I am in doubt. The talk I had with my mother yesterday was very refreshing, and in a way got all the juices flowing. I love her. I love how we have grown, but that is besides the point.
I told her of my doubt. How I envy people who have 100% belief in something. Without doubt. The best combination of words next to ‘I love you.’ I don’t envy materialistic things, I envy the belief a person has. I hate how I over think, and how if I can’t for see a future logical plan, it is going to fall apart. It’s like everything I ever preached about, about myself, to myself, killed by my own statement; ” Everything happens for a reason.”
I guess because it hasn’t hit me like a ton of bricks. It confuses me and hurts me to write this because how at one point in my life this reassured me, this helped me, and I believed in it. I believed in believing.
I feel like Lois Lane (I have a love for Superman), when she lost faith in Superman, how the world doesn’t need him anymore.
When I was living in a hotel, I thought I’d be there forever. Sleeping four in one bed, me being on the end horizontally because I was always much slimmer and longer. Summer being trapped there, day after day confined in what seemed like hopelessness. Yet, I still believed then. I knew it had to happen so my family could leave. If by a miracle we stayed, I feared for my mother’s and father’s lives. One or both of them would have been dead, for this I’m sure of. I thank every single God that the universe has that this didn’t happen.
I overcame a lot and still had a belief.
It’s not that bad right now and I doubt so much than I ever had. Like I said, It hasn’t hit me like a ton of bricks, I’m waiting for it.
When my mom shared her story about a woman, a woman who came in and out of her life without reason, seemed to be the ideal story of “everything happens for a reason.”
She met a woman to help her refinance our old house, the one that we lost. This woman didn’t help her with that, she saw something in my mother’s eyes that only another woman who underwent domestic violence could understand. She gave her a card, a simple card and an offer whenever she needed to get away, when she was ready to give her a call. When my mother tells this story I see an expression that is engraved on her heart and embedded in her memory. A mix of colors on her face. The color of relief and belief. Of course that time would come. The children were at school and my mom and dad were alone. The mix of drugs in my father’s system caused him to be the other person that caused so much hell for years in that house. A look my mom described as, “I’m sure he was going to come back and kill me.” I shudder at this. A call was made and that mysterious woman called a man, called cops and picked her. They picked me up as I was mindlessly walking from school in a sleek grey car. I met her once. We never saw her again. She had her purpose and left.
My mom’s story is what pushed her to the many great things she did. We all pushed, we were all so strong and for this I am always thankful because it shaped all of us into strong women. Yet now, with a lighter load, and heavier head, I cannot grasp it anymore. I’d love to believe. I feel so weak to allow myself to doubt but can’t lie to myself. I have doubts, many doubts. I don’t want to just say “I belive” but to honestly feel it.
I don’t want to be a hypocrite either, like the many that I know, because all of a sudden it is cool to praise Jesus, God, or anyone else. It angers me. I’m not sure. Maybe because I know most of them don’t mean it, that it’s just a show and I know the things you do when you’re not posting preaching posts on Facebook. I don’t want a show for anyone…just myself. Which gets to the meat on the bone of this topic. My mother asked me, “If you don’t believe, what about yourself?”
Do I believe in me?
I had to really sit down and think about this.
Not like I use to. I doubt myself so much. I just don’t want to be a failure and me coming back home, sleeping on a couch, almost as if going backwards, is on borderline of a failure in my head.
Belief VS Fear.
If you believe in something strong enough, then it is real. It’s real in any form you believed the thought of. The same with fear. If you fear something strong enough, then it is real. It’s real in any form you feared it.
Logically, this makes sense to me. If I need to feed my head with logic. Yet, I still doubt.
Because I doubt me…I fear me.
I’ve been looking for a universal sign. Everyone looks up, when looking for hope. Looking for a wish, looking for a miracle. Anything that will reassure themselves. Then I started to doubt because God didn’t give me a sign when I begged for it. I’ve been through so much and never doubted, till the simplest thing I asked for; a sign.
I’m at the same desk, years older, looking out the window, writing about the same things.
No one is judging me but myself.
I’m not expecting “a God” to show themselves to me in order for me to believe. Or to solve all my problems or perform a miracle.
I just want to be shown if I’m on the right path, and if not where is it? I want a reminder within myself to keep going. I want a sign.
For a fallen solider in battle, I guess the first step is to pick up the sword. The warrior in all humans. To fight in something you believe in.
Lois Lane needed Superman more than just for a good story, and believed in him more than anyone else. Superman needed the world more though and fought with his heart.
Is that the secret, fighting with one’s heart?
I’m sorry I am serious today, no alcohol.
New fear to add to the list to defeat. Face fear of failure, face fear of myself, face fear of belief. What do I believe in? How do I believe?
How do people start believing in things? Something happens right?
I’d like to know everyone’s story.