#guess who fell in love in an extremely christian guy as fucking pagan

[livingcuttingboard]

I am what these small minds and broke backs and tough hands

Fear

I am the whisper amongst the village crowds,

I am the intrusion in the peacefulness of a cemetery,

I am the black rot that rips away the innocent,

I am the stagnant water, which ranks of poison,

I am the child stealer,the oath breaker,the demon maker,the pariah, the sinner, the whore, the unholy,

Your God has hurt me so,

Your God has named me so.Your God has made me so.

Yet you came,a halo on your head, stagmatas tainting your hands, an echo of pituful prayers spoken to the lonesome walls of a shroud to your voice,

And your God seemed merciful.Oh, so loving and kind and grand and so owned and so cherished.

And you have led me,

You, like your shepherd, have walked a path I could help but try and follow.

I trudged,I walked,I stayed and listened and cried in the rhythm of a song that was not venom but golden and sweet.

Like you,Golden and sweet, honey-like

I am not honey,I am not sweet and golden and loving.

I am what your God used to be.

Perhaps he did make me in his image,

Perahps he made you in his image too,

But he is an old thing of skies.And he is grand,

And he is loving,

And he is venom,

You are the sweetness of him,

You are the gold of him,

Scraped off his skin, you are the goodness of him,

I am what was left,

I am the hate of his bone.

I am the rage of his flesh,

I am the burning of his blood,

And I am salt, and your a honey,

Those are not flavors to be mixed,

They are to stay away, as tradition tells me,

Tradtion is what you worship,

Tradtion is what I abhor,

For if not for it, we would have been

A whirlwind of taste,

Intertwined and strong,

I have always been weak in mind.

You have always been weak in flesh.

 

We could have been strong, my honey

Only tradtion forbade us  

[pinkpaganofficial-blog]

Content and trigger warnings for:

- eating disorder[s] (eds), i.e anorexia, bulimia

- me talking about my suicidal thoughts and venting (I'm ok i just need to like... "word vomit" i guess)

- abandonment by friends

- feeling repression

~~~\\

So i doubt most people on here who follow me know that I suffer from mental illness but I do and have for a very long time. All of the symptoms and effects really came out after my grandfather/best friend passed away when I was 11, 12 years ago. I fell into a hole of depression, anxiety, and disordered eating. From the time I was 11 until I was around 14 I had a very hard time with food. I was suffering from bulimia and I would do the routine binges and purges I had set for myself through the day. I'm surprised my teeth survived all of the stomich acid assaults on them honestly.

I was lonely. I felt so fucking alone in the world. I didn't have many friends. The friends I had were pretty fairweather at the time, as we were kids. They'd hop to the coolest person in their opinions on sight and leave me in the dust, and then come back when they were done, or something happened, whatever. It wasn't stable, and I was always afraid of just being deserted again. My friend who stuck with me, my grandfather, was gone. My grandmother was so in shambles that she doesnt even remember the year after he died at all. My mother is chronically ill, and even though she is and will always be there for me as long as is possible I just couldn't tell her how bad I was feeling. Maybe it was guilt because she has problems that I felt far outweighed mine (haha oh god there's the tears that actually stings).

And my dad is... well.. a dad. Sometimes dads just don't understand things like mental illness, or being an unwell person. My dad loves me. I know that, and I love him a lot too. But he can't understand how these things affect me as he's basically neurotypical in every way. He tries. But I can't find empathy there, and a lot of the time there's misunderstanding when we talk about mental illness. So I didn't tell him anything then either.

I would stay in my room a lot, or be out in the woods a lot. I would scratch up my arms with my nails until they would bleed and I would cry. I felt like I didn't care if I died at that time. My parents raised me religiously in the church and I tried very hard to have a relationship with their concept of a god. But I couldn't because to me in was just emptiness. For me, in that sense, there is nothing there. So my loneliness was running even deeper than just the physical. It was spiritual as well. And idk if anyone reading this has experienced spiritual emptiness, or even is a spiritual person, but please believe me when I say it's Hell.

When I was 14 I rode my bicycle out to a bridge near my home out in the back woods type country. The old train bridge kind with the big cement blocks at the bottom of the pillars holding them up. I remember sitting on the very edge of it just looking down at the cement. I really wanted to jump. Honestly the only reason I didn't was because of my mom. She's the reason I stepped back, got on my bicycle and rode home. Albeit I was crying the whole way home, stayed out in the garden to finish crying, washed my face in the creek and went inside and straight upstairs to my bed and I slept until the next day.

When I was around the end of being 14 I tried repression. I started trying eating normally (which has wrecked me internally, I have major digestive problems as I've always refused to go to a rehab centre, which in itself is not good for me). I started pretending to have a relationship with "God". I tried the whole "cool hip Christian kid" spin from when I was that age until 17 or so. I pushed back my depression, my fears and anxieties and eds to see if I could be happy. And I pretended to be happy for a while. And I fooled a lot of people.

Things weren't by any means okay though. My school work was suffering as it always had, but since the work was harder it was also suffering harder. I picked up smoking cigarettes. I also picked up alcohol more and more. I dated a 21 year old and lost my virginity to him at 16, after much coaxing from him. That was an extremely bad 8 months.

My saving grace and my recharge at the time was a Bible camp I'd attend in the summers. I went for 12 years. Now that I think about it.. that camp was my only constant thing for a very long time. It was always there. And even when it wasn't camp time, the place was so close I could just go talk to the live in managers when I had questions. While my relationship with a god I don't believe in was strained and a facade, the people I met are amazing and have helped me a lot.

In fact, at that camp I spilled a lot of my struggles to my group of close friends. We were just a few girls, only 17 or so. But they had all been through things just as bad as me. Some so close it scared me. I felt accepted by those girls who are now beautiful strong women. So I opened the flood gates of what I had been through. All of my dark times and feelings, thoughts of dying and plans to do it, the bulimia and how it hurt my body, my 21 year old ex and what had happened to me, my struggles in school, my guilt towards my mother as her pregnancy with me put her in her wheelchair, my panic attacks and the anxiety that I'd felt for so long, my loneliness and my desperate want to not be alive. Basically just like, ALL of it. I don't really think that was a gate I could've closed even if I tried at that point. It was just a lot.

It took a while to talk about everything, and by the time I'd covered everything even more young folks like us had come over to sit. I was sobbing. My friends weren't very far behind either. Someone was rubbing my back and another person brought me tissues. I finished and everyone was kinda quiet and sad. One of my friends said "Hey can we all just kinda sit together and pray?" and I said that I thought that was a good idea. So we sat. And we just prayed. Even if they were words floating up to an empty space where I see no god, the solidarity that I felt with my friends and those around showing that they cared about me was overwhelming. I wasn't alone. I had friends. REAL friends who weren't looking for the next best thing. And I didn't feel as empty anymore. Knowing that I had people who genuinely cared for me and everything I'd been through and everything I was made me feel so much more worthy of living, it showed me I wasn't nothing.

A lot has happened since those dark times. I've had other dark times. Anorexia claimed me at 18 as a sufferer, and I still struggle with it to this day. I had a physically and emotionally abusive sociopathic partner in the Autumn of my 21st year. I had a whole 2 year ordeal with someone that I'm not even going to talk about, as this person and I have BOTH put it behind us and forgiven each other and are now friends. I alsp dropped out of high school in grade 11.

But I've had a LOT of light times. I started actively loving my body at 21, which was the first new constant in my life. I took action and got a breast reduction from G to C cup for my health at 18. I left the church and started understanding science better. The spiritualist in me called for more, so I delved into research on Paganism and Wicca. What I found was what I needed. It was the second new constant I needed. So now instead of 1, I had 2.

I live with my fiance now. He's someone who I was schoolmates with in highschool. After a few years of not keeping in touch, we hung out. We got close again. And after a few years we started dating. We've had bumpy patches. 1 break up due to his mental illness (again, it rears its ugly head). But that was short lived. And we are actively improving ourselves while being there for one another. Last March I asked him to marry me to which he said "Well, I was gonna ask you when we got our own place, so obviously yes." (I've dated a lot of people, so I am so happy that it was him I'm going to be with, no offense to any of the guys, girls and other folks I've been with and am friends with). He's my third constant.

I have so much more now than I ever dreamed I could in those dark times, friends.

Moral of the story is:

Friends come and go. But you'll find someone, or multiple people who will care about you enough to stick with you as much as you wanna stick with them.

Don't give up on yourself. You're gonna have a lot of bad times. Life happens and we can't do shit about it. But life also has a lot of really good times worth looking forward to and holding close to heart. You can love yourself no matter who you are or what you look like because you're more than a name or a number on a scale. You're a complex person with real feelings who is worthy of self love. And love from others too.

Pain sucks. Life can suck a whole fucking lot. So much you want it to end. But through all the struggle, the hurt and the mental illness, you still very much deserve a good life. If not more, because you're actively trying to enjoy being alive in a very hard time.

So yeah. Thanks for reading this. I just needed to talk. I felt like I was going to explode and my Instagram isn't really the place to put this.

Take care of yourselfs. Cherish yourself and your time here. Make the best of your situations as much as you can. Hold your loved ones close in mind and heart. And don't be afraid to talk.