My task
Content warning: suicidal ideation
Two months ago, I was suicidal. I wasn't worried about that. I was surprised.
Here I was again. Years later. Suicidal at age 12, suicidal at age 32. But it had been years since I had been. Therapy and general wellbeing had taken my struggle away roughly at age 26. But here I was, again.
Where suicidal thoughts usually come from a place of dispair, mine came more from a place of hope. I mean, I probably was depressed, temporary. I was in autistic burnout and that made me forget how to do all the self care things I had learned trough the years.
It was like a spaceship going down. First the lights, then the radio, and suddenly the oxygen tank is beeping. In human terms that is: First my nights rest, then a chronic headache, then I didn't remember how to be kind to myself, and bam, suicidal. My spaceship was minutes from crashing.
I was hopeful. This is the most hopeful suicidal I have ever been. Where earlier suicidal thoughts had been about fleeing from, this was fleeing towards. My faith was stronger than ever. I was convinced of a world beyond this world, without suffering.
I didn't know all the details, but I knew enough. I was done with my earth life, I wanted the afterlife. I wanted it, now.
Except... I didn't. If I was finished with this life, I would have simply died. Not suicide, just, let go of life. At this point I believed God would simply call me home if I was ready here. So I was angry with God for letting me stay here, and I asked him: Why am I still here?
I knew from Lorna Byrne, a Mystic who talks to angels, that I chose my own life. My own country, my own parents, my own circumstances. I wondered if this means I also chose my chronic illness, or if that was just bad luck. Do you choose the things that will happen to you at age 22, or are they just 'shit happening'?
I've read enough about near-death-experiences to have no doubt about the afterlife being there, but here's the thing. All those people who told us they experienced some kind of heaven, they all came back. And they didn't come back randomly, they came back 'because they had a task'. I learned that right in my suicidal period, because I just happened to be reading a book about the subject. Problem is, none of the near death experiencers remembered what their task is.
So this is what I knew. I chose my own life, and I had a task. Apperently, I was not supposed to remember my own task. Maybe that would mess with my task. I didn know, but I knew I gave up a lot of knowing to become human. I didn't know why I gave up knowledge, but I guessed knowing that would have messed with my task.
What's my task? Apperently I wasn't supposed to kill myself. The NDE-book told me suiciders more often have a hell-like experience. Didn't want that. But if I shouldn't kill myself, shouldn't I at least KNOW what my task is? I mean, I didn't feel like working on any task. I was just drifting, living a rather sheltered, mundaine life.
I asked the universe to tell me my task, expecting no answer. But I got my answer. It's hard for me to even write down all my past doubts, because my task is so clear to me now. I have no doubt as to why I'm here and why I chose the life that I have.
The suicidal episode only lasted for two weeks. When medical circumstances occured, my attention simply shifted. My strong longing to start the afterlife was still there, but in the background again. Like it's been for the past 6 years.
A book found me, one week after the medical mess. I'd been wishing to read this book for months, but finally the Gods of the library granted my wish. Just kidding, it was regular God. The book said so itself: You're reading this book at the exact right time in your life. It's not coincidence you're reading it right now.
I've read many books. But none of them changed my life so suddenly and completely as this one. You see, I know now. I know my task. I know why I'm on earth, in a chronically ill body.
I'm God.
I'm God and I always was God, but I was all there was. I wasn't really God, since I couldn't compare myself. So I split myself. Into here and there. Into light and dark. I created cold, so I could experience how warm I was. I created evil, to experience how good I was. I created fear, to experience my love.
I created me. The person I now see as self, it's just something I created. You see, being God and all-knowing and all that, I couldn't really experience anything but perfect. So I needed to forget I'm God. That's what I did. I created earth, I created a background story. I created parents and circumstances, and then I started living a human life. I started living billions and billions of lifes simultaniously. (Can't say God kept it small, can you?). In order for all this to work, I needed to not know I'm God. So I forgot.
I forgot everything I knew and can do, and entered the human experience. You see, at christmas we celebrate God becoming human, but I realise now, every human birth is christmas.
But what about all the suffering? Why did I chose to let that happen... to myself?
Well, did you ever try to write a story without anything bad happening to any of the characters? Wasn't it just the most boring thing ever? But you don't feel bad if you make a character suffer, because it's just a story. It's not real.
Well, I'm not real. I'm just God pretending to be human. Playing a role on a very big stage. My suffering is okay, really, because it's a good story, later. Being sad now allows me more happiness in eternity. Can't enjoy warmth if you've never been cold.
I get it now. I'm God in a human body, and I came to earth to experience. My lack of memories allows me to really live the story. And it's a damn good story.
I don't think I'll end the book before its time. I'm going to experience the story, however it plays out.