it feels like ages since i wrote. it has been a rollercoaster, this month that is about to end. time is a social construct that only mankind abides by. and it makes us so desperate to live and in the end we really do not even live. just exist. i digress. i have so much to say but the words elude me. i have a couple of drafts lying around in my phone and in books but they lack some cohesion for me to actually tie them up and publish.
how much does God care? i do not know. i am not here to give answers. i am not here to expect answers either. i am feeling fatigued to the bone today even though i have not done much. there is a song by For king and country called God only knows. it is a beautiful song and i remember the first time i listened to it, i broke down and cried. today i listened to it a couple of times but this time the sadness i usually feel was nowhere to be felt. i realized really that i have always known that God is aware of everything that happens to us. that happens to me. the question has always been about how much He cares. it is one thing to know of the pain that a person is going through and another thing altogether to care about that person enough to want to help end the pain. i tell myself that God is not like man, of course He cares. i am alive because of Him, no? but there arises another problem. what if i want proof of His caring nature? what if, due to all the years of pain, i want some evidence that He knows of my excruciating pain and He cares enough to want to help me through it or end it? this want of proof is a problem because i suppose it shows a lack of faith. faith mostly is all about believing in things you do not have evidence of. so asking for evidence is a mild evidence of lack of faith. is this not what made some of the Israelites die in the wilderness, never to see the promised land? a lack of faith. what can i say, most of the times i feel like i belong to the damned. the condemned. i cannot change what i have gone through. i cannot change that without changing myself. and if He loves me for being someone else, i wonder if that is really love. i feel so sad because of late God is more of a threat to me than a comfort. a reminder that my humanness is a curse not a blessing. i loathe all the spiritual preaching about mental illnesses and especially for me depression, anxiety and PTSD. all that preaching and teaching always consists of do’s and don’ts. but really what do these preachers know about depression. it is not a do or a do not. it is a be. a state of being. i could do a lot of things and still be depressed. i could not do a lot of things and still be depressed. it is sickening to be honest how people who know nothing about your story take it and spin it around for them to be storytellers. i hate that some of my family members will sit and listen to these teachings, these lies, word per word and believe them. try to use those guidelines on me. i suppose i sound like a heathen to some of my friends who used to talk to me about God. i promise it is not about “losing faith” as one such friend spoke of me. it is a crazy situation that seems God only cares about those who are sane. or normal. depending on the definitions of such terms. because for a lot of the religious folk out there, mental illnesses are a question of not believing. a question of having doubts in God. a question of being stubborn and refusing to let go of the past. a question of not having self control over our emotions. just yesterday i heard a preacher saying we should rein in our emotions because they lead us to sin. but i know something about holding back all you feel. you become a ticking time bomb and one day, you will explode. it does not matter whether you are a sinner or a saint. i really do not understand why people who are apparently big on God matters are so small in understanding humanity. there is a reason we have emotions. they are like our messengers. trying to point out some things to us. i am not advocating for blowing up every time you feel something strongly. i am not saying that you should suppress all your feelings either. it is a matter of balance. i am human. i have the freaking right to feel! and it is unfair for anyone in whatever name of God or something else to tell me that my feelings are wrong. i often ask myself what do people want from mentally ill people. then i remember Joker(2019) saying it so accurately : “The worst part of having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.”
way before the covid restrictions came and ended physical meeting of worshippers i had stopped attending religious meetings and gatherings. why? because i always left feeling more drained than i had arrived. more helpless. more depressed. so i chose to stay away to keep my peace.
whenever i write something along this line, someone tells me this is not how it is. and i wonder whose story is this? mine or theirs? this is my story. i choose how to tell it. whether good or bad. you do not have to agree with what i write or think. it is my telling. “Doesn’t matter what anyone else would call it, Len,” he says. “This is our story to tell. ” (from the sky is everywhere.)