It would be easier to acquiesce and seek redemption through some sort of Christianity. I am like one of those old-time preachers who railed against sexuality and moral corruption. It was their way of expressing their sexual desire. I too rail against Christianity because I find its doctrines and certainty tempting. In my present state of mind I would say that I don’t deserve redemption. Denying myself the promises of redemption is a way of punishing myself. Of my present state of mind a Christian would speak of pride and my sinful nature; I say it’s the cost of my continued existence.
Why do I want to go on living? Isn’t the anguish objection enough? Curse God and die, said Job’s wife. There’s my daughters, but in my darker times I could probably convince myself that they’d get over it. Bearing the weight of the despair allows me the luxury of despising it. Writing about it all makes it possible to feel superior to the suffering and pain. And that is a pleasure subtle and satisfying. The pleasures of cruelty should not be underrated even if they are unpredictable in their comings and goings.
In the past owning up to my despair and self-loathing formed the basis of confidence and certainty. If I was unafraid of the worst in my psychic life, then people and situations were easy.