Sometimes I yell at God.

Sometimes I yell at God. December 10, 2010

I hesitate to write this post, since, with my previous posts about cutting, I am well on my way to becoming the stereotypical depressed blogger, and I prefer to refrain from things that are stereotypical. But, let’s be real here. It’s been a painful year. I’ve had to get up just to get kicked back down; I’ve had to turn around and face a past that’s been lurking behind me my entire life; I’ve had to pull more than a few knives out of my back; I’ve had to rely on a mustard seed of faith to keep me afloat in a sea of doubts. It’s been rough.

So, what does one do when the pain grows so thick that it clouds all hope? When the fog is so deep that God can’t be seen through it, who does one turn to? When everything that once seemed permanent crumbles, what does one hold onto? When Life’s mountain path reaches a steep, jagged cliff, how does one get over it?

Since we’re being real here, I feel like, for the first time, I am truly going through this alone. God isn’t here. I mean, I know He’s omnipresent, yeah, yeah, yeah. But I don’t know. I don’t feel. I pray and no one answers, for weeks at a time. Every now and then I’ll hear a whisper- “I’ll never leave you,” or “I made this day for you.” And I cling to those words for dear life. But, they aren’t enough. Where are you God? Why are you making me do this by myself? How can you just ignore me like that? If you really loved me, you’d carry me through this instead of making me crawl. To quote a song by the Fray which has defined my life lately, “You’ve got some kind of nerve.” My prayers lately have been more like one-sided yelling matches.

Is it wrong to think these things? Is it wrong to talk to God in this way? Probably. But He knows me. He knows what I’m thinking. Why pretend that these things aren’t going through the mind that He created? Why pretend that I have perfect faith? I don’t, God. Sometimes I hate you. You know that. Sometimes I wish I could punch you in the face. You know that. Sometimes I don’t even believe that you exist. You know that too. But you know I’m holding on to that tiny seed of faith. I don’t even know why I’m still holding on, except for the fact that holding on is the only thing you’ve given me strength to do.

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