The Abandonment of God

Let me tell you exactly what’s happened to me in the past couple of years –

I’ve lost.

That’s what it feels like, and that’s what is true. When I think about what I’ve achieved in the past two and a half years, I draw a blank. If that isn’t scary, it damn well should be. I have been ebbing and flowing, going where the tide takes me, sporadically lifting my arms in the air and saying, Whatever You wish, God.

But I never trusted God. Not in the way that is wholesome or healing. I’d bargain with Him, plead for A-stars, beg for unconditional forgiveness when I was at fault. I’d be on my knees, my heart on my sleeve, be terribly exposed, and experience a quiet cleansing, a quiet peace. Then I’d stand and screw it up.

I don’t know what it is. Part of me has always believed in God, another part of me is sure that God is only my inner self and therefore not God. I don’t know what I want, but I know I’m wanting. And in all honesty? God let me down. He abandoned me and left me to hurt, and gave me no answers. I spend days and weeks and months in agony, alternating between praying and being very angry. Angry because He doesn’t sweep in and help, angry because He doesn’t help me resolve doubts, angry because I still find no one by my side, that I’m still alone.


In the past couple of years, however, something worse, if not the worst, has taken place. I am now completely deficient. At first I'd thought that it was necessary to peel away my willfulness so that I can be open for some sort of spirituality. What I have learned is that, really, I've peeled away whatever little I had left.

It's not in writing, but I've just waged a verbal four-letter war.