Written September 9, 2014
I am 42 years old.
I am angry at God.
There I said it. I AM ANGRY AT GOD.
Angry.
ANGRY.
ANGRY.
Not just a little bit angry either.
I’m furious.
And I’m ashamed of my fury. Who am I to be angry with God?
“I’m me!” that’s who. I’m his child, a child of God and I’m mad at him for not being a good parent… for not taking care of me. For turning his back on me. For taking away all the people I love.
I thought I had surrendered them to him. Surrendered them to heaven and were happy that they were in his Grace free of all the ugliness in this world. Free from sickness and pain and loneliness.
But I’m not.
I was lying to myself.
I’m pissed.
REALLY PISSED.
My sister? Gone. Dead at age 7. A year of horrible cancer eating away at her brain.
My father? Gone. Dead at age 62. Years of dementia rotting away at his brain and his sense of self. He was gone long before he ever died.
My mother? Gone. Dead at age 70. Just up and had died in the hospital. Had talked to her on the phone just 45 minutes before it happened. “Bring me candy, “ she said.
My second child? Dead. Ectopic pregnancy. To save my life they removed my fallopian tube and the little baby growing inside it and threw it away. In the trash. Garbage.
My health? Auto immune disease at age 27. TWENTY SEVEN! “You shoudn’t have any more kids. You should stay in bed. You should rest and take it easy. FOREVER.” Sure. Doc, I can do that. I only have a two year old at home and I just lost a baby and I have to work so we can survive, but THAT sounds great. No more kids. Just take it EASY. Asshole.
My marriage? Divorced.
My love life? Shit upon. My live-in boyfriend for the last 3 1/2 years took off and left. In his wake he left a family abused and battered. It’s better that he’s gone, but I am soooooo pissed that I allowed myself and my boys to be treated that way. SO. FUCKING. PISSED.
My money? Some of that went away with the ex-boyfriend. Can I tell you how thrilled I am about THAT? Some of it went away when I put my ex-boyfriend before my business. I allowed myself to destroy 7 years of hard work for nothing. Now I get to start that process over and I’m not even sure I wanna BE a business owner and graphic designer anymore. JOY. Some of it goes away every month taking care of my disabled brother. Some of it goes away helping out my alcoholic friend. Don’t judge. I know I’m fucking up. I’m working on it.
My house? Cracked slab and in need of repair.
So I’m pissed.
PISSED.
Pissed at God.
It’s weird saying, “I’m pissed at God.” I can almost hear the gasps of contempt from anyone and everyone who may ever lay eyes on those words.
(gasp!) “How can she be pissed at God?”
(tsk. tsk. tsk.) She’s going to hell for sure.
(awww) Poor thing, bless her heart.
(shaking head) She needs Jesus.
They may be right.
But I’m still pissed.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t WANT to be pissed. I want to live in peace and in God’s Grace. To feel and know him like I did when I was younger. BEFORE all of this shit happened.
“Good Morning Lord!” I cheerfully say as I looked up at the morning sky, still dark and full of stars as I walked to the bus stop. I loved seeing the stars in the morning. I loved the sunrise. I loved God looking down on me and me taking the time to look up at him. I talked to him a lot then. I felt closer to him. Felt like he knew me then. That he was watching out for me. That I was bathed in His love. My mother used to tell me that when I was really little I’d sing songs I’d make up: “I love God. I love God. I looooove and loooove and loooove God.” That she’d hear me talking to him in my room. If something went wrong, she’d say, “Quick, say a prayer and ask God for help. He always seems to answer your prayers.”
I remember the first time I read Psalms. I was little. Maybe in first grade. I grabbed my children’s Bible and in the back there were selected Psalms. Pages of them. And I started to read. And weep. How beautiful. I was awash in peace. I think that is the first time I really knew God myself. Was certain, without question, that he wasn’t like Santa or the Easter Bunny. He wasn’t just something we drug out on holidays like a Christmas tree and put on display. He was real. He was not only real, but always there. And all you needed to know him was a little faith.
I’d like to feel that way again.
I need to feel that way again.
But I don’t know how.
Go to church!
Join a bible study!
Perform daily meditations.
Prayer. You need prayer.
Give yourself and life to God. He’s there, waiting.
I don’t wanna. I told you. I’m pissed.
I’m not ready to allow myself to do those things. To reconnect with God.
I just want to be angry right now. It’s so new. This permission I’ve given myself to actually be ANGRY AT GOD. So I’m going to keep being angry until I don’t feel angry anymore. THEN, I’ll find my way. And like the poem says, I’ll look back and realize that he’s been carrying me all along.
Amanda says
Thank you for this post!!! I too am ANGRY with God but haven’t been able to put my finger in my emotion until I read your post. I haven’t had as much happen to me as you have… In fact moat would say I’ve still got it pretty good. Marriage to a wonderful, supportive (and also angry with God) man. Three beautiful smart boys. I haven’t lost any family members. And yet I’m angry. Angry that my parents got divorced because my dad had an affair right as my youngest was being born. Angry that he can’t remember which if my kids birthdays are when (even in this modern era of calendars on cell phones). Angry that it tore my family apart and I’m the only one who still sees him and my mother and siblings see me as a traitor for trying to forgive and “do the right thing”. I’m angry with God that we were created to make mistakes. And those mistakes rip our families apart. I’m angry because my dad was an elder on the church for over 20 years and now he’s living with his new girlfriend and never attends services.
I too have an autoimmune disease… Two actually. One diagnosed at age 7 and the other at 15. And I’m dealing daily with the 2nd one.
I was like you – so in love with God when I was younger. I too read and studies and sang and prayed. I helped my mother hold it together after the divorce and encouraged her to not give up on God and here I am now wanting to do the exact same thing. WHY does this happen? I have loved and prayed for so long and now I’m just mad. Pissed and pissy.
Please let me know how and when your anger fades and how and what you did to help it because it’s not a fun place to be. Morning the loss of what was and uncertain of the future and just so angry in the present…