For reasons that need not be explored here, I've been feeling extra betrayed lately, so I'm a little edgy. I think I've got a pretty good handle on my moodiness, when I'm in public, but I think it showed this evening. It amounts to paranoia, and when that's the case, little things, that I usually have the ego strength to not even notice, get magnified. That's what it's like to be crazy. Not actual voices, but a huge weight, of oppression, like being covered in cold tar.
As a spur of the moment thing I suppose, I was invited to an eatery. Yes of course you know my answer, its gist if not the details. At the time it seemed logical, my excuse. I had a thing to do, for the next 20 minutes. I'm an orderly guy, and things have to be done in their proper time. When they're not, it unsettles me, inordinately when I'm, uh, moody. I cannot possibly expect anyone to get my weirdness; I get it. I need advance warning, so I can work through my initial impulse.
Spontaneity? That's for monkeys. As I say, I'm just getting stranger and stranger -- I looked up the proposed restaurant online. This need, in me, makes me sad.
I got an email from someone who knows my blog, wondering if I really thought people were evil. Is that the impression I give? I think more accurate would be that I myself am joyless. That's an overstatement, arising from my current funk, but it's not unfair. It's been this way for so long I can't see any other option. I do not understand the meaning of life, outside of theory. I get the theory. Do good things, love, be kind and generous. I understand that this sort of behavior makes for good feeling. And that I am troubled for the very need of goodness -- why is there suffering, that needs kindness? -- that's overthinking matters, as if we had the mind of God. We don't. No matter that our goodness is as filthy rags, it's as good as we can be, and it's all we can do. Deal with it, God.
I had a really troubling thought, that arose from something I wrote here recently. We've always known that Jesus was innocent, and good, and suffered for our sins that we may be forgiven. Point is, he was innocent and good. But I thought, if he is God, and God allows all this suffering, then God should be punished for it, not as an act of sacrifice, but as justice for his actions. You see the problem: Jesus deserved what he got. It is utter blasphemy, of course. And bad theology, since it conflates the Trinity, and misstates the role of the Father, who allows but does not cause, and for reasons we cannot fathom, this allowing yet does not make him guilty, because it is somehow necessary, and a greater good comes of it. This is where faith comes in, because from my mindset it is complete sophistry, mitigated only by revelation and higher, highest, authority. The evidence of things unseen, because what I see is shit.
It is my mental illness speaking of course. My mother is mentally ill. My father is mentally ill. The faith to move mountains, about the heft of a mustard seed, must surely be enough to heal a mood, or a few wrong ideas. But even God does not have enough faith to heal what doesn't want to be healed. Pretty weak. Turns out God can't save much. Had to destroy the world with a Flood, after all, and someday, again, with fire. Take away lesson is that destruction is easy. Saving is hard.
I've never doubted my salvation. So now it's just a mood that's speaking.