(13) self-centered sacrificial soul [june renew]

Sometimes I feel like we’ve descended into Hell. Or, more accurately, that Hell has risen from the depths and we’re living with it here on Earth. I expressed this to my father and he told me it wasn’t true. “God wouldn’t allow children born into Hell,” he told me. Instead, he said we’re in Purgatory. We’re doing a lot of waiting to atone for our past sins. I admire the optimism, because my pessimistic side tells me things are about to get a lot worse before they get better.

I do believe we create our own realities. What we feel and what we hope for can actually be set into our timelines, as long as the intentions are good and sincere. In essence, we will end up with what we deserve. I’ve mentioned this before, but while I do feel truth and righteousness will win out, I have a lot of trouble feeling it for myself. I sometimes wonder if I’m the one whose happiness has to be sacrificed in order for the world to prevail. That sounds terribly arrogant and solipsistic, and I’m really not trying to come off that way. I guess I’m just starting to settle into my station in life. Me flying solo for the rest of my life feels like an actual possibility at this point, so I may as well see what kind of good for others can come out of it.

But I have to be cautious if this is the way I want to go. Because if I do see myself as some sort of sacrificial lamb for the world, I won’t get credit for it. I feel that should the world change because of me (this should be read with a severe eye roll), no one will know why. They’ll just know that things are different. But I’ll know. And I won’t have anyone to talk about it with. But that shouldn’t worry you. It’ll be a cross I have to bear. And believe me, all this religious imagery isn’t lost on me. It worries me too. But these are feelings that I grapple with the more I examine my current lot in life.

A lot of this feels rooted in my desire to want to feel sorry for myself. It sometimes feels good to wallow in your own pain. This is something my mother made clear to me on one of my darker days, but said it’s only up to me to bring myself out of it. Maybe I have to sacrifice this feeling of wanting to wallow in order to get what I want. After all, the world’s going to keep turning no matter what choice I make. So why not try for better ones? I’m not resigned to a life that’s not wholly satisfying, am I?

No. There’s no way. Because that actually would be Hell. At least we can escape Purgatory.

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