My phone blew up yesterday. I had to turn it off. I am sorry for not responding. I eventually will. And I realize how rude it is to read and not respond but the unfortunate reality of my state of mind is that I cannot do it. And the well-meaning, “I am still praying for you”? Salt. Horrible, bubbly salt. Stop it.
My life, in a nutshell right now. A wolf, hiding under the sheepish shape of God and religion. A wolf who’s hatefully posted for weeks only to recoil when a kind young man, befriended them. The tone changed when I boiled over. They didn’t see the weeks of Tweets. The drive-bys, the Instagram photos of stalking work. They missed when they lied online about who I was and what they were going through. They don’t hear all the lies this person believes and uses as weapons against me. They didn’t see all the passiveness shrink away when called out on it. When I got called psychotic for looking at this person public Twitter when they have found ways to look at my private Instagram then tweet passively about how “fake” we were. So, eff you. For taking a side. Fuck you for picking the villain and not the victim if you were so inclined to feel you had to choose. God is not real. If he was, I wouldn’t feel shunned time and time again. Shunned when I didn’t sign your rule book. Shunned when I didn’t provide free services. Shunned when I had unanswerable and uncomfortable questions and shunned when I need someone to lift me up. God is not real. And religion is just an excuse to sing the praises of forgiveness instead of digging into the real problems. I am done with praying. Stop praying for me. Praying doesn’t work.
It’s people, not God that do this. I know that he wasn’t going to reach down a redirect crashing airplanes but everyone speaks of hearing him and I cannot. All I hear is silence and I see pain. All the time pain. I see babies who die and children who get cancer. I see bombs and angry and mean. This wolf in my life who can’t think of anyone but themselves. Who stole my memories and my peace. They live in the God bubble. It just makes me want nothing, ever, to do with God again. You don’t have to be a part of a church to be the good. I can be the good. I am not this monster.
I am so fucking angry right now. So incredibly angry. I am angry that my tiny problems balled up into this. That I let the “it could be so much worse” trap me into this corner of not trying to get it out and now, I have this enormous, ungodly demon floating around me all the time. Each silver car that passed made me shiver only to find out that the silver car was traded for another; convenient. Afraid to go out, afraid to do anything. I am angry that my kids’ lives got turned upside down and that everything I loved, changed and now looks different, feels different, smells different and is different. That I am the outsider in the circle and while the volumes of people reaching out make me feel loved, I am so hardened that I cannot accept it or permit myself to believe that they love me. How can anyone love me….. how do you get the words “well at least someone does” out of my head. How do you accept that people love you when this kind of thing happens in your life? How do you prevent the wolf and the illness from winning? Because they’re fucking winning. The wolf, a pathetic clone of what they thought was me. Ill-proportioned words and bravery, staggeringly hidden under the guise of “say it to my face” and “do you have something to say to me” but only in an audience and not one and one. That’s fear, whether wolves believe it or not. Running, fearfully from the store, knowing I was coming. Passively tweeting, that’s fear. Lying is fear.
Winning. What’s the prize? What do any of us win in this? A poverty of peace. A poverty of love. Instability. We all win fear. We win angry and we win sad. Surely you can’t believe anyone believes your painted words. Surely you have to realize how words mean nothing and actions mean everything. And you can’t fix smudges all the time.
Please stop telling me you’re praying for me. I don’t want to hear it anymore.