Mad at God
It's no secret to those that are close to me that I have been angry with God. Losing Daddy has sent me to a very dark place in my person-hood and my faith. To say the least, I have been shaken to my very core. I have not handled this time period in my life well and I have regressed to some old habits. I have found myself questioning the heart of God and my ability to ever trust Him again. I have consistently felt as if God took my Father and left me an orphaned and awkward here to live forever in pain. I have struggled with feelings of insanity and waves of depression have crashed into my soul at the most unexpected times. I have ran hard and then sat stagnant. All the while maintaining and regular positive presence on social media.
Life may appeared well to the casual online stroller. It probably has seemed as if I was taking my pain in stride. I have been praised for my strength and my ability to bounce back and gracefully move forward.
Lies. Lies. Lies. Truth be told, I wasn't trying to put on a facade of any kind. It's just that Facebook just isn't real life to me and I rarely share the most intimate parts of my life on social media. You will see sweet pictures of my Mikey, lovey dovey pictures of my husband and I, a funny post here, a political-ish post there, and lots of empowerment for women but that's about it. You won't know about unemployment, robbing Peter to pay Paul moments, marital strain, or even the people that I am closest too because all it is my choice to cherish and enjoy and not always share. I post more than many people, but a post is one second of day. I can smile long enough to take a selfie to inspire and the lay right back in my pit of despair. You see a sad face isn't always symptomatic of a depression. Sometimes, it is smile that a masks the tears and turns them into a twinkle in a person's eye.
Simply put, life has been hell and forever seems like a long way to go. But, I am so grateful to those in my inner courts for knowing me better and not pushing but loving me in a way that has allowed me to be vulnerable and not okay. I so appreciate them not knocking my over the head in correction because I finally went to my doctor for help when it all seemed debilitating and too much.
On that note, I want to say that it is okay to take anti-depressants. I know well enough the pressures that are placed on those who are suffering to just overcome. But, everyone is not in a place to speak over themselves and shout their way through. To be even more transparent, after years praying, praising, and believing and then months of seeing visions and fasting for healing all while believing undoubtedly that my daddy would be healed on this side only to lose the best man I have ever known and person who made me feel normal and okay, I can't. I don't have the faith it takes to speak over anyone (especially myself) in the area of healing especially when the words ring in my head, "For what?"
My faith has been leveled to my foundation. I know God is real, I know that Jesus lives after sacrificing his life for me, and I know that God sent His son because He loves. I know that he is a supplier and that He is all powerful. I know He had a choice and he chose differently from my supplication and my desperate cries... I know He heard me I know He made me a promise that was fulfilled differently. But the rational that "God's ways are not my ways" does not help me. I don't feel joy in the midst of sorrow and grace does not feel so sufficient.
So I take my Skittles (insider*), I smile, and I walk. I post and go, go, go until I get home and then I cry. Many days I do get to laugh with my family as we walk through these emotions together. But, insomnia like symptoms keep me up alone (when I used to text Daddy) at night and my pillow soaks up my tears stains like a sponge.
For the first time yesterday I opened my mouth and cried out to God how I really felt. In the midst of praise and joy filled service I was hidden (Psalms 91) in a place safe enough to be honest. I told God loudly that I was angry and that I didn't understand. I told him I didn't know what to do and that I really didn't know what else to say. I shared I didn't now how to worship Him anymore, but I know that I needed him. I told him He was going to have to make sense of this and that I needed help on what to do.
That's when a miracle of sorts happened. But, I'll tell you about it next time.