A while back, I wrote about the right to decide it’s a “good day to die” – because I wanted to die.
My reasons I thought were compelling (and, I thought, in line with a newish New Mexico law): As a mind control subject, I am not only dissociative, but have suffered from regular, unexplainable, random events that happened usually while I slept and left me scared, scarred (literally), and often debilitated for days or weeks at a time – and were happening way too frequently (twice a week) to believe I could still make a living, socialize and contribute to my community, and be happy when I didn’t know when the next “hit” would come.
It really seemed as though I were victim to the same mysterious forces depicted by numerous artists like this one – typically a woman, unconscious in her bed, with a demon on her chest. Prayers didn’t seem to help.
Nevertheless, I knew I’d been through difficult times before and would later feel happy and confident again, and I was willing to believe it was possible I could be at least content again – though it seemed unlikely, I was willing to believe it was possible – so I determined to “get my affairs in order,” in the event I continued to feel this way, but not act too hastily, and be open to the possibility of seeing things anew.
Now, weeks later, my affairs (will and medical directives) are in order, and I’m still in a place of openness and tentative hope. I’ve had a few more profound experiences that feel “healing” in a sense, and I know that more is possible.
Therefore, I found it interesting when this video came across my desk this morning, about others choosing this option:
It reminded me that I should update you all, who might have worried about me – and thank those of you who’ve written me over the past weeks to ask about how I’m doing and offer your concern. I’m making no immediate decision, but have found help and counseling for various issues: my heart, which is getting better with supplements of CoQ10, DHEA, magnesium, and more; my TMJ, which has become very problematic and sometimes painful – if my insurance company will cover it; and even my thumbs which were damaged in an old skiing accident and now my right has become a trigger-thumb making it difficult to knit or even write my name – though typing is fine. The controllers seem to have given me a bit of a break, I assume because they want me alive, not because they have any compassion. Oh yes, and I’m talking with a counselor, exploring other ways in which I might frame my situation and doing “somatic trauma therapy” – which impressed me yesterday with a quick exercise that released a heart and neck pain immediately!
I still feel tired a lot, but I’m moving forward as though I might continue to contribute to our world:
I am still a distributor for Sun Ovens, and will demonstrate them at our local, upcoming Earth Day (and sell them at the lowest-possible price to anyone – ;} – anywhere in the continental US – anytime, on my other website),
And I plan to go into debt to finish the natural plastic sculpture I began in my house over five years ago. (The unfinished tree sculpture is central in my living room/library/craft room/office here.)
So, life goes on. It feels better conjuring hope than not. Even if we have to pretend we have power to craft our life story, that pretense has power, sometimes very little, but enough to get me moving, enough to get me in the garden or at the art table, and it feels important to try to continue to make meaning.
Nutritional food is critical too. And sunlight. And exercise. I’ve had to force all these on myself to generate a new will to live. Simple things, but critical. Any readers suffering like me, please remember these simple things. And do what you can do. We might find meaning after all – again. And it would be sad to leave too soon to discover that.
PS: It’s important, also, I believe, to acknowledge the good in hitting the bottom: With nothing left to lose, I began speaking truth to myself and to my partner. Those truths were very hard to tell, but they’ve had very good results. And who knows, but they might be the very most important thing that has happened.
So I’m respecting even these very hardest of times as critical to my life.
Blessings on you all, dear Readers ~