Normal Bob Seal God Ate My Balls
Part 4, Dec 9th, '01
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God Ate My Balls

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Passion of the Christ

I'd like to take you back about 3 years, when things were very very different. It was the 20th century, a Holy War was but a sparkling glimmer in the eye of Osama bin Laden, we hadn't yet realized that the end of mankind was at hand, and did not exist (coincidence)? It was also a time when I, Normal Bob Smith (answering only to "Bob") believed in a supreme being. This supreme being went by the name "GOD".

Sorting Out the Mess

My last lingering belief in Him was hanging by a thread on a God- sends- everyone- to- Heaven stipulation, and Heaven wasn't "Heaven" but more of a next stage in life. It wasn't the blissful fantasy land of perfection... I mean Christ, I'm not insane! And maybe Earth was a school of sorts for angels (us) and we were all special spirits with a purpose that'd be understood in the next life.
I was losing my fucking mind.

If you ever find yourself thinking that you're losing your mind here's what I suggest you do. First start missing out on a lot of sleep. If you are having trouble with this, try comprehending your own death and nonexistence (it worked for me). If you can get it down to just a couple hours a night then you're doing pretty good.

Next you need to find fear. Focus on something stupid to be scared of (the dark, small rooms, mortality, bed bugs, what have you). These things in combination with loneliness, panic attacks and self doubt and you'll be all set! Well, at least this is how I was dealing with it.

It was my 30th year that I moved into my own apartment (no longer rooming with my bro) giving me plenty of "alone time" for my new found hobby, dwelling! It's like nothing you could imagine! I lost weight (why eat?!) I was saving money (no social life, no reason to buy things for myself, no hope, yadda yadda yadda), and with all my friends avoiding me I had even more time to spend on that hobby I was telling you about earlier. That one about thinking that I'm going insane? You know, oh never mind.

Then a friend suggested therapy.
I don't know if it was me thinking that I knew more than the therapist, paying someone to care, or the fact that she grinded her teeth when she wrote, but I hated therapy. It works for some, it didn't for me.
I felt patronized, text book and used. And at the end of every hour she'd emphasize that I was going to need at least 12 - 18 more visits even though everything that I was going through was normal for the age bracket I was in. And it was HER pencil that looked like a puppy's chew toy!

The fourth visit was my last. This was the "why don't you bring in your sketchbook?" follow up. I personally think that it was her "Oh, drawings! That'd be neat!" session. Rifling through its pages (the same pencil sketches you've already seen here) she'd say things like "It looks as if you were havin' a pretty rough time" and " you needed someone to listen to YOUR feelings and no one was there huh?".

I never returned.

Initially I'd thought that my time and money had been wasted, but looking back it is all so clear now. My whole life up to that point I had NOT been a problem solver. I just accepted everything that I didn't like about myself (leaving it in God's hands). I bought into the notion that this was not the important life to be worrying about. It was the next life we were living for... the one with God.

I left therapy knowing the 3 things that I needed to change in my life.

#1) I needed to change my look (fuck normal, why did I look so normal, when the fuck did I forget that I wasn't normal?)
#2) I needed a creative outlet (writing, drawing, latchhook, anything!)
#3) I needed a girlfriend (I had not nearly enough confidence, experience, or sex in my life)

#1 was easy. Hair went from black to green. Clothes went from black to green. Mood went from black to green.
#2, the web site. I had something to say, something to show and god damn I had nothin' better to do!
#3 just happened as a result of 1 & 2. I had a new found confidence in myself, a clear vision of what I believed, and my penis needed touching.

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