Residents Jordan F. and Chris L. at a resident graduation in Vincent Massey Park (left to right)
Did I enjoy suffering? It was an illusion that I thought I enjoyed suffering. But the truth of it was I was just surviving, with the goal of appeasing the devil inside me. I once enjoyed drugs and the rush, but after so long it festers all the good until it rots fading from existence. It is truly a great horror when I started believing I’m destined for chaos, and that I belong in this theatre of war. The characters are set, the script is determined, lines are set in stone, and I am the puppet, yet who is this master pulling the strings.
To think that I enjoy chaos and to feel suffering is better than feeling nothing at all. Having no choice is a tragedy. I think I am a master manipulator, thief, cheat, worthless, and helpless. Inside every now and then down to the core I know is not true, but I don’t have any way to control these feelings. The comfort I get from dope no longer comforts me. I am lost and go down a deeper darker path. I can’t draw light for when I need it, so I continue walking that dark path into the abyss. Faith is thought to be a fool’s hope.
Being asked if I’m okay and I answer with a yes, I am great but inside the gears start turning as I realize I’m not okay and curse you for bringing up these foreseeable emotions with questions I’m inadequate to process. When I hear the four-letter word Hope I see and hear Joke. Who is this crude jester? My mind, body, and feelings are imprisoned, the key sinking in the abyss of my active addiction. I look in the mirror and I hate who is looking back so much yet I accept myself as is in this war of attrition. Yet with all this it still doesn’t spark a want to change. Makes me wonder what will be enough to make me change.
30 years on this earth and I have amounted to nothing. I’ve set myself back immensely. No matter how fast and far I run it catches up to me. Being tricked that the devil is a good companion to listen, and follow is part of my insanity. On the same note to have a companion is better than not having one at all, yet another illusion. I project my insecurities on other people and curse when people try to help. I want to stay in a daze with the illusion I don’t have feelings. I’ve always wanted what I haven’t had minus the work involved to acquire it.
Spiritually, emotionally, physically, and mentally I am malnourished. I need answers but I dare not ask the questions because I fear the answers.
One day a notice shows up at my house of suffering.
You are exiled from the house of fear forever. You have squandered the monthly rent of Guilt, Fear, Shame, and Self-Deprecation. You have adamantly refused to worry about your part in this play. People are shouting in the street “There goes the neighborhood.” Your freedom from fear is dangerous and a mirage. Real estate values have dropped immensely. Why do you now doubt slavery, your role was set in stone. A curse on you and all misplaced lovers of freedom.
Who is this individual standing with the sheriff handing me my eviction notice? It was me!
Discipleship House Resident