Ready. Set. Sail!
(For those of you who are grieving or in the process of losing a loved one, please don’t read this post. This won’t help you and it might be difficult to hear my opinion or potentially triggering. Don’t worry, I don’t need the Stats nor do I really care for them that much.)
To avoid breaking down into a sobbing mess while writing this post, I’m listening to Justin Bieber’s “Baby” right now. I find vapid meaningless pop music soothing and uplifting in a strange way.
One of my followers, a best friend and practically a brother to me, lost his father on November 8, 2015. A couple days after his birthday.
Cancer. A viscous metastatic cancer.
Ughhh….He didn’t deserve it and my friend doesn’t deserve to go through this level of heartache and suffering. No one does obviously. He was a good man. I was close to him. Flaws aside, he was a good man. Yes we didn’t want him to die so soon but death is inevitable.
As fitting as it is that I happen to be wandering through Purgatory right now, so apparently was he; meandering listlessly in the cold heavy medium that is neither peace nor sorrow. An avid Catholic man whose priest gave him the sacrament of reconciliation, I assume that means he is no longer wandering and is in heaven now. I’m not very clear how that process works nor do I care. I’m not Catholic and have never been. When I get around to writing down my life story (soon hopefully!), I’ll detail the impact religion, namely Orthodox Presbyterian (Protestant) beliefs, have both shaped and deformed me as a person. If there is a God, he/she is a cruel bully who shut the door on me when I came crawling on my knees, clothes tattered and worn, screaming for mercy at the top of my lungs! But it’s all part of his/her “grand plan” I’m not allowed to know about, right? So here I am. Unable to circumvent the whole disappointing scheme. I am unfit to enter the Kingdom of Heaven but not wicked enough to enter into eternal damnation in hell. Both in my mind and in my flesh, I am a phantom condemned to haunt the lonely roads through which I travel. Forsaken and past the point of redemption.
Clothed in a range of dark neutral colors are the mourners; scattered around the strawberry blonde wooden covering. Sitting atop a cold empty table is an urn, finely decorated with the emblem of The United States Army and the National Flag. Inside this urn is the cremated remains of a man who dedicated his life to his country, his family, and his God. Dedicated parishioner to his local church, loving father/grandfather/great-grandfather and husband, and a veteran with a 30+ year record of service to the Department of Defense Aircraft division under his belt. His final resting place will be adorned with military honors. The burial is very fitting for a man like that. A man I never got the chance to say goodbye to…
…moving onto One Direction…
…I’m very fortunate my psychiatrist let me back on 150mg of Wellbutrin. For some reason it’s taking forever to start kicking in again. I’m trying desperately to be there for my friend. But what can I say? There isn’t a way to genuinely say, “He is in a better place” because I’m not sure I believe in a better place. My mom called me earlier last week and she told me to say a bunch of religious bullshit to him. I didn’t. I was too bitter to open my mouth.
Where is God in all this? In this man’s death? In the Paris attacks? 129 deaths accredited to ISIS, a terrorist organization that glorifies and promotes violent rape of non-Islamic women. Or in my bipolar disorder for Christ’s sake? Where. Is. God?
No really. Where the fuck is God? Tell me!
…Miley Cyrus in her early years…
…I’m really trying NOT to trigger myself. When I heard the news of his death, coupled with the other life-and-death struggles another one of my followers is having, I went into a full-blown panic attack. This post has taken me a collective 8 hours to write! My heart is protecting me from the outburst of pain about to explode all over my living room. But. Maybe I need to stop holding it in.
…Fuck this stupid music!
You wanna know what’s going on in my head? You wanna know how I really feel? Well here goes.
Yeah I said it. I’m angry. Really fucking pissed.
Or rather. There is no God. There is no God/Goddess/Deity of any kind watching over us. The sooner you swallow that 10,000,000 mg pill the better you’ll feel. Those of you who are religious followers, don’t you fucking dare write me any scripture verses. I can GUARANTEE you that after attending a Christian elementary and high school, volunteering and teaching at my local churches, going to a Nazarene college, and taken EVERY religious class from basic Bible stories to apologetics; I know what you’re going to say. SAVE. YOUR. BREATH.
I don’t wanna hear it and you don’t want my response. Trust me. Gimme a fucking chainsaw because I’ve lost my God damn mind!
This whole thing called life is pointless. Forest Gump is wrong. Life isn’t a box of chocolates. Life is an amalgamation of experiences both good and bad. They range in a countless spectrum of escapades from the breath-taking, awe-inspiring, wonderful, amazing, stunning, orgasmic to the horrible, repugnant, odious, sickening, ghastly, nasty, vile, and dreadful. And when all is said and done, when your last breath escapes your lips, you’re done. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You are buried, cremated, etc.
As hard as this is for me, I just can’t get myself to believe that life has a supernatural purpose. Maybe a celestial one. I believe in the evolution of the species. I believe in the Big Bang. I believe in the theory of relativity.
Ughh…..I sound like a child. Right? A stubborn, angry child. But this is my blog. My post. So I suppose you are all standing by on pins and needles waiting for an insightful answer. Am I right? I’m so sorry. I don’t have an answer.
I told you I’m not the hero of my story. I’m not. I’m scared and heartbroken. I’m a child shaking my fist at the sky demanding an answer. I’m lost, angry, and alone.
I want a world without suffering. Is that too much to ask?
If you could only feel, as I type, the complete sorrow of my heart breaking into pieces. It feels like it’s being ripped out of my body. Johnny Cash says:
“I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real.”
I’m not strong. I’ve lost faith. I’m frightened.
There really isn’t any difference between this post and any other post ranting about God. Shaking my fists at the sky and cursing isn’t doing me any good.
So what now? Whom do I direct my anger towards?
This isn’t going to help anyone. As I walk along this Trail, alone and frightened, angry about the past and resentful for the future, I notice something. A small flickering light. Not sure what it is. As I cautiously approach, it shies away. What is this glimmer that is so fragile and small?
If that’s all there is, then that’s good enough for me.
As I stood there before the urn as the holy man said a prayer from a book of Christian prayers, dowsing the urn and its presence in holy water, I begin to let the light of hope in. While I’m not sure for what, I can feel the pervasive warmth of hope lighting up my heart. Maybe things will get better. My compass is broken again.
I’m sorry to disappoint everyone. I’m only human.
All I can do is hope. Because, “I will let you down/I will make you hurt.” (Hurt – Johnny Cash)