Hi God, It’s me

Dear God,

I am in a jam. Mentally and physically, stuck in a hard rutted jam. This letter is to you my father, I know you exist, I know you live in my heart, but I feel so far from you. I admit it is all my fault, this rut. I expect the benefit without the mental work that is required. If my mind is a battlefield, then I am a sorry soldier who lacks the ability to rise above the fray.

The simple reason might be laziness, followed closely by fear, which is not anyone’s fault but my own. Of the many ways one can choose to live, I have chosen to be alone.

As in, no romantic relationships whatsoever, no real friendships that require my ongoing participation. I live this way but I am not particularly lonely ninety eight percent of the time. Oh sure, every once in awhile I feel a bit lonely. Most of the time I don’t care.

I can never seem to forget that the loneliest I ever felt was when I was in a close relationship with another person. That type of loneliness is the very worst feeling ever, surrounded by ‘friends and/ or ‘family’ and realizing that no-one cares what you have to say unless they can use it against you at a vulnerable time.

Hermitism is my chosen lifestyle, because of how I’ve been treated before. I know you don’t agree father, right there in your bible it says: let them hit you on the face as many times as they want. If they steal your shirt, let them have your coat, too.

It is simply too much effort to let another human have access to my feelings and inner life, as it gives them power to abuse me. I am a delicate soul who can’t take the back and forth of human interaction. I talk too much, trust too fast and I assume I will be valued, but that is not ever the case.

This results in a solitary existence and I feel the burden of that a lot lately. I don’t even value myself so how on earth could I ever expect differently from other humans. I obsess about everything, having made up arguments and conversations with people who will never know how I really feel. I have not been sleeping much lately either, and I am sure this is part of the basis of my mental discomfort.

I have not been reading your word lately, because it gives me a thousand questions that cannot be answered or even asked. Here’s one that stops me every single time I think about you: why are you so vengeful and arbitrary in scripture? I can’t read on for two minutes without seeing your “fury, your judgement, your shame and reproach, and why why why did you pick Israel as the chosen people?

Even when you are ‘comforting’ you are judging us for using this free will to do something you don’t agree with? This bible seems to be a story of contradictions that I cannot reconcile in my mind or my heart.

Alongside your ‘ I won’t leave you or forsake you for any reason’ are statements of anger, of judging, of retribution, of darkness….

I like the story of the dead, dry bones, but why did you do that? Why? Where did those bony dead people go after you resurrected them? This bone story is part of Ezekial’s dream, right? When is the story fake and when is it real?

I also was fascinated by the story of Job. You and the devil decided to mess around with this guy’s life just to see if he was really dedicated to you? You killed all his family, gave him a terrible case of shingles, took away everything he worked for just to prove his faith? Wow, sounds really mean. I know, in the end he got back everything he lost and then some. Still, just because you can do something doesn’t always mean you should…Just my opinion.

When I ponder these questions I become angry and depressed. This is something I can’t do, try to ponder out the reason we are all here playing this dreadful game of life. I feel I can’t know too much. There are so many voices, so many religions, so many opinions, how can one know what to believe? This is why I stopped reading the bible.

I am overwhelmed and under supported and it is all my fault. I don’t know how to maintain relationships, because when I am outside of anyone’s presence, including yours, I don’t know how or if I should proceed.

I’m not calling after them, but they are not calling after me either. I don’t know if they even want to  be friends with me because I am not friends with myself?

This human experiment is taking its’ toll, father. Any bit of assistance would be greatly appreciated. How about lunch, next Thursday…are you free?

Love, Me

poem

the teardrops run down

and fall off her nose

she cries in dark corners

where nobody goes

you can follow the tracks

from her eyes to her chin

years upon years

of letting them win

and her eyes tell a story

of anger and pain

you think that she’s happy

but just look again

and the scars of her past

hidden under her clothes

are a roadmap to places

that nobody knows

her smile is now painted

she’s a master of disguise

and you can see it all

just look in her eyes

Familiar Encounter

 

Looking through the glass not as darkly as yesterday, I contemplate what is happening right in front of me. This morning the sun is shining and the colors are dense, the green grass looking as emerald as Oz.

So far I’ve spied a turkey stealthily slipping through the far edge of the yard. A female robin, dull browns and reds, pecks for slimy earthworms in the lawn along with a handful of pesky squirrels rooting the rose bushes for whatever they buried last fall. The brilliant blue jay lands on the water dish left up all winter. It’s full of pine needles and dirt but he doesn’t care, he dips his yellow beak and takes a hearty swig.

A woodpecker brat-tat-a -tatttting on the metal chimney cap for the second day in a row puts me in remembrance of another such painful nightmare involving a winged wackjob. As I run out the door to scare away the lunatic fowl I mutter under my breath, I will put the hurt on this bullshit if I have the chance.

Once before, not here but in the duplex before this place, a woodpecker woke me every morning at precisely 3am pecking on the sill board in my second story bedroom. I started going to bed super early in anticipation of this varmint’s head rattling wake up call. Three weeks in I am starting to lose my mind, I decide it’s me against the pecker.

Still in the black of the early morning, I lie awake in wait for the confrontation. I used to sleep topless back then,, my 38 double d’s swinging loosely in the wind. I am exhausted from lack of shut eye at the beak of this ass-bird. When I am over tired, I become wildly irrational and episodically violent. I doze and wake in an uncomfortable cycle of anger and revenge. I am armed, dangerous and half asleep when the enemy lands and starts his assault………………..

BRATTTT-AAAATTTTTTTTATTTTTTTATTTTTTTT….BBBBBBBBBRATTTTTTATTTTTTTT..

I leap from the bed, pepper spray can in my tightly clenched fist, long hair wildly swinging, boobs banging into my armpits, I throw the window open wide and I lean out the window and am face to face with my abuser….we look deep into each other’s eyes, mine crazed, red and swollen from these nightly encounters, his small, dark and beady not quite understanding what his fate might be.

With fearless grit and determination, I raise my weapon, take good and careful aim and with all my strength I empty the noxious liquid directly into his woodpecker face. It’s a direct hit! I watch in gleeful joy as he spirals all the way down two stories onto my front lawn and lands with a surprisingly loud Thud.

Smugly satisfied with my valiantly successful effort to incapacitate this varmint, I flop back into my bed and promptly fall asleep.  The insidious invasion of my precious sleepy time has been contained. I am victorious.

I awake many hours later to what appears to be a war zone. The curtains have been half ripped off the wall, the window still wildly flung open, the screen is just gone. On the floor is the used container of pepper spray. As I groggily intake the mess, the encounter returns to my memory with amazing audacity. Instantly I remember the horrific shellacking of the feathered invader and I run to the gaping window hole and look down to where I saw the pecker plummet to it’s probable, justifiable death.

It’s gone…as in, Not There. I am uneasy as I throw on clothes and go down to hunt for the refugee from hell. Where is this lunatic lurking, I wonder as I search all over the immediate area. I search my memory banks along with the lawn area, did I dream this warlike encounter? No, I’m certain it actually happened. Then where is this damn bird??
This last question will never be answered. Perhaps a coyote came along and ate him, possibly he recovered from his pepper spray assault and flew far away to a less dangerous window sill. I won’t hear from this particular feathered foe again, or will I? Is this new pecker some brazen long lost relative come to invoke some depraved bird brained revenge? All I can say is, look out woody, now I have a taser……..