angel killer au makes me. think really hard

I am ready for cherry pie.

I was trying to write this in my journal, but sometimes the feelings want to come out faster than my little hand can scribble so I came here to frantically type it all out. 

I asked God to walk deeper into the Garden of Life. Earlier this summer, I knew I had found Heaven, I felt myself forgiven, I felt everyone forgiven, I felt us all to be love. But what I thought was living in Heaven was actually just the entrance, and I comfortably pulled up a chair to gaze lovingly at its doors lol, and I realized I could actually walk within.  But I was afraid. I asked God for the courage and the clarity to walk deeper into the joy of life. And I heard her joy calling me, a song just for me.  I heard her calling me to music, to sit at my piano keys and play. I heard her calling me through day dreams of traveling in a camper van of my own, of watcher her Holy sunrises at different oceans, to gaze at her freckle stars in the night, in deserts I had never crossed before. I heard her call upon the wind of peace, of sleep. I saw her show how gentle life truly was, how it was willing and wanting to caress me, to be caressed.  BUT I still felt fear, and even worse a strange itch overcame me to purposely look for terrible things, things I don’t even want to look at on a regular basis. Wanting to purposely look at murders, at violence, at suffering. And I didn’t understand why. I knew better than to succumb to the itch to seek these things out, I knew it wouldn’t give me wisdom and I felt something strange about the itch. After a really good tarot reading from my sister, she helped me clarify that weird itch to find things horrific.  Joy requires vulnerability, she said. And it is difficult to be vulnerable when you lack trust in life, down to a bone psychological level.  She helped remind me of how when I broke my arm in the summer before third grade, it was a traumatic experience for me that changed the psychology of me forever. I didn’t know this until this week, but apparently because I was a child, they couldn’t give me anesthesia and the two options for my very large break in my arm, was either preform surgery on me while I was very much lucid and awake or rearrange my bones back into place blindly so they wouldn’t have to make a cut on me. Somehow, the best bone doctor in Texas at the time just so happened to be at the hospital in El Paso and he chose to blindly rearrange my bones back into place. and he told my mom and my dad to watch the pain I was about to go through because it would change me forever. My sister stayed too because she is brave and loving and wanted to be there for me, even though she too was just a child. They always tell me about how traumatic it was for them to see me screaming in pain as he was rearranging my broken bones, and I remember just searing pain lmao I just remember it being hours of pain, as they made me twist my arms for X-Rays, and when they kept twisting my arm to put my bones back into place. Truly painful lmao  BUT point of the story is, I used to be a very active child before that, I was always running, playing music, I was always smiling and happily in my garden, I was a straight-A student in GT. And after that I wasn’t, and all the details to me don’t matter any more. (EVEN THO, I felt a little upset that my mom remembered how the doctor told her that I would be changed forever and my parents STILL screamed at me for hours when I stopped getting straight A’s, and couldn’t focus anymore. if the doctor told you I was changed forever, how come you still screamed at me for hours because I got a C? how come you literally told me: When you broke your arm, something got damaged in your brain, you must have hit your head and scrambled something, so try really hard to think what happened and change it, just change it. Go back to how you were. IDK I FEEL LIKE THAT KINDA CONTRIBUTED TO ME CUTTING AND HITTING MYSELF OUT OF FRUSTRATION, WOULDN’T YOU THINK? Like my sister summarized it the best, which was that they were holding me accountable, a child, for understanding the trauma I went through and working through it just so I could get the grades they wanted me to get. -___- BUT WHATEVER I AM LEARNING TO FORGIVE THEM FOR WHAT THEY COULDN”T UNDERSTAND THEN.) The beautiful thing I rather focus on, is after reminding me of this, my mom and my sister both cried and hugged me for a good solid ten minutes and kissed me, and told me that I don’t have to feel afraid anymore, that life isn’t what I feared it to be anymore, and that I am free and can be vulnerable to joy, and that is truly what I rather focus on than the past parents that didn’t know how to cope with what I had gone through.  My sister also reminded me of how I conveniently forgot how earlier this year I went to see a physical therapist finally for my knee which hurt me a lot and made me feel like I couldn't go hiking or any of the adventurous things I wanted to do bc it hurt too much and he straight up told me that it was all PSYCHOLOGICAL. Which was super wild for me to hear, because I think he’s right! lmao.  It reminds me of when I was a child, and I used to run out in my little garden in the sun all the time, and how sometimes I was suddenly forced to stop because I couldn’t move without feeling a lot of pain, and I would look down at my feet and I saw how all those thorned stickers were on my laces, my socks, my shoes and it hurt too much to move so I was just stuck. (Which makes me feel happy about that dream I once had where a large field beckoned me and I began running in its vastness barefoot, and I remember looking down and seeing a bunch of those thorned stickers and somehow missing every single one, and feeling so free.)  Anyhow, I resolved to allow myself to be vulnerable to go into joy, and that even with this psychological, bone deep memory of trauma happening when I move.  The day before yesterday, my sister made it aware to me that our betta Artemis has fin rot (mild) and I felt so in pain because of it. One thing I could never stand was seeing the people (or animals) I love in pain, and I’ve never acted on this impulse, but the first impulse I have when my sister tells me about a traumatic experience she’s had or I see my animals hurt is to say “NO! That’s NOT how you feel, this isn’t real.” BUt it’s so irrational to me, to say this, that I never act on it but I do have to convince myself by becoming more objective to handle the pain of seeing them in pain.  But I guess I have allowed myself to feel more vulnerable and more sensitive to life (I used to allow myself to be sensitive when I was a toddler but I was just so overwhelmed and my parents would yell at you if you cried so I just capped it.) But I’m letting myself be sensitive, so I did feel angry at my sister initially for telling me that Artemis had fin rot, and I felt very upset, but I let it be there and we researched how to heal it and took immediate action the next day and even though my sister was sensitive about it, and I was sensitive about it, we did a great job at getting everything we needed, staying calm and supportive of one another, and it just always surprises me how much me and my sister haven’t adopted the way my mom and dad do things which is screaming, and panicked and violent. (Well, we worked ourselves out of it through love and patience.)  But as we were driving to the pet store for the second time to get something else to help us out with Artemis’s tank, I told my sister about how allowing myself to feel the pain I felt at Artemis being sick, when I got home from the pet store this morning and went to say hello to my pug before getting started with my sister on deep cleaning his tank and getting salt in it to sterilize the wounds, I felt a much deeper and softer joy at hugging Qipsi and holding her in my arms and I realized that joy came from allowing myself to feel the pain of Artemis. That when I let myself feel the pain, it also let me feel the pull, the desire to tend to his tank, his little body and soul, his water much more diligently and the joy that arose in that, and it let me feel the pull and desire to tend to Qipsi more tenderly, and tend to myself more tenderly. And so pain, allowing the suffering allowed joy as well.  My sister told me about how she read or saw that when you allow yourself to feel the pain, you allow yourself to feel the pathway to the healing of it.  And that just shook me because I never looked at it like that. I always thought pain was useless, or was just to burn your ego, or just frustrating, but I see now how it led to more joy, it led to truer joy. How it led to truthful joy, and I never let it show me the healing. I was so afraid of pain, I never let it show me how to heal, I just hated how I was hurt to begin with. But if I could just focus my attention and the pathway to healing, and to feel the healing, the joy of it.  AND SO, here I stand, on the precipice of fate, on the road I am asking to help guide me to the purpose of my life, the highest good of my life, and I feel I understand what joy and pain truly are.  I asked God to lead me deeper into the garden of life, so that I may understand what I am here to provide, what of my highest good can I give back, and I was given clarity and courage. Clarity to understand the truth behind pain, the way it shines a path to the healing of you and me, to the healing of body and soul and courage to face the vulnerability that joy requires, that pain requires to open you to deeper joy, and so it goes.  I want to play and create and enjoy this sandbox of life. 

And I want cherry pie.