Two Roads

January 26, 2012 at 2:41 pm (Living With Chronic Illness, Mental Health, Spiritual) (, , , , , , , )

When I saw this image on Facebook, it neatly summed up a question that a friend posed to me some time ago that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on.

It’s an honest question, one that makes a lot of sense to me, but at the same time, seemed like such an odd thing to ask.

“So if you gave up all your woo stuff, does that mean you’d get better?”

I thought about approaching the answer from a series of directions. I asked spirit worker friends of mine to write little vingnettes about how sometimes our work is non-consensual. Fala posted a great answer to my question in her essay “You Can’t Go Home Again“.

But I have absolutely no real idea if this is actually a non-consensual part of my spirit path. It never occurred to me to say No. Now, that could be conditioning from years of working with Deities – that although sometimes No is the right answer, sometimes not questioning what you’re told is also the right answer.

And then stuff happened in my life. My spouse had two tonic-clonic seizures within a week of each other, which has never happened before for him. (He has epilepsy, but usually we see a seizure once every other year.) I had a falling out with dear friends that I had no idea how to fix. I got some spirit work that needed my immediate attention. I had a lot of teaching-kink work that needed a lot of administration (my least favorite part of the gig). I had some clients who needed my attention. You know, life and things.

So I made the conscious decision to put my health stuff on the back burner. Yes, I need to schedule an EMG and have some blood work done; I need to chase down an ID doc at Johns Hopkins; I need to start researching a new GP; I need to contact a few people for health-related stuff. But I just said “Fuck it. I’m dealing with the rest of my life instead.”

Now, this treads a dangerous line for me. I was Told, under no uncertain terms, that I couldn’t just ignore this stuff. I know I have a strong desire in me to just give it up, to stop seeing doctors and digging for TEH ANSWER OF IT ALL, and just stay home and let whatever is going to happen, happen. But I was successful in putting it off for a few weeks, and it’s only been the last few days when I’ve been feeling Tapped On The Shoulder about dormant medical stuff. Not a strong Do It Now, just a gentle, “hey, there’s also this stuff.”

And throughout it all, I’ve been deeply pondering the whole “What if I told Baphy to fuck off? That I didn’t want to die in some spectacular public fashion, that I want to just hole up and live the rest of my life in peace? Would I die faster, slower, or not at all?”

That’s not even the question I was asked. But it’s the closest I can come to wrap my brain around. Because the way my mind works, I believe all this spiritual woo-woo shit is 50% psychological, 50% metaphysical. And in the case of my illness, I’d substitute “psychological” for “physical”, or at least maybe 25% of each. I believe that I have a chronic illness because it runs in my family, because I have shitty genes, because I haven’t taken the best care of myself, because sometimes shitty things happen to people, as much as I believe that I have a chronic illness because my Imaginary Friend made me this way so I could pontificate on the spirituality of suffering, disability, illness, and death from a first hand perspective. Both are equally true.

When I seek it out internally, though, there is only one road. Maybe it’s crazy, maybe it’s true, maybe it’s both; but I choose to believe that all of this has some greater meaning; that my suffering should not be in vain. If I can help one person by reading what I write and knowing that the Gods care about their suffering, too; that in those moments where we are necessarily alone (like in an MRI tube, or late at night when we’re awake because we hurt and everyone else we know is asleep), there are Imaginary Friends who are actively interested in our existence; We Are Not Forgotten.

Being disabled can make you feel invisible. Being in a wheelchair makes you feel like the world is made of butts, and that’s not a very pleasant world to inhabit. Being sick when your friends want you to come over and hang out all the time makes you feel like a lesser member of society. If putting my faith in the idea that This Has Purpose gets me through the dark times, then I’m glad I only see one road. That I choose to believe that this is not something I can walk away from, as much because of my Invisible Friends as for the others I give voice to. Otherwise, my life is watching Netflix videos and reading ebooks and hating being alive.

I like the road I’ve chosen.

I hope this answers your question, Friend-I-Have-Not-Identified.

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1 Comment

  1. What is a “Godphone”? | Sex, Gods, and Rock Stars said,

    […] and energy is spent in spiritual pursuits, it’s very easy to lose touch with reality. Like this post from Dying for a Diagnosis, where one of my more grounded friends asked me if I chose not to undertake the requests of my […]

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