I hate nights like tonight–took a Benadryl to help me sleep, but it didn’t. Finally fell asleep around 10:30 and woke up twice before waking up for good at 1:49. There is too much on my mind. I tried to pray while still in the bed but, for the past few days, it has seemed ludicrous to believe in a Supreme Being who can hear everyone’s prayers and pay attention to everyone’s life.
I do believe I have made some changes in the past year, but they are miniscule. I can’t sustain a belief in God with any consistency. 75% of the time that I do believe in Him, I feel like He really doesn’t like me. I am no closer to understanding what real forgiveness looks like when it comes to people who have deliberately hurt me.
Just now, I looked at my hands and wondered when I got so old. I feel years older than I did 14 months ago.
Tired of hearing “God is going to use you and your husband in a mighty way.” If God used all the screw-ups in a mighty way, this world would be far different than it is. And on top of that, some of these folks quite often deliver a 30-minute soliloquy on what sucks in their own lives at the moment.
I should have gone to see my parents this weekend, but I couldn’t face it. I dread going–pretending that I’m doing okay when I really just want to scream that, in spite of months of therapy, I still sit in my “paralysis chair,” afraid of when the other shoe will drop.
Some people keep saying “wait for the miracle.” Well, hell, for weeks just getting six hours of sleep a night would be a miracle. Of what miracle are they speaking?
Maybe I’ve run through the gamut of emotions too many times with God–brokenness, despair, anger, fear, unworthiness, anger, remorse, anger, remorse, anger…well, you get the idea. Perhaps He’s to the point where He glances at me and thinks, “I’ve seen that movie way too many times.”
Sent my siblings an email last week. In it, I mentioned how the last year had been for me and my husband and our marriage. I related that we were really working on our individual demons, and our life together. Got only one response, and it was…I don’t even know how to describe it. It said, basically, that the sib who wrote it was so sorry they had not been of more support in the last year; that they really regretted that. Bull shirt. We live in the same town and I haven’t heard from this particular sib more than five or six times in the last year, and all except one of those conversations took place via email. Do any of my sibs think I have amnesia and don’t remember their particularly nasty sins? Maybe they have amnesia.
Do I sound bitter? Yeah, well, right now, I am. Bitter, tired, doubtful, frustrated, incomplete, worn out, roadkill, “shut the hell up with your one-line, feel-better cliches.” Did I mention bone-achingly TIRED of all this crap?
Yeah, it’s 4:30 a.m. and I just don’t care if I sound like a jerk. Funny–why am I certain that God hears my “jerk” thoughts, but not the broken-and-on-my-knees thoughts?