interpreting scriptures

Standard

My mother didn’t believe in pushing religion on us or shoving god down our throat, she instead let us pick and choose whatever it is we wanted to believe in and would back us regardless of belief… my real grandfather on the other hand spoke to us every chance he could about the bible and being catholic… if it were not for his devotion and complete faith towards god perhaps i would not have seen the “god complex” that certain people in my life held..

Being told i would not enter the gates of heaven unless i was baptized, or that i should go out of my way to find my “real dad” because it’s the commandment, being told i needed to confess my sins, or that i would be going to hell because i am catholic and the brown scapular i wore was insulting to god or that i would be damned to hell if i wasn’t saved along with so many other things, were it wasn’t about just talking about the bible to me it was more like these people felt as if they had that power to judge and damn people to hell as if they were god him self… some where along the lines of learning the bible they developed a god complex….

i am aware of the verse we are all made in his likeness, but i am not aware of any scriptures that say people hold that power to damn others to hell… being told you needed to be saved or if i did anything wrong in life you would burn in hell is one thing and therefore their distorted translation of scriptures gave me this idea that god is unforgiving and merciless, but once i started to read the bible i saw they failed to mention the fact that god is a compassionate and forgiving god…

i let people express their views on the bible but i saw in that expressing how they view bible it was simply their interpretation of the bible and instead of taking their word for it i began to look it up for myself… my real grandfather in reciting scriptures gets pissed off at the devil and never fails to say “GODDAMN THE DEVIL” eventually my mother had enough of that and tells him to not take the lords name in vain at all around her and his reply to that is “i feel like god gives me that right to use his name in vain”… i have yet to come across a scripture that says under any circumstance taking his name in vain is alright. or another person who is told that a scripture states “if god be for you who can be against you” and he interpreted that as “if you are not for me, then you are against me”, obviously everyone interprets scriptures differently but life has shown me some who feel as if they are god him self…

just because you claim to understand the bible doesn’t make you god, or having made mass and getting those jesus wafers and a sip of wine doesn’t make you superior to anyone else, and not one church is more holier and more worthy of heaven than another …              after all isn’t it the same god we all acknowledge?

The bible offers so many different things to people, but i wouldn’t have thought it would have been a means to inflate peoples ego and give them a “god complex”

To see and hear people feel superior to god to the point where they feel they are god is awful and i am sure that in it being written there wasn’t the intention for making you feel like it’s to twist and distort in ways that work and only apply to yourself…

Distorting Memories

Standard

I am all for disciplining children and teaching them right from wrong so that there’s a certain level of respect but not to the point were the child fears you…

at least for the men i knew growing up i think it went beyond them wanting to correct their child’s behavior, i feel like there are those who enjoy seeing children in fear.. there where talks from both these men how they were “bad asses” and nobody fucked with them when they were younger, how one of them ran his own cell block (in prison) and how they other had a biker gang who wanted him to join because of how bad he was , both of them having similar stories of being “bad ass”… yet both of them seem to get off on having children fearing them…

 

i wonder if he thought he was a “bad ass” spanking a child till his hand was stinging and his shoulder was sore.. i wonder if the other one thought he was “bad ass” in smashing a kid’s cell phone and then turn around and go after the older one with a flashlight… does it make a man more of a man to throw a kid through the wall, drag them up the stairs by their shirt collar or choking a kid? is that how fathers prove their the man of the house? is it only okay doing that to your own, or if the child isn’t yours does it make it fair game?

i wonder if any of their stories were true, or if they made up the stories and convinced them selves they were and the only way to prove it was making children fear them…

i would have thought how they raised us was learned behavior but later on in life i found out that they were not subjected to abuse in any form and in fact had great childhoods… maybe all of what they did was okay being they were on meth… i feel like those little boys were more of a man then they were and in some distorted way they felt that to be a challenge….

They must have realized that with these once little boys they were a lot older and couldn’t get physical with them anymore, they started to instead of owning or even acknowledging what they did it turned into denial and in fact they managed to make it out to seem as if they were the victims of abuse saying “the children abused, tormented, and made him fear for his life” which is quite a statement coming from the man of the house and we as children managed caused all that abuse and chaos or saying “those kids are fucking liars making all that shit up” and it amazes me how everybody in these peoples life say “they never deserved to be treated like that from those kids, and that they feel so sorry for them for having to put up with that”… to see men go through great lengths to hide all there past is one thing but then to see a “man” turn the whole thing around and make it seem like children abused him and he’s the real survivor of abuse is something that amazes me…. as they go on in life trying their hardest to forget all of what they put the kids through they create these stories to make themselves feel better and they believe that in being older we must have forgot what happened and we have it all backwards….

 

The “Real dad”

Standard

my mother asked “did you come to terms with your Dad”….. i paused to think about that question for a minute……..

early on my real grandfather thought that being a young child i was ready to be told that who i thought was my father was not my father at all…  i don’t recall my initial reaction but i can still feel the confusion felt… thinking about it now i don’t know that it ever bothered me, or that younger me was so good at making it seem like i was always okay maybe i’ve tricked myself into thinking that i wasn’t bothered by it…

by nature i was curious about him but being a child it seemed i was to concerned with enjoying some kind of normal childhood but when i got into middle school and things seemed to be at it’s most dysfunctional the random thoughts came up more… middle school, my thrill for fist fights and weed kept my mind occupied from what was going on and from those random thoughts of my “Real Dad”…. even though i had random thoughts of him it didn’t mean that i needed him or wanted him around but i did wonder if he was any different from the man who was raising me.. what could a mother possibly say to comfort a kid who knows his “real dad” wants nothing to do with him as i was constantly reminded growing up, but mom in her own comforting way would tell me that maybe life was protecting me from something worse, which was hard for me to understand being that the environment i was living in was chaotic&dysfunctional .. a phone call or 2 all my life from him which was completely pathetic and when the phone call ended he insisted i say “i love you dad” which was the biggest fucking joke from this man and when i refused to say it he just like all the other men in my life resorted to the cut downs (why grown ass men cut down children is beyond me) the only name i can recall is him calling me a “sissy lala” which i am still confused to what that is and if i should take that as a cut down or not… i gave the phone to my mother, i wasn’t about to tell some “man” who wanted to hear his son who he knew nothing of tell him that he loved him which wasn’t gonna happen… in 17 years i never got anything on my birthday from him which wasn’t a big deal by any means but then on my 18th birthday i got a box in the mail from my real ‘real dad’ and when i opened it up there was 18 gifts , a cheap attempt to make up for all the birthdays he missed… perhaps if i had gotten other birthday gifts or even a note throughout my childhood from him this gift might have mattered.. it might have even meant something if he took the time to get to know me instead of getting me shit i had no interest in.. probably bought me gifts he liked and clearly my step father had a interest in…

years went by and i never heard from him again until i got a facebook friend request with my “real dad” and some kind of a classless attempt at being a father through a social media site. and that was the last of him…

i answered my mothers question .. there wasn’t a lot to come to terms with because i was never pissed off at him… how do i get upset at the fact he wanted he to live and enjoy his life without the responsibilities of having a kid, i look at it like thank you for doing me the favor and staying true to your choices…

Not so Manly

Standard

as a teenager i could some what tell at first and then it just became completely obvious the abuse mom was going through.. how i managed to maintain the amount of self control i did and not hurt him is beyond me…. then out of no where my grand-Father tells me ” a man who beats up on women are not only not real men, but don’t have the balls to fight other men”…

seeing first hand the tears build up and the moment they fell down her cheek and then drip off her jaw line eventually wiping away her face and smearing her make up in the process and then cleaning the tears and make up off her hands… you could almost feel her pain as she spoke..  mom wasn’t the only one i seen go through those moments life for some reason would show me a few more.. it seemed like every girl i knew was getting abused and most of them found some kind of comfort in talking to me about those moments…. in them telling me how there boyfriend beat them up or called them names i could never wrap my mind around what they could have possibly done for that so called man to feel she deserves that …

i feel like part of the reason men bully women is because in some distorted way they find women a challenge… abusive men must seriously think women could put a good fight and hold their own.. i have seen more often then not the abusive man have this big mouth and these fighting stories that some people mistake for being manly, yet when another man calls out this abusive man he completely cowers down and does whatever it takes to avoid getting his ass whipped… and in moments like that i wished the girl he abused could see him cower away so she could see for her self that he’s no man at all… the fact that he walks away from a fight yet waits to bully his girl around shows how less of a man he actually is…

there must be some kind of ego fix that takes place when a man bullies a women.. feeling as if it’s appropriate to put his hands on a girl it must completely stroke his ego to see her upset and afraid… i can’t imagine how that could possibly make a man feel more like a man…

they always excuse that behavior and then manage to turn it around and make it seem like she provoked the whole thing and therefore had it coming.. either out of guilt or completely trying to justify the fact that they get off on abusing women… these men are jokes for men, and an even bigger joke to think people like that change…

 

 

 

Cupid’s point

Standard

Love…. i saw early on how dangerously powerful love can be, the light it brings into one’s life and the potential darkness it can at times hold.. love is so important and seeing what a person does in order to Have that love and be loved some times seems like a never ending search that most feel they won’t find or aren’t worthy of and with others perhaps an unfulfilled desire with how many times they fall in love…

i have known some people who fell in love right off bat in every relationship they where in, i wondered if they were genuinely in love with who they happened to be with that moment but perhaps they were falling in love with love it self… maybe they felt love would offer something different with different people or maybe their desire of love couldn’t be satisfied… part of the effects of cupids arrow was an uncontrollable desire… which seems to still be the case today..

it seems like some people are completely confused with what love consists of.. the abuse some people take in the relationship they are in because they feel like that is part of being in a loving relationship is something i find completely sad.. tolerating such abuse for so long so they can feel whatever kind of love is felt either in what few moments genuine love is shown or abusive love is all they know… as i read The dark origins of Valentines day by Arnie Seipel i noticed love and abuse even then… seems like love and abuse go hand in hand..

valentines day seems to be a day to celebrate confused concepts of love and a day for some to buy true love gifts, maybe your the one gift, i hope your the one gifts, the gift before it’s over gift, the day to buy the main gift and the affair gift and maybe even guilt gifts…

Ruptured Secrets

Standard

if i could have blacked it out and never remembered it again i would have, if i could have went in and pulled out those memories that altered the rest of my life i would have, if there was ever such thing as surgically removing haunting memories i would pay it… the memory so traumatizing i wonder if it haunts the people that did what they did… but I had buried it away and had no intentions in ever going there again, i thought i did a pretty good job because i managed to barely think of what had happened and felt like i mastered the art of pretending like i was completely alright… i kept the secret to myself…

i tried as hard as i could to keep it buried and tucked away, in some weird way i thought i could black it out so i couldn’t remember it at all… i thought i could trick my mind into completely forgetting what had happened, i completely fooled myself and i realize now how unbelievably powerful our minds are… in a completely unpredictable moment that memory surfaced and felt as if i had been taken back to the moment it was taking place.. the fact i had i put so much into erasing and hiding all that is probably why it came back to me so violently… maybe my out of control inner demons broke through or an inner angel thought it was best on my behalf to open my Pandora’s box, either way it brought me back to place i had completely tried to forget…

i held to that secret, and the fact i was completely lost and so unsure of who i was + finding comfort in a variety of drugs to distort my reality and all the liquor help put numerous seals to keep that secret locked and tucked away…. my mind would push through all that inner debris and bring forth a memory i tried so hard to forget..

as i read Sigmund Freud’s Psychodynamic theory…….

Fragile little feelings

Standard

Sympathy……….. without looking it up online the first thing that comes to mind is “feeling sorry or bad for someone”… i could understand that to a certain degree being there is a few things i have a soft spot for that seem to provoke that feeling in me..  but are you supposed to have “sympathy” for a sensitive person.. how about having sympathy for a sensitive or overly sensitive “man”..  i have had moments and am completely part of that topic being that the overly sensitive influence from “men” and “father figures” in my life left that trait completely noticeable about me. … i don’t know how or what a man is supposed to be or act like so that is how i assumed a “man” to be..  i was shown certain aspects of being a “man” which included taking everything personal and allowing your feelings to be hurt from the littlest of comments…

either my mother is completely rude or such a hard ass to the point where it could be manly or the men i was surrounded by are just fragile little girls with fragile little feelings… constructive criticism is aimed at helping another person better themselves only said out wanting to help someone.. but when a “man” confuses that for being a mean cut down, should a person question there motive in that comment being all you were doing was handing out constructive criticism..do you keep in mind the fragile little feelings men carry when you talk to them… either some people can’t handle that or feel without flaw i am guessing… you see my mothers not one for holding back a comment,  and the thought of being around “men” you wouldn’t think she would have to..

when your arguing it seems that nasty cut downs go along with it… are you not supposed to defend yourself because those “men” can’t handle it… she can cut you down and rip you apart if she has to but that doesn’t take place tell these “men” began calling her names that would shatter anyone women self worth.. she took the cut downs but then began her own cut downs towards them and without fail they couldn’t handle it and the fragile little feelings where hurt.. the men could dish it but god forbid if they had to take it… women aren’t made of stone and neither was mom but she wasn’t so sensitive that she would break down and fall apart like they would have wanted her to…

now how a “man” takes a genuine compliment as a cut down is something that has left me dumbfounded many times.. i can not make sense of any of that nonsense….

do you refrain from conversations because if a topic that gets brought up these “men” seem to take personal and some how make it seem you were implying it was all about them when you weren’t even thinking of them when the topic got brought up..

how do you revolve life around these fragile little feelings, how do women be women when a man acts like that? no one should have to cope with the fact that some people are completely self centered and have to watch what they say around emotional men cause god forbid they can’t handle what is being said.. the freedom of speech to say whats on your mind is wonderful but to limit, watch and filter what you say so you don’t hurt no ones feelings is horrible that completely takes you away from feeling comfortable with your opinion let alone with yourself.. no one should second guess their voice let alone have to find it..  im sure it confuses most to see a tough looking man be that sensitive..

Finding God

Standard

as a child and being told that all i have in this life is god… well… i come from a strong catholic background from my grandfather that lost its strength with my mother whom never pushed religion on any of us kids and left it for us to decide what to believe in… my grandfather on the other hand swore and lives by it… all his kids slowly strayed and found their ways in different churches other than the catholic church… i on the other hand prayed wholehearted as much as i could, especially being in the type of atmosphere i was in and feeling as alone as i felt i relied on god and not so much the church or religion those 2 did nothing for me, but in some strange way i thought god could… it started with prayers to have things change but i noticed the more i prayed for change the worse things became… then i started to pray for an intervention only to find even less of god in that… then the prayer for a sign that went unanswered and all i could think was how it did nothing for me and as steadfast in prayer as i was quickly changed to an all out avoidance of anything that had to do with “god” … i knew or at least i thought he was there but that i wouldn’t allow myself to feel completely ignored and shunned by god…

now had i known that “GOD” had his own twitter account i would never had second guessed his existence…. @thetweetofgod

a difference in influence

Standard

father figures came and left throughout my childhood but the one that i seem to have held closest to me was my grandfather.. not the one who got off on preying on children but my actual blood grandfather .. he showed me a lot of things about life some maybe not the best because unfortunate circumstances in his life instead letting go of he clung to and became bitter from it and rightfully so with the hand he was dealt would turn anyone miserable so in seeing the life’s tough hand he was dealt i could understand certain bitter aspects he spoke of to me …. but with him being born in Brooklyn in the 40’s to Italian immigrants would form this old school persona and tough attitude that you couldn’t break or beat down.. not that height is ever a factor in anything but you would never guess that this guy as tiny as 5’4ish give or take would have as much courage as he did it is almost as if he has no concept of what fear is.. as hard as life seemed to be on him he had no vice other then a thrill of stirring political chaos which he seemed to have a remarkable ability to do… when i was born being that my real dad wanted nothing to do with me i seen through a photograph that he was the first man in my life to hold me.. as i grew older and he seen my mother had no intention on telling me who my real dad was and that the person raising me was only “step”, he must have felt she was taking to long to tell me and that being maybe 5 i was already man enough to handle knowledge like that so he told me…. he didn’t have nothing in his life he trusted or could turn to, my grand mother his ex wife whom he had 6+ kids with wouldn’t acknowledge him and of all the kids\grand kids and people in his life he found some kind of comfort in talking to me and around 11 years old i became more a confidant and his best friend than a grand kid because he said he already had to many of those and that he just needed someone to talk to… it would have seemed like i was his favorite and that he showed favoritism and who knows if that was the case but i enjoyed being around him and all the endless stories he shared and insisted he taught me, and he’d be the most loyal father figure that life would show me i had…

the love he had for women was something that was beyond being a womanizer as he could never let a pretty girl walk past him without him winking or saying hello he always says that gods greatest gift to man was women and that women could feel how much he loves them that’s why they love him so much… he taught me chivalry at its finest and told me “even more so then wining and dining women to also protect & respect them no matter what” , and surrounded by men who abuse women i held that lesson close…

in a comment that was said to me about being so close to my mother it was like we were having sex, i turned to my grand father and asked if i was weird for being so close to my mother and told him the comment i was told from my “step father” and as calm as he could turned to me and said there was nothing weird about it that the most beautiful relationship we can have is with our mother… and when i began to see the relationship between his mother and him i knew only a demented & twisted mind could have a comment like that… he explained how hard his mother made his life and how she treated him for having been so close to his father, he said that as much as his mom had put him through he didn’t see her nor would he treat her any different because that was his mother… seeing how much love he showed his mother who had alzhiemer’s and barely even recognized him was a bond i saw needed to be embraced….

he taught me having passion for things from accomplishments to loving\embracing your Italian heritage down to a little cup of coffee and holding moments that are dearest to you very close..

3 failed marriages one of which hes left with 5+ kids by himself to raise, left by his parents and living in quite a few foster homes as a child and how hes mother treated and rejected him his whole life until the point were she had alzheimer’s and only then was she able to show she loved him and then she finally passed, probably the only moment he might have felt his mothers love… it would explain why he carried certain issues toward women… there is a sadness you could see in his eyes and the way he carries himself when he walks.. life couldn’t make him flinch nor would he show any one that it took its toll, even in moments that bother him most and the tears fill his eyes as if pain and heartbreak just might have hit him but instead he hid them and most of the time wouldn’t allow himself to let the tears fall… he credits “god” for being able to make it through his life and that the devil was the reason for all the pain and strain he had to deal with…
in my childhood where CHIVALRY was non existent and being a “MAN” wasn’t even heard of, love and compassion were barely even shown, life seem to balance itself out when he came around….

provoking insanity part 3

Standard

after i got rid of that imaginary place and gave up on prayer , i tried not thinking to much about what i was going through… those words and phrases of being told i had a warped mind and was slow would sit as dormant bubbles ready to pop at any given notice….. how do i relax or calm down my mind , it seemed to me that fear wasn’t going anywhere but eventually i could novicate it… drinking since 7th or 8th grade proved helpful and easy to get my hands on especially when certain family members insisted i drink with them despite barely being a teen, it didn’t matter what type of liquor as long as it did its job.. shots, mixed or straight out of the bottle was no difference to me.. but liquor eased a certain amount of pain because the nearer i got to the end of the bottle those troubled memories seemed to open its self up even more so… the first hit from the pipe was exactly what i had been needing , there’s something in the way it smelt right when you open the baggy, or the way it feels as you inhale and the burn you feel right after you exhale.. it was something to fog\cloud and make me feel some kind of sanity for awhile … every party i was at always had the pipe ready and a steady flow of liquor… the weed was constant i smoked it every chance i could apples and soda cans where my favorite cause they where the easiest to dispose of.. at that time drinking and pot was all i was into everything else served me no purpose….but eventually i stopped smoking pot and the next couple years i just stuck to drinking… but a friend who must have felt my pain offered comfort that could only come from a line … in offering his hand he had a straw and then i took it down…the sensation through my body and the taste from the drip set my racing thoughts\bad memories calm it set those moments and feelings of insanity suddenly sane… something that small no bigger than the nail on your pinky crushed into a line anywhere you desire, something so small does something nothing\no one and not even i could have done for myself.. to me god not only came in the form of a piece of bread on sunday but in any shape or form even of that which is bad for you.. being almost 20 and finally coming across this, finally some sort of delusional sanity i convinced myself of.. i wish i would have found that sooner being i was told i was on drugs all my life… the random states of hallucinating where incredible it was something to switch it all up where my imagination came to life and the reality i was living in all of a sudden became bent… and coke, if i was looking for a high that consisted of something more than a delusional reality and drifting in and out of sleep and wanted to stay up and drink all night there is nothing more enjoying than not only numbing your nose but numbing memories as well… all the comfort that it offered wasn’t enough but some how i convinced myself that it was because as high as i was allowed no room for bad memories and the more i thought i did the more normal i thought i felt.. all my life i searched for this “normal” or “sane” way of being and even though id be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy the drugs or the way i felt on them they only served as a momentary escape from myself.. seeing how the men in my life acted on meth and the monsters they became on it was the only drug i wouldn’t allow myself to do but it’s not my place to judge anyone’s choice\preference in whatever soothes\pacifies them…   i see that this person who tried convincing me as a kid i was slow, insane and brain dead was coming from someone who is strung out on meth , paranoid and going mad.. all of what he was telling me i was he was feeling going on with him… do you forgive that when it’s not their fault knowing meth altered who they where or accepting of the fact they “claim” sobriety in all they said and did to you as a child… the words of the course of years is what convinced me as a kid i had a warped mind.. in an asylum like atmosphere where you already lay vulnerable to losing your mind combined with the repetition of convincing statements like having a “warped mind” is what was provoking my insanity..