Lost....

I had made up in my mind that moving forward wasn’t really working for me. It seems like the moment I allow myself to completely believe that God has my back and things are FINALLY going to be better for me, my whole world comes crashing around me. The hardest thing is I had faith in prophetic words that had been spoken into my life and certain steps I’ve taken were based on these words. I can’t even fully express how broken, hurt and angry I feel right now.

It’s not that the prophetic words didn’t come to pass; it is the fact I have been asking and fighting for something for almost a decade only to lose. The worst part is I had been not just praying, but begging for this victory and counting on God to bring this fight to a victorious end. Then what made it worse was I was on my prayer line and we prayed for an answer and not five minutes after we ended the line did I receive the report I had lost the battle.

Let’s see, the words I would use to describe what happened at that moment are uncontrollable intense anger. I have been angry before, but this anger was so intense it frightened me. For the first time I totally understood how my oldest son must feel on a pretty regular basis. This anger was a destructive, wanting to hurt or break or rip something apart type of anger.

It felt like my chest would burst and explode as each piece of smashed glass hit the floor. Yes, I had an emotional and violent temper tantrum. My dreams and desires that I had based on this victory were smashed and my heart hurt so badly.  I wanted to just curl up in a ball and die. I didn’t have a backup plan, because I was trusting God for this.

I could barely breathe and I understood what it feels like to have a panic attack, not a good feeling, one I hope never to feel again. My first thought was to find a way to bring the pain to an end. Then all the failures of my past were popping into my thoughts and the tears had soaked my chest like someone threw a glass of water on me.  So glad my neighbors were not around because I screamed at God so loud it made me jump.  Let me be real I was cussing worse than a truck driver.

It felt like that moment your parent tells you can’t have something you’ve worked hard for. The thing you’ve bent over backwards to be obedient hoping for. First words out of my mouth were, DAMMIT I AM NOT F**KING JOB, SO STOP THIS BULL****.  If this is how serving you is going to be, then count me out. I can’t do it. I don’t have the strength at this point of my life to deal with anymore loss and disappointment.

Then I had the nerve to say: What kind of father are you? I hate you and will never again give any part of my life in service. I am so grateful for my best friend, after I texted her (cause I really couldn’t breathe), she immediately called. She let me rant, cry, cuss and held on while I began to clean up the mess I had made. I didn’t look in a mirror, not even the ones I shattered, but I know this was the ugliest cry I’ve had in a very long time.

My finances are in a shambles and I feel like I’m taking twelve steps backwards. After all the tears stopped and the anger was just simmering, I got a text message. Okay, first I have MetroPCS and when you don’t pay you’re shut off. Well I hadn’t paid, so this message coming through… Anyway, I’m so glad for some of the people in my life who really understand. Grateful for those who stayed in my life when I was rock bottom. For those who have been there holding me up through the years of disappointments. The one question she asked me that made me poke my head out of the pity party, “Why did you start writing?”

Well, I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil to form letters. As a little girl my writing was my escape from the feelings of not being wanted and feeling unloved by the people I lived in a house with. Instead of sitting in my room talking to myself and confirming my mother’s thought I was crazy; I wrote. Unknowingly, it helped me accept the blame for my father’s actions that caused my mother and sister so much pain. With my limited vocabulary I was able to go to a place where I was loved and felt pretty. Then as I developed my skill, I used it to help me vent and used it for cathartic purposes. I texted a condensed version of this and her responses were so full of love and encouragement.

This was her response that just let me know I’m surrounded by people who love me in spite of how I feel about me. “God has made you a writer. Your books will touch many lives. You will be "the" testimony for us who ask, how did you do it? Most writers DON'T share how the pain almost destroyed them or how they got thru it every single day. You are a "Transparent" writer. A writer who is real n hides Nothing!!” Thank you Yvette for having my back!!

So instead of remaining locked in my closet of pain and disappointment, I’m going write this out to a better place. Even though I realize I didn’t get the answer I wanted, I got an answer. It hurt, but I have to believe there is another way coming down the pipe. This hurts and I’m still angry at God, but this blog will be for me a way to go to that place where I feel loved and pretty. Mourning Monday!! Smooches~~