A Fight with God

in #writing3 years ago

Today I want to share a personal experience with someone out there. Let me start with a little background, from the most frustrating highlight of my life right now. I'm a graduate who cannot practice the profession i studied because I can't afford to further my studies and get a license so I might as well not have graduated.

Back to the story, this was a regular Tuesday nothing great was happening, just the 5th day of the great year of 2021. As usual I was sinking in the abyss of my own misery, trying to understand how I had sunk my family to poverty with a failed investment (did I mention my country is a haven of fraudulent investment practices). Moving on…

Sometime around midday I believe the weather had gone gray and it was about to rain, so I stepped out of the house and rounded the corner to get my towels before they got soaked. But alas my dad had taken them in already on my way back for some unfathomable reason I stopped by this huge avocado tree and watched as the leaves danced to the beat of the trees. Maybe it was as a result of how contained they seemed even as the wind rattled them and how they seemed in tune with it instead of afraid of it.

Because I felt the resonance of utmost frustration, of pain from shattered aspirations, disappointments, failure, stagnation and the unshakable feeling that there was a noose around my neck ready to snap at any time. And I felt FEAR in all its glory.

Eventually it came, a deep primal scream that seemed to have come from the depths of a woman lost, a woman broken, a woman scorned (not by a man; I must let you know that I just rolled my eyes at this point) and a woman afraid of the life lost, the live she lived and the life before her. It wasn't until my throat began to throb that I realized it was from me.

There I was squatting on the floor, like a small broken thing screaming my lungs out while it rained with a vengeance. As it thundered and rained my pain became anger and with nothing and no one to pour it on, I turned to Him. So I questioned ( with as much venom as a 5ft whatever inches woman could muster).

I questioned for what reason I had to suffer such immense failure at everything and it wasn't like I didn't try because I did try, I had to try extra hard but for some reason my own things failed. Even the smallest things like submitting a paper would go wrong for me, getting my result would be problematic; someone would make a mistake, the process or policy would change overnight, a signature forgotten.

The most mundane things always turned into some kind of problem. It hurt, like hell might I add. It feels like someone is trying to make an example out of me, except that isn't reason enough to deal with someone so severely.

I remember looking up and shouting these exact words "If it takes you trampling on a man to show how much of a God you are are, then you are no different from a man as a matter of fact you are a coward"

Might I remind you that this was a talk of rage, a strong bitter rage of plans that never went through, of dreams that where shattered, from a feeling of unworthiness, from tears I couldn't shed, from being unable to show my pain because I have built myself into someone else and have pretended for so long I don't know when or how to stop, for working my ass off for five years and just be thrown into this chaos of adulthood, from a deep suffering a deep sense of loneliness and anger towards myself for not knowing who I am, what I want to do or who I want to be, for having lost the most important thing; my faith, I was hopeless without with and a hopeless man might as well be dead. I'd lost my peace and it left me confused, naked, unprotected, vulnerable and weak.

I took His words that says to bring my burdens to him, so I turned to him with all my burdens and my treacherous feelings. Problem was I didn't lay them down at His feet, I hurled it at Him.

By the time I was down, I was drenched in dirty rain water, battered, sore, tired and empty. So I took a bath and slept.

The next day I wept, for the things I said to my maker, for the shame I felt and just because I needed to.

The End

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