Disclaimer: This is likely to be a pretty dark post. It's not very pleasant to read these things at this time of year, but my crisis doesn't respect schedules. Skip it and read it later if you are likely to be disturbed by morbid and depressing musing over the contents of my soul.
I love a good metaphor, and I finally have one for my life. Hence the title.
A few years ago I was in a board game group and we played a game called Shadows over Camelot. The basic idea of the game was that you and your friends were a group of nights trying to complete various quests. In the easy version of the game the mechanics of the game itself were all that stood against you. In the normal and hard versions someone in your group was a traitor.
The interesting mechanic though was the Progression of Evil. What this meant that for every good thing you did, the game did something unpleasant back to you. It might be laying down cards you had to beat, or siege engines around the castle. The point was that you had to work together to fight the progression of evil.
I think it appeals to something in all of us to believe that there is some balance in the universe. I also think that it's a big pile of shit. There are times when fewer people are suffering than at others. There is also no direct causal link between doing good and allowing evil to bloom.
The thing that makes me think of this is being very sick. I haven't been this depressed before. The simple reason is that I see no up or out. I have gone to more interviews than I can count, and still no job. Worse still I cannot see myself returning to school due to my medical limitations. My only hope is God, and that's where things get complicated.
I believe 100% that God can do something, and even in fact anything. I also understand that he doesn't have to. Many good people get illnesses and die and it is not a sign of faith being lacking. I have to admit that this darkness that is slowly eating away at my will to fight to live is actually an illness. Not everyone recovers.
I suppose what I am saying is that with every day deeper into the abyss I come closer and closer to accepting the concept that this could kill me. I'm not sure if I want it to or not... I suppose it depends heavily on what kind of life I might live if I survive for a few more decades. I personally don't think what I want plays very heavily into it. As long as there are people I love and want to keep from hurting I will fight to stay alive.
Which brings me back to the progression of evil. The illness is clever and finds new ways to hurt and isolate me, not all of which I am equipped to reverse. Eventually if my pain exceeds my capacity to cope it will be the end of me. I'm thinking about it rather unemotionally at the moment. Simply as unavoidable as weather. You can bring a jacket and umbrella but if you get stuck for long enough in a blizzard you will freeze. If I exceed my capacity to cope, and remain there for long enough, I will die.
God for me has become a part of my much larger net of coping mechanisms. On that score I can say without a doubt he is quite amazing. Yet he has yet to completely negate the struggle. I'm trying to avoid talking about it, but I worry that one day soon he won't be enough.
Here's the crazy part:
It's not lack of love or desire that are failing me. My love for God is as great or greater than my love for my family. His love for me is greater still. Yet I have been on this journey for 6 years. He's been right beside me. I've survived more than I thought I would. Yet being in this hopeless place again for the second time in a decade is almost more than I can bare.
Is there a future? I can't see it. I'm well aware my views are limited by how I think the world works, and I do not understand a great many things in that category. I'm only talking about my view of myself. I'm incredibly self aware. That awareness tells me that my resources are down, and we have no way to resupply. I'm about to be forced to go on the least fun encounter with hard drugs, which is the kind the doctors think can fix things.
To tell the truth there is only one glimmer I can see in my life. That glimmer is that if my view is correct I won't suffer for very much longer. If I don't pull up and out, then it's not much further down until I reach the end. I have to believe that if there is no comfort left for me in this world there is hope. That hope might just sound like the bleakest future to healthy people. Trust me when I say that this illness reaching it's natural conclusion is the only think it gives me to look forward to.
I love a good metaphor, and I finally have one for my life. Hence the title.
A few years ago I was in a board game group and we played a game called Shadows over Camelot. The basic idea of the game was that you and your friends were a group of nights trying to complete various quests. In the easy version of the game the mechanics of the game itself were all that stood against you. In the normal and hard versions someone in your group was a traitor.
The interesting mechanic though was the Progression of Evil. What this meant that for every good thing you did, the game did something unpleasant back to you. It might be laying down cards you had to beat, or siege engines around the castle. The point was that you had to work together to fight the progression of evil.
I think it appeals to something in all of us to believe that there is some balance in the universe. I also think that it's a big pile of shit. There are times when fewer people are suffering than at others. There is also no direct causal link between doing good and allowing evil to bloom.
The thing that makes me think of this is being very sick. I haven't been this depressed before. The simple reason is that I see no up or out. I have gone to more interviews than I can count, and still no job. Worse still I cannot see myself returning to school due to my medical limitations. My only hope is God, and that's where things get complicated.
I believe 100% that God can do something, and even in fact anything. I also understand that he doesn't have to. Many good people get illnesses and die and it is not a sign of faith being lacking. I have to admit that this darkness that is slowly eating away at my will to fight to live is actually an illness. Not everyone recovers.
I suppose what I am saying is that with every day deeper into the abyss I come closer and closer to accepting the concept that this could kill me. I'm not sure if I want it to or not... I suppose it depends heavily on what kind of life I might live if I survive for a few more decades. I personally don't think what I want plays very heavily into it. As long as there are people I love and want to keep from hurting I will fight to stay alive.
Which brings me back to the progression of evil. The illness is clever and finds new ways to hurt and isolate me, not all of which I am equipped to reverse. Eventually if my pain exceeds my capacity to cope it will be the end of me. I'm thinking about it rather unemotionally at the moment. Simply as unavoidable as weather. You can bring a jacket and umbrella but if you get stuck for long enough in a blizzard you will freeze. If I exceed my capacity to cope, and remain there for long enough, I will die.
God for me has become a part of my much larger net of coping mechanisms. On that score I can say without a doubt he is quite amazing. Yet he has yet to completely negate the struggle. I'm trying to avoid talking about it, but I worry that one day soon he won't be enough.
Here's the crazy part:
It's not lack of love or desire that are failing me. My love for God is as great or greater than my love for my family. His love for me is greater still. Yet I have been on this journey for 6 years. He's been right beside me. I've survived more than I thought I would. Yet being in this hopeless place again for the second time in a decade is almost more than I can bare.
Is there a future? I can't see it. I'm well aware my views are limited by how I think the world works, and I do not understand a great many things in that category. I'm only talking about my view of myself. I'm incredibly self aware. That awareness tells me that my resources are down, and we have no way to resupply. I'm about to be forced to go on the least fun encounter with hard drugs, which is the kind the doctors think can fix things.
To tell the truth there is only one glimmer I can see in my life. That glimmer is that if my view is correct I won't suffer for very much longer. If I don't pull up and out, then it's not much further down until I reach the end. I have to believe that if there is no comfort left for me in this world there is hope. That hope might just sound like the bleakest future to healthy people. Trust me when I say that this illness reaching it's natural conclusion is the only think it gives me to look forward to.
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