I feel about as dreadful as it’s possible to feel.
I am cut off. I can’t do rituals without being accused of something in my present environment, and I can’t leave either.
In December, I put a year and a half of waste and anger behind me. I will escape Job Corps, never to return. But there are many days of strife between me and my window. There are many many, days, and I count each one like a voodoo doll counts needles. Bad food, crippling political correctness, bizarre rules and half-baked sympathy from every government worker there. It is what Christians might have named Hell. Every minute on the job, another thorn in my side.
I appeal to the gods, but sometimes it feels as though they do not listen. In my head, I know it means they know I can solve this issue myself, but my heart simply yearns for a “We hear you, and we know you suffer. Brave heart, you will emerge if you keep strong.”
I am prohibited from carrying out blots and other Asatru rituals because the staff have never even heard of Asatru, think Thor is a comic book character, and therefore think I’m doing this “to be cool”. Also, I can’t use mead in appropriate rituals without getting terminated from the program (nobody cannot even possess alcohol for any reason while a student here). I am mostly just saddened by this, but the unwillingness of staff to negotiate, even after I gave them simple research material to prove it’s a no-kidding faith, is starting to piss me off.
So if I blot, I’m apparently being some sort of religious menace, on par with going door to do or in the dorms and asking people to worship Satan or something.
I’m forbidden from practicing most aspects of my faith at a time in my life when I need those rituals more than ever, and all I’m allowed to do is read the Eddas on my Kindle (because nobody can tell what I’m reading on that anyway).
The only consistency in my life is the loathing I feel for the situation I now feel I was tricked into. I have learned little but hated much, and I do not use the word “hate” lightly here. I genuinely, truly hate this place. I have never been unhappier or more tormented in my life, and I have often wondered if I might just get some weed and allow myself to be caught with it just so I could be terminated from the program and sent home. True, I could just be an asshole or punch someone and achieve the same effect, but I have always strived to be a gentle soul unless someone has truly earned a punch, and I wouldn’t want to have to make anyone else suffer more just so I could put an end to mine.
In the end though, I am a righteous coward. I am a wolf caught in barbed wire. If I struggle and fight, I merely wound myself further– and so I must wait for rescue. I must endure the excruciating pain in my heart now or make it worse.
But last night, Niorun visited me in a dream, and told me that patience here will make the freedom even sweeter.
She couldn’t be more right.