Doubting; but I believe in myself!

It has taken much time over many years. But today, and likely the last weeks, I've come to the conclusion that I actually believe in myself, believe it or not! 


I would estimate it has taken decades to get to this point. I had rather an unfortunate childhood, with a father who fought in WW2 proceeding to use his escape back to the middle of nowhere in New Zealand as his therapy for Post Traumatic Stress I guess. Short story, living at the ass end of the world didn't heal his PTS. He was an entirely dysfunctional father. His answer to any problem by us kids was to lay down the law and threaten us with violence if said decree was not followed. Indeed, the very first memory I have of my father was one of the first memories I ever had; me petrified as a toddler, scared shitless, running from him terrified. I hid under the water tank on the farm just next to the kitchen, he knew where I was , but my screams were so horrifyingly scary even he stopped. He didn't follow me in there, pretended he didn't find me, but even then I knew he knew. It left me to contemplate this first memory of him for the rest of my life.....


He was never supportive, always intensely critical at every opportunity. We lived quite close to a beach but never went because he was the driver and he would remember the planes flying over a beach from the war. He never told me he loved me. Never showed any emotion that even hinted at it. He was 47 when I was born, and he was from another time. I was sensitive and not fitting in with the rest as a kid. He seemed to resent that. In the end I ended up hating him for being so self absorbed, and expectant that I would be more than a little "sissy". I hated sports at school, just was hopeless at it. I never fit with the tough New Zealand farm boy image back then in the '70's. I cried if weed spray splashed on me or if I tripped into cow shit. 


All this was just the beginning...... There was much more to follow.....


Suffice to say at this point that this story of mine will continue on this blog. 


Someone was asking me other day about how cynical I was, about how people had their own faith and that I should not be critical of that. During that conversation I remembered having a very vivid dream only a few weeks before. Much of it remains crystal clear in my head even today. Dreams are they say your subconscious sorting things out when you sleep. I dunno, I guess so?


This particular dream was about the conflict that I had decades ago with the United Pentecostal Church (of which for a very short time I was a licensed minister of it in New Zealand in the early '80's). Without going into what lead up to it in the dream, there was a point where a person from the UPC was proclaiming to me that he believed in God and Jesus and all, and "what else is there to believe in?".


My response was that I believe in myself.


I do doubt myself at times. I look at it all and wonder how the fuck I even held my head together into the little pieces that it ended up in. But I did. 


I sought the help, I got back from the brink of suicide. Had I not had a last gasp of being proactive I wouldn't be here today. Any god that may or may not exist was not there. It was up to me if I lived or died. It was my choice. With help I chose to live.....


DOUBTS AND ALL.