eclipsedfury

[eclipsedfury]

I got a question...

I'm a Christian, and while I don't really believe in the paranormal, I don't see how it isn't possible.

A lot of Christians that I know do not believe in the paranormal whatsoever as it is "impossible".

However...

The Bible mentions spirits.

After Jesus' death, His disciples are on a ship on the sea. There is a huge storm, and we all know this story.

Jesus is on the water, and someone spots Him, and is basically like (and I'm paraphrasing here), "Oh no! There is a spirit on the water!"

....

"There is a spirit on the water!"

.......

"There is a SPIRIT on the water!"

...

On top of that, the Bible also mentions a separation of spirit and soul, meaning that we are comprised of a physical body, a soul, and a spirit (which I personally believe could be our consciousness, but I am no professional).

The Bible also mentions that as soon as we die, our soul leaves immediately. But what about our spirit? Where does that go? Does it leave?

A spirit is a being, rather than a part of us as our soul is a part of us (also, this is my personal opinion). There is God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. All three different beings, but also the same one "person" so to speak.

As I said before, I don't really believe in the paranormal, and by that I mean that I don't believe in it the way that a lot of people do. And I'm not entirely sure if it is real, as I myself have had no personal encounters (that I know of).

I don't think that people get trapped on earth not knowing that they had died because it happened so fast. I do, however, believe that there may be a part of us that may get left behind: our spirit.

.......

Idk. Maybe it's just me. I am fairly under-educated in a lot of things, but this is just my thought.

What do you think?

#paranormal #curious #confused #spirits #questions

[eclipsedfury]

I am a perfectionist, even though I do not believe in [true] perfection.

The way I was raised was: "Do not make mistakes. If you make a mistake, you will be punished."

Growing up, I received many punishments for mistakes such as too much homework after school, inability to complete homework before bed time, accidentally dropping [breakable] items on the floor, accidentally spilling food, etc. These are only the minor mistakes I would make.

No one stopped to ask me how I was doing in school, or why I couldn't sleep well at night, or why I stopped smiling at such a young age, etc. Not until the tenth grade when one of my teachers asked me why I was having so much trouble in her class.

After several weeks of her asking me, I finally explained that I simoly couldn't understand it. (I am a visual and hands-on learner. Telling me things without showing me rarely does anything toward helping me learn.) I was afraid that she, like my parents, would get mad at me for not understanding. She then helped me understand her class, and I only ever had homework from her class if it was a project.

I would find myself punishing myself for making mistakes if I hadn't been caught yet. If I displeased my parents, I would re-punish myself after a scolding or whipping from them. If I made a mistake at school, I would wait until I returned home from school. (These punishments, from both my parents and myself, continued into my late teenage years.)

I will admit that I was not the best child; not by a long shot. I was very rebellious and angry. I would break things out of anger sometimes, or I would punch things. I would on occasion deliberately disobey my parents. A lot of the whippings and scoldings that I received, I did deserve. However, many of the punishments that I received I did not deserve.

People make mistakes. I know that, but at the same time, I have an overwhelming belief that I am not allowed to make mistakes.

Now that I'm older and out of the house, I've found myself struggling to not punish myself. I slip up every now and again if I make a small mistake. I feel a strong need to beat myself, or worse, if I so much as drop a piece of garbage on the floor - especially if it makes a mess.

I'm twenty-three years old now, and am doing better, for the most part. There are days where I will make a mistake, which will either cause me to punish myself, or throw me into a panic attack (if I do not punish myself), though, these days are fairly uncommon anymore.

I'm working on getting better and healing. I don't want to cary this into parenthood (if I ever do become a parent). I fear that this overwhelming need to punish myself for the littlest of things will carry over into my disciplining my child/children.

But I'm working toward being healed.

[eclipsedfury]

Sunset at the Lake.

#outdoors #lake #photography #waterscape #waterscape photography #lake photography #nature #nature photography #art

[eclipsedfury]

Some flower photography for ya

#photography #photos #flowers #nature #art #nature photography #flower photography

[eclipsedfury]

How do you tell someone who is very sensitive and takes things a little too hard that you don't want to talk because every time they talk to you, it brings down your mood bc you feel like you're their designated therapist even though you've explained to them that you have problems of your own and can't talk everyday and when they talk to you it brings you down bc it reminds you of past traumas?

[eclipsedfury]

I'm tired.

Of everything.

[eclipsedfury]

Okay, so, I love my fiancé. He's sweet, kind, caring, protective, and does his damnedest to make me love myself as much as he loves me. He makes sure I have some of the stuff I want and everything that I need. And he'll send me random sweet messages every now and again.

But!

He calls me every. single. day. And not just once. He'll call me up to ten times a day. Just to talk. I don't really mind that. I like talking to him. But... (This is where I get confusing. Try and stick with me.) I am not a people person, even with the people I love and am dating/marrying. I don't like talking every single day. It literally drains me to the point that I become too exhausted to do anything. I literally have to continually conjure energy from the ether *just* to breathe.

And, with him calling me every day, there's nothing new to talk about. So, we sit on the phone, silent for about four hours. Until he finally says, "Well, I'll let you go, baby. I'll talk to you later. I love you." Then a few hours later, he'll call me again. And we sit. Quiet. Nothing new.

Like I said, I don't mind him calling and wanting to talk. Sometimes, he just needs someone to help him stay awake. (He's a truck driver and runs night shifts a lot.) I don't mind that at all. Actually, I've asked him to call me when he needs help staying awake. Then, I'll talk his ear off about random shit, like Minecraft, fishing, music, and other things. But most of the time, we're just quiet, or he'll talk to his trucking partner instead of me, or he will dominate the conversation and interrupts me when I try to speak (that part I do mind).

I want to tell him all of this, but I also don't wanna make him feel like I don't want to talk to him. I do want to talk to him, just not every. waking. moment. of. the. day.

I love him to death, but dear God! Lol

[eclipsedfury]

If you tell yourself enough times a lie, you will begin to believe it.

But if you tell yourself the truth every day, nothing changes.

People say that I am attractive and smart. Peoole say that I'm not as fat as I think I am. I've even told myself this; forced myself to look at me in the mirror and repeated it until I was red in the face and sobbing. It took so much force just to utter those words that my knees buckled and I collapsed on the floor, a broken mess. But even after several months of doing that, nothing changed.

When I happen to catch a glimpse of myself, I shutter and cringe. I feel physically sick, and I just want to beat the ever loving hell out of myself. I get so angry at how I look on the outside, that I can't even take the chance to look inside anymore.

I don't know which is the lie and which is the truth anymore.

[eclipsedfury]

So... several years ago (like 15 - 17 years ago) I had two reoccurring nightmares that I remember vividly.

Both were about a war. (I'm assuming WWIII? Idk.)

In the first one, my family and I were on a day trip thag we always used to take. We were in Amelia Island (which is where I got my favourite book ever btw). An EMP was set off, and cars swerved and crashed. My gaze was immediately turned to the sky where I saw a plane falling from the sky, rolling to its left as it plummeted behind some trees. Then it exploded. When I looked back down, it was a completely different scene. There were fires, people were screaming and running, looters were.. well, looting. Then I realized that I was alone. I tried to move but was not able to. I tried screaming, but my mouth wouldn't open. All I was able to do was stand still, trapped in a horror scene.

I had this dream twice.

In the second one, I was walking down a sidewalk in the middle of my hometown. I saw a huge plane, like a military cargo plane, come down. It had been modified to be able to hover, and hover it did.

It was hovering above the ground about 50 - 60 feet in the air over the interstate overpass. On the other side of the overpass was a gas station (that wasn't actually there irl).

I knew I had to run away, but yet again, I was not able to. But I DID move, against my will, TOWARD the plane. Several other people were heading that way as well.

Once enough of us had come close enough to the overpass, the plane dropped a huge metal thing that looked like an old atomic bombshell. But it didn't explode. All of us moved closer and closer.

I had climbed the hill of the overpass, approaching the bombshell as the plane hovered upward then began to fly away. A few seconds later, the seams of the bombshell split, and the walls opened, releasing a red vapor that poured out. I felt my body release and tried to run, but I wasn't fast enough. The vapor overtook me and everyone around me, smothering and burning us as we all screamed.

The second time I had this dream, the same exact thing happened, except I was able to move this time. I knew the vapor was fast moving (I'm presuming due to the wind). So, not remembering from the previous dream that the vapor was heavier than air, I hid in a colvert. The vapor, again, smothered and burned me.

The third and final time that I had this dream, I ran as fast as I could until I woke up in a panic, feeling my body and wiping tears out of my burning eyes.

Now, fast forward about eight years after the first dream:

My family and I were on a daytrip in Amelia Island. We were all having fun. Then a gut wrenching anxiety overcame me, forcing me to exit the building that we were in. I looked around and realized that I was standing in the same exact spot as in my dream. Panic struck me, I began crying and hyperventilating. My mom was confused, but tried to calm me down. I studied each and every car that passed by, waiting for them to stop or swerve. Then I heard a plane engine above us. My stomach dropped, and I watched it until it disappeared behind the trees, and I continued watching, waiting for a loud explosion and a large plume of black smoke and fire to burst into the air. But nothing happened.

Eventually, I calmed down, and I was relieved.

Fast forward about four more years, construction begins in my hometown. After a few weeks, I see the same exact gas station from my second dream. Ever since then, I've been anxious about a huge cargo plane hovering over that overpass.

#dream #nightmare #scary dreams #nightmares #dreams #war #scary dream

[eclipsedfury]

I found my sketchbook...

I draw broken hearts when I'm upset. I draw them more or less broken and destroyed depending on how I feel. I drew this one forever ago.

I would like to draw one now to release some pressure, pain, and anxiety that I'm feeling, but my sketchbook has gone missing.

[eclipsedfury]

If I drew one now, there'd be a bite taken out of it, a gunshot wound with back-splatter, a knife through it, it'd be torn almost completely in half, and I'd prolly add some colour to it, less at the top and more at the bottom to show how drained I am feeling.

I draw broken hearts when I'm upset. I draw them more or less broken and destroyed depending on how I feel. I drew this one forever ago.

I would like to draw one now to release some pressure, pain, and anxiety that I'm feeling, but my sketchbook has gone missing.

[eclipsedfury]

I draw broken hearts when I'm upset. I draw them more or less broken and destroyed depending on how I feel. I drew this one forever ago.

I would like to draw one now to release some pressure, pain, and anxiety that I'm feeling, but my sketchbook has gone missing.

#art #sketch #drawing #doodle #broken heart

[eclipsedfury]

I have a second Tumblr - @dearguardianangel.

I write letters there to my Guardian Angel.

Follow it if you would like, but know that it may get sad and depressing at times.

[eclipsedfury]

Random story, I guess.

When I was younger, my dream house was a cave with a little creek flowing through it... A cave.... with a creek....

I loved the idea so much that when I hung out with my little cousins, we would imagine that we lived in said cave and spoke a completely new language. We imagined that people would discover us and try to "rescue" us. But we'd, uh, kill them... Because they were trespassing in our beautiful cave home. XD

I still think it'd be cool to live in a cave, but... I like wifi and videogames too much. Lol

#random #story #dream home #I'm weird

[eclipsedfury]

Some photos I took with my new phone.

[eclipsedfury]

So, recently, my neighbour's sister got her car stuck in our apartment complex's ditch. I came home from grocery shopping, and saw her brother and another neighbour of ours attempting to push her car out of the ditch.

So, I got my groceries inside, then approached them. I asked them if they needed help to which they replied, "Yes, please! Do you know what to do? We've been trying for an hour now, and she's not budging!" I told them that I didn't know *exactly* what to do, but I had ideas.

We had some old planks of wood that were just rotting away on our porch. So, I brought those over, and we placed them as far under the tires as we possibly could. Then the three of us went to the front of the car and began pushing while the sister attempted to back up. She moved a few inches, then the muddy tires slipped on the planks, and the car came down on us. None of us were pinned, but I'm sure my shoulder bone is chipped.

I'm gonna skip the rest of the story and cut it short.

We tried on our own for about two hours. Then I called a friend who has a truck. He was able to push her out of the ditch... then he got stuck.

It went from a 3,000lbs mini SUV to an 8,000lbs truck. It took us another two or three hours to get him out of the ditch.

It was a night full of smoking tires, deep mud ruts, and a lot of anxiety on my part. But, it taught me and teaches me a few lessons.

First lesson it taught me: always have some random shit to put under your tires just in case you ever dig yourself into a rut.

Second lesson: don't listen to/hold close people who are absolutely bewildered at the fact that you spent about five hours of your night helping someone get out of a ditch; *even if* the person was drunk, or was choosing not to drive the extra twenty feet to drive in the driveway, or whatever.

I don't care if she was drunk, high, lazy, whatever! She needed help, and I had some resources that could help. We're not supposed to live our lives turning a blind eye to others' troubles simply because "they were drunk/high/stupid". If someone needs help, you help them if you are able.

The worst part about this is all of the people who told me I shouldn't have helped because it was her fault are Christians, as am I. I'm pretty sure if Christ were here and *saw* her drive into the ditch (drunk, high, or willingly) He would have also helped.

Don't let ignorant people teach you wrong.

#rant #help one another #be kind #don't be ignorant