Spiderman
Veteran Member
You still think you need a religion after having experienced such a chain of @PopeADope miracles
Closest things to qualify as Miracles
I survived multiple broken bones and a concussion from jumping off a building onto concrete and I'm still able to run, the doctor said my two torn meniscuses should prevent my knees from having the range of motion they have, said what he's seeing is not normal, and I was walking out of my wheelchair so much sooner than predicted that nurses were restraining me to keep me in it.
I also nearly drowned while trapped in the rapids near a dam, and I escaped in the last minutes by going to the bottom and kicking off of the rocks. By the time I reached land I was blind, could not see from oxygen deprivation, could barely walk, felt like puking, and had splitting headaches for the rest of the day. I'd say were I stuck for another minute in those rapids, I'd not have made it.
I laid down in front of a transit train in the middle of the night. The metro transit trains sometimes do not have an engineer behind the wheels, due to everything taking place automatically. The engineer was there and did see me though they have no reason to pay attention at those hours. I have seen the trains steering wheel and seat completely unattended at those hours. When I saw the bright light in the distance heading my way, I laid down on the track, hoping and expecting that no one would be behind the wheel, as was the case in the past at that time. The train stopped, and the police were there very quickly to cuff me and put me in the loony bin.
Were I to have had access to a train higher off the ground in walking distance, I would have gone into the train from the side as planned, getting my head severed or torn in half by the wheels, which was my goal that early morning of being homeless. I just stumbled across a train that I'd have to get to run over me from the front, because it was not high enough off the ground to succeed by moving into it's side between the wheels.. Were that train just a foot higher off the ground, I'd be guaranteed to not be communicating with you (and someone would have had quite a mess to clean up), because I was not about to hesitate to commit an act that had a 100% guarantee of death that night/morning. Fortunately, the only times I was 100% sure and determined to die, were times I did not have access to guaranteed death, nor the patience to wait for access.
Anyway, I had a grand mal seizure withdrawing from benzodiazepines who's withdrawal can be fatal. I spit up blood and apparently vomit in a drug overdose , laying on my back, which can be fatal from inhalation. I took a potentially lethal amounts of methadone from someone else's medicine cabinet, stopped breathing or responding to pain and pressure points, and by the time medics got there to put me on oxygen, they declared my oxygen level to be low enough to cause permanent mental retardation. ( Some would argue that they we're correct in that assessment LOL )
I drank what my therapist said was a half-gallon of hand-sanitizer and was found unresponsive.
Not sure if surviving any of those qualifies as miracles or not, but I do not believe I would have survived this long, or gone from being a hateful sociopath to being deeply compassionate, sensitive, and thoughtful, without the help of a supernatural Force that is greater than what material beings have to offer.
In fact, it is reaching out to the Kami (spirits) and my maker that has brought the transformation and growth as well as the desire to stay alive and kicking in a body so full of complaints and human miseries.
Some of my reasons for longing for death is the desire to be purely a spirit, a form that more resembles supernatural Deities or Yahweh, and no longer feel hunger, body odor, fatigue, bodily wastes, or need for sleep, nutrition, money, and medication. If there is no such thing as spirits, well I would not regret offing myself, so why not?
Through prayer, I came to realize how much my suicide would hurt my family and prevent me from helping people. So, now want to live, just hate much about the material world and find the body to be a filthy beast and burden.
Just the fact that I don't get temptations to suicide anymore, to the extent I could have a loaded revolver in reaching distance at all times, without it being a temptation, I see as miraculous improvement. It used to be that I could not see a train without an immediate impulse to let it crush me, could not stand at a great height without temptation to jump, and my first trip to a psych ward was in the fifth grade when my mother's boyfriend took me hunting and I shared with him the temptation to turn the gun on myself and blow my brains out.
From Demoniac, lunatic, villain, and inmate, to Spider-Man
RF members no doubt can see that there are signs of neurosis and slips of sobriety in some of my posts, but if only you could see the man I used to be who got his GED in a correctional facility, a place where I spent most of my high school years. If only you could see how officers had to restrain and drag me to mycell on a daily basis (for we were allowed (by law )time out of our cell every single day, so every single day I took that opportunity to refuse to return to confinement, creating daily a unit disturbance requiring physical restraint and sometimes pepper spray, causing more such disturbances in quantity then any other person in the history of pine hills correctional facility [because they were a daily thing], leading the warden to invent a special type of recreation just for me, where the right to recreation was simply pacing a hallway near my cell, next to an officer.
Having nothing to do with my time, I screamed low gutteral noises like a demoniac in need of an exorcism, always coming up with the most foul and bloodthirsty rhymes and lyrics, too sick for even juggalos (fans of Insane Clown Possee). I delighted in being sinister and depraved, threw urine on officers when they came in my cell to extract me or do inspection. They came into my cell covered from head to toe like astronauts with pexiglass shields, for they knew they'd get sprayed with bodily fluids an God knows what.
I ripped up my mattress, threw the stuffing everywhere, ripped my shirt into one long chord of fabric and used it to strangle myself, strangled myself to the point of passing out on multiple occasions, ripped my light off the wall and grabbed wires coming out of the wall to electrocute myself, had no concern for consequences or ramifications of such animal-like behavior (and that's an insult to animals.)
But despite appearing fearless, my demonic howlings seemed to summon an 8 legged, 8 eyed, fanged and venemous beast from hell, my greatest fear, which came into my cell, and crawled onto the wall.
It was one Disturbed man
alone and locked up with his greatest phobia.
But despite my lack of concern with having noble qualities, still valued fearlessness, and knew that killing the creature would be the coward's solution.
I simply sat and stared, wishing now I could see the pure horror on my face, thinking I was so hardcore, then scared to death of a little, harmless, fragile creature with an exoskeleton.
Life was so boring in that cell that exposure to a greatest fear was worthwhile, but damn it scared me to death. I had no such fear of the Devil himself or a ghost coming to my cell, and invited them and all of hell's monsters, for I loved monsters, lived with rapists and murderers, had no fear of death, and here I was, terrified of a little dinky spider that can't hurt me.
I just got as close as I could , gazing at it like it was to be worshipped, for hours, frustrated that the fear wouldn't leave.
Keep in mind, I was haunted by nightmares of spiders as a child
that would make squealing noises as they bit and were hard to kill. As a kid, my mom's basement had many spiders. I feared putting shoes on at times , for fear of a spider being in it. I woke up with a spider on me once and could not get back to sleep and had symptoms of PTSD.
I was a lover of creepy critters like snakes, but spiders were just over the top creepy with their 8 eyes, 8 legs, fangs, fur, and venom.
So i kept watching, annoyed by my inability to just hurry up and stop being a wimp, eventually moving him from wall to desk via cup, and there I began poking him with my pen, scared to death when he would stand on his hind legs, or sometimes he would look at me from his rear-view, standing upside down with butt in the air over his head , looking back at me, making what appeared to be eye contact, and showing off his fangs. Those defensive postures/stances when I poked him/her from behind frightened me the most.
I kept a sock over my hand, and long story short, eventually let the creature on my hand with a sock between us. On one occasion he ran onto my forearm, our first bodily contact, and I was suddenly surprised. I didn't jump and fling him accross the room as would have earlier been liable to happen, but watched, waiting for the bite I deserved for all my tormenting him/her.
To be continued...
(I'm Typing up ideas for a life-story some people recommend I write. Ask me any question, including the one’s that seem most inappropriate or uncomfortable. Insults are welcome as well. I’ve got thick skin.)