Yeah, yeah…I know I will hear about it later. Accusations of striking out thru my blog, or trying to wound, or whatever speculation will happen…well sod that! This is my blog, made for me, and I can say what I choose or want to say without reference to anyone else. Because the real issue is ultimately not anyone else…it is me.
Why am I not loveable, or why can I not receive love? 2 different Qs? Maybe. Or maybe the same one.
I think God loves me as a member of the human race and as such I am under the umbrella of His benevolence. But would He die for me if I was the only one? Theology always says yes, and from a theological perspective I will not deny that it is a logical principle. But from a practical experience POV…right now I do not think He would. I think He is much more likely to be glad to be shut of me and off with me and my troubling self.
After all…I am told how thoroughly and completely I am covered in love, and how the real issue is that I just don’t accept it…thus the blame/fault is mine, and thus God would not even bother because He would already know that I would not be worth it. Truth be told, I truly and deeply think that the best alternative for the entirety of my life is that I had the courage and trust to just take my own life and quit hogging resources that could go to others who would be more fruitful. Unfortunately, I do not have the courage to take my own life. I am craven enough to fear that doing so would damn me forever, and right now at least I have to be included by belonging to the whosoever will, so God has to let me come in based on His overall commitment to humanity.
If He had the option? I feel like He would cast me aside as a weak and worthless POS…I feel like He is irritated by my protests and annoyed by my questions about things. As I write this even, I feel guilty and like a failure because so much of this last year was hard, was destructive and took a huge toll inside me, what with the betrayals at work and the upheavals in my personal life…and that a pleasing child of His would just strut around in faith and talk about knowing that just because life is hard that doesn’t mean that He didn’t love them.
How does one know God loves them? How does one know another person loves them? Words can be said. Ah…words. My bane and my glory. But lots of words were spoken to me last year that were lies…lots of words were spoken about me last year that were believed lies. So just because someone says something that makes it true?
Actions definitely become the flesh of words that words wear and find their truest most resonant expression. So…I experience words said to me, and my heart has sooo many questions…what is meant, what is being implied, what is held back…and yet when I ask about them, ultimately I get you frustrated, ultimately you lose patience with me, ultimately you are insulted because I am not just taking what you give me and being made whole…you blame yourself for that, when no matter how many times I have tried to tell you the fault lies in the receiver!!! ME! IT IS MY FAULT!!!!
You get mad…and then out comes the tongue lashing, and silent treatment, and the willingness to value anger more than me, and how the anger and punches and cutting words and absent warmth bleed me out and lay me low, and tear me down. Then it is go time: do I cross the breach, and make apologies, and say that I deserved the (verbal) beating and had it coming to me, and please let’s not be separated? When I do that, you relent, so the issue of the separation is resolved. But the deficit within is greater…and the message even clearer than it was. Do this thing, say this other thing and be received. But woe to you if you don’t, woe to you if you question me, woe to you if you probe or if you do anything in character for who you are. Just take what I dish out or suffer my wrath.
Oh yeah, for real, then comes the counter claim that I do it too, and am just as guilty…what is the appeal of this method? How is that a comforting or empowering defense? I am deeply aware of my failure, my shame, my unworthiness, and pointing to someone else literally has nothing to do with me and how much I fall short and how utterly inadequate and worthless I am. It is such a cop out that I really do not even know what to say to it. This morning, I stayed in bed for over 2 hrs trying to conversate with you…trying to grapple with your words, your explanations and your irritated dissatisfaction with me. Deep inside, I was afraid that you would eventually get fed up with me and punch me in the face.
I am not allowed by you to have issues or questions…I am allowed to either take what you say and just call that macaroni, and keep quiet with my fear, anxiety, desire, feedback over what you said and what it meant to me that was so different than what you say you meant. If I am quiet, how does that even come out? Or, I can talk about the kinds of doubts and apprehensions that rise up because I don’t know exactly what you are saying and what you are not saying…and get attacked verbally for my troubles.
I feel guilty for even being alive. I do indeed think you would be far happier if I was not around to weigh you down and make you upset. I know you will take what I am writing and turn it around on me…throw it back in my face, with the implicit assertion that if I am not perfect in every way then I have no right to say anything to you about how you come across or don’t come across. It is magic: if someone else is imperfect, then by definition you are exonerated and absolved of any responsibility to be honorable, speak kindness, be gentle
Yeah, and don’t worry about people reading this…not one person has replied, or encouraged, or even commented on my last post…because frankly, who cares, right? Stupid tranny bitch is hormonal and everyone around doesn’t want to hear her…see her…or be bothered by her. The voices I hear tell me to just shut up and go die, and everyone the better off…I am just too big of a coward to do that.
So I am here…a source of annoyance and trouble to you, a shameful and irritating burden to God, and daily failure at work and in life because I foolishly allowed myself to hope that maybe I could fit better in this skin.