day four and five: jeebuz and the cold war that sometimes turned hot

Day Four: Religion

Oh....let's talk about Jeebuz.

We live in a society that is pretty much revolves around Christianity, the same way India revolves around Muslims. I'm sure the people in India think Muslim is the way to go as much as we praise Christianity here. Which one is more right?
There isn't an answer to that question. They're both just stories trying to explain things.
And it's our job to find which story we believe in..

That's been pretty hard for me.

It was easy when I was younger..
Oh man, Jesus died for my sins!? THAT'S SO NICE.
Of course I loved him. He was keeping me away from the big bad Devil.
I would chant "When times I am afraid I would trust in thee. Pslams 56:3" and go to sleep whenever I was awake at night because I was scared of the boogeyman. Other people couldn't do that for me, but he could.
Basically, me and Jesus were pretty cool. I'd pray every night, go to church every Sunday, not by force, but by choice.

Then, I started to ask questions..
Wait.....if he did this...than why this....
and most questions were answered the same "just have faith".
FAITH? No. Every single religion out there has faith. We have to have something more. I want facts. Something to know that what I'm doing isn't a complete waste of time. Something to prove that he really does love me, and I'm not just acting like an infatuated teenagergirl praising his rules and his actions. Something that makes me feel like this isn't something created just so we can find death comforting or to brainwash us to act a certain way.
"you just.,..have to have faith".
So I quit going to church. They'd come every saturday and try to round me up, but the answer was always No.

I still remember all those times faith really did help me. I wouldn't have had that good of a sleep as a child if it wasn't for believing god was there for me.

In truth, religion is beautiful, if you have the right morals. Religion has made people change their lives for the better, and has rules that are fair and bring happiness into someone's life. It's given people purpose. It's made alone people not fell so alone. Read Uncle Tom's Cabin, and you will have a better understanding of what I mean.

If you don't have the right morals, it's terrible. You live your life wondering if your sins were really forgiven. You judge others. Some people even harass them (think abortion clinics and gay gatherings).

I guess I will spend my whole life wondering. I still have mad respect for Christianity in MY personal life. I can't get rid of bibles and I do a prayer before I go to sleep.

Now I lay down to sleep,
Pray the lord my soul to keep,
While Angels watch me through the night
Till I awake in mornings light
Amen

I don't believe in it. But I still find myself doing these two things.
It's all very complicated.
I might just like the idea of the goodness in jesus's heart and can't feel as if I'm betraying it. Everyone else makes it all complicated.
Damn you everyone else for making complicated.

For now, I will keep my bibles and my prayers, but I will not label myself a Christian.


Day Five: Worst Moment

The worse moments, for me, were the fights with my mom.
The fights that included my mom and sister, or just me and my mom.

My parents used to be really abusive. Or maybe they just had a huge temper. Or maybe this was their form of discipline. Can I really blame them if they grew up the same way?
Whatever the reason, it didn't stop my older siblings and I from the frustration and pain they caused.
If the room wasn't clean....If the dishes weren't washed....If you talked back....

My mom was always the crazier one. My dad would set his limit to two hits with the belt, while my mom would go psycho. She would throw things, and she would literally trap you into a corner.

And she was always the one who "took care" of Roxann. My parents pretty much trapped my sister into their life. Roxann had to clean. Roxann had to baby sit. Roxann can't go out. So when Roxann finally rebeled, you can't imagine the fustration it caused my mom.
And me.
I hated waiting up for her to get home. There would be a knock on the door and I knew it was coming. My mom would lock her into her room, question her, and hit her. I used to hear the hits and the arguing between my sister and mom. I would try to tune them out with whatever was on TV and lay against my sponge bob chair hoping my mom would be easy on her. I was probably about 10.
When the screaming overpowered whatever was on TV, I'd start to yell for my mom to leave her alone. To stop hitting her. That whatever she had already done was enough.

And then I turned into a teenager.

I don't remember much, just being on the bed, telling my mom to leave me alone. I was trying to get away from her as much as I could. Trying, but not succeeding. All of my attempts just made her angrier and angrier. I locked the door, she found the key and opened it. I'd move to the corner of my bed, she'd close in on me.
All I wanted was some peace and quiet. And she was just there...and I felt as if her purpose was just to invade my personal space..to make being a teenager a lot harder than it should be. I wondered if it was really teenagers who were going through the worse years of their lives (because of hormones and all that, you know) or if it was our parents making it that way. I remember this was the first time my mom told me she wish she had aborted me.
And so I pushed her out the way, grabbed medicine from a cabinet, and locked myself in the bathroom.
Death seemed a lot more pleasant than putting up with my mom.
 "I just wanted you to leave me alone. Why can't you leave me alone?!" I cried, shoving pills into my mouth.
I was always scared to take pills for medicine. I always thought I'd choke on them. But in this moment, I wish I would have.
Tears were streaming down my face and I had a pounding headache. I put my head on the floor and felt the coolness of the it.
And then I heard my dad calling for me.
And then he saw the empty tylonel bottle.
And he started yelling at my mom.
And then he starting lecturing me.
"Suicide is for cowards..." he began. I began to zone out. That's just like my dad. To try to lure me away from suicide just so I won't be deemed a "coward". Who cares if their a coward once their dead? They're not going to be around to hear it!

Those moments were terrible and I'm glad their over. I felt so unloved, and misunderstood. I felt oppressed as fuck, and as if my parents were really irrational..

Looking back. I can't blame anyone. I just feel like everyone has a side to a story. Bad times breed good ones and make them taste that much sweeter.


Don't judge me.
-Ely