Full disclosure: This topic may seem heavy and off-brand for some. That’s fine. If you’re not into it, skip on to the next blog post. No hard feelings over here. We’re all entitled to our own opinions and beliefs. I just figured that if I have all these questions and feelings about God at 28, then maybe some people out there can relate and maybe even understand. This is all about what’s going to help your mental health, right?
I was a good, Catholic-school girl my whole life. I went to Catholic school from kindergarten to senior year in high school, and I went to church every Sunday. I got A’s on (almost) all my Religion tests, and I received my Communion and Confirmation with pride. At 8-years-old, I could recite The Beatitudes by heart. I acted in the Passion play every Easter, I was there for the lighting of every Advent candle, and it was a no-brainer that one day, I’d get married in the church where I grew up.
Faith always came easy to me. But somewhere along the way, maybe after I turned 20 or so, I started to question things. There were so many rules and demands that I was taught to blindly follow all my life. However, things were different now. I was different. My faith wasn’t exactly inclusive to ALL the people that mattered to me, and I wasn’t okay with that. I still believed in God. I just learned to question Him a little bit more.
The Shift
At the risk of sounding like I’m complaining, I went through some pretty rough times throughout the course of my life, and I found myself giving God the cold shoulder a little bit. Maybe I’d stop praying every night for a week or two until He and I had reconciled and moved on. Despite how hard things would get, I kept on believing because I’d learned all my life that God had a plan for me and everything was happening for a reason.
In 2016, that all started to change. That blind faith disappeared. My view of the world had changed dramatically, and I had to work harder to believe.
I started a relationship with a man I’d loved since we were 17. He made me happy, and I was relieved with the way my fate seemed to be changing. Every bad relationship before that finally made sense, because it led me to him and the future we’d have together.
2016 also brought me my nephew, who is also my Godson. My faith in God felt stronger than ever as I held that sweet baby boy over the Baptismal pool and promised to always protect him and watch over him as his Godmother. Jayden brought me a lot of hope at a time when I didn’t have any left. My faith remained strong whenever I thought of him.
But in May of 2016, I lost one of the most important people that had ever been a part of my life. It was extremely hard at first, but I felt like with time, it only got harder. Time couldn’t seem to heal the wound. It had become easy to forget to tell someone how much you love them before it’s too late. And that made me so angry.
My anger was mostly towards myself, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was so angry with God even more. It seemed like for every really good thing He presented to my life, He took away something just as important. Maybe that seems naïve, but I was spiraling, and I needed somebody to blame for my pain and anger.
Since her passing, I go to visit Mary a few times a year. Every time I’m there, I talk to her and cry like I did the day we buried her. My tears aren’t the only trend on these visits. Every time I talk to Mary, and she doesn’t talk back, I get a little angrier with God. A couple of years have passed, and it’s hard to say if it’s gotten any easier. There’s still this hole in my heart that can’t ever be filled, but I don’t feel as alone as I once did because now she comes to visit me in my dreams.
If I’m being honest, I don’t talk to God as much anymore. I guess I’m still angry. I can’t help feeling like I did everything right. I followed all the rules. I was a good Christian girl who prayed and went to church, and yet I still feel like my life isn’t anything like I thought it would be.
I had big dreams when I was a little girl, and life has kind of kicked me in the gut when it comes to those dreams. Some days are still hard, but I refuse to give up, mostly because Mary wouldn’t have wanted me to. But God and I… We’re still on rocky terms.
I guess I just can’t understand the purpose or the meaning behind all the pain in the world and in certain people’s lives. There can be no good without bad, but still… Maybe I’ll understand someday. Maybe I’ll never know why things happened the way they did, or why I had to lose so many people that I loved. I have the word “Believe” tattooed on my body, so I’m still trying to find a way to have faith. If nothing else, I can try to have faith in myself.
*I’m sorry if you hated this post or if you feel like it doesn’t fit with the brand of this blog. I guess it was more therapeutic to me than anything else. And sometimes, the only therapy you need is to get things out, even if you’re talking to yourself.
