4.6.10

Old Ways Die Hard

I used to be catholic. Shocking, I know, but true. I used to be not only a catholic, but a good Catholic with a capital C, with Sunday school and everything. I even tried my hand at a little good ol' conversion of the heathens, though without much success.

It wasn't until I moved away to college that my eyes opened to see a big wide world out there where I couldn't rationalize the existence of god/s any longer. I lived across the street from a catholic church without attending a single time in two years, though I think I went to a final mass at christmas of my sophomore year and my sister called me a hypocrite for taking the eucharist, and I realized she was absolutely right.

Anyways, the point of this is that I used to believe, and hard. I would pray a lot, sometimes consciously; more often I was just hoping really hard for some help. At the time, I thought it was god that would do it, because I was a special child of his and he loved me. 'Help me Jesus, I can't be pregnant.' Or 'Oh God, please let me get into the Air Force Academy.' I remember praying really hard while I was in basic training for help and guidance. The one thing to my credit at the time (when I was struggling with a back injury) was to draw the line when my mother suggested that I have the chaplain anoint my back with holy oils. That seemed like plain old hokum to me even in those days.

What I realize now is that I wasn't looking for help from on high, but just help from someone. I know now that I could have gone to my mother and asked for her to take me to the doctor to get birth control, or I could have taken an even simpler route and driven my car down to the local Planned Parenthood. Not only did I need help in getting into the AFA, but I got help getting in from all of my friends and family. Everyone was totally supportive of me, and I was just venting my worry in a way that was familiar to me.

I did a seminar a couple years back called Insight. Some people find it to be very spiritual, where as I found it to be very self empowering. There's an idea at the seminar to 'put things in the light.' To those that find the seminar to be related to some sort of faith or spirituality, this can mean praying to a specific diety, or putting your vibes out into the Universe as a whole. To me this idea is to simply let people (most particularly YOURSELF) know that you need help. Or that you need anything for that matter. Simply put, if you let those people that care about you know that you need help, they're going to try to help you. And not because god told them to.

On to the point:
Occasionally it happens now that I relapse. Recently it's happened because I have a job interview coming up and it's not just that I want the job (I do, very badly), but I need the job, because my other job isn't going so well. I've found myself at least once since my first contact from the company silently asking someone for help. 'Please,' I might say to the stifling hot air of my car after a long day at my current position that I loathe, 'Please, I really need this job.' I'm ashamed to admit that I have once said 'Oh god, I need this fucking job.'

Now, my use of the word 'god' is a knee jerk reflex used in many situations, and simply because of 18 years of habit that my 2 in spiritual uncertainty and my 20 somethings in solid, staunch atheism haven't been able to break me of yet. Some examples include:
God damn it, I stubbed my fucking toe.
Jesus Christ, that's an ugly car.
God you're dumb.
And of course, most importantly:
Oh god, that feels sooooooo gooooooooooooood.

However, when the words 'Oh god, I need this fucking job,' escaped my mouth, I was instantly appalled. Did I just pray? To a god I know doesn't exist?

The true answer: No. Of course not. 'Oh god,' is a phrase that I use probably 20 or more times a day. Mostly in the ordinary ways: 'Oh god, I don't want to go to my fucking lame ass job.' 'Oh god, 5 more hours in the fucking cubicle.' 'Oh god, someone kill me right now.' If I'm lucky, a couple of the usages will be accompanied by heavy breathing and sweaty bodies.

The truth is I was doing what I know everyone does. Proclaiming the need for help, or simply expressing their worries aloud. I know there's no god that's going to help me get a new job. It depends only on me, my skills, and my ability to not fuck up an interview. What I can do however, is let the people around me know that I'm worried and get their support.

In the end, I actually find it comforting to understand all of this about myself. Like I said, it's empowering to know that I control my destiny.