More Steps 2 and 3 writing for y’all! The history of my relationship with my Higher Power. Part 2:
The Blurry Years (20 of Them):
There was a point in my life when I was interested in the occult and the esoteric, specifically astrology and psychics. But back to childhood for a sec… From a very young age, I believed in ghosts, and I still do. We lived in a haunted house! One time my mom was cleaning and went down to the cellar to look for rubber gloves, and when she came back upstairs, there was a pair of workmen’s gloves in the middle of the stairs! There’s no way she could have not seen them on the way down. One time I was coloring in the living room and looked up and saw the light unscrew and shatter onto the middle of the floor. She said she always felt a benevolent presence in the house. I say I always felt scared shitless in the house. I became interested in astrology somewhere along the line, mostly because I liked the descriptions of Aquarius, the sign ruled by Uranus (ha) – it’s the sign of genius (but you’ve figured this out by now, dear readers), quirkiness, human kindness, unpredictability, freedom, friendship, eccentricity, beauty. (Yeah, OK, I lied about the beauty part. Yeah, Libra is indeed all about beauty, yes, Libra, you you you. Go give yourself a congratulatory kiss). At the time, these traits were much more flattering than how I normally described myself. I think the common physical traits of specific signs are also spot-on sometimes — the murderous loins of Scorpio, the moon face of Cancer, the crossed eyes of Libra (crossed from kissing mirrors). Calves and ankles are supposed to be the most erogenous zones for an Aquarius; and it’s suggested that suitors decorate mine with body paint and wild images to catch my fancy. I simply cannot count the times my suitors have walked up to me and started lustfully painting my legs. Uncanny! I had my chart read once, but my eyes rolled back in my head when I saw actual charts and maps. Math?!?!?! All I wanted to know was where the love of my life is and when would I meet him, and why every mirror-kissing Libra I’ve ever known has broken my heart! (Yeah, Libra, you know who you are because you’re so vain. I bet you think this blog is about you. Don’t you? Don’t you?). This makes no sense! We Aquarius and Libra are both meant to be emotionally detached yet have hearts where our eyes should be. Me? Emotionally detached?? HAAA! I’ve been known to become hopelessly and emotionally attached to scaffolding and coffee filters. So, I wanted a little more accuracy than the mathematical study of celestial bodies (yeah, not yours, Libra), so I started going to a psychic. (See “Allexx” at the Tremont Tea Room – seriously!). The first time I saw Allexx he made my hair stand on-end. He said that 1). he saw me in a yellow shirt sitting outside with sunflower seeds making hats, 2). I was writing to someone named Jake and he’s seen me twice, but I have never seen him, and 3). he saw me flying over bridges and living with someone named Christie. WELL, 1). At the time I was in-between a geo-relo (geographical cure) living with my mom in Boston.. MAKING HATS WITH SUNFLOWER SEEDS IN A YELLOW SHIRT OUTSIDE ON MY MOM’S DECK, 2). Was WRITING TO SOMEONE NAMED JAKE – he was actually a Jason Priestly impostor and he stalked me twice but I never saw him because what kind of stalker would that make him, right?, and 3). I moved to San Francisco a few months later and FLEW OVER BRIDGES (par avion, of course) AND LIVED WITH SOMEONE NAMED CHRISTIE. How do you explain that? I can’t. He used Tarot cards. This inspired me to get my own deck and give my clairvoyant potential a gander. It’s important to note that this was at the same time I was in the wanton throes of my steamy crystal meth love affair. Watch out, Miss Cleo! I was talented! Being up for days on end, I had visions of biblical and spooky measure. I was so psychic in fact, that I frightened myself… and others. But being both psychic and psychotic, I was also frightened to leave the house, so let’s not give a girl too much credit. My captive audience of speed freaks eventually escaped captivity, and I eventually retired the deck. It was but a brief endeavor ~ onward and upward! Back to important stuff like staring at the wall and praying my roommate wouldn’t do something terrifying and appalling, like turn on a light.
Even through my more altered states, I always believed in a power greater than myself. Whether it was a single, loving figure like God sporting the white beard, or some cold and mystical energy involving math and planets and shit, I felt (and feel) part of something much bigger. I felt (and feel) there was/is a plan for me already mapped out, like a reservation in Heaven if I am a kind and loving person, or being forever tapped into the universe if I continue being a genius.
As with my altered states, I also always believed in a power greater than myself through my suicidal states. I never asked God for help when I was gasping for air. I never beat my chest and blamed God when times were truly unbearable. And oh they were unbearable. I hit my bottom seven years ago when I moved to Boston, and scraped that bottom until one year, two months, and 15 days ago. So, I say with no exaggeration that I was actively suicidal for over six years – hoping to die, trying to die, praying to the Big Guy in the Sky to help me die. Being Catholic, suicide meant going on a vacation to somewhere warm, eternally. In my heart, I did not believe that applied to me – I was already in Hell and God’s master plan for me was for me to be a cautionary tale. “Hello. My name is Don’t Do Drugs”. I was put on earth so others may be saved. Now, this made perfect sense to me… until literally last week when I was telling this to a lovely friend “Sleve” who is a devout Catholic. Sleve pointed out that that’s called “martyrdom”, and I was like, “Oh Jesus Christ, for the love of God, Hell No!!”. I never thought of it in an Immaculate Sin of the Crack Pipe kind of way, I thought of it more in an “After School Special” kind of way, starring God (as Himself). Besides daydreaming of deliberate suicide, I also had very colorful suicidal ideations. My favorite was the one where I ran into traffic on West Broadway to save a kitten that had wandered into the street. I’d get flattened by a car, the kitten would be untouched. It would be all over the news – make even national news and the “Today Show”, people who thought I was a raving maniac will be interviewed and say what a beautiful soul I am, boys would realize I am The One Who Got Away. The kitten’s owners, guilt-ridden and inconsolable, would devote the rest of their lives to helping pass laws that would make it illegal for cat owners to let their cats outside in the city without a leash. I would be canonized. The SPCA and PETA would petition to have a National Holiday named after me – Saint Cara of de Kitty.