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Oh Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
The Sick Rose by William Blake.
A Personal Kind Of Hell.
Three years ago I experienced a life changing event.
Now, not many people experience a Road to Damascus moment: but mine left a different person from the one I was before.
A massive mental breakdown swept across me and blew the old tenant of my body away; an empty husk disappearing like tumbleweed down a deserted western street.
I stumbled in darkness frantically searching for a light switch; and when the bulb came on, it bathed me in something incredible and unforeseen, I had lost my faith in the existence of God.
It no longer concerned me whether God existed or not: Jesus had become a great philosopher of how to live a good life, but I no longer cared about matters of divinity.
This still stands, stronger than ever within me: I feel spiritually utterly free of all preconceptions. Even with religion, I was seeing through a glass darkly; but now I see all clearly.
I do not feel deprivation or loneliness, but inner strength. My treatment for depression is ongoing, and no doubt will continue until my last breath, one way or another.
We are all ruled by the chemical cocktails that swirl about our brains: they command thought, reason, emotion: everything of value that constitutes us as human is dependent upon them.
Mine have always been in over-drive, and have now turbo-charged my psyche along a different road to the one once travelled; but I guess, we all end up in the same place one way or another.
It just depends on where you see your destination as being.
But perhaps the destination is not important, it`s how we handle the journey.