"A Gradual Awakening"

I just finished reading a book by Stephen Levine, called "A Gradual Awakening." It is a book about meditation, and philosophy, based on Theravada, and Zen Buddhism. It was recommended to me, by someone who reads my blogs, and is a fellow member of the "Care Cure" online community I belong to. Curiously enough, his name also happens to be Stephen, and he has been living with paralysis since the early 80's (paraplegic- due to an arteriovenous malformation). He and I correspond, from time to time, and he thought the book might offer me some insight, and comfort, with my struggles, trying to cope with life with paralysis. Luckily, it was available in e-book format, which made it easy to read (I buy books through iBooks & the Kindle app, on my iPad- it's much more convenient than reading traditional books, because I can easily switch between tasks, look up definitions, highlight important passages, and take notes).

I've read many books on meditation, since my accident, so I was already familiar with some of the book's concepts, and practical advice. My grandpa (my stepmom's dad) has been into meditation, mysticism and dream psychology (he owns an impressive collection of books by Carl Jung), for decades, and has hundreds of books in his library (mostly religious texts [of various religions], spiritual, philosophical, and psychological in basis/theory). He has practiced meditation (and prayer- his approach is from a Christian perspective) and kept dream journals, since he was in his forties. He and I spent quite a lot of time together, as I was growing up, and over the years he told me about his studies. I always viewed his studies, as an interested sceptic. I was always open to listen, and to read through books he gave me (more so, since my accident- before I was often busy, and did, or could not make time).

I have always found religion, philosophy, and psychology to be fascinating subjects, worth investigating, pondering, debating, and questioning. Eastern philosophy, in particular has always been appealing to me, and something I have found myself drawn to, time and again, throughout my life. My fascination, for Asian art, philosophy, and culture, started with my discovery of anime (with Sailor Moon- sophomore year of high school- in 1995), and blossomed into a genuine love, and passion to study many facets of Japanese, art and culture, in particular.

In college, I took an "Art of Japan" course, as one of my art history requirements. It was through that course, that I began a serious study of Buddhist art, and philosophy. As with every art history course, I've ever taken, religion played an integral role, in the inspiration, and creation, of much of the artwork I studied. I can remember having to study, and being able to identify hundreds of varying Buddhist statues, and paintings. I learned how to "read" the symbology present (posture, hair knots, drooping earlobes, lotus flowers, etc.) in varying types, and styles of Buddhist art, and about the principles, and philosophy behind such things as, Zen ink paintings, sand mandalas, rock gardens, and tea ceremonies. I especially fell in love with Ukiyo-e wood cut prints, and can remember spending hours at the M.E.T. looking at them, and using their library to write a paper about Ukiyo-e's influence on the post impressionistic movement.

In the years right before my accident, I used to go into NYC monthly. I would sometimes spend all day, getting lost in the Asian, and Egyptian wings of the M.E.T., looking at the artwork, and making sketches. I would take trips down to Chinatown, and spend all day (in the summer and on weekends) browsing in, and out of tea shops, and buying all sorts of Asian style accessories, clothes, figurines and nick knacks. Over the years, I've amassed quite a collection of both traditional and contemporary Asian books, and art. Not to mention, my over the top collection, of hundreds of anime DVDs and Blue-ray disks (I'm an otaku, in every sense of the word). To this day, my apartment is filled with Buddhist iconography, and Asian artwork, and inspiration.

It was no surprise to me, that I'd enjoy, or be drawn towards the teachings, in "A Gradual Awakening." Like I said, it's not the first book I've read on how to meditate. Most books I've read in the past have been more well rounded, in terms of offering varying religious and non-religious approaches, and offering more direct, step by step guided meditations, or contrarily, vague techniques or generic mantras. The difference in this book, is that the author focuses specifically on the teachings of Buddah himself, and offers more specific examples Zen philosophy, with a few guided, purpose based meditations. Even if you've never read about Buddhism, and/or meditation, it is simple to understand, and pretty straightforward.

Naturally, "knowing" and "doing" are two different things. While, Levine's writing style makes the concepts understandable (and approachable), it is a whole other ball of wax, to be able to apply the content, and practice the principles he describes. The book is definitely a good jumping point, to begin reflection, and offers a lot of rational, practical sense, that make the reader (namely me) want to try the theories out for himself/herself, and that can be applied to, and compliment various, existing religious beliefs, or mindsets.

In the book, Levine's (based on Buddah's teaching) overriding theme, is that the root of all suffering, is based on our (collectively) inability to be at one with the present moment. He says it is our attachment to our preconceived notion of "who" we are (as individuals), "what" WE think we should be doing, and/or "where" we should be, that interferes with our ability to be happy, and/or peaceful with our reality. He states that in order to be truly happy, to be whole, and fulfilled, we must begin by letting go of the personal "I."

According to Levine, we are all part of a bigger whole, and that through meditation, we can start to return to this natural state of feeling complete. He asserts that everyone has the innate ability to access this grander sense of truth, by honing one's concentration, through mindful meditation, and gradually awakening. He says everyone must start by focusing on the mind, as an observer, to watch thoughts, as they pass through the mind, and to begin to recognize the constant change, and flow, that is present, from moment, to moment. He warns, not to let one's self get pulled in, or get attached to any one thought, but to detach and let each moment unfold.

He briefly explains the concept of karma, as being "the perfect outcome of previous input." In other words, you sow what you reap. So, from a Buddhist standpoint, my current situation (being paralyzed) is because of some past action. From a rational, logical standpoint, anyone would agree, that my diving into a shallow pool, head first, resulted in me breaking my neck, and thus left me paralyzed. However, looking at my life, from the viewpoint of the larger picture, and the seemingly unjust nature, of how drastically one small action, has caused me so much loss, and suffering, the logical cause and effect explanation, does not seem comforting, and lacks the deeper meaning of "Why?" Levine says, that this is where karma comes into play.

From the Buddhist perspective, the karma I have in this life, can (and has been) effected by this life, as well as by actions in past lives. So, even though it might seem unfair, or unjust, for someone like me (a relatively, honest, kind, hardworking person) to have to suffer so much, for such a small mistake, it is the result of past mistakes, and it is part of a much, much bigger picture. Levine explains, like a circle, it is impossible to determine where one cause, or effect begins, or ends. He doesn't go much into reincarnation specifically, but implies, that whatever desires we have, when we die, or feelings left, unfulfilled, those grasping qualities create karma, and propel us (condition, and effect us) into our next life. Luckily, according to Levine, we each have the potential to reach "enlightenment" and stop the karmic cycle. He offers Buddah, and Jesus, as two examples of individuals who were able to attain enlightenment, through their loving, selfless, detachment, and return to their place, within the universal wholeness.

So, in my case, it makes perfect sense, to say that most (if not all) my suffering is a result of my attachments to my perceived image of myself. I feel sad, angry, and empty, because I am clinging onto the past (aka- an illusionary version on "myself") and onto an idealistic future self. Levine would assert, I am in pain, because I am not living life, in the present moment. According to him, in order for me (everyone) to find peace, I need to learn to love myself, forgive myself, practice loving kindness towards others and to live only in the present moment. He says, in order to be whole, we must let go of our egos; we must accept the present moment.

While I'll admit, the dichotomy between my "ideal" present, and my "actual" present does account for a tremendous amount of suffering, it is easier said than done, to abandon every like, dislike, preference, preconceived notion, desire, wish, dream, hope, and aspiration I've ever had, and what I believe (falsely- according to Buddah) to have been "me" as being me. From an analytically viewpoint, it makes perfect sense, that if I could let go of everything I had, and give up the dreams, and goals I had, for my future, I would be a more content person. In the book, Levine offers guided meditations, to help the reader work through the process of how to live life in the present, and ways to let go of "self."

I definitely agree with A LOT of what the book discusses, from a logical perspective. That might sound strange, given the fact the author is proposing radical ideas on being completely selfless, to the point, where the reader must choose to accept concepts of multiple lifetimes, collective consciousness, and universal oneness. I'm not sure if I'm sold on the idea of karma, to the extent of believing in past lives, or even that the present moment in my life (as I write this) as being perfect and correct, but it does make COMMON, practical sense that clinging to ideals, memories, or even hopes, IS a recipe for suffering. One undeniable truth, throughout this book, is that life changes. From the birth of this moment, to the death of the past moment, life is a continuous flow of change, of beginnings and endings, of causes and effects. The more you resist change, and fight, or try to escape the present reality, the more you hurt yourself. That is basic, powerful, truth.

While I continue to try and let go of my past, accept my reality, and work on being the best person I can be, in the given moment, it is extremely hard. Change, while difficult for everyone, is inescapable. However, most people have the luxury of being able to adapt to change gradually, as it slowly unfolds. My reality, was brutally, abruptly turned upside down, literally overnight. I had no choice but to let go (in a physical sense) of most of my acquired skills, and abilities, in the matter of minutes, because they were forcefully stolen from me, by my paralysis. Contrarily, many new, painful, realities were thrust upon me, like having to accept help (for everything), having to expose myself, needing bowel program, a catheter, and medications. Paralysis did not afford me any time, to ease into my new life, or grant me a transition period. I went from being one person, with one life, to becoming a new person, with a new life, overnight. To make matters more difficult, I have EVERY memory of my old life, and the shadow of the old "me" looming over me.

In a figurative (and literal) sense, paralysis has forced me to consciously experience my own death, and rebirth. While, it is an interesting theory, to explain this present life (my life post spinal cord injury), and my very real physical pain, and discomfort, as a product of past karma, it is not comforting. Even if I accepted the principle of karma as truth, it still doesn't give me the explanation of what actions I did, to create the karma I'm experiencing, right now. I suppose, Levine (and perhaps Buddah) would say, my past actions, and even my current situation are irrelevant, except for the opportunity my present situation affords me to grow, and learn, and of how I choose to act, from this moment forward.

The book is clearly written with the average person in mind, and not aimed at the severely disabled, or terminally ill people. He touches briefly, on dealing with physical pain, but focuses primarily on the psychological pain, and negative feelings, and attitudes, that hold people back. It has certainly given me some food for thought, and some concrete strategies, and techniques, for beginning to work on my emotional pain, and psychological wellbeing, but leaves me with many questions, about how to deal with the physical limitations, physical pain, and chronic illness that are also part of my present reality. Even if I am able to let go, of everything, including my ego, my body can't escape the physical limitations, and discomfort.

I suppose, the hope, or goal, would be that this pain, and physical suffering is only temporary, and ultimately, by becoming enlightened, I could potentially ensure that this lifetime is the last time I have to experience it. The thought of letting go of all desires, seems like an impossibility, and thus dooming me, to forever repeat my mistakes; never feeling satisfied. In this regard, the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim promise of an eternal heaven, seems much, much more appealing. Although the thought at a second chance, to experience the things I can't/couldn't in this life, sounds tempting, the thought of having to experience the drastic, abrupt change that I have had to endure, in this lifetime, has been intense enough to never, ever want to repeat it.

I'm curious to read another book Levine wrote, entitled "Healing Into Life and Death," which focuses more on situations of chronic, and terminal illness. I'll be sure to write a review, if/when I finish it.





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Meeting With Fr. Doug

Well, I just met with Fr. Doug. He was very nice, and younger than I imagined. Most of the priests I knew growing up, were easily old enough to be my grandfather, or great great grandfather. We talked for about an hour and a half. I explained pretty much everything I've been thinking, and going through; lots and lots of tears. I showed him some of my still life paintings, I had laying around the apartment and gave him my card, to check out my website.

He said he could see a definite reason why God wanted me here, to use my gifts, to help others. I brought up the fact, that I feel I have been generous, and giving, but wonder how long I'm meant to keep living for the sake of others. I said, it's unfair, to hold me to the standard of Jesus, when Jesus had a clear knowledge, of his purpose, about his death, and about his resurrection. He said that's true, but that life isn't always fair. I explained that I don't blame God, for my accident, because I feel it is a product of my own freewill. He agreed, and said, although God doesn't create suffering, he can make good things happen, despite of it.

I understand, that I've been blessed with gifts, despite my severe disabilities. My gifts, of writing, and painting have helped me to cope, and teach others, about paralysis. However, the daily bouts of autonomic dysreflexia, and the grueling treatments, and degrading, embarrassing nature, of being totally dependent, makes living this way, seem so overwhelming, and often overshadows, the few positives in my life. I am thankful, to be able to express my feelings, but sometimes feel like my mind itself, is my own worst enemy. Being so trapped, with nothing but my thoughts, is often a punishment, within itself, because I'm constantly remembering what I had, what I can't have, what I miss, and what I want. The disparity between my old life, and my reality, is constantly weighing down on me, and makes it hard to be satisfied with what I've been left with.

He said I seemed to be much harder on myself, than others, and said I needed to find a way to forgive myself, for the accident. He said I had to start loving myself. I have heard those words many times, but am at a loss, at how to begin to do that. He said we're often much nicer to others, than we are to ourselves, and in my case, that's certainly true. He said God, is also more forgiving than I am, which I'm hoping is true. I know I didn't intend to hurt myself, but it was MY poor judgment, and MY action, that ultimately resulted in my injury. In many ways, I feel like a murder. I feel like the person I was, died that day, and I've been grieving for her, ever since. Paralysis has stolen almost every aspect of my old life; a life a loved.

I have lost my freedom to care for myself, my privacy, my dignity, my hopes, my dreams, my career, and the life I had built for myself. In many, many ways I lost myself. I miss the old Christina. I miss living my old life. I have no to blame, for the life paralysis had given me, but myself. How do you forgive someone that has stolen everything you loved, and held dear? How do you forgive someone that has robbed you of your health, and in turn, sentenced you, to a life a suffering? How do you forgive someone, that has robbed you of your potential, and your dreams, for the future, by placing extreme obstacles, and limitations upon you? I'm not sure if I CAN forgive myself.

Talking with Fr. Doug, did help provide me comfort, in that he said I had the right, to refuse extreme measures, like a tracheotomy, colostomy, or vent. Although, deep down, he's just a man, I felt relieved of the heavy burden, of knowing he (as a Catholic priest) recognized, that some situations are TOO much, and that God would understand, not wanting to preserve "life" to ANY and ALL extent necessary. Ever since those first few weeks, in ICU, my worst fear, has been ever having to be hooked up to a vent, again. I have a hard enough time, dealing with being reliant on people, I don't want to ever be reliant on machines again.

Fr. Doug said he thought a lot of my feelings, and dark thoughts are just depression, and suggested I reevaluate my medications. I said, I'd be open to trying. I already have tried a few. I had been taking Effexor, up until last year, and felt like it was no longer working. I asked my doctor, if I could try something different, and I started Pristiq. I've been taking it for at least six months. In the past six months, I've also added Remeron, and Xanax at night (both have been increased in doses a couple of times), to help with my insomnia. That said, I'm as down as ever, and in a very dark place.

I get a little annoyed, when people just write my feelings off as depressed, because I feel the true root of my sadness, stems directly from my paralysis. I'm not saying I'm not depressed, because I clearly am. I'm just saying that, no matter what medication I take, I will ALWAYS have a certain degree of depression. I pointed out, that anti-depressants, are not going to take away the key problems, that are plaguing me: the daily bouts of AD, my physical limitations, bowel program, or my catheter. I suppose, the right medication COULD make dealing with these things more bearable, but on a whole, I honestly can't envision ever being happy, or satisfied with living the way paralysis forces me to live.

After our long talk, Fr. Doug performed the anointing of sick ritual, and we said the "Our Father" together. I hope God was listening, and can offer me some relief, one way, or the other. In the meantime, I'll take Fr. Doug's advice, and talk to my doctor, about possibly trying to change my medications. At this point, I feel I have nothing to lose. I don't want to seem unreasonable, or unwilling to take suggestions. If I didn't want help, I wouldn't bother asking. I just want some peace, and to feel better, for a change. I do wish God would just cure me, or take me. I hate feeling stuck, in constant limbo.

Our conversation, hasn't really changed my mind, about not wanting antibiotics. I feel like, if God truly does want me alive, God certainly has the power to keep me alive, despite that decision. For now, I'm willing to experiment, and see if new meds, can offer any relief. I will also continue to pray, meditate, read, and search, to try and strengthen my faith. I will continue to be open, and honest with my friends, and family, and try to enjoy each day, the best I can. I'm really trying my best. I don't know what more I can do.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Reasons For Suffering? Cruel & Unusual Punishment.

Although I don't have a strong faith in any specific God, I have been reading the bible (King James version), both New and Old Testaments, and do pray, on a daily basis. I'm not angry at God, and I do not blame God, for what happened to me. I believe, if God exists, God gave us free will. My accident happened as a result of my own poor judgment, and my actions. I have an EXTREMELY hard time believing in the notion, that God "planned" this for me, or that God "wants" me to suffer. If God is all knowing, and all loving, surely God would not want THIS life for me.

While I don't blame God, I do wonder why God seemingly intervenes in some people's lives, and not others. It doesn't seem just, that God would "play favorites" and miraculously heal some people, while allowing others to suffer. I struggle with the notion of why God hasn't chosen to alleviate my suffering, by curing me, or taking me away from this life. Surely, if God exists, he knows how awful my quality of life is, and how terrible it is to feel chronically ill, and have to endure humiliating, degrading treatments.

I know God has blessed me with talents, and that I have been able to do good, and help others. My question is, how long am I expected to suffer, for the sake of others? Jesus suffered for our sins, but at least he understood, and knew his purpose. I feel at a loss, as to why I must live this way. I have no proof, or concrete answers as to why I must suffer, or for how long. Jesus knew his purpose, understood his mission, and had the definite belief that he would be resurrected, and rejoin God. I have no explanation, no end in sight, and do not know for certain what awaits me, after death. I do not have a direct communication with God, in terms of God answering my prayers directly, or giving me explanations. I don't have angels attending to me, nor the power to create miracles. I think it's unrealistic, and unfair, to be expected to live up to Jesus's standard, when he had the comforts of knowing, and understanding the purpose, and reasoning behind his own suffering (assuming that he was in fact, the son of God).

It is especially hard, trying to make sense of how unjust life seems. I was a good person, and yet I must suffer. There are evil people, that rape, steal, and murder, that have healthy bodies, and live full lives. I know that we will all supposedly get judged once we die. People that do evil deeds here on earth, could receive all types of varying punishments, in hell, but heaven is heaven. Just as an example, theoretically, my grandma and I will both be going to heaven. She got to live a full life, have a family of her own, travel, and experience life with relatively good health, very late into her life. My life was cut short, at twenty four, and I've been suffering horribly, ever since. Yet, we will both get the same reward. I'm not saying my grandma doesn't deserve to go to heaven, I just don't understand the reasoning behind my suffering having a meaning, or purpose. It's not like there's levels of heaven. Heaven, is heaven. So why is it, that I MUST suffer? It's not like I'm going to get some extra special reward, or go to a better heaven, than everyone else.

My art, and writing may help others, but my overall lifestyle and chronic illness has left me feeling unfilled, unsatisfied, and very much like a prisoner. I feel as though I'm being forced to live a painful life, full of sickness, loss, and limitations, against my will. I do not want a catheter, bowel program, to take dozens of pills, have no privacy, or personal space, to be clothed, washed, and fed like a baby. I'm only alive because our society has the means, and resources to keep me alive. I'm forced into living a very unnatural, unhappy life.

I have no means to fend for myself. I either accept the catheter, bowel program, medications, and help from others, or I die. Every day, my life is being artificially extended (against my will-for the sake of others). Under ANY other circumstance, the things I have to endure, would be considered torture, but society ignores that truth, under the guise of medical necessity. Just because I have no other choice, doesn't mean I should HAVE to live this way, or be forced to. Yet my caregivers, and loved ones expect me to accept the unacceptable, because they don't want to see me die. They don't want to lose me. They feel I can contribute to society. I know I can, but for me, it doesn't seem worth the price I have to pay. Living this low quality of life, of limited options, and chronic illness is not worth it, for me.

A reader of my blogs, sent me this analogy:

"Thinking about your situation, Christina, I recently had the following thought. Suppose a brutal foreign dictatorship were to take a political prisoner and subject him to the EXACT same routine your paralysis imposes upon you. That is, they bind the prisoner up tightly so he can't move from the shoulders down, can't feed himself, can't even scratch an itch.

He has to be carried or hoisted from place to place. As an added 'enhanced interrogation technique,' this political prisoner also has his bowels manually evacuated every other day, being strapped half-naked to a commode chair, sometimes for a couple of hours at a time, afforded no privacy whatsoever. And, for the convenience of the guards, plus just to pile extra humiliation and discomfort on this man, they surgically install a suprapubic catheter.

They keep this political prisoner in these conditions for HALF A DECADE. Furthermore, like many prisoners of conscience the world over, the tormented man is never told when, if ever, he will regain his freedom. Maybe a year from now ... maybe a month from now ... quite possibly never.

Now, there is no human rights organization on this planet that would not be howling at the moon over what this prisoner was being subjected to. Plainly, he is being subjected to soul-numbing, psychologically devastating torture. NO ONE would assert what this political prisoner was being forced to endure wasn't a horrible violation of the man's most basic human rights, and certainly no one would be telling him to just get used to it, or it isn't so bad, or that once he 'adjusts' to this new way of life at some unspecified time in the future, everything will just be peachy.

Indeed, anyone who DID suggest that the condition of this prisoner's detainment weren't really so bad, or that his situation was one that anyone could cheerfully live with in time, if he put his mind do it, would be called crazy."

When I read this, I couldn't help but scream (to myself), "Thank you!" Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for seeing reason. Thank you for noticing the obvious, that NO ONE else in my life wants to readily express, or admit. I think everything about this analogy rings true, and can't understand why more people don't see my situation, in this way, as I do, or whether or not they are just afraid to admit it, for fear of encouraging me, to give up. I don't expect my loved ones to cheer me on, or want to see me hasten my death. I just want to feel understood, and validated, for feeling the way that I do.

I'm constantly frustrated, at having to explain, or justify my reasons, for not wanting to live this way. I do feel I'm being tortured; not necessarily by God, but just by the nature of how my paralysis has forced me to live. I do feel like I'm being punished, for one mistake (again, not necessarily by God, but punishment none the less). I do feel like a prisoner, trapped in my own body. I do feel like the lifestyle that PARALYSIS forces on me is cruel, and inhumane. It is, what it is, and I have no choice but to accept it, or die. That's reality. It's a reality I want people to understand, because I think it desperately needs a solution, a cure. People like me, deserve a cure, or at the very least the right to decide whether or not we want to live with paralysis (and everything that entails- not out of choice, but necessity).

People often bring up the fact, that I used to be more optimistic, in interviews I've done, and in the TV episode of Soul Survivors. Back in 2009, when I filmed Soul Survivors, I still had hope of a possible cure. Since then, my health has deteriorated, and before now, I wasn't having to deal with daily fevers, cold sweats and mysterious chest pressure. I know (based on everything I read) that realistically, a cure for chronic SCI patients, is at least a decade away. I honestly don't think I can live this way for another decade. Six years has been hell on earth.

I haven't decided if I'll ever choose to actively hasten my death, by refusing to accept food/water, but I have decided I no longer want to go to any extraordinary measures to extend my life (beyond what I'm already doing- and feel in and of it's self is excessive- such as having the catheter, taking dozens of pills, and having a bowel program). I have a willing will, that states I don't want any artificial life support, and am in the process of making a DNR (do not resuscitate order- in case of emergency). If I get a urinary tract infection, or respiratory infection, I'm not going to take antibiotics. I will let the illness run it's course. I'm tired of fighting for a life I hate living. My hope is, that I've suffered enough, and that when that time comes, God and my loved ones will understand my decision.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Paralyzed Without Joy

An online friend of mine Laurie, recently asked me if I'd read any blog postings, by a woman named Heather, who writes a blog called "Paralyzed With Joy!" Heather had left a comment, on one of my previous posts. I saw the comment that she sent to me, and have to be honest, in that I wrote her off as a religious fanatic, and never visited her blog (until the other day, when Laurie brought it up). I'm ashamed to admit that, because it sounds presumptions and rude of me, and that's not usually how I am. It's wrong of me to judge her for saying that she's "joyful," just like I feel it's wrong for people to judge me, and expect me to be happy. Her comment just rubbed me the wrong way, because I disagree with the notion that "God did this to me." I take full responsibility for my mistake. Perhaps, it's because she was injured, through someone else, slamming into her car, breaking her neck. She wasn't at fault, and I'm guessing finds comfort, in the line of thinking that it all happened as part of "God's plan." I stupidly dove into a shallow pool. My foolish mistake cost me my health, and the life I loved. Although, I didn't intentionally dive, to harm myself, and there were many variables in play, it's my actions that ultimately caused my injury. God didn't push me into the pool, nor do I believe (if such a being exists) he/she/it/they planned this life for me. I don't believe in destiny, or predetermined futures.

I know she didn't intend to offend me, no one ever does, when dishing out religious counseling, or offering up scripture. It's just hard, for me, as a skeptic, and often cynic, to accept. While I am grateful for any feedback I get, it is hard for me to accept, when it's coming from a religious perspective. She's not the first to offer up words of "divine wisdom," nor will she be the last. Though appreciated, I take every word of advice with a grain of salt, because no one but me, has to live in my shoes, and knows my suffering, better than me. As far as religion goes, no one can offer up proof, that their beliefs are truth, you either believe it, or you don't. Personally, I have a hard time believing in a God that would WANT THIS life for me.

Laurie and I met through Facebook. She has MS, and got to know me, by reading my blogs. One day, she decided to write to via Facebook, and shared some of her story with me. Although there is a generation gap between us, we share a lot of interests in common. She was also a teacher. We've been writing emails back and forth for some time now, discussing all sorts of things, like languages, movies, pets, religion, family, friends, and our personal struggles, dealing with our disabilities and adapting to life with paralysis. Right now Laurie still has much more functional movement than me, but is continuingly having to adapt to her degenerative disease. I often wonder if it would've made it any easier on me, if I'd gradually lost my abilities, versus losing everything over night. Either way, paralysis sucks, and we both struggle to find answers for "Why us?" and searching for reasons to keep moving forward, despite it all. It helps having a kindred spirit, to talk to, even if you're each having a rough day. Although it makes me sad to know other people are effected by paralysis, it helps having others to turn to, that know what it's like to need help, and having lost independence. It especially helps having someone to talk to that is like minded, and shares a similar perspective, and attitude, towards THIS lifestyle.

Laurie is like me, in that she is disatified with compromise, and hates the ever growing number of limitations that paralysis has forced upon her. We are both very unhappy with the indignities of paralysis, and would most certainly never describe living with such lack of freedom, and forced dependence as "joyful." The mere name of Heather's blog irritates me. How anyone could possibly be "paralyzed with joy" is beyond me. I can't help but think she's insane, for saying things like "On a scale of one to ten (ten being the most satisfied with life) she is a ten" or six years post spinal cord injury, she's "the happiest she's ever been." On one hand, I want to slap myself, for being so critical, and judgmental. Clearly, I don't know anything about this woman, besides the fact that she is paralyzed, and apparently happy. Who am I to say she should, or shouldn't be happy, just because I have such a hard time coping with the changes in my own life, and hate every aspect of being paralyzed? On the other hand, a part of me is even jealous, that someone in a similar condition to me, could be so happy, when I'm so miserable. I know the secret to her happiness, and understand how it gives her such a rosy perspective on life. The source of her happiness, is something I wish I had, but can't force upon myself, and that is blind faith. I've seen it many, times; people like her, and Joni Erickson Tada, that despite their paralysis, they're able to be happy, and draw strength from God (specifically Jesus, in both of these cases).

I struggle with having faith in any God, let alone any one specific God. Although my accident has stirred up fears about God, and an afterlife, it hasn't helped me make any breakthroughs, or have any great epiphanies. On the contrary, it has put more, and more doubt, in my mind about God, and his/her/it/their supposed interest and/or love for me. As for being joyfully paralyzed, I see that as being a product of her convictions to God, not how extraordinary her life is. Let's face it, no matter how you dice it, paralysis sucks. It is a struggle, living with paralysis every day. I don't believe for a minute that any sane individual would choose to be paralyzed, over being healthy. Paralysis might have opened her eyes, and fostered in her a new appreciation for life, or feelings of being given a "second chance", after coming so close to death, but I guarantee she'd prefer being able to care for herself, over the life she has now. It is her belief in God, that gives her the ability to see purpose and meaning, in her suffering, and that gives her joy, despite being paralyzed.

I wish I could say the same for myself, but I can't. My belief in God is shaky, at best. I tend to lean towards Eastern philosophy, and feel turned off by Christianity. Some of my resistance to Christianity is my own, logical analytical nature, and my finding it hard to believe in a God, that would be as petty, jealous, or harsh, as the God of the Old Testament, and my historical knowledge of how Christianity formed, and how man has corrupted, and influenced all organized religions, in general. Growing up Catholic, the church, and it's rituals always seemed suffocating to me. The mere notion that Jesus is the ONLY path to "salvation" has always pushed me away. I just can't believe in a God that would eternally damn good people, just because they worshiped him/her/it/they by a different name. Logically, I don't even understand the huge rift, between Muslims, Christians, and Jews, given the fact that all worship the same God, and believe in the same prophets. Despite their common roots, and belief systems, people use "God's" name to promote their own selfish, man made agendas, and divide humanity. The more I have learned over time, the less I have come to believe, except for one unifying moral, to love oneself and my fellow man. It's the one idea that makes sense, and stands up to the test of time, throughout all religions, and faiths.

I think of having a strong faith in God, can be as equally powerful as ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. Blind faith is like that, in many ways. No matter how outlandish, or unscientific something is, people with faith believe. Faith is blind, and unquestioning. It also lets people be "blind" to the realities of life, and helps paint a silver lining on everything. At times, that blind aspect of faith can be bad, because it can be used as weapon, to make people do, and say things that hurt others, in the name of "God", or accept situations, no matter how horrible they are. I don't think God (if he/she/it/they exists) would've bothered giving us logic, and reason, if he/she/it/they, didn't want us to sometimes use those abilities to evaluate situations for what they are, and think critically, for ourselves. Likewise, if God gave us freewill, then I believe he/she/it/they is solely an observer, of our lives, and doesn't often intervene (if not, at all). I don't think God "gives" us a bad, or good lot in life. I think we get what we make of it. However, that also means I don't buy into the BS that, "God only gives us what we can handle" and "everything happens for a reason." I think sometimes bad things just happen, and they most certainly are too much for any one person to handle. I many respects, I hate myself, for making the stupid mistake, that paralyzed me. On the other hand, I love myself, enough to feel like living with paralysis, is cruel, and unusual punishment. In my case, my punishment VASTLY outweighs, my mistakes, and I don't think it's wrong for me to be upset about, or not want to have to live the way paralysis has forced me to. If God is watching, he/she/it/they knows how hard my life is, and how much I'm suffering, and I don't think it's fair, or just, for anyone else to judge, either way.

It pisses me off, when people down play their paralysis, because I feel like it's crucial for the average person to understand how hard it is, to live this way. I mean, if life's so grand, why bother finding a cure? I believe the key to gaining support for research, is by touching people's minds and hearts, on a personal level, by putting faces, names, and stories, to the word "paralysis." I believe that every person I touch, by sharing my story, and sharing my pain, is one more person that's aware of possibility that his/her life could change; one more person who cares about finding a cure; and one more person that can better appreciate the health, and abilities he/she still has. Yes, maybe if I had a stronger faith in God, this would all be a bit easier to handle, but that wouldn't diminish the fact that I'm dependent on others, sick and in pain. I don't want people to forget, or overlook the realities of living with paralysis. It's not ok, having to have a bowel program, a catheter, needing to be fed, bathed, and clothed. God, or no God, those are REAL, tangible things, that I'm FORCED to face, every day. Paralysis doesn't give me an option, and I don't get a break. I have to deal with all of that stuff, plus all that I lost, plus the sickness, every second, of every day. Does that mean I never have a joyful moment, or have anything I'm grateful for, of course not. However, reality is that living with paralysis sucks, and I'd give ANYTHING (besides my soul- ironic, I know) to just be healthy again.

I'm skeptical of anyone who says they're "happy" with living with paralysis. Laurie is Jewish, and like I said, I was raised Catholic. Neither of us is very "religious", nor do we blame God for our paralysis. It would be very easy, to put the blame on God, since after all, if such a being exists, and created the universe, space, and time, he/she/it/they could certainly fix something as simple some faulty nerve connections. We both take a more logical, fact based approach to life, and chalk our situations up to bad luck, not some divine plan. Rationally, it's hard to accept that anyone would be thankful, to be paralyzed. It seems against human nature, to WANT, or prefer to be dependent on others, and have a constant invasion of privacy, and personal space. The fact of the matter is, paralysis strips people of freedom, and forces a tremendous amount of change into one's life.

Most people would not want to live this way, by choice. It's not to say, that I don't believe people can find things to make them happy, and give them purpose, despite paralysis. I believe each individual's case is unique, and factors like religious beliefs, level of education, career, financial status, personality, support network, and level of independence before paralysis, play a HUGE role, in how "happy" a person can be, living with paralysis. You can't miss, what you never had, and some people lose a tremendous amount more than others. Suffering should be evaluated on a case, by case basis. Just because one person can find "joy" living with paralysis, that doesn't mean everyone can. I think each individual has the capability, and right, to asses their own level of suffering, versus amount of enjoyment. I don't think everyone can find balance, or the extreme opposite, happiness.

Naturally, Heather is entitled to her line of thinking, and in many respects is lucky, to be able view life, in the manner she does. I think that everyone has their own desires, standards, and threshold for what they can tolerate, and that living with paralysis should not be forced upon people, without escape, in the manner that it is. Living this way, for me, and others like me (Laurie for example) find living with paralysis closer to Hell, than to Heaven. I don't think that makes us weak, or wrong, just as it doesn't necessarily mean extraordinary people like Heather, Christopher Reeve, Joni Erickson Tada, and Dr. Dan Gottlieb, as being "better," or stronger, it just means we're all unique. Life is not like a cookie cutting machine, where one size fits all can apply. I think each person has the right to determine what he/she considers to be quality.

I realize that not everyone agrees with that philosophy, but personally, I feel like in certain situations it is justified, not wanting to live (aka- prolong suffering). For example, I don't want to ever live dependent on a vent. I have been on a vent before, and would prefer death, over ever having to go on one again. I realize that there are people out there that live dependent on vents, that feel happy, and fulfilled. Does that make them superior people? I think it just makes them different. I think everyone should have (and do, to a certain extent- through advanced directives and living wills) the right to determine what they consider to be quality. After all, it's very easy to hand out advice, when you're not the one having to live through it. Some people would disagree, and say that people should go to any lengths possible to extend life, like people hooked up to machines, despite being in a vegetative state (such as the Teri Shiavo case) . I realize this is a hot button issue, that people feel strongly about. I'm merely stating my own personal opinion, given my life experiences.

I personally feel as though I'm at a point of living with paralysis (C4/C5 complete injury), where I feel as though living, is only prolonging my own suffering. I battle myself every day, to keep pushing forward. The thing is, I feel as though my life is being sustained by unnatural means. If I truly left my life "in God's hands", I'd be dead a long time ago, because I have no ability to fend for myself. I'm kept alive by people, medication, and awful treatments (suprapubic catheter & bowel regime). I'm only alive because our society has the means necessary to provide me with all the services and things I need. However, there comes a point (right now, in my case) where one must evaulate if the ends justifies the means. I definitely can not say that I'm "paralyzed with joy." I feel more like a prisoner, than anything, and want nothing more than my healthy body back. I hate being dependent on others, and being chronically sick. I'm glad for people like Heather, in that I don't take pleasure in hearing about other's suffering. It's nice for her, that she is happy, but I can't imagine ever finding that level of enjoyment, or contentment, with having to live with so much pain, and compromise.

"Paralyzed With Joy!" - http://paralyzedwithjoy.blogspot.com/



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Shitty Day

Today has been a very shitty day, in every sense of the word. I hate to resort to vulgarities, but I feel as though it is the only word that can appropriately express the level of exhaustion and anger that I currently feel. I've been struggling more than ever to keep my sanity, and keep pushing forward, and today is a classic example, of the overwhelming tragedy and frustration that paralysis has thrust into my life. Despite my best efforts, I'm forever left feeling like a prisoner within my own flesh, and wanting anything to escape. I feel the need to share today's events, so far, to highlight the ugliness of paralysis, and shine a light on many reasons why living with paralysis has been, and continues to be so challenging for me. I'd challenge anyone to live through a few days like today, and still be able to be joyful and find motivation for wanting to keep living, paralyzed.

Today started like many mornings have, since my accident; sleepless and in pain. I spent the better part of last night uncomfortable, with cold sweats, chills, and mystery chest pressure, keeping me awake. I lie in bed trying to find comfort in the only position that doesn't hurt my shoulders (on my back- which is never how I used to sleep), and toss and turn my head, from left, to right, and back again. All the while, my mind is racing at top speed- apparently, the only speed I have- and I'm trying my best to ignore my discomfort. It's amazing how uncomfortable I can be, despite that fact that I can't actually feel most of my body. The little I can feel is full of annoyances, and the littlest of movements can trigger a leg spasm, move my hair out of place, create an itch I can't scratch, tense up my arm, or any number of stupid little things, that I can try to ignore, or call someone for help. I end up ignoring about half of my impulses, out of decency and consideration for my family/aides. Either way, most every night is a restless night, full of inner turmoil and despair. I can't help but beat myself up, over my accident and cling to the life I had. All of my memories bring with them a certain amount of grief, and I have yet to find a way to let go of what I lost (in both potential for the future and in reality). I spend most my nights trying to distract myself from negative thoughts, and find enough peace to fall asleep. Unfortunately, even sleep is not an escape, as many nights are filled with bad dreams, that make waking up seem somewhat better. I pray and pray, and ask God for a cure, to take me, and spare me the suffering, or at the very least, give me some measure of understanding, as to why my life has to be so difficult. In that respect, last night was the same as every other night since my accident; no answers and little sleep. Once I finally did manage to fall asleep, it was nearly 9am and my nurse was already on her way.

My nurse arrived around nine thirty, and so began my bowel program, most certainly my most hated aspect of life with paralysis. Bleary eyed, sick to my stomach, and depressed to be starting off my day in such a horribly violating way, I say nothing as my mom and nurse begin to strip off my adult diaper (wonderfully sexy garment) and roll me on to the sling. Next, it's time to get pumped up into the hoyer lift, and take the adrenaline filled ride, across the room to my most hated piece of furniture, my commode. It's impossible to explain to fear and mix of sensations that go through my mind, as my body is suspended in mid air, with no means of stopping myself from falling, or way to brace myself for impact. The hoyer lift makes me feel like I'm floating through the air (not in a good way), and unless you are paralyzed, it's hard to imagine how terrifying a small "ride" can seem. It is one small aspect of life that I've learned to tolerate, and although it makes me on edge, once I'm safely strapped into my commode, or landed in my wheelchair, it's not a big deal, and something that makes caring for me easier on my family/aides. As scary as it can be sometimes, it beats getting picked up and carried, which is usually more painful, and more dangerous, for everyone involved. Once I got strapped into the commode, the nurse wheeled me into the bathroom to begin the bowel regime. It's an awful necessity, that has never gotten any easier to deal with.

The only comparison I can think of, to accurately describe my feelings toward bowel program is rape. Although I realize that is a very strong word, with very negative connotations, hear me out. Before my accident, I was a very self conscious person (still am) and had many issues regarding the bathroom (still do). I was very private and couldn't stand the thought of using public restrooms, outside of my home, and a very few select friends' home to EVER "go number two." I can count on one hand the number of times that in almost TWENTY FIVE YEARS of my life on my feet that my IBS forced me into the shame and embarrassment of violating my own code of bathroom conduct. I find everything about poop, and feces related actions (aka-passing gas) humiliating, unladylike, and disgusting. If I had a choice, I'd negate the whole process all together, and have said many times, to many doctors, that I'd gladly trade in food, for a liquid diet, if it meant I could not have to "go" again. Obviously, that is not and option; I must eat and therefore poo. Having a spinal cord injury has made my worst fears a reality. It is truly Hell on Earth. Not only am I forced into revealing ever flaw, and every inch of my naked body, I'm forced into being violated on a near daily basis. Incontinence, and the anxiety over accidents, practically rule my life. I feel shame and embarrassment having to have other adult human beings not only acutely aware of my bodily functions, but up close and personal, in my face, and in my space, whether I want them there or not. I'm forced into accepting another human being, put their finger up my rear end, multiple times, every other morning, to stimulate my body into doing a process, it should be able to do naturally, and on my own. Personal space and privacy are luxuries that do not exist in my life. This morning, like so many other mornings, I had to make a "choice" to accept help, and accept having a bowel regime, despite my embarrassment, loathing, and revulsion to the process, because my only other alternatives are to become impacted, septic, and die, or have a colostomy bag strapped to my side (a bag full of the single most hated and embarrassing thing possible, in my mind). Do you really consider that a choice? I'm forced into accepting the bizarre, unnatural and repulsive, because the only choice, is to become sicker and/or possibly die. My paralysis shoves bowel program down my throat, and silences my voice, because there is no viable alternative. My body no longer answers to me, therefore I'm forced into answering to other people. Right now there is no cure. There's life; paralyzed. Take it, or leave it. That is my only real choice.

My list for reasons to want to die vastly outweighs my reasons for staying. The thing that keeps me here is fear. I don't have a strong faith in God (like many people have). Instead, I have a mountain of fear and doubt. I was raised Catholic, and although I don't believe in much of the religion, I do hope that there is a God. Catholicism is not a very flexible, open-minded religion, in my experience. I attended Catholic school for the first ten years of my schooling, and although I don't buy into most of the rituals and the emphasis the Catholic church puts on going to church and the Pope, the lessons I learned as a child, still have a hold on me. I wish that I had a strong faith in God, any God, because I have seen what peace of mind and strength that faith has given to other people. One of the reasons that turned me off to my childhood belief in God, was the rigidness of the religion I grew up. I consider myself to be a very open minded, liberal person, and those aspects of my personality make it extremely hard for me to believe in the triumphalist type belief system of most organized religions. I've read a lot about (and watched documentaries) about various religions. I enjoy history. I enjoy philosophy and the history of how religions were formed, and came to be. I've read a lot of the Old & New Testament of the Bible throughout my life. It seems absurd to me that God, an omniscient, omnipotent being, that has the capacity to create our entire universe, would be hung over petty rituals and/or the name by which we call him/her/it/them. I can't believe that if there is a God, that he/she/it/them would punish damn someone to an eternity of suffering, despite that person being kind, and good, because that person wasn't born into the right culture, time, or place, or didn't worship him/her/it/them by the right name. I can't stand that people are willing to hurt other people in God's name. It's horribly asinine to think that such a powerful, all knowing being, would want their/his/hers/its creation to waste its energy and time on hurting one another. If most people would be open minded enough to learn about other religions and consider each other, as equal, human beings, it would be obvious, that there are basic messages that transcend all faiths; to love one another.

Before my accident I probably would've classified myself as an Atheist. Now I guess I'm Agnostic. I'm not really sold on any particular God(s) or religion, but I do want to believe in something. Catholicism is very clearly opposed to suicide. Catholicism very clearly states that the only path to heaven is Jesus. I have a VERY hard time accepting both of those "truths." I have a lot of friends of varying faiths, that are good people, that contribute to society in positive ways and are kind to their fellow man. I can't bring myself to worship a God that would condemn my loved ones and friends to a firey abyss, just because they don't call him Jesus. If there is an afterlife I have to believe it's open to all good human beings and that if there is any judgment, that it's fair and just. I'll never be sold on the thought that God would care about insignificant things like clothes or what type of food we eat. My Catholic upbringing causes me to have a lot of fear and anxiety over what will happen to my soul, if I have one. I want to believe that God is not as rigid, jealous and inflexible, as Christianity, Judaism or Islam would have us believe. People say God only gives us what we can handle, but I feel like my life is proof that that isn't true. I can't handle the curve ball that life (or God) has given me. There are so many paradoxes, that keep me always doubting and questioning. I mean, if God loves me, how can he/she/it/them let me suffer? If God has a plan for us, then how can we also have freewill? I'm a logical, realistic person, that makes it very hard for me to believe. I know having faith means blindly believing, but it's not something I can force. On the other hand, the teachings that I was brought up with, very clearly state that I will go to Hell if I give up on life. The thing is, I feel like my situation is not average and I don't know whether God would consider not accepting help, as suicide. I'm not an able bodied person, putting a gun to my head, because my marriage failed, or I lost money in the stock market. My life is sustained by very unconventional means. I'm not healthy. I'm suffering.

It is my doubt and confusion over my faith in God and refusing help that keeps me here. Although I do feel sorry for family, in that I know they would be sad if I died, I feel as though I have already given them 5 1/2 years extra time with me, and I feel that my suffering has been sufficient enough to feel satisfied that I've tried my best, and given them my best effort. I think it would be selfish of them, and cruel to expect any more from me, and hope that despite their grief, that they would understand my death would alleviate my suffering. Besides, if there truly is an afterlife they can draw strength from knowing we'll be reunited. What stops me from giving into my wish to die, is my uncertainty over what will happen to my soul. It's horrible having anxiety over a soul I'm not even convinced I have. All I have is doubt. I'd like to believe that if God does exist, he/she/it/they knows my heart better than anyone, and knows how much I've suffered and how sorry I feel for wanting to give up. I'm don't think refusing help is the same as a healthy person committing suicide. Like I've said in a previous response, if I technically "left my life in God's hands" I'd be dead. I can't care for myself. I'm only here because the resources exist to keep me here. The problem is, I'm not happy. I don't consider this a quality life. I know I have talents. I'm aware I'm gifted in writing and art. The problem is, it's not enough. While I might have the ability to still do certain things, they're not enough to fulfill me. It makes me frustrated, confused and angry that everyone (including God-evidently) would be fine and respect the fact that I don't want to live dependent on machines. I can refuse a vent and get into heaven, but I if I refuse my bowel program, I'm committing suicide and will be damned to hell. Quality of life means more to me than quantity. Most people don't want to admit, or can't understand how awful my life is. No one would want my life for themselves. It seems very harsh to me that I'm forced to endure so much pain and that God would punish me, for not wanting to suffer. It takes A LOT to keep me alive; living a life I hate. The rules of suicide and what God would or wouldn't consider suicide, seem very unfair, confusing and ambiguous. It's fear and doubt that keep me here.

It's fear that keeps me pushing forward, on days like today, when I'm worn down and feeling like I'm forced into accepting horrible conditions. This morning during bowel program, I felt horrible. I was clammy, with cold sweat, and shivering with cold (phantom feelings of cold, in limbs I can no longer feel, on the outside). I wanted to disappear and run away, but I couldn't. Bowel program is the only option available (that I'm even unwillingly up to considering), to give me any sort of regularity and combat against incontinence. It is not natural. There is no privacy. Embarrassment doesn't matter. This morning I had the added discomfort of nausea, which is the only thing equally horrible to bowel program. There I sat, half nude, strapped to a chair, over a toilet, bent with nausea, no means to stop it, or way to clean up, no where to hide, no relief, and all the while I'm enduring my nurse forcing my body to expel what I no longer can. In that moment of nausea I wanted to die. I prayed to God to take me. I couldn't imagine my life any worse. Doubled over with nausea, and choking back tears, I felt I needed to get back into bed, and hoped that lying down would offer some relief. While having bowel program in bed disgusts me way more than doing it over a toilet, it's something I was forced to accept, every night, for the first year and a half, after my injury. Although I hated the thought of having to do it, anything that might take the nausea away, in that moment, was worth doing. I asked my nurse to call my mom in for help, and they rolled me back into the room, and hastily began getting me ready for the hoyer ride back to bed. Just as they started to lift me up, and I felt as though I would vomit, my body decides to defecate, all over my bedroom floor. My mom, and nurse, highly aware of how much this would upset me, rushed around and try to contain the mess, while at the same time get me safely back into my bed. By this point, I'm numb. This is the point where the mind starts to short circuit, because it just can't handle any more trauma. As the nausea subsided, I landed in my bed, and my nurse began to tend to me, while I watched my mother scrub my beige carpet, for the next hour, filled with shoulder pain. What could I do but just lay there and accept it? It's mornings like today that make me want to scream in rage, in the unjustness of it, and makes finding a silver lining to life, near impossible. Who would want this type of life for themselves? The only motivating force in my life to keep going, is often the fact that I feel like I have no other choice. I have to take it, or leave it for what it is, no matter how unhappy I am, or how much I hate the "choices."

It's days like today that make me question God's existence and what he/she/it/they think about my life, and make me question why I should have to continue living. It seems so cruel to me, that society and my religion (the belief system that I was raised with) expect me to endure living with paralysis. I feel like a loving God would understand my suffering and understand my need to escape. Surely, my Earthly parents love me as much as God does, and yet I know if they had it within their power, they'd have healed me right away. I can't even ask them to help me end my suffering, because society rather keep me living, no matter the price I have to pay. It infuriates me that our society (based solely on our laws) values the "life" of 3-5 day old cells (blastocysts) enough to not want to use them for research that could potentially alleviate my suffering, and that of millions of LIVING people, just like me. Our laws dictate that they rather see those cells be thrown away, rather than help me. That's how little my suffering matters, how easy it is to look away. We treat our pets with more respect, compassion and dignity, than we do people like me (people with extreme disability and chronic, incurable illness). I don't get the option to die peacefully. I have to suffer. I feel as though it is irrational and hypocritical to ask me, to expect me to, to demand I live this way. How can we put such a high value on something that has no chance at ever living (outside a womb), and turn a deaf ear to people that live and suffer, every day? How is it that we are compassionate enough to not want to see an animal suffer (when we know there is no cure and prolonged suffering is inevitable), but not enough to allow me to die in peace, with dignity and respect? Instead, I'm asked to live an impossibly difficult life, that no one would ever choose for themselves. Why can't I have the same rights that my dog and cat have? I can't help but feel outraged, and desperately sad, at how trapped I am. I feel like I'm stuck with choices I don't want to choose, and no way out. So here I sit, forced to somehow keep moving forward, while keeping my sanity. It's a predicament I wouldn't wish on my worst of enemies.

Why all the hate?

I'm getting tired of seeing people post stuff about the proposed mosque that is planned to be built near ground zero. I've seen almost nothing but negative criticism and felt I wanted to add my two cents.

Not all Muslims are terrorists. Yes, it is a fact that radical Muslims were responsible for 9/11. However, radical Muslims do not represent all Muslims. Muslims, Jews and Christians all share the teachings of the Old Testament and preach the same core beliefs. There are bad people in every group. Human beings are flawed, and prone to violence regardless of religious ideology. Religion is a powerful motivator and has been the scape goat of horrible atrocities throughout history. The Romans persecuted the Christians, Egyptians persecuted the Israelites, Christians persecuted the Jews, Christians fight Christians (Catholics & Protestants), it goes on and on. I find it shocking how many people have become biased towards Muslims since 9/11. I judged people on an individual basis before 9/11, and continue to do the same.

My Christian friends (I was raised Catholic. I'm not atheist, just currently undecided) have been the most opposed and vocal to building the mosque. Yet, no one seems to remember (or wants to point out) how many people have been killed in the name of Christianity. Do the Crusades, the explorers or the Conquistadors ring a bell? Not to mention, most of the Nazis were Christian. They killed a lot more than 3,000 people, so does that mean we should stop building churches, so as not to offend anyone?  Is it disrespectful to Native Americans or Holocaust survivors to build churches in their neighborhoods? Lots of contemporary murders are Christian, but you don't hear people calling Christians terrorists or treating them suspiciously. I really don't understand the double standard. The whole triumphalist attitude of organized religions is what pisses me off and makes it hard for me to believe in any one faith. I don't think I'll ever buy into the belief that good people will suffer eternal damnation, just because they called God by the wrong name. Every religious person thinks their belief is the right one, but that's no reason to stop others from practicing their faith. Our country was founded on religious freedom. The mosque is set to be built on private property, so the government should not have the constitutional right to oppose it. 

I think it's horrible that "Muslim" has come to mean "terrorist" to so many people. Calling all Muslims terrorists is unfair and no different than being anti-Semitic; bigotry is bigotry no matter how you slice it. It is unfair to lump good Muslim people in with extremists and radical ideology. Prejudice is ignorance, bottom line. The facts are: 1-all religions can be (and have been) perverted & miss used, 2-government & religion are separate, 3-NYC is one of the most diverse places in the world & all citizens should be free to worship without discrimination, 4-the people responsible for taking those planes down died that day, it's not right to punish an entire religious community for their crimes. The truth of the matter is, dozens of upstanding Muslim American citizens were also killed in the 9/11 attacks. Why has everyone forgotten them? The Muslim citizens in those buildings were innocent people, working and contributing to our society; they were not terrorists. The men that hijacked those planes were terrorists. Al-Qaeda are extremists and they have killed more Muslims, than any other religious group*. 

I just wish people could be more objective in their opinions and examine their own beliefs before judging others. Give people a chance to be good, instead of assuming they're evil.  Didn't someone say something like, "He who is without sin can cast the first stone"? 

Related articles:

1.http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sumbul-alikaramali/ground-zero-and-harry-rei_b_685282.html

2.http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/collateral-damage-630920.html

Faith, or lack there of...

Although I grew up in a Catholic household and attended Catholic school for ten years, I never really bought into the belief system. I guess you could say that I've been an analytical person my whole life, and tend to question things that don't seem logical to me. It's very hard for me to trust in anything that isn't supported with evidence or cold hard facts. I guess most people just follow through believing and/or practicing what ever religion their parents are, or the religious beliefs of their country. On a whole, the adults in my life are not overly religious, so that might have influenced me to doubt or question my religion lessons in school, and later in life. Even as a small child, I had a difficult time believing in the stories of the Bible and magical characters like the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. Other than telling my Kindergarten class that Santa Claus didn't exist, I tried to play along and not to ruin it for my friends and siblings.

I tend to enjoy playing devil's advocate and like to question or pick apart subjects and have mini debate sessions with my friends. It can be a bad habit at times, because it makes it near impossible for me to enjoy movies, television or books at face value, without over analyzing every detail. It impacts my social life at times, in the sense that I often read into situations more than necessary and end up creating undue stress or anxiety for myself. Generally speaking, I'd say the ability to analyze facts and assess social situations are both good qualities. My problem is that in the past, I tended to only apply my analytical skills to my studies, career and planning, while acting spontaneously and carefree in other aspects of my life. Sometimes, when I look back on my life I wish I could've been more consistent and took the time to think through all the choices I made. I always joke that I'm book smart and life dumb. Although my accident has given me a new perspective on life and opened my eyes to so many things; the one thing that has always remained the same is my lack of faith in a higher power.

Logically, I have an extremely hard time believing in any concept of God. I rely heavily on science and enjoy learning about how things work and why things do the things they do. I love learning the history of things and understanding how and why things are the way they are. In general, I like having answers and proof to back them up. I would imagine most people feel the same way. It is comforting when someone is able to offer you a reason or a solution to your questions. On the contrary, it's frustrating and stressful when no one can give you a straight answer or fix a problem you might have. My spinal cord injury is a perfect example of a puzzle without a solution. Not knowing how to fix my spine is infuriating. The fact that so much time and energy is spent on finding answers to other questions, when we (humanity) still haven't solved the problems of our own bodies seems absurd to me, but that is a whole other topic. What baffles me, is how people can have faith in something they have no proof of, or logical reasons for why or how it exists. In fact, I'd argue there is equal evidence, if not more, that should discourage people from having faith, yet people continue to believe. I'm fascinated by faith and often envy those that have it. I want to know what motivates people to have such one sided relationships and what influences them to believe.

Prior to my accident, I'd probably consider myself an Atheist. A lot of people confuse atheists with Devil worshipers, although they are very different. At the time of my accident I was at an all time low in terms of having faith in any deity, either good or bad. My childhood was filled with obstacles that ultimately turned me further and further away from believing in God. My parent's divorce and the death of my little sister (among other things) were enough to disprove the existence of a loving God. As I got older and learned more about the origins of religions (the reasoning and cultural history behind belief systems), I became less mystified and more aware of man's role in the creation of rituals and rules. Even now, it turns me off when I think about the corruption and bloodshed that has occurred and still occurs in the name of God.

The night of my accident I believed I was going to die and it terrified me. When I was face down in the water, unable to move and could barely see because of the darkness, I accepted the fact that my life was about to end. That night was the first of several nights in which I almost died (due to high fevers). It was during those first few weeks that I first felt the terror of not knowing what would happen if I died. Before my accident I would have said, "You die and that's it. Heaven and Hell are just fairy tales men made up to teach morality." Words are easy to say when you have no experience to back them up. Once I actually experienced coming so close to death, it's as if a switch turned on inside. The tiny flicker of doubt of "what if" has pushed me to find answers. When I do die, I don't want to find out I was wrong. Some might call it "guilt" or "fear," but regardless of my motives, I have felt the need to work on, or develop some sort of faith in God.

Now, I guess I'd be classified Agnostic. I've come to believe in some sort of higher being, but I'm not sold on any one religion, or name for God. Here again, logic steps in and makes me think that if there is a God, it created all of us and so why should it care what name we call it by? My religious friends all have arguments as to why it has to be their God, but so far I'm just convinced I have to be a good person and love my fellow man. When I describe a person as "religious," I mean someone who believes in a specific God/Gods and lives their life according to the specific rules of said God/Gods. I don't think someone has to necessarily be church going or radical to be religious.

On one hand, I envy my religious friends, because their religion gives them peace of mind and security in knowing that there is a certain purpose or plan for their life. On the other hand, I feel suffocated by the thought of having to buy into one group's set of beliefs. I don't like the thought of only a select group of people (worshipers) reaping the benefits of God, while the rest of humanity is doomed. I don't know that I'll ever be able to understand that mind set. Why should children, ignorant people or people that lived before a specific religion existed be punished for a choice they were never given? I'm trying to keep an open mind, but I can't even begin to trust in a God that would punish 99.9% of the beings it created. Why would God create us only to pit us up against one another? Who is to say which group is right? Even religions that are similar can't get along. I mean Jews, Christians and Muslims all worship the same God of the Old Testament and yet, still have been willing to kill one another over technicalities. The thinking of most modern organized religions keeps me from getting involved because it often tends to be black or white, with little room for thought or questions. Why did God bother to give me a brain if I'm only meant to follow blindly like a robot? Why give freewill if everything is already planned? So many people tell me that my accident is part of "God's plan." Doesn't that imply that I was forced to break my neck; that I never had a choice?These are the types of questions that make it hard for me to have faith.

I'm taking the time to read/learn about all different religions in my search for answers, as well as my desire to understand why people think the way they do. I'm interested in knowing what motivates people to believe. I'm especially interested in knowing how/why people that have faced horribletragedy or overcome tremendous obstacles have faith and if/how it impacts their ability to cope. I think having a stronger faith would give me more mental strength to keep moving forward. I'm met with the paradox of wanting to build faith, but not having much faith as a foundation to build from. I find it funny that I ask God to help strengthen my faith. It's as if I'm asking God to help me believe in him/her, just in case he/she actually exists. How does faith get stronger when you never receive any answers or proof to justify your questions? It's a riddle I find very difficult to deal with.

Of all the religious people in my life, I'm curious to know what factors influenced them in deciding which religion to believe: What factors make them believe in it?; How or why they think their religion is right and if they believe other religions are wrong?; What benefits do they feel they get from having faith?; Do they feel their questions are ever answered, if so how?; What proof, if any, do they feel they've seen that has validated their belief system?; What do they think about death/dying?