Although I’m not religious, I found my mind wandering today over the “Seven Deadly Sins” and this is my take on this.
I hate my mental illness. How sometimes I wish that I could invoke such wrath upon it and destroy it and it’s madness forever. Feelings of rage and anger overwhelm me and I struggle at not being able to release that wrath. Instead I numb it and find others way to try and hurt it.
I’m greedy for love, compassion and kindness. I cannot get enough of what I missed out on in my life. Is that a sin? If so, then in guilty of such intense greed that I shall wallow in the perils of hell forever….and yet already I feel like judgement has been passed and I’m living that hell with my illness.
Depression is my sloth. It robs me of my will to live and to be alive. Surely people can understand how my illness weakens me of all my energy and drive and practice compassion when they bear witness to my slothing.
Damn right I’m proud. Proud of how strong I am for surely a weaker person would have succumbed long ago to the burdens placed upon me. I am proud that despite my mental illness knocking me down, I get back up every time.
I Lust after peace and tranquility the way a teenage boy lusts after his desires of forbidden fruits – I yearn for the waves of happiness to envelop me in her passionate embrace.
I envy others who do not have to live with a mental illness. I envy how they don’t have to struggle every single day just to stay alive. I envy their peace and happiness and covet what they have.
I partake in feasts of passion and love when given the chance and I gorge to the point of excess. I’m like a sponge, soaking up all that is good and right and just. When I can I indulge in the decadence that is life.
So yes I’m guilty of all the seven deadly sins but I’m not ashamed. I believe that I live the best life that I can at the moment and if that means breaking some rules along the way, that’s ok – I am forgiven.