Origins

My past has a thesis: "Its all my fault."
It's one of those cement statements I have held to after so many years of reflection and healing. Some people have things that happen to them. Some people have shit that rains on them from birth. Some people have air and light, but choose to bury themselves in the earth instead. My past has one agent: me.
I have known without doubt that all that is terrible and dangerous in me is because of me. I am not arguing original sin. I am saying that, with the portion of evil and grace inside of us, we are also given choices. I took mine. I let evil in the door, pushed out Christ and good sense, and (with volition) made choices I knew in my heart to be wrong. I created my monster. This mantra has never been in question,
until now.
I had never been truly challenged with the idea that I am not to blame. Honestly, this comes from a striking lack of choices. There is me and then there is me, but also, there is Evil.
I've never been one to blame the devil. I've seen enough devil in myself to recognize a difference. Never have I sensed a "possession" of external spiritual compulsion. Yet, there is some connection, because there is Evil.
The idea behind reexamining these origins is to correct some possible ideas that spring from my blame. You see, by blaming myself for my monsters I might also feel a great responsibility to "fix" myself. Though years of healing have taught me that only God alone can be my healer, it still might be a propensity and is worth looking at. Also, if you don't diagnose the disease right, you might have issues with the remedy.
So I took the challenge and took my time.
This is what happened:
I sought God and meditated on these questions and waited. After a few days I got a song. (Yes, a song). An old song. A song I had written when I was about 12yrs old. I was startled to recall it for a few reasons.
a) I hardly remember ANY songs I wrote between the age of 12 and 19.
b) It was a song that I used to sing to myself all the time when I was in my deepest depressions.
This was a song that I sang when I was still fighting. So, as the tune came back to me, so did an old image of myself, sitting in my room, playing the song, staring at the phone, trying not to cry, praying for it to ring. I used to hope that God would do me a miracle and invoke someone to call me right at that moment, and if they did, I would get help from them. I used to do this over and over again for years.
So the next morning after recalling the song, I blocked off some time to ask God about what it all meant. We sat and rolled it over. I thought about those moments when I would pray so hard.
Side note: Why didn't I just call someone or ask my parents or someone I trusted for help, you ask? The short version: Fear had always kept me from opening my mouth. I was afraid that in voicing my fears, I would only get validation from someone about how wretched and screwed up I was. Also, my best friend at the time was a girl who for the most part was useless in this situation. I had once asked for help from her. It was the day of my first suicide attempt. My first and only cry for help. I told her what I was feeling and planning to do. She laughed at me.
So, back to the phone. When I still had the will to fight my pain, I would sit, play my song over and over, and beg God to intervene. I rolled this over and over. "Why did I want someone to call?" I asked myself.
Because I was lonely and thought that if God would do that for me, then I could have the courage to trust the person on the other end of the line.
"How would that have helped me?"
I would have tried to get help. I may have even avoided so much of the pain and darkness I invoked over the years.
"But the phone never rang."
The phone never rang.
That's when it hit me. It hit me hard, but it was as real as anything. I actually don't blame myself for all of my darkness . . . I blame God.
It all became clear! Forever I have struggled with faith and remained mystified as to the origin. This is it! The phone never rang! Thus, I felt left to my own vices and my own sickness. I felt helpless without intervention from God. I blame HIM for all those years of madness because when I asked for help from Him, He didn't make the phone ring.
It all makes so much sense if you know me. I have so little faith in asking God for anything or ever getting anything but "screwed for my own good" from Him. This is why. I never knew. It was those heart shredding hours of staring at the phone that darkened my faith. I never knew.

So now I know. And this is where it ended. I kept waiting for a further revelation. Something that would comfort me. Some clue God would give me that would help me understand why the phone never rang or why it looked like I had been ignored. But there was nothing else. I hit a wall.
I am like Much Afraid at the Precipice Injury, staring up at dizzying cliff and seeing no way up. Like her, I hope that The Shepard will point out to me the Hart and the Hind and their secret, but fluid path up the cliff. I hope He will give me my strong guides, Sorrow and Suffering, to rope me in and lead me up this cliff away from my pursuing enemies. I have Sorrow and Suffering, but I see no trajectory. Perhaps I am being led up in my sleep, like Adam, when Eve was constructed. Without his help, or input or capacity for worry, he was placed in a pleasant suspense, and when he awoke, all was revealed without mystery.
So what now God? We can't go back and make the phone ring. We can't alter the past. So what does all this revelation have to do with my future? I still feel abandoned and I am no more prone to trust You with this fresh wound re-opened. What now? I am with You. Take me to the next steps. Make my feet like those of the hind, and bring me safely over the mountains. (Hab 3:19)