When Cole met Jane, something special happened, and they found love.
He never expected Anthony to return…
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Hi guys,
Yep, so far back to the three-week cycle. Okay, it just so happened that
Easter was three weeks from my last, out of sequence post. While I’m here,
happy He Is Risen day, but this is a reflection on Good Friday, or, Ouch Day.
Easter was always just a holiday to me. Generally during school holidays
way back when, then days I got to stay off work, then just another day when I
wasn’t working, and the subject of some movie that Mel Gibson wackily claimed
dark forces tried to stop (before the anti-Semitic tirade). Sure, I knew about
the religious side, but, well, atheist at the time, it wasn’t until after 2018
when I popped publicly and religiously, I understood the Jesus side of it
It was a strange experience, including a Tuesday and night in hospital,
first under whatever good stuff was in the sedatives, and two Valium and an
Olanzapine. Could’ve just been T.M.’s gone whack, but as I came to understand
it, it seemed more I’d been born again. And by that Friday, I went to a
service, took notes of the Rosary’s sorrowful mysteries, got the gift of The
Secret of the Rosary handed to me, and fronted up to the priest to turn
Catholic.
It was an eight-week course, a read of the Compendium of the Catholic
Catechism (a 150 page summary of the 3800 odd Catholic rules and teachings,
only two of which I have a problem with), not just a switch flick, before
splash day the day after my birthday.
Anyway, what happened on my first day, first experience of the Rosary,
the five Sorrowful Mysteries that commemorating the Good Friday side of things
– Agony in the Garden, Scourging at the Pillar, Crowning of Thorns, Carrying
the Cross, and the Crucifixion itself. And as it was at Holy Name of Mary, there’s
14 Stations of the Cross separating the side chapel from the main church, and I
thought, “We’re doing all fourteen of these things?”
Thankfully just five mysteries a day, but with these in the side chapel
(along with a rather ripped Jesus with abs, and arm and leg definition to
literally die for), as part of my first formal day in church, I made an
association with these stations (as I found out Easter 2019, they’re the wrong
ones)… More than that, I could see my entire life in the journey. So here goes
an understanding from this incorrect journey, seeing Jesus as suffering to share
in sheer pain.
(Careful, it’s long…)
The Garden
After the last supper, Jesus and the Twelve go to Gethsemane. He prays,
but the others keep falling asleep. Worse, Judas, fresh with his thirty coins,
betrays his master.
There’s a lot of agony, betrayal, in my garden – childhood. Born
fighting for life with my umbilical cord wrapped round my neck. Uprooted,
bullied, mocked by close ones, at the worst sexually abused by three men. When
your childhood is rippled like this
The High Priest
Jesus gets dragged before Caiaphas, slandered by “witnesses,” rejected
for his truth.
Hard to say on this one, to be honest. Maybe that time after I freaked
out at a school camp going sailing, telling a teacher what I felt, “I don’t
trust anybody,” and as leaderly as he was, turning around in disgust?
Admittedly, that should be part of the previous, but I guess the judgement side
of things
Pilate
Pilate is intriguing because he finds no fault in Jesus, yet still wants
to scourge the guy, presses to set him free, but listens to the crowd, wimps
out when Caesar’s name gets bandied about (he was sore afraid of Caesar), and
relents to the crowd partly to keep the peace (the crowd be rowdy and riled up
by the Pharisees), and partly to escape all responsibility.
In all honesty, the teachers writing me off and condemning me back to
the bullying I went to them for help with, the peer leaders telling me to stand
up to one of the other kids I was with who was hassling me, but not stepping up
themselves in a show of leadership. (Wow, this is deep)
The Thorns, or The Pillar
Where it goes ouch. Really ouch, especially if you’ve seen the movie.
By and large the scourging at the pillar is the hard slog of life. Some
of us, a wilted leaf. Others, ending up with some ribs showing. For me, it’s
the crown of thorns, my mental health. Bipolar, a psychotic episode, brain that
runs a million miles an hour, embarrassing, stupid, past moments all on
constant replay. Oh, and the addiction, which I think has always been there.
Mocking, too, what fun.
The Cross
The bit we all know, trudging up the hill with a heavy weight.
Again, the hard slog of life, but the
current struggles not the past. I felt once I carried two of these things,
everything I’ve been through is heavy, sure it might not be as heavy as some,
or I’m downplaying it and it’s worse than I think. Yeah, still a struggle, and
comes with falls, sending me back to day zero and to confession.
Simon Helps
Scourged and punished badly already, the Romans see Jesus struggling, so
they force Simon, a Cyranean and total stranger to Jesus, to help carry the
cross.
In my darkest moment, though I don’t know how serious I was, I went into
the kitchen to end my life. Bluntest steak knive ever, but I was at the moment of
committing. That’s when something happened I couldn’t explain: a voice behind
my left ear that said, “Don’t do it, don’t waste yourself.” Voice of reason?
Voice of God, an angel? Either way, I just knew I could trust that voice, and I
put the knife back in the draw, went off to cry.
I put my jury out at the time, but came to believe it was the second.
But why was I saved, when so many others fall? Because I’m a writer and can
write about that sort of thing? Send a message to others? I don’t know. All I
know is how thankful I am for that Simon of mine.
The Women
The women of Jerusalem weep at Jesus’ suffering, but he tells them to
weep for their children.
Hard to say with this one, maybe the psychiatrist at St Vincent’s trying
to diagnose me, trying to reason with me, when I was well and truly gone. Her
face said it all, really. Concerned, caring. Unlike Jesus making a point here,
it was me throwing the care and concern off, and trying to escape. But more on
this later.
The Nails
Back to the more known part, getting nailed to the cross.
Something to do with my manic episode, raised before all to see with a
placard over the head, “Here be the nutcase.” Or, instead of INRI, LGBT,
knowing I don’t fit heteronormativity. The culmination of all judgements, my
own, others’ who wrote me off, harmed me. Honestly, this doesn’t feel as bad as
the dark moment, just a part in the whole of being human. But knowing the guy
went to know suffering, helps me see him a little easier.
The Good Thief
Jesus is crucified with two thieves. One, mocks Jesus, tells him to
perform a miracle to save himself. The other, however, lays the case for his
sin, says he is judged fairly, asks Jesus remember him in heaven; for his
repentance, Jesus says, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
I don’t know with this one. We’re all either the good or bad thief. I
guess coming to realise I have an addiction, and making the way into Twelve Step
(still haven’t done Step one yet). It’s still a struggle, sometimes failure is
a week after the last, but I guess it’s getting a shot at the Best Place Ever
because I’m still going to say, “I’m an addict.”
Mary and John
Jesus is visited by his mother, and the beloved disciple. “Woman, behold
your son. Son, behold your mother.” John goes on to make a home for the bereft
Mother of God in his house.
This one, I really don’t know. I guess I see the touching side of it,
may have come across it in some form in my life. I think I’ll leave it at that.
Jesus Dies
For me, it was being strapped down and sedated during my manic episode,
where I quit work on the spot, hurried up to St Mary’s, pushed over a pedestal,
and gave my impromptu sermon, “It’s all a joke.” Boy, I was way out of reality,
in the hit of a very religious experience, and after the psychiatrist asked if
I was acting out of character – I said, “You don’t know my character.” – I tried
to walk out of St Vincent’s, but fifteen people wouldn’t let me,
The one thing I learned of this, is that people who don’t know who you
are, yet will stop at nothing to stop you harming yourself, are the very embodiment
of love.
The Tomb
Joseph of Arimathea pleads for the body of Jesus. He and Nicodemus, with
Mary’s blessing, take down the body, dress him with myrrh and aloes, shroud
him, and lay him in a fresh tomb.
So, I woke up after sedation, groggy and bleary. Someone saw me, checked
on me, dragged my bed around to the nurse station, gave me something to eat,
then I got some Valium, some Olanzapine, and they walked me over to the PECC
ward to stay the night. I was on a bed, with a hospital blanket, sure I would
never get to sleep it as I felt cold. Yet sleep I did.
The Resurrection
The next day I woke up in with some clarity: “You know you had an
episode, right?” After an anxious wait for most of the day, the psych team met
me, I was able to understand what my predicament was, and was let out to go
home. I didn’t realise how born again I was, but yeah, I had another chance.
So, I got some Macca’s, went home, called my psych to go back on the
meds I’d swapped out (which I think led me to the episode in the first place),
got to sleep, went to work the next day (very grumpily, but I survived), and on
my newfound day off fronted up to church, which was so quiet, I knew it was my
place. And since then, though I forget it at times, I go on
And there you have it.
I know this has been a long post, so thank you so much for your
attention. I’m happy to say I’m in a better place than where I have been, my
life being messed about as it was. And for this Easter, I hope you, your
friends, your families, are in good places; and if not, I hope and pray you are
able to find the way through, and reach a point of balance, even if it means
you’re on three different meds so stay balanced like I am.
Take care all, and have a good one!
T.M.
