Lately, I have been a dead woman walking. It feels that a part of me is broken. Not physically, but spiritually and emotionally. Both my husband and I have been feeling like we are living day by day, but not really living. That something has died within us.
For me, I have let my hope die. I have let it go because of fear. Right now, fear is a large presence in my life, and I am comfortable with that, but I hate it. Isn't that so ridiculous of grief? You want to hope, but you're scared to, and in doing so, you are comfortable knowing that without hope, this is the worst you have to deal with. At the same time, I hate it. I hate every second of feeling that my life has one theme: Tragedy. There's a level of contentment, or rather, apathy that happens when hope is gone. It's scary because once someone has given up on hope, they have given up on God.
God is scary to me. I struggle daily with what I believe, knowing that it is all or nothing with our Lord. My thoughts are a ball of yarn with nothing but knots; leading me to thousands of different conclusions of what God's character truly is. I blame God for everything. I know I shouldn't and that I am giving into my flesh, but like I said, there is a certain amount of apathy that happens.
During all of this, I blame and point fingers at everyone but myself. I hate when people are insensitive, talking about who had the latest baby, flashing pictures in front of me, talking about their pregnancies that go on without a care, hearing how someone is struggling for thankfulness for yet another child, asking me questions about my pregnant sister-in-law, while I am here. Alone. Barren. Bitter. Spiteful. Chosen.
I blame others for caring more about abortion, than either infertility or miscarrying. What makes aborted children's lives so much more valuable than the others? A life is a life. I am angry at people who treat me like nothing has happened. I am angry at people who ask how I am, but don't stay around long enough to actually find out how I am. I am angry at those who back down because of how I may react. I am angry at those who tell me how to feel, yet have had no pain in their lives.
I am angry at pregnant women. I am angry that they get what God has said "yes" then "no" to me for. I am angry that they can complain about pregnancy, and not get how lucky they really are. I hate that they get a desire of my heart that has been there since childhood: a family. I am angry their bellies get to expand while mine only gets to expand, then go back down (depending on how much ice cream I eat).
I am angry at modern medicine. I am angry that there are no answers, that I am "perfectly healthy". I am angry that no matter how much I try to be healthy, it is such a mystery that it won't even matter. I am angry that this is so debilitating.
I am angry at social media, that no matter how hard I try to unfollow a board on Pinterest, or hide a person from my timeline on Facebook, that I consistently have to see what others are blessed with while I am cursed.
I am angry at Satan, that he has coupled my past with now. That he has immobilized me to the point of cowering and not wanting to get back up, with a mountain of fear in front of me that I must climb. I am angry at him for using my own relationship with my father, to "show" me what kind of heavenly father I have. I am angry that the question from when I was 5, has become the question that plagues me now--Why was I even born? I am angry that I am less angry at him and more angry at God.
I am angry at my family, save all but one. That they go on with their lives, caring so little for their daughter and sister. That they care more about being right, than about being there for me. I am angry that I haven't tried as hard as I could with them, yet I am always the one to blame. I am angry that if I don't call them, I am nothing to them. Save all but one.
Most of all, I am angry at myself. I hate myself for being angry. I hate that I am not strong enough in faith to not fall so low to not get back up. I am angry at myself for being filled with bitterness and hatred. I am angry at myself for letting my defenses down and allowing Satan to win the battle. I am angry for being so angry at others, no matter how "justified". I am angry that I am angry with God, that I mock Him, that I call Him a liar, that I yell at Him, that I throw away any blessing He has given me because He has chosen to take away these children.
I am frustrated, knowing that if I don't blame God, there is no one else to blame but myself. Why us? Why has God chosen us and not any of my friends? Why are we the ones having to go through this time and time again? The thing I fear most is that it is because we are not good enough Christians, we don't have a deep enough walk with God. Is this punishment? Realization? There are so many questions I want answered...I NEED answered, and a God who is completely silent. Which is understandable, given how far away I have allowed myself to run wildly. Still...why? Why the heartbreak? Why has God chosen me and not someone stronger? What is His purpose in all of this? Why has he allowed this? Do I really want to know why? Do I really want to experience a God who could have stopped all of this? Do I really want to summit that mountain of fear, or camp out in the bottom, where the demons of hatred, bitterness, rage, and the wolves of worthlessness live?
I don't want to summit that mountain. I don't want to know how much harder this is going to be. If this is how it is at the bottom, I can't imagine what will happen along the way. Fearful and alone. But I will. Oh yes, I will decide to go. And I will keep going. I will turn back from time to time. I will slip and fall all the way back down. I will cry, and hug my knees at night wishing for death, because I see no life. But I will go. I will cling to the hope that even if 10000 fall, I will still stand. I will cling to the Hope that he is my anchor. That God is my path in the wilderness. I will cling to the hope that there will be hope. I will go. I will follow. I will fail, but I will succeed.