How Jesus and Sex Became One

It’s 4am. I’ve been up since 2am. I’ve already had enough coffee to keep me running to the bathroom every 20 minutes or so, travelled down the YouTube rabbit hole, and came to the tearful realization that I raised myself.

For those of you who don’t know, I am at a critical point with my depression. I’m trying to be strong and do this all out of an institution. This will be the first time I’ve attempted this since I first was diagnosed and realized there was a “safe” place I could go to recover. Sadly the system is flawed. All the really good places that I could actually benefit from don’t take Medicare and some don’t take any insurance at all. So people like me who live off disability and can’t afford another insurance we have been forgotten.

I know too much and at the same time there is so much that is unknown. I can’t stand questions with no solid answer. Life is too fluid. It moves, and changes as if to confuse and amaze us with its dance. I need to have answers. I want to know why. Why do bad things happen to good people?

I have studied many different religions looking for a common theme. I figured there has to be a hidden truth in some similarities between religions. If I could only decipher the truth from all the alliteration.

I struggle with my own spiritual beliefs because I don’t know what the truth is and I can’t accept it on blind faith. I really wish I could. If I had a strong spiritual connection to my higher power ( which I have no idea who or what or how many beings that involves) then I could feel comfort and assurance.

I’m going to share something with you now. It’s a memory that just popped up while I was writing the above paragraph. I was about 6. I was visiting my mother that weekend, as my dad had full custody. She lived in a trailer, with no heat and no air conditioning. It was summer time in Florida and I had developed a heat rash from the constant sweating. It was evening time and my mom was busy drinking in the living room. I was in the bedroom in front of the fan and a tiny television. The story of Jesus was on. I watched amazed as this man spread his words of love and acceptance. I was completely immersed in his story when my mother, drunk at this point, stumbles in the room and proceeded to tell 6 year old me about sex. She poetically used her hand and finger to show me what sex was like. I should probably mention at this point in my life I had already been raped by an adult I had trusted, so I knew what she was referencing. She left the room and I remember feeling so sick to my stomach. I went back to watching the story about Jesus. I thought about that sick feeling again when they started his public torture and ultimate death. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t understand why no one would help him. He had a good heart and everyone just watched as he suffered. At that point I knew what betrayal was and I associated it with the betrayal I felt after being raped. For years after, especially teenage years, I associated sex with religion and that sick feeling I felt. That leads into another memory but that is for a different day.

My brain is like a huge spiders web. Everything is interconnected. One strand leads to another. My memories all link together and when the dominoes start to fall any memory is game.

There’s really no point to saying I’m tired because everybody knows that I am. I have to keep trying and maybe I’ll find enough self love to get me through.