Pluck out your eyes

I made a decision two days ago.

For the past month I gave myself to self-indulgence. I didn't care about my relationship with God. Well, maybe I did, but I chose to do whatever pleased me over what I considered stupid moral concerns at the time. That kind of attitude took me to a dark place spiritually. God's voice seemed fainter. My hardened heart grew more calloused. I'd pray prayers of repentance that later became cries for help. I questioned God about everything while I pretended to wash off a stained soul. Warm water didn't work, and the steam fogged the bathroom mirror. God's image in me was as blurry as it had ever been. Quite sad, quite scary.

I think everything stemmed from learning that my life won't be as I pictured it. I thought to myself, why should I give a fuck. Apparently God doesn't, then why should I. And my perspective narrowed and darkened as a door closing in the face of the Savior. My mother died of this condition, the condition I have been diagnosed with for about 2 1/2 months now. My brother has it as well. And now me, the last child in what's left of a family of so-called men. So much for perpetuating the family name. For somebody who has studied science, this is Darwin's hardest slap in the face. Some days I wake up bitter, with a lot of resentment, angry almost, other days I wake up hopeful, cheerful, a fighter ... most of the days I go to bed praying for a miracle. I stopped believing in miracles at age 15, when my mother passed away. I can see miracles happening in other people's lives, and I will encourage you to pray for those. In my life, not so much ... I've seen them happen though. But I've come to believe that these miracles are more a result of God's will prevailing rather that God answering my prayer for one. He does what He pleases. He is God. To a certain point I think God sees us as puppets. I realize this might be a terrible thing to say but I want to voice these thoughts, because they are part of my journey. Some times I feel I am part of the cast for God's play, and He is the main character. We can be killed off, replaced, whatever. In any case, how is it consistent of me to pray for miracles when I don't believe they can happen as a response to my prayers? Simply because I hope to be wrong, and I want God to prove me wrong. I want to believe in the God I believed when I was kid, when I was not the cynical bastard I am now, jaded and suspicious of everything. In spite of all that happened to me when I was kid, I still believed in a God who loved me, who was willing to give it all for me, to protect me, to care for me. Unfortunately, as I grew up and realized how screwed up my childhood was, how people messed me up, I harbored resentment towards a God who had allowed all of this happen to a kid. And to top it all, let's take away the only person who made him feel safe, his mother. That will teach him how to fend for himself ... and you know what? it did. I took over her role. I became her in many ways. I took care of my life and my ill brother's, and my dad. And I excelled at it. I aged the day she entered the hospital and the day she was buried I knew how to take control of my emotions and tuck them as far inside my chest as I could. So yes, I have issues with God. Deep inside I know He is good, I can accept there are things I will never know that take precedence over my desires, and I know His wisdom is higher than mine and that there's people in this world in worse conditions than me. I know all of that, in some level or another, all of that it's in the back of my mind, always present, apeacing my rage, my superego. And this is the place where I voice my thoughts, if for anything, to have them expressed, and to, while typing them, realize what I am saying and then come to God with a greater honesty. I'm tired of pretending, even in front of Him. I love God. I do. I wouldn't be trying to work it out with Him if I didn't care. And I see my life and it's a mess, and I just want to understand what do I do with this pile of sadness and conflict. I know something will come out of this conversation. Catharsis is indicated in my case as well, hahaha.

I'm sure you have heard things like, 'there's a reason for everything', or some variant of this saying. Well, while I try to figure out my spiritual life, and my life in general, integrating all the pieces, and allowing God to mend stuff, two days ago I decided to step away from the whole world of porn. It's been tough to say the least. I have established habits, and things that I do to unwind when I get back home, and things of that sort. Just old habits. One thing I've adopted is not to wear my contacts when I'm at the gym, for obvious reasons. I have the worst wandering eyes, and I can't help but keep my eyes open to move around. Well, I have a fairly bad case of nearsightedness ... basically, I see shapes but no edges, but I can still differentiate things and move around without a problem. It's been two days in a row since I started practicing this little game of not wearing them and seeing how it affects the way I behave when I get back home. It's actually been pretty good. I have less desire or reason to indulge in pornography. And so ... in a way, I have plucked out my eyes. Growing up I hated wearing glasses, and just having to carry them around for everything. Contacts were a dream come true, but still, somehow impractical. Today I can see the usefulness in being temporarily legally blind. There's a reason for everything.