Friends

Do you have a lot of friends? I have two friends really, and then some people I know. My best friend is Julian. He is a good friend. He lives in a nursing home because he is blind and has diabetes and either his sisters don't want to take care of him, or he does not want to live with his sisters. We met at Church, in the upper room. He calls me on the phone and we talk. And I go to visit him in the nursing home. Because of the virus, I have not been able to visit him lately. He is a religious fanatic. Even more so than I am. He makes me seem like a liberal atheist in comparison. He may be the most religious person I know, other than Cora maybe. Cora is a belle. But Julian is nice to me and I am happy he is my friend even though we disagree on many things. He is a sedevacantist and a Feeneyite, and I am neither, though when those points come up I do not argue. I am almost a Feeneyite, but I am not. And when he says those antichrists in Rome are not true popes, I smile and nod, but do not argue. Though he does know I am not a sedevacantist.

My second friend is angry Tom. He calls me on occasion, but not often. He goes around to the various traditional Churches in the city, and often comes to mine. And we talk. He argues a lot, but we have never argued. He once saw me looking at the beautiful Cecilia because she is so beautiful and said I should go after her, which I thought was strange, because she is so far out of my league. Tom is also a sedevacantist, but he is not a Feeneyite. Tom will also talk about the antichrists in Rome, and he will not call him Francis, but always Bergoglio this, and Bergoglio that. But I love him also. Tom is sick with cancer, though when I see him he always looks good, though sometimes he can not walk so well.

Then there are other friends. Cora is one. She is always praying. And she has strange beliefs about health and sickness and she is pious but she is not a sedevacantist. Very much not so, she thinks they are bad people and she is a loyal SSPX supporter. Pray for our priests, she says. She is always praying. She moved to Kentucky and then to West Virginia. Her dream is to live near an SSPX Church in Oregon where she will be able to go to daily Mass and get last rites and be buried. She is a belle.

And then there are old acquaintances. I once had two girlfriends. The first one was named Mellonie. I do not know how she is doing. She was from Hong Kong. For a while after we broke up. I broke up with her. For a while after we broke up we kept in touch. I would email her every year on her birthday and at Christmas, and she would email me on my birthday. And some times we would meet up at a diner somewhere. Last year she did not email me on my birthday. Or on Christmas. So I did not want to push and did not email her on Christmas, or this year on her birthday. I have fond memories of her, though I did not treat her well. Not that I abused her.

The other girlfriend was named Stephanie. I do not remember her fondly. If I could I would erase her from my life. It was a disaster. An avalanche. And then after her I went crazy. I do not keep in touch with her. She has an Instagram but I do not look at it.

Then I have my old muse. I used to have a crush on her and then a few years ago found out she was an online person so I look at some of her posts. I was really obsessed with her for a while. We do not talk, but I look at her Instagram. She is sad lately. And I can do nothing to help her.

Then I guess I could mention two people I used to work with. Matthew and Andrea. They are married. They worked with me and my old muse a long time ago. I mentioned them because I met them two times last year and we had a good time. But we haven't spoken much since so I can not count them as friends.

Of the people who I think wish me the best, I can count my Church friends. Firstly Julian and Tom, but also Cora and Karen and Barbara and Chris and the other Tom. And then there is our priest, Carl S, who calls me on the phone to talk sometimes now that we have no Mass.

When the world goes back to normal again I will go to confession and confess my sins. I have one old one and one new one, I hope not mortal. But I feel as if I have God's grace. I am not scrupulous anymore. I used to worry more when I was a new Christian, but now I feel as if God is my friend, and not my slave-master.

And then there are internet friends. I talk to people on the internet. Perhaps I could count Robert and Chris as friends. For a while I talked to Chris about things that were important, but we haven't talked much lately. And Robert has always been nice to me and read my stories.

So I do not have a lot of friends, and I have no wife or girlfriend and no prospects. I am too old anyway to start a romantic relationship. And I do not really want one as I do not think I am fit for being a husband or a father. So be it. But the touch of a woman gives sensual pleasure. I did like it when a woman would kiss me or run her hands through my hair.

And then there are my heavenly friends. First of all  there is Gemma, who has been the saint I have been most devoted to since I became religious. I speak to her all the time. And then there is the Cure of Ars and Padre Pio, and then of course the Blessed Mother who I pray to. And Jesus is my friend. A friend of God, I am a friend of God. Am I? I hope so. I want to be.

I do not feel lonely, having so few friends. I am happy. I have my family. But perhaps if I had more friends I would be happier? Or a wife? But they would have to be Church friends and not secular ones. But my Church is not big. Perhaps I could become friends with the lovely Helena and the beautiful Cecilia. Perhaps, but I doubt it. I am friendly with some people, but not the pretty young girls.

So I hope my old muse is happy soon. Things fall apart. I do not want things to go badly with her. I would be sad.

On Suicide

Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptistae, sanctis Apostolis Petro and Paulo, et omnibus Sanctis, quia peccavi nimis cogitatione verbo and opere, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelen Archangelum, beatum Joannam Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, et omnes Sanctos, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum.

Miseratur nostri omnipotens Deus, et dimissis peccatis nostris, perducat nos ad vitam aeternam. Amen.

Indulgentiam, absolutionem, et remissionem peccatorum nostrorum, tribuat nobis omnipotens et misericors Dominus. Amen.

I confess to almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and to all the Saints, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. Therefore I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints, to pray to the Lord our God for me.

May the almighty and merciful God have mercy upon us, forgive us our sins, and bring us unto life everlasting. Amen.

May the almighty and merciful Lord grant us pardon, absolution, and remission of our sins. Amen.

In my life I only have a few friends now. I count as friends only among the people who I know from Church, (not because they share the same religion, but because I don't really know many people other than Church friends, except neighbor acquaintances and doctors and fellow crazy patients). And of those only one is a true friend and that is Julian. Julian is like a Russian Old believer, only Catholic. I love him dearly. You see he went blind and cannot see. So I visit him in the nursing home where he lives and bring him food. And he likes to pray so we pray the Saint Michael chaplet. There are also other friends from Church, but Julian is the closest. Next is angry Tom and Cora who moved far away but calls me at least once a month and sends me text messages asking me to pray for her. So I have only one real friend.

But there are other people who I love dearly. You see I have heard speak of suicide among two people who I love. I do not know what to say about that. Neither of these people believe what I believe. I hope they do not go through with it. One is more serious than the other. One mentioned it as a reality already attempted but failed with the likelihood of attempting it again. The other mentioned it more like some beautiful ideal, but not a reality to be chosen immediately.

I am not a movie expert. But the most beautifully filmed movie that in my eyes (of the few that I know) was a late silent film called Tabu, the last film directed by Murnau. It was gorgeous. At the end a man swims into the ocean as far as he is able until his strength fails him and he falls beneath the waves and drowns.

Nobody cares what I write and I do not think the person I am thinking of will ever read this. But what must one think of suicide? I do not know what the person believes. Whether atheist, or satanist, or agnostic. What can I say?

To my mind there is nothing worse that one can do than suicide. Not because it is the worst sin, but because it is one's last act. To end one's life with mortal sin means hell for there is no chance for repentance. I don't know if they believe this. I do not know if they care about me or anything or even know that there is a crazy person far away who loves them and would be heartbroken if they did it or if they care. They already know of friends and family who would be sadder so I am not that important. And the pain that is near and deep is more powerful than the pain of another who may know thee and care. The demon that is gripping one seems stronger than the angel that is far away.

I have been through suffering. Everyone suffers. It is as if it is the meaning of life after the fall. I imagine the devils have a lot to do with suicide. I imagine they grab into souls in despair and sadness and tempt them to off themselves, and when they succeed they drag their souls to hell and gleefully, in their agony, can they sense glee? Yes, glee is a wicked thing. Drag them down forever and forever. It must take a lot of egging on. It is something that I not considered even in my darkest moments. I stopped at black-out drunkenness until I could no longer remember. Perhaps I am innocent. And then when I was tormented by my demons for so long I believed so suicide was not an option so I stopped at frantic prayer in my agony. I have my own demons. Even when I was in the hospital lately the priest thought I was possessed and prayed over me prayers of exorcism and now I am at peace so perhaps they worked. My whole psychosis is caked in religious themes of angels and demons and has been since its beginning.

But if someone I loved, and the person is someone I love but am not close to at all so I cannot just call them on the phone like a good friend, were to commit suicide? My relationship to her is like a person who likes an actress he sees in the movies and thinks about her often. I don't want to think of it or have it happen. But it is out of my hands. I hope it is just bluster and not a serious threat. If it happened, then when I thought of this person I would have to think, she is in hell. And if I am saved I will never meet her again and if I am damned I will be with her forever, but I will no longer love her but would hate her forever. Sometimes in one's romantic moments one might have thought of some girl in one's lust and have said to oneself "when I am in hell, I want to be by her side" but if it ever happens one will regret ever having thought of it.

I am just hoping it does not happen. I have no ears who listen to these words but I do pray. Hopefully I am misunderstanding things and nothing bad is really happening (except to the animals in factory farms).

It is a sensible thing to do. If one is in pain and that pain is unbearable, one thinks one can end that pain by an overdose or a noose or even a trigger. But what if it is not the end of the pain but merely the beginning of the real pain, the pain that never ends?

I don't know. I feel that most people these days must be tormented by the demons. I am at peace. Now. The demons are not bothering me now. I wish that I could take on some of the demons that are hurting other people to myself so that they could have some peace. Or have them go away because of prayers. I don't know. I would take a little suffering to ease another person's pain. I could bear a little more than I have now. Are we in this world together?

Often I pensee that we are in hell and we are all damned and that there is no hope for us and this life will go on forever and never end. Perhaps we will die in the end only to be born again in a new hell and the suffering will continue forever. However one might think this world is not all that bad for being hell. A good point. Or I can think that I do not remember my particular judgment by Jesus so I cannot be in hell. But perhaps when one is born into hell one forgets their "birth" as one forgets the beginning of one's life in the world. Often I think that I am already damned but have gone on living. As if my sins are unforgivable and there is no more mercy available and that everyone else is in the same boat so we are all merely waiting for the inevitable damnation (one must say that there was a private revelation where the Virgin lamented that if men continue to go in in sin there will reach a time where there will no longer be any pardon from God. Perhaps we have reached that time. I know I have played my part). "Some drink, some become sex addicts, and some go on hoping." Others kill themselves with this thought: "Yes, it is a sin and I will be punished, but it will end my life and thus I will not go on living, piling sin upon sin, so in the end I will be better off and my eternity will be a little less painful." While I was in the hospital my parents visited me as often as it was allowed. The nurses and other patients pointed out how good they were to visit me so often. One time I thought that they were vampires and they had turned me into a vampire as a child and now I was un-dead and I got angry at them for stealing my soul and condemning me to eternal damnation before I was old enough to choose for myself. One thinks strange thoughts when one is a paranoid schizophrenic (though usually I am not paranoid).

So I do not blame one for committing suicide, more than any other sin. I do not think it is the act of a coward. But the effects are unthinkable as I believe . . . and in my mind, I know. Perhaps one can think that after they swallowed the pills and before they passed out they repented and called out to God and were forgiven, but they also say one generally dies as one lives and such repentance is rare. I am a nobody. But I cry out in the wilderness and nobody hears me. Nobody has crossed the Jordan to receive my baptism. Perhaps because I am not a saint. I am a fool. Yes, but a fool who loves, but I have converted no one. Perhaps I strengthen the faith of a few, like Julian, who knows, but I am a little man. A poor fool of no account. All alone. What God cares of my prayers? How many have prayed for those who they loved, yet despite their prayers, the ones they have loved were damned?

Yes or no. Nobody reads this anyway. I hope out loud, but nobody hears me. I hope and pray. It is Christmas soon. Merry Christmas. Go to Church and pray, even if you do not believe anymore. Don't hate life.

Depression

I have never suffered from serious depression. I should be depressed materially speaking. I am alone. I am crazy. I have little money. I have no girlfriend and doubt I will ever marry (I certainly have no prospects) or have a family. But I am happy. I am fortunate that my psychosis is not supplemented with depression so that while I might end up in the psych ward again I will likely not kill myself.

But thinking more about my life, this is not entirely true. I had a short period of time where I used to be extremely depressed in the past. For a short year or so before I went crazy I felt very lonely without a girlfriend or meaningful relationships and fought depression with booze and sex. It did not help. They were just distractions. And then I had my year of hell. But now I am happy.

What changed to make me happy? Two things happened. (Well three, I went through hell). One, I went crazy. And two, I became religious. Perhaps there is something about being crazy that makes one happier, but that does not seem right. But I think my being religious helps me be happier. I have come to the conclusion that making a good confession is more helpful psychologically than any other factor in my life, or else, something about the ritual has such a very strong placebo effect that it is extraordinary. I am not consumed and oppressed with foreboding and guilt and regret. And feeling that I am not alone, even though I am so very alone, but have a God and the saints to give me comfort and friendship is very helpful. Also avoiding strong addictive physical stimulations such as sex and alcohol also seem to help me be happier. I have a measure of peace now, more than I have ever had and I am generally happy. I do not have as much pleasure as I used to have, but in the dead of night when all is quiet I do not feel miserable or wretched, I can sleep without booze and am content and happy. And while I have daily cares and worries, all I have to do is look at a tree or up at the sky or at a bird and I will have joy. Even the homeless can look up at the sky and at the clouds or at the moon or at the stars (even in the city we can see a few of the stars).

I am materially okay, not in need. This is an important factor, so I am not on the street or in danger of being on the street (for now, but not forever). But this was also the case when I was miserable.

The picture is Danica crying because I was thinking about depression because of her. I learned that she is having a sad time in her life. Nobody reads this blog and she probably will not see this so I hope she won't mind me using her so very beautiful picture here.

At one time in my life there was a boy who had a crush on me, but I was only interested in women, but I unwisely was friendly with him, and he once overdosed in my company on purpose, perhaps over me, or just out of depression, I am not certain, so he was on the floor of my room as I waited for him to wake up. I do not know if he truly meant to try to kill himself, but he survived. It was such a strange time in my life, chaotic, my time of misery before my year of hell. Our relationship did not end well, but it did not end in suicide for either of us. I am such a wretched person.

So my cure in general for my own depression was to make peace with God and go to confession (as despair and guilt was a large part of my sadness). However this only works if one believes in God and no longer wants to do those things considered to be sins and is willing to change one's life and one can not force this. And this does not work if one is already at peace with God and is still depressed or if sin is not in part the cause one one's depression. I also think reducing the amount of sensory pleasure also makes me happier and less depressed, though this does not make sense at first. The hangover is always worse than the high is good in a way. I do not know if secular therapy is helpful for those with depression. I go to secular therapy and it does not help me, but my problem is psychosis and not depression. Medicine is helpful for me and I like going to therapy because I don't have many friends and it is fun to talk to people but it is no cure. But I imagine it is helpful for depression for those who do not have other meaningful relationships where one can be honest and cut to the heart without being afraid to show one's weakness and one's ugliness. I would think that talking about one's wounds must help if one's depressed, but there is no absolution so the guilt remains. And there are wounds where there is no guilt at all which still bite and cut so what happens to such wounds as these? I know my wounds were mostly of my own making. I was guilty and was not innocent. I was not solely a victim like a girl abused.

I do not know if anti-depressants work or if they are only distractions like alcohol (though I doubt they are as destructive as alcohol). I only know that some psychiatric medicines work to some degree because my psychosis is helped by the medicine I take (usually!).

My life is not as tragic as most people's, so I do not have as many wounds or as many reasons to be depressed. My greatest wounds were my guilt and then the terrors of the demons from my year in hell (which to me was as harsh abuse as most suffering from the hands of men).

I am not a teacher> I am only a fool. I have no followers. I hope to have a quiet peaceful life followed by a happy eternity in heaven. But many believe that such an eternity does not exist. For the past four months I have been well. And if there is no after life I hope to have the same quiet peaceful life.

But I have been crying a bit lately. But my tears have been happy tears for the most part, or meaningful tears. Crying over my sins or the sufferings of Our Lord or with happiness at the grace of God or His redemption. Perhaps these are fantasies. But I would not give back these tears.

I am so very alone. I have my parents but they are not a wife or children. And soon they will die. I hope to have peace and I wish you all have peace as well.

For a while before my last relapse I was feeling very lonely and I was not always happy. I also was drinking a bit which was likely on part the cause. I would think how my life had no meaning without a wife and a family of my own, and while I was writing my stories about a relationship I did not have in reality, this added to my sense of sadness. At times I would want nothing more than a wife and children. And most men are made for family. Yet I will likely never have this and certainly do not have it now. It is one thing to be sad because one loses a lover, but it is another to know that one will likely never have a lover again. But now even though I am so alone, I am happy now (but not always).

Anyway I am no teacher> I was just thinking about these things and hoping for the best . . .