Dangerous Compassions

my response to naysayers and other problems

Some people want to say I’m not a competent person, or not capable of competence, or trustworthy competence.  I hear voices, have big moods, and was told most of my life that I was bad and wrong–my feelings, needs, and entire self were bad and wrong.  So I have a lot of work to do, to be well and happy, but so does everyone, right?

Maybe you were teased for being too fat or thin.  Harassed sexually or violated.   Getting racism against you, or being sabotaged because you were queer.  Neglected, abused.   Lots of people being mean to you somehow.

Or maybe it was capitalism, patriarchy, a prison system took away someone you needed, or took away you.  Maybe bad psychiatrists said you would never get better, and you lost faith for a while.  I don’t know what specifically happened to hurt you, reader.  But who escapes it?  Nobody!

I lost faith and had some hard times.  I had a lot of work to do, teaching myself I’m ok.  It takes effort to correct all the incorrect. 

When I was little, I couldn’t say no very well.  As a fully-grown adult, I have choices about what I believe about myself and the world.  I can throw out my old coping strategies I don’t need anymore.

Capitalism still hurts me, and patriarchy, and some racism that lingers, even though I turned out white, that affected my mom and her mom, who were Mexican-American and got really unfortunate doses of pesticides and pollution and were treated as not valuable. 

I have systemic stuff hurting me, but I can make a life where no individual abuses me.  Thank Mother God for that.  And Ming on my side, helping me see the world well and make good choices.

I have a few life missions–one of them is demonstrating that someone who hears voices, has big feelings, and was told longterm that they were bad and wrong can create a happy life and be helpful to the world. 

I like being an example of deep okayness.  I hope I can help anyone see a good life is possible, even if a psychiatrist says you’ll never have one–I was told all I could do was take the pills and try to stay out of the hospital, but I found something much better than subsisting.

I’m talking about all this because I can get confused when people portray me as incompetent, stupid, or not worth anything.  For a long time, I took that in and believed it.  So I have to actively tell myself all that’s not true, especially when I’m hurting because part of me is still vulnerable.

Anxiety is my old friend, and I have a lot of ways to work with her and calm her down.  I’ve known depression a long time too, and in order to survive, I learned some tricks.  Mania is a bear, but I love her and all I’ve learned while awake in the middle of the night, experiencing a different way of being.  Creativity, a looseness, some weird lessons I learned and can take with me wherever I go, to a more stable time.

Some people pay a lot of money for drugs to help them have different interesting experiences, but I get all of that for free.  When I was in the hospital and saw Jaguar when I almost died, that was special to me, and no one can take that away.

I guess what I’m trying to say is–I’m good.  Last summer I was with Ming in Sacramento, passing through while traveling, and I was lying on the couch in my friend’s living room, when Mother God came to me to tell me she loved me, was always looking out for me, and would love me wherever I was, on this side and the other.  She said, “I’ve loved and watched over you your whole life–do you really think I would ever stop?”  I realized death would be ok.  I was really scared of dying then.

I didn’t know what to think of that experience–I had spent a lot of time with God in different ways, but she’d never spoken to me in words like that, so clearly.  It didn’t feel crazy–it felt regular and super trustworthy.   I can’t remember if I blogged about this before.  Maybe it was too personal.

I couldn’t think of a better thing for God to tell me–if I had scripted it, I couldn’t have chosen something better.  God told me exactly the most comforting possible thing, and she even said it in a way that was easy for me to take in, a caring question.

Well, if you got this far, you deserve an award, reader.  I guess the natural consequence of your reading this far is you get the last paragraph.  I wish I had an Easter egg hidden here for you.  I guess I could say I love you and am always on your side.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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