I talked to god today…

Sort of, maybe, kind of.

I’ve had a good day, a good weekend in fact. The rainbow baby is finally starting to sleep, not through the night or anything crazy like that but he’s sleeping. There is no describing the bliss of sleeping 6 straight hours when you haven’t gone more than three in over a year. So, there’s that.

The hubby and I also spent the entire weekend just being together. My man can soothe me in ways no one and nothing else can. We piddle farted in town, went out to eat, played with the baby, watched movies, and just generally enjoyed each other. My batteries have been recharged. It feels good.

This afternoon as I headed out of town to pick the eldest up from his biological dad a heavy weight settled in my chest. Back in the days of obnoxiously insistent faith I would have perceived this to be god telling me something. It meant I needed to spend time with him, that there was something that needed sorting, something I needed to give over, or just that it had been too long since I had been still with him.

I don’t have the energy for that tightness in my chest. There is so much hurt, anger, confusion swirling inside of me I absolutely cannot carry more. I just can’t. It’s frightening how fragile I am, how easily blown over by the slightest breath of wind, how easily wounded by a stray word.

For a while now when I feel this tugging and my instinct is to turn to this invisible being I once called father I’ve furiously refused. Um… no you asshole. If you are in fact real, you do not get to talk with me. I hate you. GO AWAY.

Followed by… Jodie, you’re talking to yourself. That feeling you got when you believed you turned to God was the placebo effect. Think… of course it worked. It worked because you believed it would. People heal themselves with the placebo effect for god’s sake! (no pun intended)

But today I was not up for the mental ping-pong match. I had felt pretty darn good for two whole days. There was the ever-present ache, the missing, and the daily tears but for the first time in so long I was happy.

I’m not letting you ruin this! I defiantly thought.

“Fine I’ll talk to you!” I blurted at the grey pavement as it disappeared beneath the car. And the tears started.

No, I don’t believe in god again. I don’t know that I ever decided I didn’t but whatever position I had taken hasn’t changed.

Probably isn’t real… if he is he’s an ass… if he is modern Christianity still turns my stomach… if he is he has a lot of explaining to do.

But, this is where I am. I’ve tried so hard to be honest. To document this painful journey and today I talked to god… or myself… or the highway. I’m not sure which.

Until next time…