Every once in a while our faith is tested. I know mine was and it seemed as if the test broke me apart. I was so sure I could not be out together again – kind of like Humpty Dumpty.
I had my crying spells and just wanted to be left alone. Going to bed and not waking up again seemed like the only thing I was managing well. The listlessness, the despair and the depression – there was this intense gray colouring my vision, thoughts and world.
I could not see a way out. It was as if I had fallen into a pool of deep water with very little light in it and I was just sinking through it while memories and people flashed by. The darkness was so comforting as was the water. The numbness and soundlessness felt safe and I let it take me all in.
Soon it was part of my life and when I got used to it, the pain returned. It no longer comforted. That’s when I took to conversation with God. Well, initially it was more of ranting than talking but soon the monologues became a bit rational.
I would go for long drives on my own, all the while talking to him, much to the utter astonishment of other motorists, I am sure who would have wondered what the…..
I moved into a place of my own and would spend all my time keeping up the dialogue, no matter what I was doing or which room I was in.
There were times when I yelled, matter of fact, still do. Infact I used the most brilliant cuss words (hindi ones) with absolute relish while fighting with him (yeah I am convinced god is a man) and have no guilt whatsoever of doing so.
It’s catharisis. It’s healing. It’s comforting.
I can’t explain the how and why of it but I just know that whenever I start talking to him, I feel better. It’s like an act of letting go; or like I have put it away for a while in a safe place and will come back to it later when I can handle it all.
Maybe that’s called praying???
Do you talk to god? What do you call it?