January 27, 2016

Is Spirituality your Drug of Choice?

Joshua Earle/Unsplash

The God of my traditional Italian Catholic upbringing died for me when my sexual abuse began at the age of three.

I was rendered completely incapable of believing I was being taken care of by anyone, let alone a benevolent being of pure goodness who would for any reason allow these heinous things to happen to any human being on the face of the earth.

As a result, I lived a God-less, faithless life until finally, seven years into my marriage, the reality of my deep and profound misery surfaced.

Up to that time, I’d lived my entire life in misery, like so many others, but I’d explained it away with every, “When this happens, I will be happy…”

“When I meet my future husband, I will be happy.” Done.

“When he pops the question and I get the big rock, I will be happy.” Done

“When we get a house, I will be happy.” Done.

Now I need a fancy car, a big boat, my dream job, kids. Done. Done. Done. And Done. And yet there I sat in the greatest darkness of my life. I had everything I ever wanted—every, “When this happens, I will be happy.”

I could no longer deny that something was seriously wrong in my world.

It is that moment when you crumble to the ground, desperate for the missing piece, grasping at every straw in an effort not to lose the minute sliver of hope that remains. The little shred that keeps you teetering on the edge of ending everything.

It is that moment when a wail comes from the deepest, darkest recess of your soul: Why me, God?

And there it was, my return to the forgotten God of my childhood. I prayed for the first time in over 30 years.

I asked. I cried. I begged. I pleaded, and still found no relief from the darkness.

It didn’t take long for me to determine that God wasn’t there for me before and clearly was not there for me now, so let me try some other avenues.

It was then that I found the book, Archangels and Ascended Masters by Doreen Virtue. Yes, now we could get somewhere. I knew who to talk to for what.

This book was exquisite, unlike anything I had ever experienced. Do you need help? Of course you do, we all do! It is available, but free will says you have to ask.

Yes, finally, relief. Now, who do I ask?

Talk to Archangel Raphael for healing. Look to Buddha for peace. Do you have insurmountable obstacles? Ganesh is your guy. Want to fix your marriage? Archangel Chamuel will magically take care of that for you.

This book became my Bible. I was nothing short of obsessed.

A brand new world opened up to me, and with it came new hope.

“When I learn to properly communicate with these Archangels and Ascended Masters, I will be happy.”

It started an avalanche.

“When I learn to meditate correctly, I will be happy.” Nope.

Try leaving your husband. He is the root of your misery. Nope.

“When I finish my Ministry Class, I will be happy.” Nope.

You work too hard and don’t have any fun. That is the root of your misery. Find some new single friends, then go party. Nope.

“When I finish my crystals class, I will be happy.” Nope.

You haven’t had sex in forever. Go find a fun guy and get laid. Nope.

Now what?

I talked to you, God. It did not work. I talked to every other being of light throughout the the entire history of the world, God, and it still did not work. To hell with you, God. I tried it your way. I’ll go use the same roads to happiness as the majority of the rest of the world. Drinking. God, you ignored me. I’m going to happy hour.

Really, God? Come on, God! Fine, I will go enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, God. Come on, God! Where is my relief? I earned it. Look at what I have been through, God?!

Starting at three, God, come on! How much more? And in that moment, I knew I had the answer.

“He who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” ~ Carl Jung

There was the great realization. There was no longer anything I could do to avoid me. It was a harsh reality when I realized every single thing I did was in an effort to not see me.

Alcohol can be the drug. Sex can be the drug. Spirituality can be the drug. Love can be the drug. There is only one cure to your misery.

The inner journey is the cure. You meeting you in the deepest, darkest recesses of your soul—that is where you will find happiness.

Every single thing outside of you, without exception, is a heroin needle in disguise.


Author: Christie Del Vesco

Editor: Toby Israel

Images: Christian C/Flickr // Joshua Earle/Unsplash


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