Just Sayin…

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When I started blogging down my thoughts and opted to go public format instead of just keeping it to myself it always has been and always will be a sounding board to unleash the build up of concerns I have over a variety of issues.

Most people who come across my posts on Facebook probably see nothing more than an angry person ranting off like a lunatic on issues instead of just shutting up.  I actually tried doing that.  I tried to walk away and preoccupy myself with other things so I’d stop getting so involved on issues such as the environment, politics and anything humanitarian related.  I know most people do this and for them it succeeds because their ability to turn off their moral obligation to stay vigilant seems easy enough.

I, however, can’t do it.  I can for a short while, but soon guilt creeps in and I literally feel someone jolting me to get back into the fight whether I want to or not.  I’ve tried gaming, but have found myself now in a position where I find it’s distasteful.  I’ve tried to entertain myself with television programs, but as usual that one is futile as I all too quickly see through the commercialism associated with the garbage and turn it all off.

I’ve been battling the on/off switch for a very long time.  If truth be known, I think it’s something I’ve fought ever since childhood.  As a kid, however, you don’t really understand the grand scheme of things yet.

As a teenager you get it a bit more, but this is the timeline where usually teens are trying to find a comfortable place for themselves in a world that’s forever changing.  The school system and your family are also pushing you at this stage to fit the mould of modern society so you don’t get left behind like a street bum.  So dealing with the peer pressure outweighs any genuine attempt to absorb other realities that perhaps you’re psyche isn’t ready for yet.

My childhood was awkward.  My mother died when I was seven years old, but already lost her when I was just six as I found her on the floor in a state that is really graphic for literally anyone, never mind a small child.  She had a brain aneurysm and finding her helpless on the floor is something you never forget.  You also don’t forget how different adults can be from each other as I witnessed some make assumptions that were completely off base while finally in the end one of them used her head and called an ambulance.  I had to tell my father when he came home from work what happened to his wife as I waited for his arrival on the front doorstep of our home.  Then it was taking him to the one neighbor who had the brain (took her a while to get there, though) to send my mother to the hospital.

My mother never did make it home.  It was late June 1977 and my mother died November 1977, never once really recovering from the burst that turned her into a human vegetable for those long months.  I did get to see her, but direct lines of communication was out.  Too much brain damage, but not enough where she couldn’t at least speak to me.  Writing on my hand as if it were a notebook, she scribbled “I love you” on it and that too is something, even at just six and seven years old, you don’t forget.

Upon my mother’s death I had to grow up fast.  Even though I still had my father the fact is he worked nights and a small child being left alone was simply unacceptable.  So I wound up staying with not one, but a multitude of different families for a grand total of 9 years.  What I learned in that time frame was how their view on literally everything was inconsistent.  With family #1 they were slobs.  Unclean house.  Poor food choices.  A divided home where the mother and father fought all the time.  This was a very disorganized house and when my father saw I was developing rashes and was always sad he got me out of there and put me into an environment that was the polar opposite.

These people were clean freaks (especially the woman) and extremely religious.  Say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing or just flat out look the wrong way and you’d be in for it.  It wasn’t abusive, but when a young kid goes from a house that virtually had no concept of cleanliness nor discipline to one that regarded both as an art form it’s tough.  I managed, but not easily.

Family #3 was better, but far.  At least they were related and it was great to have someone whom to this day I still regard as a sister.  We were only two years apart but shared the same interest in just about everything at the time so it was easy to forget the fact that I could only see my father on weekends due to his working conditions.

Families #4 to #9 (where Family #3 was repeated for a year in the mix as Family #9) had me flip flop between conditions that differed from each other each time.  This exposes a kid to see so much, but all the while I was heavily distracted by just wanting to be a kid and do my thing and loneliness that I didn’t get to spend as much time with my father as I liked.  I really loved my father, more than anything because despite it all I felt like he was all I truly had.

When I finally reached an age where I could stay home and be with my father I took it for granted.  Although no excuse justifies acting like a spoiled brat who happens to be a teenager, I look back and get it as to why emotionally I was so hostile.  I didn’t just take it out on him.  I took it out on everyone.  In school I’d literally plow into fellow students whom I felt deserved it because they were picking on someone whom I befriended at the same school whom I noticed was bullied for no good reason at all by them.

Thing is, you don’t solve bullying by becoming one yourself.  It just aggravates the problem that much more.  But, that’s the past and I learned from it.

I was never overly fond of school from start to finish.  Granted, I think there are very few kids who will admit they loved school, but my problem was seeing how fake almost everybody around me was.  At first I thought the problem was just me and evidently so did others because I got taken into therapy when I was about 11 years old.  The fact that I had been bounced everywhere as a kid it’s no surprise at all something like this was bound to happen.

Strangely enough, though, even at 11 I could see how ridiculous the therapy was.  The only plus behind it was I didn’t have to go to school on those days and I got to spend more time with my father.  I think my father saw the therapy a waste too because those sessions didn’t last for long.  All they did was make me more hostile and he saw it.  And because I knew this I kept my distance from as many people as I could I knew I’d shred in an instant if I allowed myself to do so.  Believe it or not, even as a kid I did have a moral code of sorts to not gouge to death anybody dumb enough to piss me off.  And considering how angry I was at the time, it didn’t take much to trigger the “I want to kill you” switch.

I dealt with my anger by being manipulative.  I was extremely good at it, or so I thought.  When I look back at it, the only person I truly manipulated was myself into thinking I was something I wasn’t.  I thought I was a victim of circumstances that was beyond my control and I had no choice but to commit some of the stunts I pulled in order to just survive.

I was like that all the way up until 2008.  Even when my father had his first heart attack in 1986 I had this lousy attitude.  I did grow a great deal starting 1986 as it made me realize my father wasn’t going to be around forever and it was about time I stopped feeling sorry for myself and grow the hell up.  And I did, but not entirely.

I got rid of some bad people in my life that actually fed more fuel to my negativity back then.  As soon as I did that I got a bit more clarity.  However, this was also the time frame I started getting knocked down pretty hard with horrifying nightmares of global proportions that somewhat threw me off.  This is also when I came across a program that was aired by some guy named Armstrong.  He really left an impression on me and I remember that program like as if I just watched it last night.  What’s crazy is although in 1986, he said of things to come that I see is happening today.  What he talked about and the warnings issued hit home and this came after I had my nightmares of cataclysmic destruction all over the place that looked like war zones.  What he said and what I dreamt matched!  How crazy is that?

I never got to see another program liked it.  I looked for it.  It wasn’t until 2008 I figured out who he was and whom he represented.  Herbert W. Armstrong was his name and it was Worldwide Church of God.

Now, 2008 was a big year for me.  My best friend died after a battle against cancer in it’s summer and shortly after that my one aunt who pretty much became my surrogate mother from 1977 onward.  For the record, that aunt is from the Family #3 and Family #9 I talked about earlier.

2008 also saw me move away from the city and into a remote corner I knew very little about.  All I knew was in 2008 the window of opportunity to get away from a large population to one much smaller was a necessity.  Not to run away from my problems, but to go in a direction my gut kept telling me I needed to go by any means necessary.  This was the year I became a homeowner for the first time and the year I vowed to get back in touch with my roots, God, and find myself a church organization that I can believe in.

The first church I went to where I live now was disappointing.  Dull.  Lame.  Phonies.  Could see through it all.  Here I go again, I thought.  I had this problem as a kid, as a teen and as a young adult.  Even before leaving Edmonton I still had issues with relating to most people, but did learn to calm down enough to not be so judgmental.

Instead of giving up, I located another church.  Late 2008, early 2009 I came across a website that had me finally figure out who Armstrong was and learned more about this Church Of God.  I promptly searched to find remnants of this church near where I live.  I found one, but it wasn’t quite the same name, but it was still Church Of God so I went.  Everything about it matched at the time what Armstrong said, but it wasn’t until after I got there and met the people there that I was quickly disappointed again.  This is not the same calibre of people Armstrong’s church depicted.  Again, not wanting to be judgmental, I kept quiet and opted to check on the second version of this Church Of God that also had their own name.

This group was considerably better, or so I thought.  They seemed to have their affairs and priorities in order.  Until I got to know them much better.  Then I saw the contradictions.  I think it was the reality check I needed that following any man’s church organization is not the same as following that one church referred to in the Holy Bible.  I got to the point where instead of expecting to learn from people whom I thought would be closer to God than me, just go figure it out for myself.  Read the bible on my own and do my own math.  I learned through that the only voice I should be listening to anymore is what comes from my gut.

I learned a great deal from that.  When I read the bible I was thrown off guard by how violent it was.  And God was very judgmental.  At one point I figured God was one really screwed up individual because I’d read things like arms going up and down to turn the tides of war and hardening some king’s heart to make life of his chosen people even more miserable before unleashing holy payback when he felt the time was right to do so.  I began to think that this God person probably doesn’t deserve the kind of devotion he apparently craves from his people.  I’m thinking “what a tyrant!”

But I didn’t give up reading.  Kept going.  I can actually understand at that point why there’s this thing called atheism.  When you read the bible like you read a novel and don’t take the time to actually pay attention to what you’re reading it scripts out like a badly written horror film.  It’s no wonder priests in most church organizations only read the pretty parts and merge them with other scriptures so that the ugly side of the biblical stories aren’t revealed.  It’s no wonder the congregation seems so apathetic and phony in my eyes because they just blindly fall for it.  They just believe instead of making the effort to uncover truths for themselves.

I see most people like that.  I see it in social media, schools, at job sites, in the malls and just everywhere I go.  Rumors.  Stories.  What the first storyteller says and what the final storyteller says will vary greatly as interpretations of it get jumbled along the way.

The Holy Bible is no different.  You can even see it in the writings.  Inspired by God or not, each person who wrote in it has different views and different ways of telling what they saw.  Again, no different than if you get five witnesses seeing the exact same car accident.  When statements are taken based on what they saw, everyone will have a different spin on the story.  The Holy Bible fits this exact same mould, both by those who wrote in it and by those who’ve read it.

I know what I got out of it doesn’t match at all what most people did.  Since reading that book I can no longer step food into any given church without some sort of disdain towards them.  Although no doubt with good intentions by the majority, I sense virtually everyone doesn’t get the big picture.  In the bible it says a church that cannot be torn down.  The Vatican, as mighty as it is, can get torn down.  All it takes is a nuke and it’s gone.

Not taking anything away from the Vatican.  I have zero doubt in my mind upon it’s original conception that it was indeed favored by God as this was erected by followers of Jesus Christ as directed by the disciples he left behind when he died.

However, there’s mixed stories of the origin of Jesus also.  Are we told today after the book of Revelations that’s truthful?  History has proven the Roman Catholic Church has changed a great deal since the time of Jesus Christ.  Even the Holy Bible they altered in the late 1600’s for whatever reason.  Search the net and there’s a conflict behind why that was done, but I recall in the bible that God warned about making changes to his laws that turn what’s supposed to be genuine into counterfeits.  The Egyptians did it during the Exodus, as did Aaron and his followers did when they sculpted the golden calf.  Even during the days of Jesus Christ, whose timeline exists within the heart of the Roman Empire, you see how much had been altered before his arrival, during his days alive and even after his death/resurrection.  It still happens today.

Emperor Constantine changed Sabbath worship from Saturday to Sunday, not because some bishop nor God told him so.  It’s because he favored the sun.  Now, if anybody took the time to read that bible and understand God’s warnings, who did he say not to follow?

If you guessed Baal you got it right.  Now, in that bible it states Baal is regarded as a sun god.  This goes as far back into Genesis and this was whose works the Egyptians favored.  Over and over again you see man changing things to favor what they desire most instead of staying true to who they really are and what their original creator had in mind for them.

The violence I read in the bible I was oddly enough able to wrap my head around in a manner that made somewhat sense.  I still don’t totally understand, but if there’s any one thing I’ve noticed in the people I encounter, plus what I see on a global scale, is arrogance is a disease that gets under our skin in a manner we don’t realize is there until it’s too late.

That was my problem as a kid and it’s still something I see myself fighting today.  Pride is a horrible snake that always finds a way to slither in and out of your life in a manner that messes you up really bad.  Pride is what sparks wars.  Pride is what makes people think they’re better than they really are.  Pride is also what prevents people from seeing the difference between farce and reality.  Pride is a cloud and it’s very fluffy.  Pride acts as an elevator as it rises what used to be well grounded into a territory that probably should be avoided until one is able to better handle the situation.

In Exodus you see pride in abundance.  Even after the people escaped their oppressors as they followed Moses, God noticed how “stiff-necked” they all were.  He knew no sooner would they be free would they make the exact same mistakes the Egyptians, the very people they fled from, made.

And they have.  Still doing it today.  People are prideful and hence in Exodus how God mentions the unleavened bread.  Yeast.  Yeast expands stuff that’d otherwise remain dense.  That yeast exists within each of us, which is also known as pride.  If this part of us remains unchecked, we end up throwing ourselves into situations that we most likely aren’t ready for.  And no, it doesn’t matter how smart you think you are.  If there is any one thing I’ve learned, your intelligence level is only as great as the deception you’ve swallowed into your very being.

I’m not a smart person by any means.  I wish I were, but I know I’m not.  If I was half as smart as I’d like to be I’d have all the answers for you.  I’d be, in essence, God.  But I know I’m not so I don’t kid myself into thinking I’m any better than the rest of you.  I am a human being, just like you.  I see things, just like you.  However, unlike you, I see things differently and it’s a daily struggle to not only wrap my head around it but how to talk about it.

I do know now that I have to talk about it.  Don’t care if I sound like some sort of insane person for it because I’m not doing this blog for you.  I do it for myself.  If you read it and can make sense of it, good for you.  If not, I don’t care.

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