The Unbearable
Many thanks this week to La--Boheme, who kindly gave permission to share her piece "Between Heaven and Hell" to be viewed here. You are invited to see more of her art on her website:
http://la--boheme.wix.com/la-boheme
Dear Readers,
This week’s post is raw, visceral, disturbing and in some areas graphic. It may trigger an unwanted response. Sensitive readers are advised to skip it and wait until the next article is posted.
When I used to live in another city, I had a friend at church who was bipolar. Being in evangelical and charismatic circles, George (alias) was encouraged to live out Christ’s resurrection and healing without medication for his mental health. As George’s mind began to spiral into a manic phase, others (including some church leaders) praised him for his visions and spiritual connection. Finally, George isolated himself, and was institutionalized because he had become a potential danger to himself and others.
You may think this article is going to be about the sheer dumb-assedness of the brainless fucks who enabled this destruction of a man’s mental health (thank God only temporarily). I won’t waste air on those shits today. You see, there is something even more soul-chilling than their blind devotion to a trumped-up image of Christianity.
When I visited George in the mental hospital as he slowly healed, he confided that unlike many people who suffer from bipolar to the extremity that he did, he could remember every detail, every moment, every action, every word that he spoke during his manic phase. He recalled the near-gibberish he spewed to others, and his haughty way of belittling vulnerable people he knew and loved. He recollected his shameful, vulnerable public act of nudity. He remembered the weapon he wielded, and what permanent damage he would have done to himself had the police not intervened.
The sweet omnipotence, omniscience, super-being, all lost their seductive patina in the cold, metallic taste of sanity. George steely prepared himself to take any measure available to him, even electroshock therapy, to ensure that his mind would never take that turn again.
How does it feel to have your dreams come true? Not those lovely, soft embracing dreams. Ones whose butterfly wings rouse fluttering, drowsing, warm skin, luxuriating in the blur between subconscious and the present...
Dreams; pertur bing, surreal, nonsensical dreams that you have no conne ction to in real life—abrupt, cutting, dread-giving dreams. Dreams that pierce the veil from your reality to the other side of what is real....
Daddy, what is this?
Susurration, coming closer. In and out of focus. Is it about me?
It’s a kaleidoscope, dear.
The sky blackened. The ground shook.
They are murmuring. It’s about me, isn’t it?
But what IS this? It’s just pieces.
Susurration, marching on, they’ve made their decision, and I have no say. I’m powerless.
The sky fell.
I found an ear under the scrubs over there.
Daddy? What are these pieces?
The boots are thick, but the foot feels an object squish in the mud through the soles. It is a finger.
Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to inform you...
Marching on, they’ve made their decision, I have no say. I’m powerless.
These pieces don’t make any sense.
Is this a heart? Or a piece of liver? Is it tagged under “miscellaneous”?
The veil was rent from side to side. Nothing else hidden.
My BABY!
Daddy, I don’t like this toy, the pieces don’t make sense.
LOOK what you made me DO! You keep TRIGGERING me, that’s why! I can’t help it! It’s not my FAULT!
I made arrangements to meet her. I drove to her house, and we--
Daddy, answer me!
This hand grabbed the smaller hand, and squeezed very hard, just to make it stop, and discovered.....a finger...
I’m so sorry. It wasn’t about you. It was just like we were meant to get back into touch with each other.
I SAID, I don’t LIKE the kaleidoscope, take it away!
A body falling from 3 stories onto cobblestones sounds like a gunshot, or the amplified smack of a slab of meat slapped onto a butcher’s table.
Murmur, murmur, on the wall, who’s the loneliest one of them all?
The pieces are scary, TAKE it AWAY!
I have to make you shriek like a rabbit. I HAVE to because...I can’t...
OH MY GOD! TAKE THE KALEIDOSCOPE AWAY! TAKE! IT AWAY! NOW!
My child, I hear you. I cannot take it away. The kaleidoscope are your eyes.
Then God, please, pull my eyes out, I don’t want to see this anymoreohpleasegodtakeitaway...
My beloved child, I will not. Those eyes are a part of you. And if I would take them out, nothing would change. The pieces will still be there. This is reality.
NO!
We, the children God, have the power to live out Heaven on Earth. We have to. Hell is here too.
Be silent.
Light a candle.
Pray.
No words.
Words hurt.
Light.
http://la--boheme.wix.com/la-boheme
Dear Readers,
This week’s post is raw, visceral, disturbing and in some areas graphic. It may trigger an unwanted response. Sensitive readers are advised to skip it and wait until the next article is posted.
When I used to live in another city, I had a friend at church who was bipolar. Being in evangelical and charismatic circles, George (alias) was encouraged to live out Christ’s resurrection and healing without medication for his mental health. As George’s mind began to spiral into a manic phase, others (including some church leaders) praised him for his visions and spiritual connection. Finally, George isolated himself, and was institutionalized because he had become a potential danger to himself and others.
You may think this article is going to be about the sheer dumb-assedness of the brainless fucks who enabled this destruction of a man’s mental health (thank God only temporarily). I won’t waste air on those shits today. You see, there is something even more soul-chilling than their blind devotion to a trumped-up image of Christianity.
When I visited George in the mental hospital as he slowly healed, he confided that unlike many people who suffer from bipolar to the extremity that he did, he could remember every detail, every moment, every action, every word that he spoke during his manic phase. He recalled the near-gibberish he spewed to others, and his haughty way of belittling vulnerable people he knew and loved. He recollected his shameful, vulnerable public act of nudity. He remembered the weapon he wielded, and what permanent damage he would have done to himself had the police not intervened.
The sweet omnipotence, omniscience, super-being, all lost their seductive patina in the cold, metallic taste of sanity. George steely prepared himself to take any measure available to him, even electroshock therapy, to ensure that his mind would never take that turn again.
How does it feel to have your dreams come true? Not those lovely, soft embracing dreams. Ones whose butterfly wings rouse fluttering, drowsing, warm skin, luxuriating in the blur between subconscious and the present...
Dreams; pertur bing, surreal, nonsensical dreams that you have no conne ction to in real life—abrupt, cutting, dread-giving dreams. Dreams that pierce the veil from your reality to the other side of what is real....
Daddy, what is this?
Susurration, coming closer. In and out of focus. Is it about me?
It’s a kaleidoscope, dear.
The sky blackened. The ground shook.
They are murmuring. It’s about me, isn’t it?
But what IS this? It’s just pieces.
Susurration, marching on, they’ve made their decision, and I have no say. I’m powerless.
The sky fell.
I found an ear under the scrubs over there.
Daddy? What are these pieces?
The boots are thick, but the foot feels an object squish in the mud through the soles. It is a finger.
Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to inform you...
Marching on, they’ve made their decision, I have no say. I’m powerless.
These pieces don’t make any sense.
Is this a heart? Or a piece of liver? Is it tagged under “miscellaneous”?
The veil was rent from side to side. Nothing else hidden.
My BABY!
Daddy, I don’t like this toy, the pieces don’t make sense.
LOOK what you made me DO! You keep TRIGGERING me, that’s why! I can’t help it! It’s not my FAULT!
I made arrangements to meet her. I drove to her house, and we--
Daddy, answer me!
This hand grabbed the smaller hand, and squeezed very hard, just to make it stop, and discovered.....a finger...
I’m so sorry. It wasn’t about you. It was just like we were meant to get back into touch with each other.
I SAID, I don’t LIKE the kaleidoscope, take it away!
A body falling from 3 stories onto cobblestones sounds like a gunshot, or the amplified smack of a slab of meat slapped onto a butcher’s table.
Murmur, murmur, on the wall, who’s the loneliest one of them all?
The pieces are scary, TAKE it AWAY!
I have to make you shriek like a rabbit. I HAVE to because...I can’t...
OH MY GOD! TAKE THE KALEIDOSCOPE AWAY! TAKE! IT AWAY! NOW!
My child, I hear you. I cannot take it away. The kaleidoscope are your eyes.
Then God, please, pull my eyes out, I don’t want to see this anymoreohpleasegodtakeitaway...
My beloved child, I will not. Those eyes are a part of you. And if I would take them out, nothing would change. The pieces will still be there. This is reality.
NO!
We, the children God, have the power to live out Heaven on Earth. We have to. Hell is here too.
Be silent.
Light a candle.
Pray.
No words.
Words hurt.
Light.