Last week, I had a serious breakdown and a serious explosion – a rant, if you will – about God. I am scared. It’s true. But my fear is being misplaced and I’m looking, desperately, for someone or something to be responsible. Maybe it’s because of the lack of control I have over the situation, but it is what I did. And the truth of the matter is that I don’t really know how to have faith.
I don’t understand the level of comfort people have in praying to God. I don’t understand accepting things on God’s terms. It lacks all sensibility to me. I can’t wrap my mind around depending on an entity that I have no influence over. How can this unknown “person” be able to help me in the way I need? I don’t understand this utter giving up of my own responsibility to powers beyond my ability to control. I simply do not get it.
How do you do that?
I know I need insulin to survive. The thought of praying to God to help me with this seems like a losing battle. If I have no ability to pay for it, if I have no ability to go out and do agreed upon work to obtain the things I need to live, how can God possibly go outside of the world He/She affects to do this? Isn’t this world His/Her creation? Doesn’t that mean that all activities upon it are at His/Her discretion? To me, that means the systems in place are established with His/Her knowledge and approval. This means, I have to function within that system. If I am unable to function in that system, prayer to God becomes irrelevant.
Maybe my thinking is flawed.
I used to love God. I used to be a half-way decent catholic and went to church, prayed my Rosary, participated in the sacraments, etc. But maybe, my acceptance of my sexuality is my curse. I can’t ever tell what is or what is right. Am I being selfish for wanting to live? Is that an evil thing?
I often describe my struggles and troubles in life my philosophical battle with existentialism, but what if it is much more simple than that? What if all I am trying to do is live and living is the struggle. I also mentioned last week, that I give up. I know I’m not giving up. The simple fact that I’m writing this post and still struggling with this means I’m not giving up. I can’t accept that I am facing death. I can’t accept that there is no solution. I simply cannot accept that as my reality.
I’m a fighter.
I always have been.
But I am desperate. Fear got to me last week. And if I admit it it honestly, it has been one of the primary factors in my alcoholism – I don’t like fear and I avoid it with drinking. I have other character flaws, obviously, but fear is the one that has me at my worst lately and maybe this is what is meant by the Gift Of Desperation.
Maybe I am at that point…
Maybe I am finally desperate.
I don’t like it.
I don’t like it at all.
But I can’t find faith. I can’t seem to understand trusting a God. How can I trust something that I can’t truly accept? Yet, I trust I’ll die if I accept my situation as it is. And if a solution comes, is that God or my own mental faculties working in my favor? How do I know if She did it for me?
To me, none of this makes any sense at it’s most basic level. I don’t hate God – I don;t hate Her or Him. But I don’t know how to love Her.