Monday, February 17, 2014

London: day forty-two

Hey guys,
I feel like I need to apologize a bit; I’m aware that my blog posts haven’t been quite reaching the standard that I set at the beginning of the semester. Truth be told, I’ve been having a hard time focusing on them and have been a little bored and impatient with writing them every day, and I know that makes them boring to read too. I have a hard time writing about days (like today) that nothing really happens, but on eventful days I’m usually too tired by the end of them to want to write either. But I need to keep writing, that’s part of why I am doing this in the first place; to train myself to write every day, no matter what, and develop a habit that will help me continue future writing. Unfortunately, not every day is necessarily going to be “good” writing, so I apologize for the past few rather dry posts, and thank you for sticking with me through the good writing and the bad – and the ugly, depending on what you really think.
The past few posts have been very much a we-did-this-then-that-then-that-then-that kind of style, and I really haven’t included many details about myself in the midst of this. Honestly, there’s been a great deal on my mind that has been too complicated to cover in a short blog post. Frankly, it would quickly fill a book. I can give a sort of idea of it though, I suppose.
The biggest thing, I think has been the severe doubt which has come up about my faith. This has been very troubling to me and I really don’t know what to do with it. I have discussed it a little previously, but it has been a very consistent train of thought. Every time I stand in one of the Cathedrals here, marveling at the architecture and colorful windows, I cannot help but wonder, “God, where are you?” And in my mind, I kneel on the cold floor and ask for the return of my faith, please. But I’m tired of kneeling. I’m sick and tired of it. I have pleaded and begged so many times for healing, for help, for hope, for peace, for rest since I first began claiming a faith, and if I am really honest with myself, it hurts to say that I don’t think any of these prayers have been heard. If anything, they have only seemed to have become more remote the older I get. I am tired, physically, mentally and spiritually; and I have been for a long, long time. I hardly know anymore what it feels like to be “okay.” And I have tried so hard to be heard. I have tried so many times to escape this. But I can’t escape myself. They tell me it’s biology that’s holding me back, and that it’s not my fault, I can’t help it. But, if anything, that makes me more angry; because if it’s not my fault, then who’s is it? If God “created” me, then he left out some key ingredients in my biology; did a rather poor job of it. Ironically, if it is my biology, and we continue to claim that God formed me and knows me fully, then it’s also being said that He created me with this unbelief. I want to believe, desperately, but He won’t let me. So it’s easier to say that it is my fault that I cannot think outside of the pessimism, cynicism, depression, doubt, anxiety, insomnia, and anger, rather than implying that “God” has asked me to walk with Him, but forgets that He cut me off at the knees even before the start – because that couldn’t be true, could it? God only has my best interest at heart? He cares and would never do that, right? What the hell does someone do with that?
So I have a hard time believing in a God “being” that is all caring and exists inside of and is concerned about every single aspect of not only my existence, but innumerable others throughout every age of history. It just doesn’t seem possible that “he” cares that much. And when they say that “God is Love” as though that is something undeniably good; in my experience love is painfully fleeting, and never seems to last. Even the very best of love which was supposed to withstand the testament of time and trial because it was “faith-grounded” or was “the life worth fighting for” – both failed in the end. So I still don’t know what unconquerable love is. I am supposed to believe in God when I can’t even believe in love? I can’t place my faith, my trust, hope, heart, soul, and self into something that is going to tear another piece of me away when it ends. Too much of me is already compromised, I can’t afford to keep losing parts of me. Because already, I don’t know what is left. I don’t always recognize the face in the mirror - because it’s not what’s underneath. I put my faith in God. I tried. I poured my heart and soul in. I cared. I gave. I trusted. I studied and read and wrote. And I asked; over and over again. And after it all, I’m still sitting here disillusioned in a cold Cathedral, looking for something I never had.
But this has only been a small portion of where my thoughts have been. Generally, they writhe in and out of these types of musings. Because I also feel as though faith has been my best shot at finding what I’ve lost. Even if I can’t quite believe in God as some mysterious, ethereal being, then I mean faith in community. Because the closest I’ve come is when I am in a “faith community.” The steps forward I have taken have more often than not been because of other people who care, or at least care at the right time (as oftentimes relationships change). So I do believe in God in that sense, I suppose. And in that context, yes, it’s been one of the best and most helpful things I’ve ever encountered.
My thoughts switch back and forth violently and constantly, throw emotion in there and it quickly becomes a hot mess. I am exhausted from thinking. And many of my emotions have seemingly dried up - or are at least not what they were. Everything I stood on has turned upside down and I am trying to regain control but it’s hit or miss. I am on vacation right now. But I dread going back. I dread the next thing that turns me upside down and gives me a good shake. And anything that comes along, I look at with a suspicious and cautious eye. There is so much more that I have securely behind a wall and don’t intend to invite others into. I have much to do yet, and I keep trudging through. But at the moment, I only know that I am here, in London, studying and exploring a new place. I know that. Unfortunately though, it’s impossible to escape the grips of a troubled mind. There is much more, and a far deeper level to much of this – I don’t feel as though I have done it any justice in such a short summary. And there is much that there just are no words for. That is my greatest struggle; being asked to put into words what there are none for – so it just rots inside. Even writing such a short amount, poorly and vaguely, has been enough to give me a headache. Probably doesn’t help that it’s 2:30 in the morning.

So I guess the point has been that, I am sorry for the frank and distracted nature of my recent blog posts; but I cannot help that my mind has been elsewhere…just bear with me. I’ll circle back around.

No comments:

Post a Comment