different energetic needs, like social contact. Ha. That one was a joke, and it was during this stage of enlightenment when I learned how much of a joke it was. When I needed social contact, I took an Adderall. Not because it was a good substitute, but because the thought processes I went through while on Adderall were more effective at making my brain think it was having positive social interactions than actual real social contact. It was sad, really, I thought it was sad, but what was I supposed to do? I imagined being in the computer game the Sims, and when my social bar got low, taking an Adderall. That was a good way to describe the entire experience, a balancing act, a balancing act of different energies that were a necessity for spiritual advancement.
Whenever I started to think of my upcoming heart attack, and the fear that went along with it, I got part of a song in my head. That song was Eminem's Not Afraid. So I would listen to this song. I would listen to other Eminem songs, when part of the chorus went through my head. It was so easy to choose my own music now! I wasn't just listening to a couple Eminem songs, I was listening to every single Eminem song on my iPod, because every single one had a unique energy that I needed regularly during this stage of enlightenment. Who knew, Eminem was good for enlightenment?
There were a couple other songs I needed the energy for every now and then. Let it Be by the Beatles, when I wanted something more calm and spiritual. Harvey Danger Flagpole Sitta kept coming up, when I needed to lighten up the energy a little bit. Some Nights by Fun. This was a really good one, and it some points, I almost listened to this one on repeat. However, if I had done this, my energy would not have been able to build, and I would have stopped progressing, so I did not.
At one point, I was arguing with my parents. I started flailing my head and repeating, rhythmically, “I'm a fai-ai-ailure! I'm a fai-ai-ailure!” In a voice, the inflexion containing a sort of raw, ugly beauty. I enjoyed this. They hated it because it was odd. I loved it because it showed the raw ugly emotion of the moment, the energy of what I was experiencing coming out through my vocal cords. I imagined doing this, until it upset the rhythms of my heart and I went into cardiac arrest. Perhaps this is how it would happen.
I was arguing with my parents. There was so much misery in this household. I imagined myself letting out a scream, while in dark night of the soul. But instead of a scream, a beautiful, piercing violin noise comes out, and I convulse all over the floor in a palpitating dance.
We were working together. This household, we were working together. I could feel the power of the holy spirit pulse through the household. It was our job to introduce me, the second coming of Christ. I had thought I was the second coming of Christ, I had thought that Brandon was in love with me. Because he was my soul mate. I recognized it first, because I was the girl. He never knew me enough to recognize it. Now, I had a broken heart, and I was going to have a heart attack because of it.
The thing about enlightenment is, it's not about getting rid of the ego. The ego is what propels you upward. Everyone wants enlightenment but they don't want anyone else to have it. Christians are made fun of a lot. But the thing is, other people don't understand it takes something to admit that someone else is completely perfect but forgives you unconditionally for not being perfect. The thing is, those people then get stuck. They get stuck thinking they are inferior. When it is the ego that propels you upward. And reality is actually good.
That was what I thought of enlightenment, but what did I think about my current situation? Was I going to remove the idea of love with my parents? I didn't want anything to do with them anymore, they were underneath my mind of love, they did not make it into the picture. Now, I had no choice but to forgive them, forgive them, forgive them. For in this moment, I had to forgive. Everyone in my life, everyone who had wronged me, forgive. Then, I would have come to grips with the idea of loving someone else, someone more like myself. Not Melvin, not Adam, no one in particular. Just, someone who came my way... Someone I could love more than I ever loved my parents, someone with similar ideas in the head to me, someone who did not understand the idea of medication with their minds, but rather, with their mind of loving people without medication. My ideas. That's who they would love. Not, what my parents thought I was, a blissful piece of chemicals, that was it. No, I was a living, breathing ball of beauty. I had wonderful ideas, and they would make it far. As for my parents, they would go no where with their ideas of having me under their grip. They would relinquish control onto myself.
When I woke up one morning, I was taken aback by the number of ideas circulating in my mind. One of them was the idea that I should never become one with my mind again, because this is hell in a hand basket. I hated this. This was horrible. Sure, on the surface I was having the time of my life, but underneath... I could not understand why this was a necessary precursor to enlightenment. We loved it, no, we hated it. We liked it, no, we did not. The subconscious/conscious minds clashed! There was turmoil in their relationship, and they would never be the same again, because after this, the minds became separate entities, and they existed without turmoil, however, they were blissfully unaware of what was to come.
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