(I will update this text as soon as I figure out, why my text-breaks are not working.)
The following text was posted by me on my personal blog, most of you have probably read it already. I am currently writing a little piece on integrating daily devotional activities into our hectic lifestyles but wanted to share this with you in the meantime… in order to get you to know me a little bit…
Please forgive my bad English (it is not my first or second language). And please forgive my misuse of “…”, it is kind of my trademark when writing (I write as I think, an not as texts are supposed to look like. The dots are like short thinking-pauses).
This is a quick and short ( and very simplified) story about myself… about myself and how my god came to be my god. It is something I consider an intimate part of my personal history, but yet there was something pushing me to tell this little story. It might have been the shamelessly sweet and cheap wine I was drinking as I typed (and hit “backspace” to correct the many mistakes) or it could have been a liberating force found within my drink of choice, driving me to let go of the memories.
It was not long ago, that I came out as young gay man. Not long ago, that I developed a big deal of responsibility moving out from my mum’s place and traveling from Guatemala back to Germany. Not a long time ago, that I settled in my own little room in a fraternity and not long ago that I met my first boyfriend.
He seemed to be everything I was hoping for as a gay man struggling to reconcile the “social norm” with my inner desires. You get the idea, don’t you? This whole “first love”-thing? Riiiight.
The difference to the usual story of how this “first love” developed is, that over the course of a couple of months I lost myself. I lost myself to this relationship, giving up my identity and only finding traces of me IN it. Outside of it I was a faint phantom of what I used to be… I maimed my personal life, my affiliation to my coven back then, my academic path as an aspiring pharmacist and a lot of other personal interest in order to pour all of my blood into this travesty of “true love”.
It was wonderful in the beginning but turned really ugly in no time.
> I < became ugly. I turned into a angry… no,… furious… morbidly jealous monster. I found what I had been dreaming of all that time back in my closet and I was NOT going to loose it. To no-one, and certainly not to the ex of my boyfriend who happened to be his best friend now… It was awful, believe me. I started disliking their nights out as friends, and after a lot of rather uninteresting events covering a year and a half I began screen almost all of his interactions with anyone who was not me. I told you, I became a jealous, angry, controlling m*therf*cking b*tch…
So, there we were.. I was having massive issues with his sexual past and he was freaking out over my involvement with the occult ( he was focusing to much on some aspects of british traditional Wicca…)
It escalated quickly. I discovered emotional manipulation as a means to binding him to me and even if he DID play his part, giving me *some* reasons to be jealous I was out of control. I started displaying behavioral symptoms associated to certain personality-disorders (including self-harm, literal choking on my feelings, spacing out and stuff…) and over night I ended up in therapy (as I wanted to regain control of myself, find myself again in all this mess…).
–paused here to sip a bit of wine–
The intermezzo with my therapist (two sessions, one of them consisting of getting to know her and the other one filled with my tears) is not worth typing down. My signing-up in a mental facility to be treated according to dialectic behavioral therapy however is. I signed up for a 12 week program, not because I thought it was a solution, but rather because my not-for-long-boyfriend set the ultimatum “Do it or I’ll brake up with you!”
So there I was. Lost. Begging earth and heaven to master myself again and figure out the origin of this monster-me. It hurt (even considering the b*tch I had turned into) and I was suffering. The last words I heard from him were “I will visit you Monday” (I moved into the clinic on a Friday)… He never showed up. He did not pick up the phone (and he never did again,…). The next thing I knew about “us” (remember, there was no I,.. only US for me at this point) was “There is no US”, “WE do not exist anymore”, “You are on your own” and (among a lot of hurtful words) an enumeration of tiny little facts that just happened to tear me into pieces.
He moved out and took pretty much anything with him. Everything we had bought when we moved in together.
I felt stranded after returning from the mental facility. My “home” only a dead shell to what it used to be, memories haunting every room.
But all of this is only the background input you need or the actual story I want to tell you…
After loosing not only my identity but also its replacement I turned to the “most probable diagnose” the doctors had on hand. After two weeks of knowing me, they settled for an emotional unstable personality disorder of the borderline-type. For me it was not only a probable diagnose, but a clue on who I could be in the meantime. It became my actors script. I ceased to be the “nothing” and became “borderline”. My emotional fits became more frequent, my self-harming behavior resembled the behavior of other patients, other borderliners. I was THE patient you read about…
But I never did this on purpose,… it was a surviving mechanism… I needed to be someone after all… something… I know this now,…
It grew stale very fast. After six weeks of being the ideal patient (displaying text-book behavior and responding even better to treatment including an array of pills) I had enough.
This actor had enough…. I left.
But I did not leave without vindicating my exes brake-up. I met someone in the the clinic (being treated for PTD and abuse of alcoholic substances) who became “my new boyfriend”. In all honesty? A quick replacement. Better than being alone, right? I was so stupid! He actually fell in love with me and I made myself believe I did the same… stupid…
And somewhere in all this mess, he appeared. Suddenly he stood there. Without a word, just being present. All this time I was clinging on to Hekate and begging Ganesha for support. And they did not leave me alone! Not a second! But soon Ganesha grew silent (and is now, as far as I can tell, no longer part of my life). Hekate, still there, never said a word… But she always kept an eye on me,… Just like I did on her…
Out of the blue he started whispering. This new presence, this new God.
I do not remember why… or how exactly for the matter… He picked me up, on this island of despair, this exile where I was abandoned by the one I tormented ( funny turn… *lol*) .
All I know is, he was there and… I had big concerns… is letting this god into my life a good choice, now that I have a new boyfriend who unfortunately doesn’t know how to handle alcohol? Does the God of Wine and a wannabe alcoholic-in-recovery (he promised a lot in the couple of weeks we were together… his will just never was strong enough) mix well?
I had no clue…
I broke up with him (and with him, I broke up with my first boyfriend too…)after some weeks, as his problems were pulling me back into the borderline-behavior I learned at the clinic.
But the one who invaded my life on silent paws stayed,… he still is here, right next to me. He grew from a silent whisper to full blown roar. HE found his way unto all of my altars, my mind became a shrine dedicated to him. My heart, wrapped in his tendrils, beats in sync with the pounding feet of his dancing maenads. I long for him…. and there is NO way I can be close enough…
Yes, Dionysos showed up… The god who comes, came into my life and he brought with him pretty much all what he has to deliver.
Yes. He freed me from the madness that had poisoned my mind. He cured me, as the mountain-mother cured him. I look back on my past, and (still a bit ashamed) I can truly say, “That is not me anymore! I do not recognize me in those acts or those feelings… I have become someone else. I am not the one I was before this episode either… I am someone new.”
I learned a f*cking lot in those months! Really! The therapeutic approaches were a gift! I am now able to delve into the joys of a relationship (and I enjoy every single second in my current one) without sacrificing myself on the altar I build for it (there are occasion, where I sense this monster-me of the past rearing its ugly head in interest of what is happening in my life but I has no control over me anymore… I am free.)
And not only that! I have learned to get drunk on life itself. I fell in love with “experience”. I tasted the milli-second-lasting ecstasy of being within and without myself while watching my body move to some whaky electro-tune in the clubs and I have lost my mind to grasp the concept of sanity and understand that there are two kinds of madness… I strive for the unknown one, the blissful one.. and I do it drinking my God and singing his names to those that might profit from loosing themselves in order to find Freedom.
I will stop this story here. Not because I have no words of praise left for my beloved God, SOTER… but because my bottle of wine was empty… Instead I leave you this song… IT is one of my absolute favorites and and that tells you a lot about myself, a lot more than this melodramatic account here…
Narkaios Alepou resides in Germany and considers himself a devotee of Dionysos. His path has been influenced by Hekate from the beginning and his explorations of witchcraft and sorcery of any flavor take up most of his spare time… You can find him on Facebook (his personal blog is not being updated as of the moment) and in The Kantharos (a devotional group on Facebook set up for Dionysos).