Off-the-Wall—A Street Survival Journal: The Seed of Equivalent Or Greater Benefit in Adversity

It’s been a stretch to get much done. I’ve been dragging myself around, forcing myself to press forward.

It’s depressing because I realize what the financial abuser wants and won’t stop trying until he gets it.

So it’s time for another Daniel Fast For a Financial Breakthrough to be freed of the abuser through my work. It will take a miracle. He’s got lots of backup from his spouse and the lawyer my money is paying to protect him and get me out of the picture.

The money is not available to me by law directly. And honestly he and his wretched family can have all of it. I just want to be free of them forever.

I have said to numerous psychiatrists and therapists that the reason I don’t try to commit suicide is because of what some have said that if you kill yourself you have to immediately reincarnate and be back in with the same people you just had around you before you died at your own hand.

So the thought that I would have to be back with the same family again is enough to make me get through whatever bad state I am in. I grit my teeth and force myself to soldier on.

I am not going to be in Hell again or the Inferno others say is the fate of suicides. A shrink told me never to lose that belief because it’s kept me alive. I won’t and it has, G-d help me.

A Catholic woman once told me I was living my purgatory on Earth. Okay. Whatever.

I know I am no saint. I don’t even want to be a Catholic saint, even if it were possible. I’d rather be in the mold of the Jewish editor of the Boston Globe whom the Cardinal pronounced a formal curse upon. Shining the Spotlight upon the denizens of darkness inhabiting the Church as predatory priests and their enablers—that’s heroic.

I need to keep crawling on my knees to keep moving and not quit fasting and praying. I am no hero—just a survivor who really is not fond of the whole familial curse upon me that is irrevocable with no chance of escaping. It’s legally binding. It’s a pit of Hell to be chained to perpetual disability and never be judged as fit to be independent of their godless domination of me.

I know my attitude is far from holy. It is what it is. I am rattling my chains. The noise sounds like dragons chained in the dungeon of darkness nevermore to escape.

It’s not a parlor game to me.

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