What losing hope looks like

It all started a couple of years ago for me.  It built up from somewhere.  I cannot identify today when exactly it all started, but I do remember the feelings each time I felt it.  In spite of all the things that I have gone through in life, I never lost my hope in people.  I always looked first at the good side of people; it felt right.  In time, I realized that I was wounded over and over again.  In response, I wounded back.

I did not realize that I was playing a survival game.  You see?  When you have no choice but to be in a situation, in the company of certain people, you learn to cope.  You learn the triggers.  You learn the ‘what to’s’ and the ‘what nots.’  It is all a survival game.

Yet, it was not until last year that I fell entirely.  I was paranoid, I could not find one person to trust.  Here is the worse part of it all:  I didn’t even bother going to God.  I did not pray about anything because I had become so self-sufficient.  I mean, I had the “fear” of God, as Christians define it…but I did not “go to” Him.

The day that I realized I was pretty much mortally wounded, I couldn’t fathom just how much blood I had lost in the game.  I was dehydrated, malnourished, unprepared.  I fell on the ground with a fatal wound to the heart, the chest, and my soul.  I realized that I had lost my weapon in the field of battle.  I had no energy.  Gone.  Dead.  A zombie.

Yet, I disappeared into the desert.  There, in the solitude of all, I started to gain strength.  I stayed there until my legs could carry me.  I questioned God a million times.  I learned that God does not answer all prayers.  I learned that God grows quiet.  I learned that the more I screamed at God, the less He spoke to me.  I learned that going to God with “me” or “I” does not get me a quicker response.  I learned to live, breathe, and wait every day.

Learning that God does not answer all prayers has been hard.  It has given me the ability to survive with what I have.  For the first time in my life, I have no clear path.  I don’t know who I am.  I don’t know why God is keeping me around.  You know how Christians speak of how God has a greater plan?  They speak of how God has the situation?  How God has prepared the way?

Well, sometimes I feel that God’s purpose for me is to make an example out of me.  That perhaps all of these dreams in my heart are meant to break me.  That I think too highly of myself.  That I have no right to dream.  That I do not work hard enough for those dreams.  I mean…what is a dream if you do not work towards it?  I mean…didn’t we need Judas to betray Jesus so that we could all be saved?  I’ve heard that Judas had a choice…but did he?

What about David and Goliath?  David wouldn’t be so famous if he didn’t kill Goliath.  So…didn’t he need that giant then?  Later on, the stories of King David would not be so great had we not known of his biggest enemy:  King Saul.  So, would King David’s deeds be so big had it not been for King Saul?

Is my destiny to be someone’s Goliath, Saul, Judas?  Am I God’s “what not to do” special?

I am not trying to kill your faith with this.  I am questioning  what has happened in my life.  Why did I end up here?  Like this.  Some may say that I need to pray more; yet the truth is that I pray everyday.  On my knees, I humble myself.  I do.

Because believe it or not…God is all I have left.  Last year, I fantasized with sleeping and never waking up.  These days, I wake up with a lot of pain on my chest.  I believe that the many blows to this heart of mine have left a bruise.

I have managed to stay away from people for close to a year now.  It has been healing, yet I realize that I am still too sensitive.  Opinions bother me, I am disappointed in myself, I cannot find a recruiter that will call me (I am unemployed).  I feel like a slow train wreck.

Is there any hope that this will all end well?  Is there something good for me on the other side of the road?  Is God ever going to…?

Save me

 

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S.O.S. by Indila

This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…
I’ve quited all but don’t resent me
Needed that I went, I was not me anymore
I’ve fallen so low
That no one sees me anymore
I’ve sunk in anonymity
Fought the emptiness and the cold, the cold
I’d like to come back, I don’t succeed
I’d like to come back
I’m nothing, I’m no one
I’ve all my sorrow as a kingdom
Only a weapon imprisons me
Seeing light through the bars
And looking how beautiful the sky is
Do you hear my voice that resounds (that resounds)?
This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…
Silence kills the suffering in me
Do you hear it? Do you see me?
He promises to you, makes of you
An object without brightness
Then I’ve shouted, I’ve thought of you
I’ve drowned the sky in the waves, the waves
All my regrets, all my story
I reflect it
I’m nothing, I’m no one
I’ve all my sorrow as a kingdom
Only a weapon imprisons me
Seeing light through the bars
And looking how beautiful the sky is
Do you hear my voice that resounds (that resounds)?
This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…

The incomplete story of someone that used to be someone

(Read to “Out of It All” by Helen Jane Long)

I was once someone.  A person of value.  A person present, a person in the moment.  I knew who I was.  I was certain.  It was me.  I knew me.  I knew her.

Now, I live under the shadow of what I used to be.  Some have told me that I must let that person go.  That I need to move on.  But how can I break up with myself?  How do you let go off the one that you loved?  What if it was you whom you loved all along?  Should I let her go?

She is still here.  I can feel her inside of me.  There are traces of her in my house. Yes, I can definitely feel her in the mornings.  I can feel and see her.  I can see her making her favorite breakfast in the morning.  That seamless smile when she tastes the fresh cup of coffee in the morning.  Many don’t know this, but I do:  it is not the taste, but the scent of a freshly brewed cup that makes her eyes shine.  She used to say “My coffee is not a drink.  It is dessert.  Shh”

God, I miss her so much.  I was jealous of her, you know?  She knew who she was; and I didn’t.  She was not afraid; this feeling was a waste of time for her.  She was powerful, and she walked like a person that knew her future.  But, did she?

One day, her steps faltered.  She fell, out there… in the rain.  It was a mess.  She fell, and she could not get back up as she used to.

Today, she walks with a limp.  There are times when she has to use crutches, because she is afraid of the rain.

She is afraid of the fall.

I am afraid of the fall.