LUCIFER WAS CAST OUT OF HEAVEN

I promise an uplifting post in the coming days - I'm really rather content right now...but I've been thinking of this particular topic recently and wanted to share it.

I don't know when this started exactly, but it's been a long time. I have, for lack of a more accurate word, "enjoyed" torturing myself. I wrote a post about this earlier when I referred to myself as an emotional cutter. It's as if at some point in my youth I offended god in the worst way. As if I committed a solitary crime involving all ten commandments.

For the rest of my days I've had this subconscious desire to torment myself as a tool to make amends with the Almighty over this vicious offense of which I'm ignorant of. In doing so, I gain some sort of peace within my affliction. For many years now I've been laying myself on the altar and piercing myself with a butter knife. I say butter knife because none of the wounds have been fatal. They hurt, but they continuously miss the artery. And oddly enough after the initial stab is thrust and the post-burning sensation dims, I'm left with a sort of relief...a deep sigh of the soul. I realize that a majority of these wounds are self inflicted, that my hand alone holds the dagger (er, I mean butter knife), but I'm afraid it has become an addiction. I think I need a patch to stick on my arm that will slowly distribute a pitiful pain into my blood stream until eventually I'm weened off the effects.

I like feeling sorry for myself. I like feeling like the underdog. I like feeling unworthy. I like being my own adversary.

It's crucial that I repair this habit to lead a healthier life so that I don't wake up one morning on the altar and take a look around at the surrounding mountains, trees, and sun only to realize that the warmth from the enormous star above feels better than the burning of a wound.

I know this, yet I find myself clenching the knife all too often. The good news is that it happens far less now than in the past. Baby steps.