I never really considered myself an atheist. I felt that the universe was governed by some collective energy from which life had emerged from; when we day we become part of that collective. I don't have a religion, I would say the closest belief system I fall under is Jadeism with a little Buddhism too. Live and let live, Don't cause any living creature pain or suffering, Find happiness and meaning in your own life... These were mantras I practiced daily. No matter what religion or belief system you fall under, I don't believe "being nice" is seen as a fault (I would hope). So no matter what the force out there governing the world, I believed I was doing right by the universe.
There are no atheist in foxholes.
During my "foxhole" experience I surpassed atheism and went straight to nihilism. While I was down on the ground I knew the moment that bullet entered my brain that was it. Darkness forever. Nothing more from my life. Just darkness.
I had a few "near death" experiences in my life. My dad tried to kill me and my family once upon a time. He had a grenade, guns, and a hunting bow that he tried to use on all of us. My family still suffers the effects of that night. He was never a nice guy anyways. On that night I was brave, I stood up to him, and I believe I probably helped save my family. It was an trauma that I don't think I ever fully grasped how close to death I was that night, but all I can remember thinking during the whole ordeal is "If I don't get up now and try and stop him, my family and pets will die." I didn't care much about myself that time. I was about 13 or 14 years old.
One time I had pneumonia that the immediate care doctors didn't catch. I was sick for two months before I collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. My mom was there and she barely, about to walk out the door when I collapsed. She grabbed me and threw me in the car. As she was speeding through traffic freaking out as I was not really breathing well at all, I thought: I hope this doesn't traumatize my mom. I was okay and ready to die, but devastated at the thought that my mom wouldn't recover.
You see, I never was scared of dying. The thought of dying old to Young Jessica was not on my radar. I wanted to lead an exciting life full of risks and adventure and laugh in the face of death. With these past experiences I was never afraid of what came after death. Life was just too exciting to give a second worry to dying.
This foxhole experience was completely opposite from my past. I felt helpless. Hopeless. There was nothing I could do, no way to stand up to the stranger. I think my brain searched for meaning in what was happening but it couldn't find an answer. The only thoughts I can recall having is knowing I was going to die, or Erich was going to die, and that would be it. Darkness. For the first time ever, I was scared to die.
For weeks after the attack I was pure nihilistic. There was no meaning in the attack so there was really no meaning in the world. I've read the obituaries and news stories of all the victims. I have a special attachment to Terry Andres so I focused on him more than the others. You know what their loved ones had to say about them? That they were kind. That they've lead an amazing life. They had children and grandchildren. They were strong church going folk who gave back to the community.
Church going folks who gave back to the community.
I hated how people tried to make me deal with it. I am surprised I typed that out. Hated? I guess this is the first time I am admitting it to myself so I am genuinely surprised I wrote hated. I guess it is true. At this moment I hate that people told me "You survived for a reason." "This experience must make you believe in God! How could you not, you survived!" "I prayed for you extra hard and that's why you survived." "God must have a plan for you because you survived!"
I hate living in the bible belt sometimes.
Live and let live, right? I am the most liberal and tolerant person I know! I am kind to everyone, even the people who make me upset or angry. Kill em' with kindness was another mantra I practiced daily. It worked for so long. And then all of a sudden happiness was meaningless. Life was meaningless. You can believe in God and do good all of your life and still die a violent death. Meaningless.
Don't worry, dear reader, I didn't stay a nihilist for long. It lasted a few weeks and then I started getting back to my normal self with one hiccup. I am now terrified of dying. I hope when I fully recover I will no longer be terrified of death and I can go back to remembering death is just a part of life. It's hard though when the nightmares remind you of the hopelessness all over again.
Anyway, today on WFPK Louisville Free Public Media, the following song came on:
On the way into work, it really spoke to me. First, I decided to randomly turn on the radio (something I've been avoiding). A charming song Chuck Berry "Too Pooped to Pop" was just ending and then this song came on. It's really good song by a band I've never heard of and I was just drawn into the lyrics immediately. I think this song currently voices where I stand at the moment. But I have hope that I will become more optimistic sooner than later. Where did this optimism come from?
Half way through writing this blog post my co-worker stopped in. She was telling me about her friend she is staying with who lives on a farm with a Pig named Wilber and a duck named Quackers. I have always wanted to own a pig and duck (and cow and chicken...). To find out that the duck was named what I've always imagined naming my duck lit up my face. Seriously, I was going to call my duck General Quackers (the chicken Sergeant McCluck Cluck, the pig Commander Ham Ham and the cow Major Mooers). Back to the story, hearing that instantly put me in a good a mood.
Next thing that happened was my second co-worker bursts into my office and was complaining about the day she knows she was going to have, but told me to put on this song:
We all got up and danced the whole song. Imitating the dances we saw, making our own, clapping to the beat. It was the most fun I've had in the office. Then I look back on the rest of my week, and it's been pretty okay. I cleaned my house thoroughly. Did so many chores! I baked some delicious cookies. I hung out with friends and had a fire pit in my yard while my dog and his girlfriend played around us. I still haven't found personal meaning in it all, but there was some sort of meaning in it. In life. In this universe. It's a fleeting thought but for now, I will hold on to it as long as I can.
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